THE LIGHT OF A'LEST

CHAPTER 11

     Master Vicam awoke in the middle of the night to the unmistakable sound of tapping. Then, it stopped. Perhaps I imagined it?

     Tap, tap, tap. It was louder now, more insistent. On his way to the door, he pulled back the drapes to reveal... nothing. Just the same dimly lit porch he remembered. Leaning in and peering out into the darkness, he strained, looking left, then right.

     CAWWW!!!

     Leaping away from the piercing sound behind him, he fell to his right, smashed into a table, and hit the floor with a thud. The sound of breaking glass rose all around him. "Confound you, Pebble! Are you trying to kill me!" The jet-black silhouette of Enchantress Amara's confidant sat perched in the rafters, cackling to himself. Struggling to rise in the utter darkness of his chamber, Vicam leered at the crow and thought of swatting it. Pebble's cackling stopped, and he tilted his head. The old man appeared to grab something and rear back as if to throw. "Mother, see you now."

     The old man looked befuddled at the news he had so diligently brought. How typical.

     "What? Now?"

      Pebble didn't really understand the old fool's question. "Yes now, of course now, you decrepit old fool."

     Vicam shrugged and dropped the vase. Pebble could wait.

     Arriving at the Vault once more, he found the same three guards on duty. Discreet wagers were cast as he reluctantly submitted himself to their brutish prodding. He tried not to let it bother him. It was the middle of the night. He was beyond tired, and the guard's jests were just that. Far more important things were afoot. The fate of the world might be decided tonight. Entering the chamber to the Mimic Gate, he held his breath. He didn't know why but thought it might be worth a try. It wasn't. As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, the archaic whispering he'd heard before lunged at him from the darkness. His chest heaved and his muscles clenched as the voices entered his mind and attached themselves to his thoughts like parasites. Batting their words away as if they were a noxious fog, he made his way to the wall of keys, selected the proper one, and dropped it into the basin.

     The Enchantress appeared, Pebble on her shoulder. Vicam started at the bird's appearance. It could not be. Perhaps it was another bird. "Caw. Old fool tried to hit me." Vicam did his best to look innocent but found himself avidly protesting his accuser anyway. Amara rolled her eyes and slammed her hand into table, silencing them both.

     "Master Vicam, I apologize for the hour, but this could simply not wait. I have spoken to my coven. Unfortunately, they responded much in the fashion that you would expect. While they are pleased with the northern chief's gesture, they believe it is too little too late. The times of men and Mystics cooperating has long since passed."

     Vicam could barely contain his laughter. Of course, I was woken in the middle of the night for utterly useless information. He began idly wondering if perhaps His Ascendency's judgment of the Mystic order was aptly placed.

     Amara continued, "I, however, happen to believe otherwise. I have found something, Lore Master." The enchantress's cunning stare captured his attention. The faint green smoke he had thought he had seen the first time around was far more apparent. It misted out of her eyes, tickling at their sockets and reaching for the edges of her face. Amara smirked as she noticed him watching and raised her arm to reveal a bracer of solid gold. As her fingers danced, mist coalesced out of thin air. She whispered to it. Instructed it. Slowly, a parchment crackled into existence. The golden-brown parchment was rolled and bound tight with a simple string. Grasping it from the air, she raised it to her side of the Mimic Gate. The surface of the gate rippled like liquid as the parchment began to take form on Vicam's side. "Lore Master, I should not have to warn you, but I will all the same. Whatever you do, do not let any part of your body meet the gate." Vicam raised an eyebrow, remembering old accounts of those who had not heeded this very same warning. The Mimic Gate was not an actual gate. More of a window. A window to an alternate plain. The plain of the dead. He wasn't sure what would happen if he touched it. Perhaps he would be sucked in and unable to escape, or maybe his arm might simply rot off on the spot. Whatever the case may be, he harbored no intentions of finding out.

     Reaching very carefully, he retrieved the document and backed away. "It is an ancient account from a woman called Ada. A cleric from Gaia's pre-history. Among other things, it recounts the circumstances surrounding A'lest's ascension. It is... controversial, to say the least. But in it, there are details I know you and your chief will find interesting."

     "I hope for both of our people's sakes it does," Vicam replied as he rolled the scroll back up and placed it in his pocket. "Good evening, Enchantress." Then he glared at the bird. "Pebble." The bird returned the look. Leaving the vault and closing the door behind him, he heard the short guard mutter and the unmistakable clink of coins being exchanged. Weasel-Face smiled and waved at him as he strolled out into the night, adding, "Come back soon, Lore Master," while smiling and jabbing at the defeated guard beside him.

------

     Piles of waist-high scrolls and towers of brittle parchments lined every wall of Master Vicam's otherwise scantly furnished chamber. Blobs of spent candle wax congealed together into one solid mass on the far side of the desk at which he sat. Only a single survivor remained, casting a feeble light over the dusty room and the frayed and fettered document before him. Doing his best to ignore the nagging pain in his back, he dipped his quill and resumed his translation. He couldn't stop now. Not when the key to saving the lives of every man, woman, and child in Tia might quite literally be lying right in front of him. With a final stroke from his quill, he finished, reset his spectacles, and read. Then he threw himself to his feet and ran for the door.

------

     Keko ascended the last few steps and began making his way to the small room at the end of the corridor. The conversation with his father stuck on repeat in his head. There was more to his father's confession. He was hiding something. Why would the king murder his own sister? If it were true, what did that mean for him? The sudden sound of muffled voices emerged and stirred him from his thoughts. Standing outside the locked door, he thought he heard a girl giggling. Unlocking the door, he steadied himself and did his best to put on a friendly face. After all, he was here to apologize.

     As the door opened, Kara leapt back and recoiled into some vague approximation of a fighting stance. Fists raised high, legs spread even, eyes watchful. Zander only stared. "Well, if it isn't my long-lost chaperone! To what do we owe the pleasure, Master Keko? Unable to find anyone else to help you in your quest to become, oh, what was it again? Oh yes, I recall."

     Shuffling to the seat beside the door, he waited for the girl to finish. She didn't, but the disgusted snarl she gave him told him all he needed to know.

     Still, she was far more beautiful than he remembered. Even with her long brown hair a bit of a mess, the simple off-white undergarment she wore suited her quite nicely. "No! There will be none of that," he replied. The palpable silence between them stretched.

     Zander saw his opening. "I already told your man Alaric everything. I found the guard that way. I didn't do that to him. Why are we still being held? I need to get back to my grandmother!" The desperation in his words caught Keko's attention. He thinks I suspect he killed the guard.

     "My apologies to you both for the confusion, but neither of you are prisoners."

     Zander released a great puff of air and sat up further in his cot.

     Kara stood. "When can we leave?"

     Keko shrugged. "Whenever you choose to."

     Kara noticed how the boy never met her eyes and kept tugging absently on his bandaged arm as he spoke. Zander eyed Keko suspiciously for a moment and then began tugging on his clothes as the sound of footsteps emerged from the hallway. There was a sudden thud, and then the door swung open. Chief Grantook strolled in, regarding the trio. "All of you get dressed and follow me." With that, he exited. Another man in a green robe with a long gray beard entered right behind him. The emerald chain of Rit dangled from his neck. "What's the matter, Master Vicam?" Keko added. The Master of Lore paused and wiped sweat from his forehead. "I'm afraid explanations must come later, Master Keko. Please. Come quickly."