Left to his own devices, and imprisoned, again, Alaric decided to put the time to good use.
Only then did he realize that all his pockets were empty.
Alaric went around the three rooms he had been in, methodically taking them apart as he looked for his camera, notebooks, pens, even his keys.
An hour later, he was forced to conclude that someone had taken everything . . . and the rooms were a mess.
He perched on the edge of a chair, head in his hands.
They had his camera, pens, and house keys. Nothing problematic there.
But, they also had his pocket notebooks.
Those could be an issue, as they held all the notes pertaining to his research on the site. Most of which had been conducted on the Island and referenced texts in the Island’s libraries. The rest were his on-site notes. He couldn’t recall if there was anything in them that would damage his current situation.
Assuming the priest’s facility with spoken language also included written language. And the man could decipher his handwriting and abbreviations.
Those being false assumptions could save any sensitive information.
The question was whether he could safely assume a best case scenario.
An old adage ran through Alaric’s head: hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
At least he still had his ring and they didn’t seem to know he was a sorcerer.
For what good those did him.
Alaric went to the door and ran his hand along the frame. As he did so, he tapped his personal reserve of energy to shape sorcerous wards around and on the door. He was no specialist, and they probably would not withstand a determined magical assault, but he hoped they would buy some time if he needed it. He set seven, of different types, in layers, thinking that might further slow down any attacker.
He did a quick spot check to see if there were any obvious holes once the seventh was complete.
Convinced they were the best he could hope for, Alaric considered the room
In a flash of inspiration, he ran into the bath and placed a hand on the wall.
Beneath the façade, he felt stone.
And if there was one thing earth sorcery was really good at, he thought, it was elemental magic.
Not his specialty, but what he had in mind should only take the basics.
He looked around the room for something he could use to set a spell in place.
Eyes flashing around, Alaric spotted a razor.
It wasn’t ideal, he thought, but it could work.
With the sharp edge, he began carving symbols and connecting lines in the wall. The half-remembered designs and theory caused the drawing to take time, but he hoped it would anchor the spell’s energy for several hours. It was an old technique, but could hold the spell without his concentration. His makeshift form might hold half a day, if he was lucky.