The Kingdom of Noitcif

Chapter Eighteen - Lysander

  The terrible news spread quickly and efficiently throughout the kingdom. In fact, Espen believed he may have been one of the last people to hear about it, for as soon as he, Rosalind, and Tarquin walked outside the stable doors, he was assaulted by questions from his people. One at a time - and then more and more - citizens approached him, wanting to know what he thought of this tragedy and what he planned on doing about it. Espen had no good response to give, for he was still taken aback by the news himself, and was wondering if perhaps he was to blame for the death of the guards. After all, he was the one who told them to move to a different island in the first place. In the meantime, what harm was the activated tower causing? What potential did it have?

  The young king had hardly heard anything about the tower - except that it usually caused distress to the physical health of the people of Noitcif. And as he discovered, at least that much was true. Wesley was suddenly complaining of a headache, and some of the other people Espen passed on his way to the knights meeting were feeling dizzy and light-headed. Luckily, himself, Tarquin, and Rosalind seemed fine so far.

  "Wesley?" Espen addressed the downcast knight.

  He perked up ever so slightly.

  "Could you escort Rosalind, here, to Camilla's chambers, please? And then could you have the medic check you out before the meeting?"

  Wesley nodded and directed Rosalind to a side door of the castle.

  Tarquin, following at his king's heels, murmured, "Well, this explains the Base World change of attire. Why am I such an idiot?!" he hissed. "That happened the last time the power in the tower came on, too! It begins to strip us of our Base World disguises - as the tower seems to knock out some of the separations between the dimensions. We need not fret much about the Base World, because they are not a threat and the best they have is something called 'Wee-fee', but Ytilaer – now that is a different story. We do not want them having easy access to our land; just beaming in here whenever they darn well feel like it..."

  That did answer some questions for King Estevan, but it certainly didn't make him feel any better. And he was surprised to hear the messenger ramble on like this, as he was usually dignified and formal in his speech.

  Tarquin was completely out of breath by the time they reached the door of the meeting chamber. Espen stopped abruptly from his frenzied pace and turned toward the panting, coughing royal messenger, who fumbled slightly with the door handle.

  "Are you feeling all right, Tarquin?" the teenager inquired with concern. "Any ill effects from the tower?"

  "No, not yet, my king." The messenger took a deep breath and straightened up. "Just infuriated by the news." He paused for a moment before continuing. "And, come to think of it, you and Rosalind may not ever feel the effects of the tower. The wee-fee in the Base World is powerful enough to get you at least used to something as strong as the Vastuta Tower."

  "What about you? You've been to the Base World a lot. Wouldn't that mean that you're immune, too?"

  Tarquin pondered this question for a moment. "I believe I may be more fortunate than others, but I am sure the tower will find a way to assault me in time."

  As the large door opened, Espen looked behind him and caught a glimpse of a figure scurrying along the cobblestone.