[Mkguild] The Last Tale of Yajakali - Chapter XLVIII

[C. Matthias]

And here it is, the culmination of Book III of 
the Last Tale of Yajakali!  I'm going to take 
some time away from writing this to focus on some 
other projects.  I expect I'lls tart Book IV sometime this Autumn.

Chapter XLVIII

Imbervand

         When the blackness cleared, Jessica 
gawked at the strange world she now saw around 
her.  Directly before her stood a pillar 
stretching into the incomparable heights, narrow 
but solid.  Fashioned from a gray stone, it 
nevertheless appeared to glow a pulsing 
crimson.  The style of its construction was like 
nothing she’d ever seen – delicate, yet sturdy in 
a way that even the Åelves couldn’t reproduce.
         On either side of the pillar existed an 
empty blackness, as of a world that was waiting 
for the creator’s hand to illumine it.  Beneath 
the pillar, and upon which she now lay, was a 
triangular platform of close fitting stones.  At 
each vertex stood another pillar like the first, 
for three pillars in all.  And beneath of her, 
shocked and struggling, was the Runecaster 
Agathe, fighting her purple robes which had 
tangled her arms when they’d fallen through.
         A memory came to the hawk, of a time 
spent studying with Misha’s sister, 
Elizabeth.  The world bell... pillars... death... 
Ahdyojiak!  Agathe had summoned the Pillars of 
Ahdyojiak, and now Jessica was here with 
her.  Her mind reeled at the ramifications.  This 
place could take her anywhere in the world if she 
only knew how to use it.  She immediately 
wondered how would she return to her friends in 
Breckaris.  But there was one things even more 
important to the hawk, and that lay beneath of 
her, one hand finally free of the robes.
         “Agathe!” Jessica cried, her fury 
remembered, she tried to bite at the lump that was the Runecaster’s head.
         The fingers danced in the air, and the 
hawk felt a concussion strike.  She flew 
backwards, crashing against one of the pillars 
and slumping to the floor.  Jessica shook her 
head clear, and brought her wings up, conjuring a 
bolt of fire.  The Runecaster tried to rise, but 
it struck her in the chest.  Her robes caught 
flame, and she thrashed about, screaming 
obscenities.  Another twist of her fingers and 
the robe righted itself, a blast of arctic chill 
descending from the limitless blackness above and extinguishing the fire.
         Agathe turned, empty red eye socket 
smouldering like an opened forge, and pulled her 
other hand free.  Jessica felt terror grip her 
heart.  This was the woman who had killed Wessex 
and reanimated his corpse!  This was the woman 
who had nearly killed them all in the Barrier 
Mountains!  Jessica was just a journeyman mage, 
and not a one of her friends was here to help.  This was madness!
         The Runecaster lifted her hands, a blue 
rune flaring to life as her fingers 
moved.  Golden energy arced from its centre, and 
the hawk was only just able to bring up a 
shield.  Cracks marred its surface, but it was 
all she could do.  Jessica put her energy into 
it, staring through one half-lidded eye at 
Agathe.  The witch had a contemptuous smile upon 
her lips, her scarred cheeks giving her a 
devilish cast.  She drew another rune, and the energy struck again.
         Jessica breathed rapidly, keeping the 
pillar at her back, wondering what she could 
possibly do.  Agathe stood in the very centre of 
the triangle, feet spread wide, the darkness 
behind her so complete that the hawk found it 
difficult to look at anything else.  What lay in 
that netherworld beyond the pillars?
         Drawing up her strength, Jessica, thrust 
her shield forward, braced her talons against the 
pillar, and leapt!  Agathe’s eye widened in 
surprise, and she hastily drew another rune.  But 
the hawk wrapped her wings around the Runecaster, 
and the two tumbled forward, to the very edge of 
the platform.  For a moment they teetered there, 
the safety of the grey floor on one side, the 
infinite emptiness of the Imbervand on the 
other.  And then Jessica flung one talon towards 
the darkness and they toppled over the edge.
         Agathe screamed in rage, and beat at the 
hawk with her fists.  Jessica, tried to peck her 
with her beak, but squawked in agony when her 
beak met a magical barrier.  Agathe’s one eye was 
nearly as red as the empty socket.  Yet despite 
the darkness all around them, both of them were 
as clear to each other as if it they stood outside on a sunny day.
         Overhead, the platform and the pillars 
receded as they fell towards some unimaginable 
depth below.  Frightened by what might exist 
there, Jessica spread her wings.  They caught on 
invisible currents and arrested her 
descent.  Agathe plunged downwards, but quickly 
wrapped her arms around Jessica’s foot.  The hawk 
squawked angrily, and tried to rake the witch’s 
face with her other foot, but her talons met that 
same magical barrier.  The pain of trying to 
pierce it made her wings buckle, and they were falling again.
         Agathe drew a rune in the air with one 
hand, and ghostly wings sprouted from her 
back.  They seemed a mirror of Jessica’s, fluffy 
and full of large feathers, but each a nebulous 
blue that glowed in outline.  The Runecaster dug 
her fingers into Jessica’s leg, and pulled 
herself up.  Death burned in her face; the hawk 
struggled to kick her free, but to no avail.
         Her head now at Jessica’s middle, Agathe 
drew another rune.  Jessica tried to hold her 
shield before her but the strange flows of magic 
– how magic could be in this place between all 
life, Jessica did not know – coalesced like a 
fist around her heart.  She gasped in horror, 
feeling it squeezed tight, crushing all life from 
it.  She dropped her shield and poured her energy 
into fighting off that clutching hand.  The 
Runecaster smiled, even as the hawk’s sight grew dim.
         The world was but that vague image of 
Agathe, the pinprick of grey light that was the 
pillars far overhead, and the fatal agony in her 
chest.  Everything else was an endless sea of 
night, a night when all the stars had gone 
out.  Jessica felt her energy, saw it strangled 
within Agathe’s fist, and wondered if there 
really was anything she could do.  Her awareness 
of the physical began to fade, leaving her with 
only the afterimage of the magic. She could see 
Agathe’s wings like bright beacons, and the fist 
extending from her wrapped tight around Jessica’s 
poor heart.  And then there was something else 
she saw, something faint and almost 
invisible.  There were three pinpricks of light on the Runecaster’s face.
         Jessica used what strength she had left 
to keep her heart from being crushed, but in 
every moment when the pressure and the pain waned 
even a fraction, she studied those points of 
light.  It seemed an eternity, but they grew in 
prominence the more she studied.  The first two 
were thin slits, and they carried the signature 
of energy bolts, something her master Wessex had 
taught her to cast.  The third was clearly from a 
scrying rod, as it seemed to seer into the soul.
         Jessica peered into that hole, and saw 
things beyond her understanding.  A young child 
being led into a city with tall and close-knit 
walls.  Cloaked wizards guided her and other 
children around.  Simple spells, runes of all 
sorts, and their history were revealed to 
her.  She felt a contempt for the men, who seemed 
to regard her as a curiosity, and it was then 
that Jessica saw there were few girls, and no 
women in these visions.  Snubs, dismissive words, 
but grudging acceptance filled them.
         And then a man in black, somebody 
different, not of those walls or that 
city.  Jessica sucked in her breath — 
Zagrosek!  He took the woman away, to a city in a 
jungle, of gold, wood, bells and magic.  And of 
an evil that lurked in every crevice.  Jessica 
screamed, fear filling her with an energy she 
could not imagine.  Agathe screamed as well, the 
hand clutching the hawk’s heart shattered by the sudden invasion.
         The wounds... that is what they were; 
Jessica saw those three pinpricks of light in 
Agathe’s face and knew them at last.  The 
Runecaster drew another sigil in the air, but 
Jessica sliced her wing through the middle, 
dispersing it before it could be finished.  Those 
wounds had been caused by Wessex, her master.  Of 
course Agathe had not been able to heal them, 
they were magical, and the magic was still alive 
in them.  Wessex, her master, had taught her many 
things, including how to use his spells when she 
must.  Jessica squawked in triumph.
         Reaching out her mind, she poured her 
energy into those three spells.  Agathe screamed, 
hands reaching to her face, even as the bolts dug 
further into her cheeks, and the hole in her eye 
dug further, back into her brain.  The 
Runecaster’s shrieks echoed in Jessica’s mind, 
but she pushed further, and further, unwilling to grant this woman any quarter.
         The blue wings faltered, and then 
disappeared entirely as Agathe turned all her 
energy to trying to keep the wounds from growing, 
but every time it seemed she had balked the hawk, 
Jessica turned her anger into more power. “You 
killed him!” Jessica cried, feeling all of the 
darkness around her turn to her cause. “But he 
has also killed you!” Jessica turned Wessex’s 
spells again, and the bolts pushed back into the 
brain case, along with the hole in her eye.  Fire 
cascaded from the socket, and the Runecaster’s body was gripped by seizures.
         And then, with one final push, Jessica 
brought all three spells together and let them 
detonate.  With one last soul-searing scream, 
Agathe’s head erupted in a brilliant plume of 
scarlet fire, and then her body shrivelled to ash 
within her purple robe.  Jessica pushed it away, 
spreading out her wings.  She watched for a 
moment as the lifeless ruin disappeared into the 
darkness below.  To her horror, something seemed 
to swallow it, and all the black around her took 
on a decidedly malevolent cast.  This was no more 
emptiness anymore.  Agathe’s death had woken something.
         Frightened, Jessica beat her wings, 
looking upwards for the pillars, and seeing only 
a tiny mote of light in the field of night.  She 
angled towards it, pulled her legs close to her 
chest, and flew with every bit of strength she 
had.  There were no currents in the air to guide 
her, nor thermals to ease her ascent.  Everything 
was still.  She would have to work for every 
fathom, every foot, and every inch.
         How far had they fallen?  And did they 
fall as quickly as they would have on 
Earth?  Jessica had no way to judge; there was no 
wind of any kind, and her sole reference point 
was just that, a single star in this empty 
universe.  And how could she even be sure that 
flapping her wings was bringing her any closer to 
the platform?  Her soul ached to know just one 
levitation spell capable of moving things heavier 
than pebbles.  Already her shoulders burned from exhaustion.
         For a moment she spread her wings and 
held them steady.  The pain subsided and she 
shuddered, finally understanding what she’d just 
done.  She’d killed Agathe and avenged her 
master’s death.  It was what she’d yearned with 
all her being for the last ten months.  She 
should feel exultant, thrilled at her 
victory.  Then why did she feel no peace, only 
emptiness?  What had the Lothannasa taught her 
about revenge?  Didn’t she say that it would 
claim three lives?  There was the victim and the 
murderer, but was she to be the third?  Was she 
to be forever lost in this impenetrable 
darkness?  Would she go mad and kill herself?
         Jessica pumped her wings angrily, 
ignoring the pain in her back.  She would not be 
defeated by this!  She had taken up the studies 
of a Master long before she was ready.  Seh had 
protected her friends at countless turns.  By her 
powers she had destroyed Lutin marauders, human 
mercenaries, and now a Runecaster of 
Marzac.  Marzac had taken so much from her 
already, killing her mentor, imprisoning her 
lover, as well as everything it had cost her 
friends.  It would not take her life.  Not this day!
         That strange sense of forboding she’d 
felt after Agathe died bit by bit crept back into 
her mind.  Undaunted by her pain, Jessica 
continued to ascend, trying not to dwell on what 
lurked beneath her.  The gray mote had grown 
larger, a detail only her hawk’s eyes would have 
noted, but it was still far out of her 
reach.  And so, her mind disobediently returned 
to consider that otherness in the darkness.  What 
could possibly exist in the Imbervand?
         She recalled the first time she’d 
learned of the Imbervand – the in-between 
land.  Yonson, the lemur ambassador to Metamor 
from Marzac, had given her a tome on the subject 
by an ancient southern mage.  The Imbervand was 
that place through which all teleportation spells 
would pass.  It connected all places in the 
world.  The only limitation on how far a 
teleportation spell could go was determined by 
how far into the Imbervand the spell went.  The 
Pillars of Ahdyojiak were the only device capable 
of bringing a person fully into the 
Imbervand.  But in her study, she’d never 
encountered any mention of anything living 
there.  Thus, this presence could only be the 
result of her taxes spirit and overeager imagination.
         Just as she was prepared to dismiss it, 
Jessica knew a profane sense of immanence in that 
darkness.  Reason could not dispatch a waking 
nightmare, nor could wishful thinking.  But where 
Agathe had been a physical being she could see 
and touch, this was tangible yet immaterial, 
corporeal yet a shapeless void.  And this thing, 
reaching up from unimaginable depths towards her, 
scared her in a way no human could.
         She pumped her wings faster, but after a 
few strokes forced herself to pause long enough 
to shrink into her pure hawk form.  Smaller and 
lighter, she found it much easier to fly, coming 
ever nearer the platform with its three 
pillars.  For a time – the only way she could 
measure it was by counting wing strokes – this 
seemed to work.  The dark presence receded, and 
she was left with her own thoughts.
         And then, just as the platform grew from 
an undifferentiated speck into a recognizable 
triangular shape, it returned.  Whispers flitted 
through her mind, and images came to her of 
things so horrible, she had to fight the urge to 
retch.  She saw her body mutilated, pierced by a 
thousand shards of glass, and other far more 
terrible things.  But she didn’t cry out until 
she saw the same things done to her friends.  She 
beat her wings harder, flinching as she felt the 
tips of her feathers brush against something.
         It was right behind her, slowly 
swallowing her into its evil.  Jessica screamed 
in agony, flinging herself towards the 
platform.  It was so close now.  Another hundred 
strokes and she would be there, back between the 
pillars.  The darkness stretched out on all 
sides, sliding its thoughts into her 
mind.  Somehow, she knew it wasn’t going to kill 
her just yet.  It wanted her, badly.  And it 
wanted her mind destroyed.  It wanted, and wanted, and wanted.
         She refused to allow herself to be 
sucked into its miasma of desecration.  One thing 
only filled her thoughts; if she could escape, 
she would see her lover and soon to be husband, 
Weyden.  He too was a hawk, handsome with dark 
red and brown feathers.  The way he ran his beak 
across hers had always filled her with 
excitement.  What she would give to be folded in his wings again!
         And then the shards of glass pierced 
him, the blades severed his wings, thorns were 
shoved through his beak, and his screams tore 
through her mind.  The darkness brushed her wings 
and taunted her tail feathers.  Jessica joined 
her scream to his, as the tangible blackness 
began to spread above her, cutting off her view 
of the platform. “No!” she cried, struggling one 
last time to escape the living nightmare.
         Only a single shaft of light was left, 
through a hole far too small to pass.  A moment 
before the last of her hope died to leave her in 
madness, a brilliant flash erupted from the 
platform.  White, so bright she thought it would 
blind her, an arm reached through that hole.  She 
threw herself against it, and all around her the 
darkness shattered with the screams of a million mirrors.

----------

         Jessica did not know how long she was 
unconscious.  Her mind replayed that horrible 
escape over and over again, and each time, she 
felt that nebulous force close around her, 
suffocating and pitiless.  Who or what could have 
saved her?  Had she been saved, or was this all 
part of the madness the darkness promised?
         Then, suddenly, she opened her eyes.
         The blackness that had consumed the 
Imbervand was gone.  In its place were vague 
suggestions of ancient temples and pagodas, but 
through everything vegetation had sprouted, 
brilliant flowers, and strange branches and 
leaves spreading to form a canopy over the 
earth.  But something seemed wrong, lifeless 
about all that she saw.  It took her a minute to 
realize that there was no colour at all to this 
world; everything was bleached in grey.
         It was only when Jessica began to stir 
that she realized she was resting between three 
giant pillars that stretched into a cloud bank 
over head.  The Pillars of Adhyojiak.  But where was she now?
         “Dost not move yet,” a voice warned from 
behind her, one unrecognizable, but kindly. “Thy 
body hath need of mending.  What needs be done 
hast been done, but thou must wait for it to finish.”
         Jessica could not feel any injury, just 
a general stiffness in her wings.  The muscles 
there ached, but that wasn’t surprising after the 
amount of flapping she’d done.  She tried to move 
her head to look down at herself, but felt a hand 
rest upon the back of her neck. “She looks like 
she’s improving,” a second voice said.  This one 
had the character of a Midlander.
         “Aye, she wilt recover,” the first 
replied.  It sounded vaguely like a Steppelander, 
but there was some archaic turn to his accent 
that she couldn’t place. “She hath many 
questions, but the ones needeth answering be not the ones she wilt ask.”
         Jessica would not remain silent at that! “Who are you?”
         “As I didst say, not the questions she 
needeth answering.  Thou shouldst instead be 
asking, what must be done still.  While I do not 
possess thy answer in full, I dost know of some 
small part.  The answer of why Marzac hath gone 
to such lengths in its quest, that art more 
complicated, but from my vantage here I hath seen much that wilt aid thee.”
         The hawk narrowed her eyes, trying to 
turn over, but the hands at her back held her in 
place.  Glumly she stared at the pillars, 
wondering where they’d brought her now.  Dimly, 
she began to notice that faint lines, like ropes, 
grew from each pillar.  One from each were very 
strong, and lead off into the ruins.
         “Was it you who saved me?” Jessica 
asked.  He may not think the questions she wished 
to ask important, but she was still going to ask them!
         “Aye, ‘twas I who took thee from the 
darkness.  ‘Twas not easy to reach thee; if not 
for thy valiant flight, thou wouldst hath been 
lost to it, and with it, likely all our 
hopes.  Thou will meet it again, at an appointed 
hour.  Had it claimed thee, thy madness would 
have ensured its success.  Now, we hath a little hope still.”
         Jessica took a moment to breathe.  That 
sounded much like what she’d gathered from the 
nightmare pursuing her.  She didn’t like the idea 
that she would need to face it again.  How could 
anyone survive such an encounter?  And who was 
this man that he could save her from it?  But, 
more importantly, what was it she faced?
         “I was in the Imbervand.  I didn’t think 
anything lived in the Imbervand.  What was chasing me there?”
         “The power of Marzac,” the second man 
answered. “It was invited into the Imbervand this 
last January when its servants carried the Sword 
of Yajakali through the Pillars.  The woman you 
slew was the one wh had summoned the Pillars then, just as she did now.”
         “Agathe!” Jessica spat.  Hate flared 
inside of her, then began to die.  The Runecaster 
was dead, dead from spells Wessex had cast so 
long ago.  Her anger could burn only herself now. 
“Agathe summoned the Pillars of Ahdyojiak in 
January?  Then that is what made the World Bell 
ring.  I heard from a friend that the Pillars had 
been summoned, and that something powerful had 
been sent through.  It was the Sword?  The Sword is here?”
         Fear displaced her anger.  She had only 
ever seen the censer of Yajakali, and its 
destructive power was terrible enough.  But what 
could the sword accomplish?  And if the Sword was 
gallivanting about the world, then what of the 
Dais, the final artifact of Yajakali?  Where was it hiding?
         “The sword hath been leashed to 
Yesulam,”the Steppelander replied. “Just as the 
censer wast leashed to Metamor.  And now with 
Agathe’s death in the Imbervand, the Sword hath 
lassoed Ahdyiojiak as well.  What they didst 
conspire by their journey through the Imbervand 
in January they hath consummated now.  Long hath 
they coveted the power of Ahdyiojiak.  In the 
last war, ‘twas the one power that thwarted 
them.  Now it shalt be their slave.”
         “I never meant to cause that!” Jessica 
objected, stirring angrily, but the hands on her 
back kept her down.  She must have been weaker 
than she realized if a simple man could hold her 
down.  She wondered if she was still a 
normal-sized hawk, but no, the hands against her 
felt too small for that.  And her legs felt long, 
like they should when she was her half-human self.
         “Just as we never meant to aid Marzac 
either,” the second man replied.  But where we 
were foolish and greedy, you seek to destroy that 
power.  For that I am grateful.”
         “Aye, but who are you?”
         “We should tell her,” the man said 
sympathetically. “I know she won’t have heard of 
me.  But she may have heard of you.”
         “Not until the others hath returned.”
         “Others?” Jessica asked.  And then she 
saw something moving through the ferns.  Her eyes 
locked on the disturbance, heart pounding 
rapidly.  And then a solitary figure emerged.  It 
was of a young man, his hair light in colour, 
with the beginnings of a goatee sprouting from 
his chin.  He was dressed like a Midlander, and 
from his chest emerged the other end of that 
strange rope attached to the Pillars.  He nodded 
once to the hawk, a half-smile on his face. “She’s awake!”
         “Dost thee possess it?”
         The young man nodded, unable to take his 
eyes from the hawk. “I’ve never met a Metamorian 
before.  Always thought one day we’d go up 
there...”  He came closer, and then knelt before 
her. “This is for you.” He produced a small stone 
and laid it before her.  It rolled on the masonry 
a moment before settling against a small 
crack.  Jessica could see what looked vaguely 
like a mountain inscribed on one side.
         “What is it?”
         “ ‘Tis meant to be kept close to thy 
heart.  Dost not let anyone see it.  ‘Tis for thee alone.”
         Jessica grimaced but nodded.  They had 
saved her life, there must be some reason for everything she witnessed.
         “Where’s Thulin?’ the second man asked.
         “He should be right behind me,” the 
young man replied.  He returned to his feet and 
then smiled. “Ah, there he is now.  Hurry up, Thulin!  She’s awake!”
         “Hurry up?” a voice called back from the 
brush.  Jessica saw a slightly older man emerge 
there, dark of hair bearing similar clothes. He 
also had a rope emerging from his middle “What 
point is there in hurrying in a place where time 
doesn’t exist?” He had a scroll case tucked under 
one arm, and he gingerly held it out when he 
neared. “This is for you, Jessica.  One day you will find this very useful.”
         “What is it?” she asked. “And who are all of you?”
         “It’s time we told her,” the second man 
said in reproving tones. “And time we explained what’s happening.”
         “Aye, ‘tis time.  Help her up.  She art 
weak still, and wilt need thy aid.”
         The two men came to help one holding her 
down.  Together, the three of them lifted 
her.  Jessica tried to struggle free from their 
grasp, but she realized with shock that she truly 
was weak.  She could not budge at all from their 
grip, and as soon as she put her talons beneath 
her, she was certain that they would not hold her 
up.  They set her on a stone, with the young man 
at her side to keep her from tipping over.
         She now could see the two men who’d been 
with her from the beginning.  The other Midlander 
looked like his fellows, though a bit pudgier, 
with ruddy cheeks and a clever eye.  He also had 
a rope protrude from his middle.  It appeared 
they were all babes still attached to their 
mothers, but in this case their mothers were the three pillars.
         When her eyes first saw the other man, 
for a moment she thought him a Keeper too, 
because his chest was covered in silvery fur, and 
his head was a set of snarling wolf jaws.  But 
after a few seconds study she realized that he 
was only a man wearing highly decorative 
armour.  She marvelled at the construction, 
noting the richness in detail. From a distance in 
battle, it would look as if a wolf walked among 
men.  The face behind the jaws was hard, lean, 
with an air of dignity that spoke of power and a 
sense of responsibility that he took pride in.
         “Who are you?” she asked again, unable 
to take her eyes from the armoured man.
         “I,” the man with ruddy cheeks answered, 
“am Kaleas.  I was once a merchant of wool from 
Kelewair.  My partners are Thulin and 
Marin.  Together we made a good living carrying 
our wares west to Ellcaran and south to 
Ralathe.  But that ended earlier this year.” He frowned, and shook his head.
         “What happened?” Jessica asked.
         Thulin grunted and replied, “We had the 
misfortune to be playing cards at the wrong 
Inn.  A man saw us, a man with a dark plan.  We 
foolishly allowed him to join our game, and one 
by one, he used the cards to control our minds.  Then he killed us.”
         Jessica blinked.  Cards?  The Marquis? 
“Were you taken by the Marquis du Tournemire as well?”
         “No,” Marin replied. “In that we were 
lucky.  This man could not inflict pain on us 
through the cards.  It was an ordinary deck, but 
he knew the ancient rituals that made it 
powerful.  Learned if from du Tournemire he 
did.  He called himself Krabbe, but his real name is Zagrosek.”
         “Zagrosek!” Jessica squawked 
angrily.  Though he had not killed her master, he 
was involved in just about every other evil 
Marzac had perpetrated! “And he killed you?”
         “Do you see these?” Thulin asked, 
holding up the rope that tied him to one of the 
Pillars. “It is the reason we are here.  After 
taking control of our minds, the woman you just 
killed summoned the Pillars of Ahdyojiak.  We 
three were sacrificed to the pillars in order to 
power them and to prepare them to transport the 
Sword of Yajakali from Ellcaran to 
Yesulam.  Until the Sword is destroyed, we will 
remain trapped here in this place out of time.”
         “This place out of time... but you were 
kille din January.  How is it you are here now in my time?”
         The armoured man cut in. “The Imbervand 
knoweth not time.  It wilt bring us to any time 
in reality we wishest it.  But time’s arrow 
pointeth only one way, and we but follow it like 
dutiful servants.  To go back art impossible.”
         “We’re here because you are here,” 
Kaleas explained. “And when you leave, we will go 
to the next time that the Imbervand is used.  The 
Pillars are not the only things that can bring 
us, but it is they that bring us most fully, and 
the only way we can reach out to others.”
         Jessica nodded. “So you are the three 
who died when the Pillars were summoned in 
January.  That explains that.  But who are you?”
         The armoured man smiled. “I hight Pelain 
of Cheskych.  Thou mayest hath heard of me, but I doubt it.”
         Jessica shook her head. “I’m sorry, no, I have not heard of you.”
         “My time and place hath been lost but to 
a few who dost remember.  I didst live a thousand 
years past, and ‘twas I that built the city of 
Cheskych in the Vysehrad mountains.  Thou dost 
know them as the Great Eastern Range.”
         Jessica blinked in surprise. “I didn’t 
know there were any cities in those mountains!”
         “Thou hath heard of the ancient city of Carethedor?”
         The name was familiar, and after a 
moment of reflection, Jessica recalled where 
she’d learned of it. “Aye, Carethedor.  The 
Åelves of Carethedor built the Pillars of 
Ahdyojiak.  They were in the mountains weren’t they?”
         “Aye, and ‘twas I that found their 
city.  And there, I didst fight a dragon who wast 
corrupted by Marzac.  And there I didst die.  And 
from there, I wast brought here to this place to 
watch, except when I hath been called to fight 
again.” His face flickered in dismay, but the 
moment was brief. “And also when I must be of aid, as I wilt be to thee.”
         Jessica’s head felt as if it were 
swimming. “What is happening?  What does Marzac want?”
         “ If by Marzac thou dost mean the 
Underworld, then it art a simple question to 
answer.  The Underworld wishes to feast upon all 
life in our world.  The Underworld can only 
thrive when it destroys.  But with the 
Underworld, Yajakali hath enacted a dread bargain 
that wilt cast all of us into the Underworld if none stop him.”
         “What bargain is this?”
         “That I hath no knowledge of.  The 
greatest of minds hath pondered that very 
question, but the answer hath eluded all of us to 
this day.  But the moment when his bargain wilt 
complete draws nigh.  When the stars dost return 
to their places, Yajakali wilt hand this world 
over to the evil darkness that didst give thee 
chase.  To give so much, to tear the cleft so 
wide, hast required more power than any hath e’er 
held.  ‘Tis the purpose of the artifacts, and 
‘tis why they hath been sent to places of great power.”
         “Kyia said the censer was tied to 
Metamor, and she did not dare try to remove 
it.  Is that what she meant?  The censer was linked with the magic of Metamor?”
         “Aye.  When Yajakali doth request it, 
all magic in Metamor shalt bend to his will.  And 
that of Yesulam, of Ahdyojiak, of Carethedor, of 
Ellcaran, of Boreaux, of Elvquelin, of Hevagn, of 
Eavey, and of every land in which the artifacts 
hath appeared over the millennia.  The casting he 
shalt attempt must not be allowed to succeed.  It 
art an abomination, a violation of the 
fundamental nature of our world.  ‘Tis one reason 
why he hath become a monster.”
         Jessica closed her eyes for a moment, 
feeling her strength slowly returning as 
promised. “Are you all right?” Marin asked.
         “I will be,” Jessica replied. “Is there 
any power that can stop Yajakali?”
         “No power mankind possesses can do such 
a thing,” Pelain answered, though there was still 
a thread of hope in his voice. “But we wilt ne’er 
be alone in this world.  Why dost thou think thy 
art accompanied by three of the other great races 
in thy journey?  ‘Tis not all of them, but they art the ones needed for this.”
         “So what can I do?”
         “Thou must go back and journey to 
Marzac. Thou must be there when Yajakali doth 
return to consummate his spell.  Only when he 
doth risk himself can there be any hope of 
victory.  His servants, powerful as they may be, 
hath but flesh and blood.  They wilt be 
sacrificed as Agathe wast, and as Yonson, Jothay, 
and Loriod wert before them, when it doth suit Yajakali’s needs.”
         “Jothay?”
         “The one in Yesulam to whom the Sword of 
Yajakali was given,” Thulin replied.  He licked 
his lips. “The Sword killed him to tie 
itself.  He’s the one who betrayed Patriarch 
Akabaieth to Zagrosek.” A fierce scowl filled his 
face. “Had we known with whom we played cards...”
         “There’s nothing we can do about the 
past,” Kaleas counselled. “If we can even do a 
small thing for the future, we will now.”
         “Aye,” Pelain agreed.  He lifted his 
helmet free, and Jessica finally had a good look 
at him.  His features were, surprisingly enough, 
familiar to her.  She had seen men of Sathmore 
before, and there was something of him in 
them.  But there was also something Pyralian too, 
the hard chiselled edges and commanding stare 
were too distinctive to ignore.  What he was, 
there could be no doubt, was Suielman.
         Pelain knelt on one knee before Jessica 
and lowered his head. “Jessica.  Thou art the 
only one to come into our company that we might 
share what we know.  I wish there wert more to 
tell thee.  Know that the lives of countless men 
and women who doth come before thee art depending 
on thee to see their efforts vindicated.  Thee 
and thy companions hath no greater task than 
this: destroy Yajakali and forever cleanse this 
world from the powers of the Underworld.”
         “I will,” Jessica replied. “It is what 
we have been trying to do now for four 
months!  We we’re headed to Marzac before we were 
captured by the Breckarin troops.  I suppose 
we’ll be continuing on our way now that we have been freed.”
         “My friends hath given thee two 
gifts.  The first thou already know.  The second 
be a collection of scrolls holding many of the 
secrets of Ahdyojiak.  Do not use them until 
Yajakali hath been destroyed.  He hast made the 
Imbervand too dangerous to risk.  I now give thee 
two more gifts.  The first I impart is a spell 
that wilt aid thee in the lands of Marzac, 
safeguarding thy spirit from the passive 
corruption that infests all life there.  The second is a warning.”
         Jessica took the scroll case from 
Thulin, and rolled the small stone between her 
wing claws.  She took a deep breath as she felt 
the outlines of the protective spell begin to 
coalesce in her mind.  How could he put the spell inside her like that?
         But what more caught her ear was this last gift. “What warning?”
         “The Marquis du Tournemire hath planned 
thy escape.  He dost expect thee to ride the Rheh 
Talaran through western Pyralis.  His armies wait 
for thee there, and they hath been given magics 
to balk the Rheh.  Thou must find another way.”
         Jessica nodded and pulled the scroll 
case to her chest. “I will.  Thank you, 
Pelain.  And thank you, Kaleas, Thulin, Marin.  I 
knew you had died, but I never knew you.  Thank 
you again.  And thank you for saving me.  I wish 
I knew how we are going to defeat Yajakali.  Is 
there anyway we can free my friends from the Marquis’s cards?”
         “There exists a man who canst destroy 
the cards,” Pelain replied. “But he hath ne’er 
heard of thee.  And at this time, he lies beyond 
the Vysehrad mountains.  Thou hast not been 
claimed by the Marquis’s cards, and thou must not 
be claimed by them, Jessica.  Not e’en to save 
the lives of thy friends shouldst thou allow him 
to claim thee.  But remember, the Marquis serves 
Yajakali.  When Yajakali hath no more need of him, he too shalt die.”
         The answer didn’t really satisfy her, 
but she suspected that was all she was going to 
get. “I wish I knew what else I should 
ask.  There seems to be so much to learn.”
         “Sadly, ‘tis all that we know,” Pelain 
replied, frowning.  He stood up and held out his 
mailed hand. “Thou hast thy gifts, and thou hast 
learned what there be to learn.  ‘Tis time for 
thee to return to the real world.  Come, I wilt show thee the way.”
         The three merchants stepped back and 
each of them walked to a separate pillar.  The 
air between the pillars felt thick, and she could 
see a haze begin to develop.  Jessica stood, 
finding her strength returned at last.  Pelain 
stood just between two of the pillars and 
gestured out into the jungle. “Thou sees 
Ahdyojiak, but when thou dost step this way, thou 
wilt return to the Tower of Theodoric.  It ‘twill 
be no later than when thou didst leave.  If thou 
art ready, step this way.  Thou shalt ne’er see us again.”
         Those last words made Jessica pause for 
a moment. “Then know that I will do what I can to 
save you from your prison here.” Pelain nodded, 
and the merchants smiled, motioning for her to go 
on.  The hawk took a deep breath and stepped between the pillars.
         The world spun for a single moment, and 
a crack resounded above her.  And then the air 
was clear, and she tumbled forward against the a 
desultory mess of chalk lines.  Behind her the 
familiar voices of her friends cried out in 
pain.  She turned her head, seeing nothing but an 
empty room, a single timepiece set against one 
wall.  Behind her, through the shattered tatters 
of the door, she saw her friends rubbing their eyes.
         Jessica leapt to her feet, dropping the 
scroll case in her haste.  She leapt through the 
doorway, and cried, “She’s dead!  Agathe is dead!”
         “Ah!” Charles cried out, falling over on 
the floor.  All eyes turned towards him as his 
body shuddered.  Jessica’s heart grew tight as 
his stony skin drew back, the grey of tone 
blossoming into colour.  First his clothes, which 
had long been affixed to him, came loose, 
returning to wool.  And then, his fur began to 
move again, whiskers twitching, ears and nose a 
soft pink. His eyes, once jewels of the finest 
obsidian, grew limpid.  Every bit of the rat, 
particle by particle, returned to flesh.  The 
vine still wrapped about him, and for a moment it seemed to squirm in delight.
         All eyes looked form Charles to Jessica, 
stunned and confused.  The rat stared at his paws 
in wonder, rubbing them over his face.  The 
bright Lothanasi symbols on his chest flared to 
life in brilliant warmth, and then faded, but did 
not disappear.  The rat blinked and began to 
laugh hysterically. “I’m back!  I’m back!  I’m back!!”

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May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias
Ut Prosim