The Ledger

Cameron struggled to shut the cover as a burst of water shot across the table. Tattered pages soaked up pond scum as they began to float inches above the buckling stone floor.

"Micah! The Door!" Cameron gasped as volumes caught in the current rushed toward the exit. He struggled to tighten the blue strap that once contained the water source as a mud ball slipped between the pages and splashed against the floor, filling the room with the stench of spoiled eggs.

Watching his friend finally clasp the latch Micah smiled, pressing the door closed just as a book drifted into his shin. He slid a small black ledger out of his satchel as the rush of water began to subside. Opening the ledger to an empty page, Micah recited the book's qualities. "Foam green cover. Blue strap. Swamp. Author: Scribe Derris." As he spoke, the words began to imprint themselves onto the ledger's pages in a deep brown ink.

The acolytes, both standing just under 6 feet tall, were dressed in white robes soaked up to their knees. Thin purple ropes tied around their waists, paired with two rectangular purple patches on their sleeves, communicated their rank to elder scribes. A small needle floated above each of their arms, slowly forming a third triangular patch just beneath the first two.

"You know." Micah said as he shut the ledger. "It's nice to find an exciting one every now and then."

Cameron's glare pierced back into his partner's soul as mud casually dripped off of his beard. "We've been at this for weeks!" he huffed, placing his latest find onto a pile of similarly sized novels. "I've gotten every water core!"

Hundreds of books, stacked in mounds across the room had been carefully separated. Each cover had a distinct color, symbol or texture that the pair catalogued in their ledger. Micah had failed to mention to his companion that brown and blue straps seemed to produce similar results.

"Stroke of luck, I guess." Micah snarked as he placed the ledger on the table. Grabbing a heavy orange tome from the nearest shelf, he gleefully said. "Should only be another day or two until the ledger is full! And the next one’s a Kezel!"

The leather bound book, inscribed with the name Kezel, dated back to the 5th age. Kezel seemed to be an above-average scribe. The pair had reviewed Kezel’s work at least half a dozen times and each time were impressed by the quality and beauty in the scribe’s depictions of far off worlds.

Micah turned the pages, wiping away dust as he searched for the book's core. With a small series of hand gestures, the acolyte triggered the book to begin scrying as a glow began to resonate from the leather spine. The pages flew to the side, turning themselves with increasing speed as gusts of wind vibrated the parchment. New air filled the room, clearing the horrid odor of the swamp from moments ago.

The young scribe peered into the void that emerged within the pages. He was used to seeing empty landscapes, but was always alert when scrying. Elder scribes each had their own story to share of a lost appendage or scar they received during their scrying trials. Looking deeper into the text, Micah began to make out rocky hills covered in a rusty orange dust. Each turn of the page led him to new outcroppings, crevices and deserts. Then, he spotted the mound.

Centered within a crater, stood a pile of aurum about twice his height. It was covered in a thin layer of rust that barely obstructed a blue glow that breathed in and out. The glow shined a light on silver and gold chips that were scattered throughout the metal. Small chunks of the substance, ranging from the size of Micah’s fist to his fingers surrounded the larger pile.

The glow reflected off of Micah’s face, his dropped jaw convincing Cameron to make his way back toward the table. Cameron’s stomach felt sick when what amounted to a lifetime of labor stood before him. He quickly calculated that even a small rock surrounding the mound could trade for 20,000 Desh, a comfortable year of living expenses. He tried to shake off the thought of these newly found riches as he felt the floating needle above his apprentice patch rub against his skin.

Cameron pulled the ledger off of the table and prepared to record the findings. The description sat in his mind “Large orange tome. Leather spine. Aurum deposit. Scribe Kezel” but was taking its time before leaving his lips. Before he could speak Micah threw up a hand, gesturing for the ledger. Once in control, Micah slowly closed the ledger’s cover.

Micah quietly whispered “The ledger accounts for mineral qualities and types, but not weight. We both know metals are difficult to trace, and with the age of this tome we’d likely be the only ones to see a discrepancy.” Greed swelled in their eyes as the realization dawned on them. This was an opportunity to jump start their lives.

Cameron looked up with eagerness and fear. “Just two small rocks. One each.” He replied.

They both turned their attention back to the tome. Micah flicked his wrist coercing a thin blue shield of energy to cover the page. He moved his hand slowly toward the mound while his fingers crossed between the two realms. The glowing screen on the page drew a line across his arm as he grasped a chunk of aurum from the ground and quickly pulled his arm back.

An intoxicating light filled the room. Cameron and Micah shared mirrored smiles as they reached to touch the metal. The texture of its cold, rough surface described the journey it had taken from atoms to today. Visions of comfort and luxury flooded their minds, but as quickly as they appeared, they were shattered.

Before they could take their next breath, the remaining water that had pooled on the floor was sucked beneath the door and into the hallway. A loud crack filled the room as the door slammed inward against a half filled bookshelf. Behind it, was a short, stout woman whose purple robes drifted just above the floor. Scribe Emmol had noticed the discrepancy.

Micah clumsily attempted to throw an extended piece of his robe over his hand, dropping the ledger to the ground in the process. Emmol was not impressed. The elder scribe’s wrinkles folded as she clapped her hands. A roaring thunder emanated from here pals rattling every page in the room. The stacks of books began to fly apart, each text arriving back to its position on the shelves.

In a bellowing, steady voice, scribe Emmol began to recite the instructions the young acolytes had received several weeks prior. “Your scrying trials will proceed as follows.” Her voice getting louder which each word. “No tome is to leave the room it resides in.” Her hands continued to gesture toward the shelves, sending hours of work back in time. “Each tome is to be catalogued in your ledger.” Her right palm began to rise, pulling the ledger up just above her own head, matching the height of the boy’s chests. “Each tome is to only be catalogued.” Emmol’s left hand shot toward the boys, and with a swift motion the needles above their arms began to travel backwards, undoing the nearly complete patches.

Cameron felt the threads slide against his skin, the friction nearly drawing blood.

“They are fairly simple instructions.” Emmol spoke as the needles flew toward Micah’s hand. The threads wrapped around the chunk of aurum and began pulling it back toward the elder. The metal slid easily out of Micah’s palm, and into Emmol’s grasp. The books now sat neatly on their shelves around the room, the black ledger the only text now out of place.

Emmol’s grip tightened around the aurum chunk, the glow emanating from the metal shifted in hue from blue, to green, to red. The smell of smoke, and burning flesh filled the room as the small black ledger burst into flames.

The boy's eyes sadly followed the ashes as they gently floated to the ground. Weeks of work was undone in an instant. Emmol lowered her hands slowly. She slid the aurum chunk into a leather satchel at her side. When her hand emerged, it held a pristine, untouched, black ledger.

She exhaled as she tossed the new ledger at the dumbstruck acolytes’ feet.

“Do it again.”