Lost in Midstar, Part 3 - "Meeting Ayrmihr

“The plausible existence of other worlds has intrigued a few certain individuals I have known,” Ayrmihr told me. “You really are from a different world?” Ayrmihr was Tircínwen’s cousin. Her and I, along with Maerith and Nrög, were standing in his decent sized study. The north and south walls were lined with rows of bookshelves that met in the corner. They were carefully organized by what must be their alphabetical order.
“I swear on my great grandpa Abner’s grave,” I assured him.
“Well, this is certainly a predicament I never expected I’d have to deal with,” he said.
“Well, fiyaer mil, is there any way you can help Aaron get back home,” Tircínwen asked him.
“Well, I believe-”. He walked over to his bookshelf. “... I have a book I once received from a colleague on this very same topic.” He ran his fingers across the spines of the books, and stopped on an old, worn red journal. He pulled it out, and blew the dust off of it. “He was a good friend of mine. Gave this to me nearly 50 years ago. I skimmed through it, but never actually looked further into it. If I’m correct…” He trailed off as he flipped through the pages. “Ah! Onnadi smiles upon us today! The writing system of the common tongue originated from a stone that was discovered nearly 3,000 years ago, covered in mysterious runes.” He showed the book to me, and there was a sketch of the stone and the individual runes found on it. They consisted of straight lines with added features.
“Those look like they were made by vikings or something,” I said.
“No other writing system uses runes accept for the Dwarfish. But this was found farther east of their land. And dragon runes are much more complicated than these. So, their origins have never been pinpointed. But you mentioned they look like something you’ve seen in your world. Perhaps this stone somehow was transported from your world to our’s?” “I mean,” I started, “that could be the case. I mean, I’m no history expert, but I feel like I’ve seen those before somewhere in my world.”
“Hm.”
“What does it say? I can’t read your language.”
“A mad man terrorized a town years ago, speaking in unknown tongues. He was apprehended, and they managed to teach him some of the common language. He was able to eventually start rambling about being from another place, but no one knew what he meant by that. Could he have found his way back?.”
“People in my world are always claiming that they’ve been abducted by aliens from space, or that they went to a different planet or world. They usually end up starting weird cults and stuff, but maybe the other ones aren’t so kooky after all.” “I didn’t want to mention this earlier, because I was sworn to secrecy, but now I would feel responsible if this boy could never get back home,” Maerith chimed in. “The research stolen by the mage we’re hunting down? I’ll just have you guess what it was about.”
“Theoretical plane shifting,” Ayrmihr said. “So I’ve heard. The Mage’s College has tried their best to keep that a secret. It was my colleague who actually took part in the research and experimentation. The most progress he told me they had made was when they ‘brought something over’, but that it ‘got away from them.’ After the research was ceased, he gave me this journal for safe keeping, and told me to never give it to anyone, nor speak of any of its contents. From what I’ve put together, that ‘something’ was more than likely this man. The dates of the incident and when the research was conducted match up. It all happened around 50 years ago.”
“He must have refused to hand his research over to the college,” Maerith said. “Quite stubborn, such as most wizards. Do tell, what was his name?”
“Vaerilil,” he answered.
“A Faen like you, I assume?”
“Yes and no. Half-blood. His mother was a Faen. His father was human. He still teaches and researches in High Keep sometimes. The rest of the time he’s at the Academy of Arcane Knowledge down in Fennen Tirel.”
“Hey guys, I hate to interrupt your whole conversation about knowledge and magic and whatnot, but what about getting me back to my world,” I say.
“Oh, bathána mil! My apologies! Well, I best believe that if you wish to return to your world, find the mage, carefully follow what the spell or ritual tells you to do, and you should be on your merry way back to Brookland.”
“Brooklyn,” I correct him.
“Right. How are you planning on capturing this mage, anyways,” Ayrmihr questioned.
“We’re tracking him to where his hideout is believed to be,” Nrӧg said, breaking his overall silence. “Up in Amberwater.”
“The fishing town up north? I suppose he chose a fairly remote place for what he does,” he said. “Well, Aaron, it was privilege meeting you. I hope that you may return to your home, and though we may not meet again in this life, that we might in another. And as we say in our tongue, ngóthâ, e alna ben til geddilémo! Farewell, and may we meet again!”