The scent of a proper fire roused Ian the following morning and there was a bubbling pot of a porridge-like substance on the fire. As the sun broke over the horizon, it became muggy and unpleasantly hot. Already Ian felt the horde of biting insects that he had been too tired to notice last night. He moved closer to the fire.

Roland had thrown his robe over Ban sometime in the night. He wore a deep purple shirt and pants as black as midnight; the material on both had a slight sheen to it. It was the first time Ian had seen him without the bulky robe on and he was struck by how gaunt Roland was.

“Perks of the job,” Roland said his violet eyes following Ian’s gaze. “Never have to work out to maintain my figure,” Roland chuckled dryly, “Magic eats an incredible amount of energy and thankfully our ranger friend is well prepared.” Roland gestured at the boiling pot, “She’s already made one trip for water and said she would bring back more for the road. And with any luck an idea of where we are.”

Ian grunted and then reached for the wooden spoon sitting in the bubbling muck. All the fleeing in terror last night left him with little time to realize how hungry he’d become. As his stomach growled, the bland oatmeal bubbling away in a pot suddenly became the most appetizing thing he’d ever seen. He blew on the spoon and then sipped at the concoction surprised to find quite a few spices and dried fruit added in. Ian took another mouthful of the stuff; this time with more vigor.

“Now we’ve got some time, let's talk about getting you home," Roland said as he unfurled the Star Chart while Ian ate.

Ian took another helping and then set the spoon back in the pot focusing his attention on the Star Chart. The swirling Milky Way greeted his eyes like an old friend. Staring down at the Chart Ian felt the familiar pangs of homesickness creeping in.

“Touch it,” Roland said, gesturing at the Star Chart.

Without asking why, Ian bent down and touched his finger to the mass of swirling stars and it began to shift and change. The stars zipped by as the picture shifted and moved through the galaxy.

“Your stella ordinata might be utterly unique, Ian. It holds great stores of magical energies which leads me to believe that the Court didn’t happen upon your world at random,” The Chart continued to shift and zoom while Roland spoke.

“Stella ordinata?” Ian asked looking away from the dizzying shifting view. Soon that field of view ran alongside a floating icy blue orb with faint rings surrounding the planet. The Chart swiftly flew past and rode the tail of a shining comet for several seconds, before breaking away into the nothingness and continued onward. The journey wasn’t like the movies; celestial bodies did not line up in a nice neat row to be gazed at in passing dazzling the beholder. Instead, there were vast stretches of nothing with the occasional speck of brown. It was humbling and terrifying to truly bear witness to the vastness of space.

He began to think it impossible to get home if only because of the sheer distance he would have to overcome. But as despair set in a tiny blue speck appeared in the center of the page. The dot became a marble and then it filled the scroll pushing back Ian’s despair and replacing it with hope. There it was, home. The sight of Earth brought a sense of calm, a sense of purpose to him. If this Chart could get there, then so could he.

“Yes, stella ordinata,” Roland said as the Chart settled on the view of Earth. “There’s not really an easy translation for it to non-magical types. It’s sort of a beacon, magical strength, and essence all rolled into one. It lets me not only gauge your personal power but it gives me a small sample of the magic of your world.”

“So, everyone has a stella ordinata?” Ian asked.

“Yes, but almost no one has a stella ordinata as strongly as you do. Honestly, I have no idea how I didn’t notice it before and I am certain the Seer must have...” Roland sat back on his heels gazing at the Earth rotating on the Chart. A slow minute ticked by before the mage spoke again. “I’m sure you don’t understand the significance of it, Ian, but magic is a resource. And, as with any resource, it is not unlimited.”

“I’m with you so far,” Ian prompted when Roland fell into silence again.

“I’m not so sure you are,” Roland said with a sad smile. He leaned back and plucked a tall blade of grass. He brought the willowy blade to his lips and muttered a word of magic. “Illustrium.”

The grass responded by starting to glow softly.

“Each time a spell is cast it drains energy from both the caster and the aether around them. Some casters are born with deep wells of aether to draw on but others must work to develop their well over time. Now with time and rest the aether will replenish but,” Roland amplified the spell until the blade of grass shone like a beacon so brightly it repelled the morning light.

“Gah!” Ian shouted in surprise. He shut his eyes from the blinding light. But less than a second later, the light snuffed out and he opened his eyes.

“Draw too much,” Roland said as the grass, now blackened ash, floated away, “and the magic will demand more siphoning aether until it draws not only aether but all energy nearby. Which can include the very lifeforce of a living thing. That is why cities use magirators and aether grids to store magical power and run almost everything from them. It is stored aether and therefore already pulled from the world. If every mage all at once tried to cast their most powerful spells it would kill our world, of that I have no doubt. And not just the people but every plant, animal, anything with aether would die.”

“So, you think the Court is after another source of aether?” Ian asked with a tired voice. Every time Ian learned something new it only created more questions and he was tired of feeling so ignorant.

“It would explain their interest in you," Roland said, his face screwed up as he contemplated the question. “Though, how you fit into that goal, I am not certain. I am sure they have your stella ordinata already," He said, turning back to the Chart and continuing to study it.

Ian took the opportunity to have more oatmeal and consider what Roland had said.

“You’re sure your world doesn’t have wizards or mages or witches?” Roland asked.

“No, we don’t have anything like that," Ian gave the question some serious thought before finally shaking his head, “We have legends and myths about people with magical powers like yours but no actual proof they truly existed. Wizards are considered fiction on Earth.”

“Interesting,” Roland mused. “And no other life in your corner of the universe?”

“Not as far as our scientists have discovered and not for lack of trying," Ian said with a shrug.

“That might explain why your world looks to have such vast stores of untapped magical energy. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to live without magic,” Roland shuddered, “But I am getting distracted. I’ll have to pester you about Earth another time. Right now, what’s important is that we know the distance to Earth from Paragore. And judging by the number of leagues, it will take an astronomical amount of aether to get you home.”

“So we need some sort of aether stores or a magical generator? And I’m going to further speculate that it’s not something we’re going to find laying around?” Ian asked. His tone was dry with an edge of barely controlled anger. Nothing can be simple, apparently not even with magic.

Roland sensed Ian’s frustration but rather than alleviating the poor man’s mind he pressed on. He was not one to sugarcoat unpleasant information. “The distance isn’t the only problem though; the other major issue is all the constant fluctuation of the passageways through the Nebulus. That’s the reason for the Charts in the first place. They were created by the fledgling astral wizards centuries ago as a way to always be able to come home. The Charts, when I think about it, are glorified compasses...” Roland trailed off muttering to himself.

“Alright, so power and a Star Chart of Paragore are the problems we have now?” Ian asked once it became clear that Roland’s muttering was not going to stop.

“Basically yes," Roland said snapping back to the conversation, “But I don’t think you quite grasp the power required. Let’s use the fireball spell as an example. You saw it last night. For me to teleport from here to Raxal would require the power of five or six fireballs. To get you home I estimate tens of thousands of fireballs would be required. I’ll know for sure once we compare this to The Seer’s Charts. I don’t know what The Arcane Seer’s plan was to gather the required aether but, Fate’s willing, we will come up with our own plan.”

“Well that’s good…” Ian said, letting out a groan. “Wait, how do the Transmission Springs work then? They must use crazy amounts of energy every day if there are other cities the size of Raxal and Land ’o’ Elf.”

“Landorei, Ian, land-dor-i it’s not that hard. And because they are built on natural founts of magical power. Think of them as miracles of nature. The Springs don’t generate the energy they use that’s why they can be anything: fountain, mirror. I think one of them is inside a cloud. They simply pull the energy from the fount they sit upon. But unless there is a receiving connector in your world we can’t use the springs for the power source. Trust me, I’ve tried to tap into them and it isn’t possible.” Roland fell silent; his violet eyes were unfocused and his index finger lightly traced along a faint scar on his stubbled jaw. He pulled himself from the memory in short order with a quick shake of his head. “But that’s not the point.”

Ian let out a sound of pure frustration and sat heavily on the grass. He allowed himself the briefest of pity parties. With an exhalation of his building anxiety Ian centered himself. Worrying about what I can’t control will not help. Out loud he said, “Then we need to get back and check The Seer’s Charts. Let’s hope Vale comes back with good news.”

Roland got up to check on Ban and Ian went back to studying the Star Chart with Earth still rotating in the center.

…...

Vale didn’t return until late afternoon by which time Ban had awoken. She and Mal materialized out of the grass. She made her way over to Ian and put her hand gently on his pensive shoulder. He jumped up off the ground in surprise causing her to start.

“Where have you been all day?” Ian asked in a mother hen tone.

Her response was to toss a full water bag at him which he deftly caught. With his face. He scowled at her and grabbed the water bag from the ground taking a pull from it and passing it over to Roland. The mage did the same and then moved over to Ban, helping the minotaur to drink.

“We are on the edge of the Sarafoon Jungle. We need to head southwest with all possible haste,” Vale said turning her gaze to the foreboding shadows of the dense jungle. “It is only a matter of time before something comes to investigate our intrusion and we don’t want to be here when it or they do.”

“Agreed,” Roland said, his gaze going to the jungle as though he expected it to attack at any moment.

Ian rolled up the Chart and handing it back to Vale. She tucked it into her quiver and together they crafted a stretcher for Ban. The liter was dubious-looking made from Roland’s cloak, the remains of Ban’s shirt, and a pair of saplings but Vale assured them it would hold. Ignoring Ban’s protests that he could walk, Roland and Ian forced him into the contraption and carried him off. Vale and Mal led the way.