He left them where they were, reflecting light from their pedestals of silver and crystal, and shouldered his pack. Leather, and custom-made, and it and its contents together weighed over eighty pounds. He was glad he'd done so much weightlifting. And now intended to use. He ran his hand over the hunting knife strapped at his thigh.
Cold iron breaks all magic.
Then he stooped, carefully, and picked up the first candle. The vertigo hit like an attacking shark. Cold wind whipped up from nowhere, threatening the flame of the second candle. Quickly he grabbed that one too. It hurt, but not enough to make him drop it.