THE LIGHT OF A'LEST

CHAPTER 9

     Bishop Vicam made his way across the dusty path. Ahead, a two-story cathedral of stone jutted into the sky and loomed like a crypt. Even at a hundred paces, he could already feel the invisible heat that seemed to seep from the seams of the gray-pockmarked structure. Gooseflesh rose on the back of his neck, and a sudden shakiness crept into his breathing. Besides the chief's estate and possibly the treasury, The Vault was one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of Tia. Approaching the rusty gate outside, he began nervously rolling the glowing seal of passage between his forefinger and thumb. The creaking of the gate's rusty hinges broke the sullen silence of the night air as he passed through.

     A guard rose from a nearby bench. Two more remained seated, both seemingly ignorant to his appearance as they continued to argue over a game of chance. Vicam stopped and reared his shoulders. The power of office was still unnatural to him. His most recent "promotion" to Master of Lore still felt rather unseemly. A positive way of putting a spin on an otherwise morbid situation. After all, a Bishop could only become a Master when the previous Master died. It was the same for all the learned guilds. He sneered at the thought as the grizzly-looking guard stopped him and began eyeing him up and down like he was some pastry he was considering eating. Fumbling around in his pocket, Vicam finally produced the chief's seal. A faint glow emanated from The Mark's center. The simple green disc of clay contained a tiny fragment of the chief's soul, sealed to its surface with a smear of blood and a butt-ton of magic. Despite being Master of Lore, he still had no idea how they were made. Information on their construction was a closely guarded secret, one with mystic origins.

     "Bishop... hem. Master of Lore, I have been granted access to the ahh, it, by Chief Grantook."

     The guard was a big brute of a man. Clad in full armor, with two two-handed swords strapped behind his back. On his shoulders, he wore a green cloak with the serpent symbol of Tia stamped above the breast. Vicam did his best not to look intimidated but pretending to be brave was not one of his strong suits. Instead, he focused on the finer details. Beneath his armor and his heavily muscled exterior was a young man perhaps not out of his twenties. Despite his youth and kind blue eyes, Vicam could tell the young man was already a veteran. His face was heavily scarred on one side. A gnarly wound that must have been rather excruciating to have endured. The unscathed side of the guard's face winced as he examined the chief's seal. The wounded side remained still. As if the man had two faces. One alive, one dead.

     A few more awkward moments passed before the guard grunted and looked at him with a half smirk. This seemingly small gesture signaled the two remaining guards at the door to toss their cards aside and stretch their aching muscles. Vicam approached the building, but before he could reach the door, the guard on the left stopped him with an outstretched arm. He began to protest, but before he could, the first guard spoke from behind. "I am here to ensure you have permission." The guard with the soft blue eyes gestured to the guard that had barred his entrance. "He is here to ensure you bear no arms and he,"—gesturing to the remaining guard on the right— "is here to ensure you carry no implements of magical origin." The guard with the scarred face paused a moment and adjusted his armor-clad shoulders before resuming. "All three of us must be satisfied before anyone is granted access to the Mimic Gate, Bishop. I mean, Master. Chief's orders aside."

     Vicam closed his eyes and did his best to focus on anything else as the weasel-faced guard's hands began sliding over him. "I don't think you'll find anything sharp and pointy up there," he mused, as the guard's hands went places nobody had gone aside from his mother. The pointy-nosed guard gave him a menacing look before continuing. 

     "Open," he said. Vicam begrudgingly opened his mouth. The guard seized his face and began examining the inside of his mouth. 

     "Don't thin yo fi nethun ther ethr."