As the name suggests, this story is about magic...
“Gimme a report, Brim.”
The impassive little creature of stone paused, then cheerfully chirped an answer,
“The moon is waning, currently heading towards last quarter.”
“Well I know that, Brim. I meant the cloud coverage.” Roland ordered impatiently.
It was becoming dark, and Roland’s annoyance only increased as the sun made its steady progression towards the mountainous horizon. As they walked Roland spoke the words and Brim’s silhouette started to shed a soft, silver glow on the surrounding ground.
“The coverage?” Roland asked irritably.
The shambling stone-thing was silent save the harsh scraping of his feet against the rock-strewn ground. “Brim! The co-“
“There will be minimal to no cloud coverage tonight, sir!” Brim answered cordially.
“Good...” Roland sighed.
He asked no more questions, and it wasn’t until they reached their destination that he spoke again.
“Is this the place?” He knew it had to be before he asked. It was a subtly strategic downhill path wedged narrowly between two large ragged outcroppings of rock, an entryway to the path leading to the quarry. A place that his dad had no doubt claimed shortly upon arrival in the Gaulia lands.
By now the sun had slipped under the horizon and the moon had taken its place over the sky. By his estimates, they had about five hours of peaked moonlight to get the job done. With this thought in mind Roland grimly set to the task, trudging to the jutting outcrops with Brim following closely at his heels. Roland pressed his palms against the nearest one, and then the next but felt no traces of his father’s work. The ugly, jagged boulders were stubborn and obdurate, and looked no different in the moonlight than they did in daylight. They were just ordinary boulders.
Roland, unsettled, began the demeaning task of dropping to his knees and sifting in the dirt and gravel between the boulders. He looked for the telltale signs of his father’s magic; any change in the reflection of moonlight off of the rocks, any minute carvings or patterns, but his search yielded nothing. After hours of searching Roland was tired and flustered and all too aware of the moon’s steady progression overhead.
“Brim!” He shouted, for no particular reason. Brim tumbled down the hill from where it was scratching idly on a rock, hit the ground with a shower of dust and pebbles, and brought its arm to its forehead with the resounding clap! of stone against stone.
Growling, Roland wrathfully cleared the dust from his eyes and gave the creature a vicious kick down the path, watching as the luminescent shape rolled wildly down the weather-beaten trail. He was distantly aware of a tingling sensation in his foot but was too angry to care or feel it.