[Mkguild] The Last Tale of Yajakali - Chapter XLVI

[C. Matthias]

Okay, finally finished the next chapter!  Now I 
can start looking at all the various threads on 
Metamor Keep that have been started and offer my 2 cents!

Chapter XLVII

Summoning the Pillars

         She felt the moment the wards upon the 
mysterious Åelf were broken.  It shook her like 
an earthquake, violent and impersonal.  After 
falling to the floor and enduring the stares of 
the Marquis’s idiotic playthings, she announced she was retiring for the night.
         “But what of our plans?” Schanalein 
asked contemptuously. “The Marquis was explicit 
in his promise that you would stay and aid us in war.”
         Agathe was used to men thinking they 
could give her orders. “Your men will not be 
marching to Silvassa on the morrow.  They will 
need a few day’s rest before they can leave.  There is plenty of time to plan.”
         Bishop Hockmann nodded and pushed his 
spectacles up with one finger. “Agathe is right, 
your grace.  I see neither any reason why she 
cannot retire, nor any necessity for haste in 
drawing our plans.” He offered the detached smile 
of a scholar to a servant and added, “Take your 
rest, Agathe.  There is much work still ahead of us.”
         Seething at the pompous bishop’s 
pretension, Agathe stiffly marched from the 
Duke’s study.  As she closed the door behind, she 
heard Schanalein mutter, “It’s just as well.  War 
is the province of men.  I don’t like relying on women for anything.”
         The two guards standing outside the 
Duke’s chambers heard as well; one of them 
snickered.  Agathe spun on her heels and fixed 
his gaze with her single eye.  The humour died, 
and his face bled of colour.  He feebly gripped 
his halberd, as if that could protect him from the Runecaster’s wrath.
         He was not worth even an insult.  Agathe 
left the hall with imperious stride.  She had 
long ago come to the conclusion that men were for 
the most part useless blowhards, more concerned 
with their own aggrandizement than they were with 
achieving the noble goals they loudly 
proclaimed.  She would not trust a man for any 
duty save mindless slaughter, as men were very 
nearly beasts themselves and thus suited to the 
tasks of beasts.  Even the Marquis, were it not 
for his cards, would have been a tower of 
crumbling rock – perhaps once fair to look upon, but now ready to topple.
         But he did have the cards, and so Agathe could do nothing against him.
         And then there was Zagrosek, the one man 
that she felt even a passing degree of compassion 
for.  He thought himself chivalrous by trying to 
shield her from the Marquis’s machinations, but 
he too was only a fool.  A fool she wished well, but still a fool.
         Night had already fallen when she left 
the main part of the castle and crossed the 
bridge to the Tower of Theodoric; he’d been the 
last pagan ruler of Breckaris and had leapt to 
his death in a fit of madness from the tower’s 
high windows.  It had remained little used in the 
centuries of Ecclesiast rulers, but Schanalein 
had been quite content to offer it to the Marquis and his servants.
         Agathe paused on the bridge and stared 
into the sky.  It was a clear night, and the 
stars shone brightly.  They moved but slowly, 
inexorably, returning to the very places they 
once knew.  But tonight was not yet the night 
when the Marquis’s plan would come to 
fruition.  And then it became clear to her.  For 
the first time, Agathe finally understood the 
outlines of that plan and her place in it: he 
meant for her to die at the hands of the 
Keepers.  It was why she’d been sent to harass 
them in the mountains, why she had to goal them, 
why they were allowed to live at all, and why her 
one avenue of escape now lay in the Tower of Theodoric.
         Turning to the squat white-washed tower 
whose base was suffused with ivy, Agathe stilled 
the rage in her heart.  She did have a way to 
escape, even from the Marquis.  She knew a magic 
through which he had no influence.  The Tower of 
Theodoric tapped into and drew up into its high 
room the flow of magic passing through 
Breckaris.  It was why Theodoric had succumbed to 
madness, and why it had remained unused 
since.  Now she would turn it to her ends.
         But this spell could only be consummated 
at midnight.  The Keepers would come for her, and 
she had to keep them at bay long enough to 
succeed.  Her fingers drew sigils upon the 
bridge, the tower door, and along the stairs 
leading up.  Most were simple and would delay the 
Keepers only a minute or two.  But enough of 
these and she would have the time she needed.
         The upper chamber was circular with 
windows on three sides to follow the sun.  Agathe 
drew sigils to block all light through the 
windows, then drew a warding spell upon the door 
in the northern wall.  This one would was more 
powerful than the others, and would keep them 
occupied for a much longer time; she hoped it would hold past midnight.
         Satisfied with her precautions, Agathe 
produced several pieces of coloured chalk and a 
timepiece.  Along with these was her prized 
possession, a black onyx scroll-case that no man 
could open.  She pressed her fingers in a 
delicate order, twisting and moving the case like 
a puzzle box.  A soft glow enveloped the onyx, 
and it slid free from her hands.  Agathe let it 
rise until it was at head height, when she 
stretched out all ten of her fingers and touched 
the case with each of them.  A dull clicking sounded.
         Agathe twisted the case, and slowly 
pulled it apart.  The case grew to twice its 
length before another clicking sounded and a 
tightly wound piece of old parchment was 
revealed.  Agathe took the parchment and set the 
scroll-case aside.  The spell described on the 
parchment was ancient and very complicated.  The 
first time she’d made this this casting she’d 
needed to sleep for half a day afterwards to 
recover.  It would be no less dangerous this time.
         Finally, Agathe set the parchment aside 
and began to draw.  She used the white chalk 
first, drawing a perfect equilateral 
triangle.  Singing under her breath, she traced 
the triangle with the green chalk, and watched as 
a faint light began to shine from the 
lines.  This was just the first of many 
steps.  In three hours when she was finished, she 
would once again summon the Pillars of Ahdyojiak!

----------

         Charles and Kurt stood side by side, 
peering out along the broad tiled courtyard that 
separated the barracks from the castle.  Night 
had fallen, which provided them some cover, but 
torches were lit from every battlement, and 
streetlamps dotted the gardens to the 
right.  Patrols marched between the barracks and 
the castle, but the rat was pleased to note that 
they carried torches too, blinding them to all 
but the other torches.  If they were careful, the 
guards could stare straight at them and never see them.
         Kurt leaned down and whispered into the 
rat’s ear, “Do you see the cathedral?  Off to the 
left?” It was strange speaking into what looked 
like solid stone, but Charles nodded.  He then 
turned his snout up to whisper into Kurt’s ear.
         “Is there a way into the castle from there?”
         “Aye.  An old underground passage.  It 
allows the duke to reach the cathedral without being seen.”
         “Won’t it be guarded?”
         “It might, but not likely. The castle 
side starts from the secret passages.”
         The rat nodded thoughtfully at that and 
then gestured at the cathedral.  It was warmly 
lit, but still a thing of shadow. “What of the 
bishop?  Won’t he have his own guards?”
         “At this hour,” Kurt replied, gesturing 
to a dark tower on one end of the cathedral, 
“Bishop Hockmann would have finished Vespers and 
normally would be in his quarters 
reading.  There’s no light there, so he must be in the castle.”
         The rat took another moment to study the 
grounds between them and the cathedral.  After a 
minute he turned away from the door and gestured 
for Kurt to follow him back down.  Kurt guided 
the heavy door almost shut, and followed him back 
down the stairs.  They carefully tiptoed down the 
hallway until they were safely behind the main 
gaol doors, and under the protection of Jessica’s silence spell.
         The others were there waiting for them, 
some not so patiently.  Jessica was stalking back 
and forth, wings folded behind her, with a 
predatory glare in her eyes. “Well?” She asked 
after they returned. “Can we go now?”
         “Aye,” Charles replied, glancing over 
his friends studiously, until his eyes came to 
the Nauh-kaee.  He grimaced. “I’m afraid you 
aren’t going to fit up the staircase, 
Guernef.  You’ll have to stay here until we can think of a way to get you out.”
         Abafouq offered him a lop-sided grin, 
“You be surprised at how small a place Guernef can fit.”
         “The guard changes at midnight,” Kayla 
added. “If they come and find Guernef while all 
the soldiers are locked up and we’re gone, what do you imagine they’ll do?”
         “True.  All right, we’ll get you out 
somehow.” Charles gestured back out the door. 
“But we can see the way out, and I think, if 
we’re careful, we can cross the courtyard without 
being seen.  Kurt says there is a way into the 
castle beneath the cathedral, and it does sound like our best hope.”
         “We must hurry,” Qan-af-årael intoned, 
his voice faint as if shouted from a great 
distance. “A spell of great power is being 
cast.  We must reach them before it is finished.”
         “Agathe?” Jessica snapped.
         “Most likely,” Kayla replied.   The 
skunk spread her paws wide. “I cannot think of 
who else might be casting anything.”
         The hawk pointed towards the door with 
one wing. “Well, shall we go?  We cannot stop her here.”
         Kurt and Tugal led the way, with Charles 
close behind.  Guernef waited at the rear while 
the others filed through the small serving door 
and up the stairs to the courtyard.  The 
Nauh-kaee expelled all his breath, folded his 
wings tight against his back, and squeezed 
through the door, his body surprisingly 
malleable.  His flesh scraped the walls, and a 
few feathers came free, but he did make it through.
         Kurt kept them flat against the wall 
until they were all outside.  Once under the 
starry sky, they moved into the courtyard proper, 
carefully staying in the large patches of 
shadow.  The moon was brighter than they would 
have liked, but the rat’s hope about the guards 
being blinded by their torches proved 
true.  Still, they felt small and vulnerable as 
they crossed the wide expanse between the 
barracks and the cathedral.  To their right, the 
shadowy castle loomed oppressively above 
them.  Many of the upper windows were dark, and 
any moment they expected to hear shouts of alarm.
         But they neared the massive cathedral 
without alerting any of the guards.  Kurt led 
them between the two buildings to a small wooden 
door set between two flying 
buttresses.  Gingerly, he opened it, but all he 
saw inside was darkness.  The moon was hidden 
behind the cathedral now, and there was almost no 
light at all for them to see by.  Kurt let the 
animal morph keepers, whose eye sight was better, 
enter first.  Kayla summoned a witch light, but 
kept it very low, almost to the point of 
flickering out of existence.  But it was enough to help them find their way.
         Guernef had little difficulty in passing 
through this door either, and with a flick of his 
tail, brought it shut behind him more quietly 
than even Abafouq would have thought 
possible.  The room they had crammed themselves 
into was stacked with candles, incense, and 
several cleaning supplies. “To get to the tunnel, 
we have to pass through the sanctuary,” Kurt 
informed them. “It should be mostly empty at this hour.”
         And so it was.  They emerged through a 
side door into a cathedral even larger than the 
one at Metamor.  A column of pillars and pews 
shielded them from the view of the parishioners 
kneeling in prayer in the main aisles.  Torches 
lit the finely crafted interior, but the stained 
glass windows were dark and offered no 
details.  Statuary lined the outer wall, as well 
as several votive stations for prayer.
         Kurt led them along the outer wall 
towards the altar.  Just where the columns ended 
was a larger door. The Keepers kept low and quiet 
so as not to disturb those praying, and to their 
delight not a one of them looked up.  When they 
reached the door, Kurt, Tugal, Charles, Lindsey, 
Habakkuk, James, and both Åelf knelt towards the 
altar, most making the sign of the yew, before heading through the door.
         Once it was closed behind them, Jessica 
said, “I did not think there were any Patildor 
among your kind.”  Neither Andares nor 
Qan-af-årael said anything, but the younger smiled enigmatically.
         “The tunnel will be down here,” Kurt 
whispered.  They followed him to a door which 
opened to reveal a descending staircase.  The 
walls were made of the same masonry they’d seen 
everywhere else in the courtyard, a fact that 
made the stone rat grimace.  He’d hoped there 
would be some real stone along the way he could 
feel through, but that would have to wait it seemed.
         The tunnel led straight beneath the 
courtyard.  There were no sconces along either 
side, so anyone using it would need their own 
torch; the witchlight Kayla had summoned was 
enough to guide their steps.  When they reached 
the tunnel’s end a minute later, it opened into a 
dark and musty staircase.  Wood timbers mixed 
with the castle’s stone to form a very cramped passage.
         “We’ll need to be especially quiet now,” 
Kurt said in a firm whisper. “Some of the walls 
are very thin.” He glanced at the Nauh-kaee, who 
appeared to have sucked his sides in a good six 
inches. “And some of the passages are very 
tight.  Are you sure you can make it?” The 
Nauh-kaee gave him a firm stare, at which the 
young man swallowed, nodded dumbly and began climbing the stairs.
         The Keepers followed him silently.  The 
stairs turned back and forth three times before 
coming to a landing and a passage that headed in 
either direction.  Kurt took the left fork, 
slowing his pace as he went.  After perhaps 
fifteen seconds he waved them to a stop, and 
pressed his face against part of the wall.  He 
stood there for several seconds before turning 
and shaking his head. “He’s not in his bedroom.”
         “The throne room?” James suggested.
         “Not so late.  His study perhaps.  This 
way.” He continued down the passage, following 
its twists and turns.  The Keepers followed him 
without speaking, each of them waiting, anxious 
to face their gaoler again.  Agathe had chased 
them in the mountains and nearly killed them many 
times.  How could they hope to face her?  And 
what was this terrible spell Qan-af-årael had 
sensed?  These questions flitted through their 
minds as the confining passage reached another staircase.
         Up another level, and a short walk 
brought them to their next location.  Kurt waved 
them to silence, and they heard a soft murmuring 
of voices.  Kurt crept up to the eye hole, 
already recognizing his father’s voice.  Peering 
inside, he saw both his father and Bishop 
Hockmann sitting around a table.  Notably, his 
father sat facing both the main door to his 
study, and the entrance to the secret 
passage.  They would have no chance of surprise, unless...
         He stepped back from the eye hole and 
nodded to them.  The Keepers tensed, but all of 
them ready for a fight.  He leaned over the rat’s 
ear and whispered. “I can only see my father and 
the bishop.  I will go in first, and attempt to 
draw their eye away from the passage.  Give me 
ten seconds at least before following me in.”
         The rat nodded and motioned for the 
others to wait.  Tugal grimaced, hands resting on 
her knives, but said nothing.  Kurt took a deep 
breath, walked a few more paces down the hall, 
and then pushed open the secret door.  The Duke’s 
study was warmly lit, but not so bright as to 
blind him as he came through.  He blinked once, and said, “Hello, Father.”
         Duke Schanalein rose to his feet, 
imperious and angry. “Kurt!  I told you you were 
never to use the secret passages again!  What are 
you doing here?  Get back to your barracks.  You don’t belong here anymore!”
         Kurt turned and shook his head, stepping 
around the room, drawing both his father and the 
bishop’s attention away from the secret door.  He 
crossed to the mantle and began to run his 
fingers over the ornate clock that sat astride 
it. “I wish that I could, Father, but the news 
I’ve been hearing is far too disturbing.  I 
needed to see you and find out if it were true.”
         “There is nothing for you to ask of 
me!  And besides, we all know you’ve been spying 
on me for nearly a month!  Because you are my 
son, you will not be executed, but know that once 
I have another heir, you can no longer expect any such leniency!”
         Kurt couldn’t believe the words coming 
from his father’s mouth.  It was just the 
Marquis’s spell, he reminded himself.  This 
wasn’t really his father speaking!  Kurt turned 
on him with gritted teeth, “I will free you!” At 
that, the Keepers entered.  Charles ran to the 
main door, shifting in mid-stride to the massive 
four-legged form and pressing his entire body 
against the door.  The others grabbed the two men 
and restrained them, wrapping bits of cloth over 
their mouths to keep them from screaming.  It all 
happened so quickly, that the duke had only been 
able to snarl angrily.  This stopped when Tugal 
brandished her knives, though she did not 
threaten either of them with them; at least not yet.
         Jessica jumped onto Charles’s back and 
spread her wings, pressing her feathers against 
the door.  A blue sigil glowed for a brief 
moment, then disappeared into the decorative 
oak.  The hawk turned and squawked, “No one 
outside this room will hear us now.  Remove their 
gags.  It is not them whom we want.”
         Though James and Habakkuk too the cloth 
from their faces, Jerome and Lindsey kept their 
hands pinned behind their backs.  Duke Schanalein 
wasted no time in shouting, “Guards!  Guards!” 
For that, Jerome shook him hard enough to grind his teeth.
         “Keep your tongue behind your teeth or 
you’ll lose it,” the Sondecki snapped.
         Kurt snarled, “Don’t you touch my father 
like that!  You promised you would free them from the Marquis’s evil magic!”
         Jessica leapt from the rat’s back and 
nodded. “Aye, we did.  And then we find and kill 
Agathe.” She stared at the duke and the bishop, 
focussing on the lines of magic surrounding 
them.  Several lines radiated from their bodies 
in multiple directions, all coming together 
inside to form a convoluted knot whose roots dug 
deep into their spirits.  They pulsed with a life 
of their own, but blended with the hue of their 
spirits so well that Jessica had no idea what lines belonged to the Marquis.
         “Which do I cut?” she asked, not expecting an answer.
         Beside her stepped Qan-af-årael.  The 
Åelf surveyed them with calm eyes, then shook his 
head. “You may cut none of them.  They are all 
connected, not just to the Marquis, but also to each of you.”
         Jessica tried to follow the lines 
binding Schanalein and Hockmann, but lost them 
once they left the room.  And even when she gazed 
at her friends, she couldn’t see any such lines 
binding their spirits.  As if sensing her 
question, Qan-af-årael said, “The power of the 
cards expresses in different ways.  Du Tournemire 
has employed two distinct magical conceits to 
gain his power.  The deck with which he inflicts 
pain and controls your bodies is the one you 
already know – and one that I cannot sever.  The 
other requires the victim to play a game in 
which, knowingly or not, he relinquishes himself to du Tournemire’s control.”
         “That’s what Krenek said happened to him,” Charles pointed out.
         “And it is the power binding Duke 
Schanalein and Bishop Hockmann.  It permits du 
Tournemire to subvert their wills to his 
own.  They do his bidding as if it were their 
own.” The two men sneered and struggled, but 
could not free themselves. “And aye, I do know how they can be freed.”
         “Is there anything we can do to help?” 
Kurt piped up, eyes filled with relief.
         “This will fare most easily if you can 
lay them flat.  The table there.”
         Kurt and Kayla proceeded to clean the 
table of used dinnerware, a set of wooden markers 
bearing the emblems of various noble houses, and 
a large map of western Galendor.  These they set 
in a corner where they wouldn’t be in the 
way.  Then the others helped Jerome and Lindsey 
lift Schanalein and Hockmann and stretch them out 
on the table.  They kept the Breckarins’ arms 
extended past their heads, while Andares and 
James kept them from moving their legs.  Tugal 
and Kurt rushed to aid them after Hockmann 
slipped his foot from its boot and tried to kick the donkey.
         “Jessica, Kayla, Abafouq, Guernef, open 
your eyes to the currents of magic.  See what is 
hidden to the light.  Focus your awareness only 
on this.  Let everything else fade from your 
minds.” Qan-af-årael’s words were almost a chant, 
and Jessica felt their edge disturb her 
feathers.  Doing what she could, she drove out 
all awareness of the room.  The colours faded to 
grey, slowly attaining translucence.  Her body 
receded, and she realized she no longer knew if 
it was warm or cold, dry or humid.  Even the bite 
of salt that pervaded the air of Breckaris was gone.
         Many times her master Wessex had guided 
her into this state where she was only aware of 
the magic.  Each time, he’d aided her with 
unguents and magical circles; she had never been 
able to attain this consciousness on her 
own.  The Åelf must have guided them; there was no other explanation for it.
         Before them she saw the outline of two 
men, each twisted and bound in their middle by a 
knot formed by a thousand threads.  Faint hands 
felt along the threads, tracing them in and 
through the knot in their centre.  With a 
dizzying rapidity, threads were pulled taut and 
held aloft.  Jessica took those held close and 
kept them taut, not knowing what else she could 
do.  Nor did she understand why he choose the 
ones he did, as they appeared no different than the rest.
         All the world empty but for the 
discursive forces of magic, Jessica allowed 
herself to sink into those few strands the 
ancient Åelven sorcerer had given her.  Images 
flickered in and out of existence.  She knew 
bright warm days filled with the cries of 
gulls.  Cool winters, where the trees were empty 
skeletons, but no raiment of white hid their 
nakedness.  The aching harmony of monks in chant 
to Yahshua.  The self-assured countenance of a 
man with aquiline nose and empty blue eyes.  And 
then there was a dark thing that lurked behind 
every memory, living in the cracks of 
existence.  Whatever it was she saw she wished never to see again.
         Jessica gasped and nearly lost her 
connection with the magic.  Another magical 
strand was held out before her.  The hawk grasped 
it, tightened her talons about them, and bored 
her gaze into the knots at the centre of each 
man.  They appeared no smaller than they had 
before, but now at least, all of the threads of magic had been drawn aside.
         The strange nebulous hands that she knew 
must be the Åelf’s took up a single thread and 
with a twist, broke it in two.  The knots churned 
and Jessica felt the threads in her hands yanked 
and slither like so many snakes come to 
life.  She held tight, and for a moment she could feel her beak clenched shut.
         Even as the knots writhed, the hands 
sunk into their depths, and pulled them apart, 
rending and tearing.  The threads pulled back, 
seeking to draw them all in closer, but it was 
too late, Jessica could sense it.  Moment by 
moment passed, and the knots finally gave way, 
disintegrating into a tangled skein.  This the 
hands swept away, leaving the spirits of the two men unadorned and free.
         And then, just as suddenly, the world 
exploded with colour, vibrant and rich, sensation 
of air upon her feathers, scent of salt, and of 
every other dimension she could imagine.  Jessica 
squawked in surprise, blinking her eyes, seeing 
the men in the flesh again, all trace of the 
magic underlying reality gone from her 
awareness.  She turned just in time to watch Qan-af-årael topple over.
         Andares moved quickly, grabbing him 
under his shoulders before he crashed to the 
floor.  His chest heaved and the ancient Åelf 
blearily opened his eyes. “Thank you, 
Andares-es-sebashou.  This was far worse than I expected.”
         “Will you be well?” Abafouq asked.  The 
Binoq rubbed his hands together nervously.
         Qan-af-årael nodded. “Aye.  I must rest.”
         “What about Agathe?” Jessica demanded.
         “You must find her and stop her.  I...” 
Qan-af-årael slumped in Andares’s arms and said nothing more.
         The younger Åelf placed one hand on 
Qan-af’s chest and then took a deep breath. “He 
is sleeping.  I will remain here and keep a watch on him.”
         Kurt could wait no longer.  His father 
and the bishop had both passed out along with the 
ancient sorcerer, and nobody was checking to see 
if they were okay!  He grabbed his father’s arms 
from Jerome and gave them a quick shake. “Father?  Father, can you hear me?”
         Abafouq nodded to Lindsey and the other 
still holding them down. “I be thinking it is 
safe to let go now.  Qan-af-årael has freed them from du Tournemire’s grasp.”
         The Keepers did as instructed, but they 
kept an eye on the two.  It only took a minute 
before Duke Schanalein managed to wake up.  He 
blinked bleary eyes, and then sat upright, nearly 
yanking Kurt, who still held his arms, from his 
feet. “He’s gone!” Friedrich Schanalein 
exclaimed, his face filling with delight.  He 
turned and saw his son and tears blossomed there. 
“Kurt!  My son!” He threw his arms around the 
young man’s neck and held him tight.
         “Father!” Kurt cried, hugging back. “You’re back!”
         Duke Schanalein nodded and squeezed his 
son tight. “Aye, I’m back.  Thank you for not 
giving up on me.” He let Kurt go, smiled at him 
fondly, and then turned to stare at the 
Keepers.  Hockmann still lay unconscious beside 
him. “And thank you all for your help.  Forgive 
me for what I’ve done to you.  I will make amends anyway I can.”
         “You can start by telling us where 
Agathe is,” Jessica said, her voice sharp, talons 
scratching impatiently at the floor.
         “And where our gear is,” Lindsey added.
         “Your weapons and supplies are in the 
barracks where you were held prisoner.,” the duke replied.
         “We’ll never get those in time,” Jessica 
squawked unpleasantly. “And Agathe?  Where is she?”
         “The Tower of Theodoric.” Friedrich 
tried to slide his feet off the table, but a wave 
of dizziness forced him back down. “Kurt can show you where it is.”
         “But what of the guards?” Charles 
asked.  He eyes the door warily, though the 
silence spell was still in place. “Those in the 
prison claimed that you told them to capture him.”
         Friedrich grimaced, brow furrowing in 
disgust. “There won’t be anyone in the tower but 
that witch.  But there will be Breckarin soldiers 
along the way, and they will try to stop 
you.  Tell the two outside to come in.”
         The rat nodded uncertainly, stepped back 
from the door, and opened it.  “His grace wishes 
to speak with you!” he called, keeping behind the door to hide his form.
         The two guards shuffled in, eyes wary. 
As soon as they saw the menagerie of creatures in 
the room they lowered their halberds, teeth grit. 
“Fear not, your grace!  We shall lay down our 
lives for you!” one of them shouted heroically.
         The duke sat back up and shook his head. 
“Thank you, but my life is not in any danger.  In 
fact, those you see here have rescued me from 
evil magic.  I want the both of you to escort 
them to the Tower of Theodoric.  Now!”
         The guards blinked uncertainly, and the 
same one managed to ask, “Your grace?  But 
they’re demons from the cursed Keep of the north!”
         Duke Friedrich Schanalein sat up 
further, his face filling with indignant rage. 
“You would question me to my face?  These are my 
friends!  You will do as I order.  Take them to 
the Tower of Theodoric and let them do what they 
must!  Return posthaste and if you do not persist 
in contumacy, I will reward you for your obedience!”
         At last both guards nodded, lowering 
their halberds.  They regarded the Keepers 
warily, but this was an order from their 
sovereign. “Follow us, Keepers,” the first 
said.  The both of them left the chamber quickly, 
eager to be done with their chore.  Father and 
son exchanged warm smiles before Kurt rushed to follow the Keepers.

----------

         Agathe had finished tracing the green 
chalk over the designs just outside the third 
circle when she felt the first of her warding 
spells activate.  As the magic of Ahdyojiak came 
to life, rising upwards in a wall of green light, 
she turned her eyes to the timepiece in the 
corner.  If it was to be believed, there was a 
little less than two hours until midnight.  The 
Keepers had just reached the bridge, so there was 
little chance they could ascend the tower, much less stop her.
         Being careful not to mar any of her 
lines, Agathe stepped away from the spell and 
considered what had to be done next.  Already 
shimmering walls of green energy rose from the 
triangle and the three circles at the triangle’s 
vertices.  The pillars shone brightest of all; 
her eyes hurt just to looking at them.  A wide 
black warding circle encompassed the spell, and 
kept its power contained and focussed.  She’d 
already drawn the paths for the doors, now she 
needed to draw the parabolic doors 
themselves.  And then she’d need to do something 
to give power to the Pillars; no human sacrifice 
would be needed this time, but a little something had to be given.
         Before returning to her spell, she wound 
the timepiece again.  All she could do was hope 
her protections had been enough.

----------

         The two guards gestured to the double 
doors at the end of the hall. “There, the Tower 
of Theodoric,” the one groused. “There are no soldiers there.”
         “Just Agathe,” Lindsey added sourly.
         “That’s enough,” James agreed.
         Kurt nodded to both guards and smiled. 
“Thank you.  Return to my father and keep watch 
over him and his grace, the bishop.” Both of them 
gave a quick bow and rushed back the way they 
came.  Sensing their time was short, Kurt hurried 
to the doors and threw them open.  The night air 
was cool, but something else made him 
shudder.  For the first time, he could feel the 
creeping unease so many of the servants had said 
clutched them every time they entered Theodoric’s 
tower.  He swallowed, gathered his courage, and 
waved them forward. “It’s across the bridge.  The stairs only go up.”
         The Keepers, hardened by their journey 
and training, said nothing as they followed him 
out onto the bridge.  Tugal stayed close at his 
side, and likely saved his life.  When Kurt 
reached the middle of the bridge, a flash of 
light erupted form either side, arcing for his 
head.  Tugal saw it first, grabbed his shoulders, and yanked him backwards.
         Those sentinels, now awakened, lifted 
and formed into a mass at the other end of the 
bridge.  They appeared as nothing more than 
common witchlights, but these hurled botls of 
lightning at their feet, forcing them back.
         “A trap!” Kurt exclaimed once his breath 
returned. “How do we get past it?”
         Jessica peered at them, trying to find 
their origin, and then felt her heart sink. 
“They’re bound elementals!  We will have to free 
them if we want to pass, but that will take far too long!”
         “Nae,” the harsh voice of the Nauh-kaee 
echoed. “They are subservient to the wind.  And I 
can hear a wind to shake them to the sky.”
         “What does that mean?” Kayla asked, tail 
lashing nervously back and forth.
         “It be meaning that Guernef will 
distract them for us, I be thinking,” Abafouq 
said, even as he pushed his way to the front to 
see.  Already a breeze tugged at their hair, fur, 
and feathers.  The sentinels bobbed and wove to 
stay before the door.  The Binoq grinned, “I will 
open the door.  When I say you best be running to it!”
         Behind them, Guernef lowered his beak to 
the ground and closed his eyes.  The breeze 
gained strength, tugging their clothes, forcing 
them to shift their balance.  The Kakikagiget of 
the Nauh-kaee spread white wings, every speck of 
dust and debris blasted from beneath them by the 
gale. Across the bridge the sentinels struggled, 
but one by one scattered away.  By the time the 
last finally fled, the gale was so strong they 
had to bend over and hold each other up for 
support.  The roar was deafening, and none of them heard Abafouq’s command.
         But they saw the Binoq start forward, 
and followed as fast as they could in the 
windstorm.  Guernef remained where he was, beak 
against stone, all effort consumed by summoning 
the wind.  The sentinels train vainly to return, 
but could not even draw near the tower.  Finally, 
Abafouq reached the door and let loose his 
spell.  The door snapped open inwards, and the 
wind suddenly struck their backs, pushing them 
thorugh.  Once they were inside, the door slammed shut behind them.
         “Guernef!” Kayla cried. “He’s still out there.”
         “He has no choice,” Jessica reasons, 
dark and determined. “Someone had to keep those 
things distracted. We have to go on without him.”
         “Jessica be right,” Abafouq pointed out. 
“Guernef will be fine, I be thinking.  Let us 
continue, but with caution be exercising.”
         Kurt gestured at the stairs on the 
right.  The rest of the room was bare. “Agathe must be up there.”
         “How many rooms are there?” Lindsey 
asked as he straightened his tunic and beard.
         “Just the tower room at the top.”
         Abafouq approached the stairs and help 
up one hand.  The others waited while he squinted 
and studied the whitewashed masonry.  Old cracks 
marred the surface, and even a few cobwebs could 
be seen in corners.  But that was not what the 
Binoq saw, nor Jessica when she focussed on the 
magic. “More traps,” the hawk squawked in 
irritation. “Everywhere they are traps!”
         Charles, who had returned to his bipedal 
form, was quick to advise. “Do no trip any, even 
those that appear harmless. Yu don’t want to become stone too.”
         “We’ll have to break them,” Kayla 
suggested. “Unless we can avoid them...”
         “The spells be on the steps and 
walls.  Touch either and they activate.” Abafouq 
rubbed his hands together in thought. “Removing 
every trap will take time, something Qan-af-årael warned we be lacking.”
         “I can fly,” Jessica pointed out.
         “Not up a flight of stairs,” Habakkuk said in a quiet voice.
         “We have to do something!” the hawk 
protested, stamping her talons in frustration.
         The kangaroo laid a calming paw on her 
shoulder. “We will.  Have faith.  But also think clearly.  A solution exists.”
         “Aye,” Abafouq replied with a grin. “I 
be thinking I have it.” They all turned to 
listen. “When we faced these evil wizards in the 
Metamor belfry, I did create a tunnel through the 
Weathermonger Yonson’s wind wall.  I can create 
another that be taking us up these stairs uch 
faster than undoing Agathe’s traps would be taking.”
         “Then do it!” Lindsey growled impatiently.
         “Gather behind me, and wait for me to 
begin climbing.  The first step be the most 
difficult, I be hoping.” They did as the Binoq 
instructed, each waiting and growing weary from 
it.  Abafouq conjured first one bone and then a 
second, fixing them at right angles.  With a 
third and a fourth he did likewise, crafting a 
rectangular portal framing the bottom of the 
staircase.  Eight more were brought forth, until 
the Binoq had constructed a magical cube.  This 
he squeezed into the curving stairwell, creating 
the first part of the tunnel that would protect them from Agathe’s spells.
         Only the mages could see these bones; to 
the rest it appeared as though nothing were 
different.  They is until Abafouq stepped into 
the stairwell and a glossy gray light kept his 
feet aloft and secure.  Some of them gasped, but 
the Binoq waved them back. “Wait but a moment 
more, then follow slowly.” He returned to his 
work, building another link in his tunnel, 
stretching it up the stairwell as far as he 
dared.  His progress would be slow, but it would be steady and safe.
         The Keepers followed him tentatively, 
but with increasing confidence when they saw that 
the gray force held them aloft and kept them from 
slipping.  The staircase turned counter clockwise 
as it ascended and the white-washing became more 
and more spotted.  And though there were no other 
visible signs of their ascent, Abafouq continued to build his tunnel.
         Eventually, the strain of maintaining it 
became unbearable.  Abafouq let the beginning of 
the tunnel collapse, half afraid the whole 
edifice would slide back down the steps.  And for 
a moment, it seemed likely to do just that.  The 
tunnel shifted to one side, knocking the donkey 
from his hooves.  Charles caught his friend, and 
the tunnel steeled, but like a defile of rocks, 
it was ready at any moment to crumble.
         “Kayla,” Abafouq shouted, “come here and 
hold this!”  The Binoq had wrapped his hand about 
empty air, but once she could feel it, the skunk 
saw it was a long spike imbedded in the stairs.
         “How long must I hold it?” she asked as 
the little man set about extending the tunnel again.
         “Until I be needed you to hold another!”
         And so they continued, their progress 
slow but certain.  Minutes trickled past, and in 
each of them gnawed th efear that they were too 
late.  Four times Abafouq planted spikes for the 
skunk to secure with her meagre talent.  Four 
times he was forced to let the tunnel behind them 
dissolve.  But for the cramped, translucent gray 
passage, they were trapped by Agathe’s 
spells.  Each of them grew exhausted from the endless waiting.
         But the stairs did end.  When they saw 
the sharp left turn at the top of the stairs they 
rejoiced quietly.  With renewed determination, 
Abafouq set his mystical bone sin place, drawing 
them up step by step.  Finally, he brought them 
to a small antechamber with a single southwards 
facing door.  A complex spells bound the door 
shut, but the room itself was clean.  An ætherial 
green light pierced the door jamb.
         “It be safe, but for the door,” he said, 
and the Keepers slipped past. “Kayla, I be 
holding this in place.  Leave the stairs.” The 
skunk hurried past him, at which point, he 
realized he had a problem.  How was he to get out 
of the stairs?  He licked his lips and called 
out, “Lindsey, I would be most pleased if you be holding me while I let go.”
         The woodcutter did as asked, gripping 
him beneath his arms.  Abafouq released the 
tunnel and felt it disintegrate around 
him.  Lindsey se him down on the floor and the 
Binoq smiled. “I be thinking we have only a 
little time left.” And then, the weariness of his 
spellcasting caught up with him.  The world spun 
wildly as Abafouq fainted to the tower floor.

----------

         All of the lines were drawn.  Agathe 
blinked as she studied the outskirts of the 
summoning, unable to look at the central tower of 
light, so bright was it now.  Everything appeared 
to be in order, and she had only to give the 
pillars items to give it enough power to 
transport her anywhere in the world she wished.
         Carefully, Agathe stepped over the black 
line that kept it’s power contained.  Only a tiny 
amount of space was left for her to work, and she 
slumped against the wall as she bent down into 
it.  With trembling hands, she drew free her 
boots, and spread out her toes.  The small toes 
on each foot were missing, severed when she’d 
cast the spell to bring herself and that 
newly-made woman from the Barrier Range mountains 
to Breckaris two months ago.  A few more would suffice.
         She removed her knife from her belt and 
drew a sigil over its surface.  The blade began 
to glow, and the air sizzled from the sudden 
heat.  Agathe sucked in her breath, chest aching 
from exertion.  She gripped the hem of her robe 
in her free hand and shoved it between her 
teeth.  Spreading her toes out, she neatly sliced 
the knife through the knuckle of her smallest 
remaining toe.  The digit came off cleanly, the wound cauterized behind it.
         But one digit would not do.  She needed 
three, one for each pillar.  Taking another deep 
breath, Agathe sliced off the remainder of that 
toe.  The pain was bearable, but only because of 
her great need.  She switched foots and then 
sliced off that toe at the knuckle too.  Now she 
had three toe fragments.  She drew another sigil 
above the knife, and the metal cooled.  Once it 
was cool enough she returned it to her 
belt.  Gingerly she pulled her boots back on, and 
the gathered the three severed bits of flesh.
         The only places that did not shine 
brightly were the doors she’d drawn, and the 
small paths that led into the pillars.  The 
warding spells and the summoning spells 
intermixed between the doors and paths were a 
glow with verdant flame.  In each of the three 
paths, Agathe set down one of the offerings.  She 
then stood inside one of the parabolic doors 
she’d drawn.  When midnight struck, all that lay 
within this door would go to the Imbervand, that 
place between places, that time between 
times.  From there, she could go wherever she 
wished in the world.  She would journey to one of 
the far continents across the ocean.  Even the 
Marquis’s magic could not reach her there.
         Just as she felt a bit of confidence 
returning, she felt the Keepers reach the atrium 
outside the tower room.  How had they ascended 
the stairs?  Not a one of her warding spells had 
been activated!  She shot a glance at the 
timepiece, saw that only a few minutes 
remained.  She stared at the oaken door and hoped 
her spell was enough to keep them out.  Only a 
few more minutes; it was all she needed to escape.

----------

         “Is he all right?” Charles asked as 
Lindsey carefully examined the fallen Binoq.
         “Looks like exhaustion to me,” Lindsey 
replied. “He should be fine.” The northerner 
leaned the little man against one wall and then 
turned to the oaken door. “Now how do we get through this?”
         Jessica studied the spell, noting the 
way the sigils curled and bound the door 
shut.  They even gave the door superior 
durability, making it extraordinarily difficult 
to break through.  Not to mention the shocking 
spell that would knock anyone who dared touch the 
door backwards.  She shut her beak tight and 
swore to herself.  She couldn’t break this 
alone.  If Qan-af-årael, Guernef, and Abafouq 
were aiding her, perhaps.  But with only Kayla, it couldn’t be done.  Unless...
         “Charles, Jerome, can your Sodneckis 
abilities strike this door without you touching it?”
         Both of them nodded, stretching their 
arms out. “Of course,” the rat replied. “What do you need?”
         “There are three separate spells on this 
door.  Let me weaken the one, and then I want you 
to hit this as hard as you can without touching it.”
         “Then do so!” Jerome urged.  He rubbed 
his hands together and concentrated on building 
up his energy.  A faint song emerged form his 
lips, and Charles was quick to join him.
         Jessica motioned for Kayla to help, 
though the skunk appeared weary from aiding 
Abafouq on the stairs. “All I need is for you to 
lend strength to my spell, Kayla,” Jessica said, 
trying her best to sound reassuring.  But inside 
she felt a seething anger, and a worry that 
they’d be too late.  She had no idea what Agathe 
was doing on the other side of this door, but she 
was determined to stop it; and then to kill her.
         “Of course.  My strength is yours,” 
Kayla replied, her tail lashing back and 
forth.  She put her paws to the hawk’s back, 
right between her wings, and Jessica could feel a 
comforting warmth fill her there.
         Undoing the spells would take too 
long.  But weakening one of them was just a 
matter of casting another spell on the 
door.  Quickly, she traced out the runes she 
would need with her wing tips, and then used her 
talons to bring them together.  One by one, she 
laid them atop the fortitude spell.  Seven runes 
gathered on key pieces of the spell, and then 
once all were lain, the runes drew nearer each 
other, until they combined.  They pulled at the 
edges of the fortitude runes, pulling them away 
from the door, as a starfish opening a clam.
         Jessica nodded to the Sondeckis. “Have at it.”
         “You’ll want to step aside,” Jerome 
cautioned.  Jessica and Kayla did that, and then 
watched as the two Sondeckis threw their arms 
forward.  The centre of the door buckled and 
splintered, as if struck by a battering 
ram.  Seeing their first blow was not enough, the 
Sondeckis began throwing punches and kicks, 
anything they could to try and shatter that 
door.  It was splintering, and it was weakening, but still it held in place.
         And then, one figure strode forward, not 
caring a whit for the power the Sondeckis were 
unleashing. “Tugal!” Kurt cried, “Don’t get in their way!”
         The woman snapped, “If there is but one 
thing I can do, I will do it!  Stand aside!” 
Charles and Jerome, looked confused, but did 
pause their attacks.  Jessica could see that they 
had weakened the spells on the door, but it still 
was not budging.  If they had another five 
minutes, they would certainly get through, but did they have five minutes?
         Tugal drew her daggers, and shoved them 
into the jamb opposite the handle.  With a quick 
upwards thrust, she jarred the door so violently 
that the ricochet of metal could clearly be 
heard.  She’d undid the pins on the latch.
         Kayla screamed when she saw the warding 
spell activate.  Tugal tried to duck to the side, 
but the blast of energy clipped her and sent her 
spinning to the floor. Kurt ran to her side and 
dragged her back. A moment later, with a cry of 
agony, he pressed his cloaked against her side to 
staunch the sudden flow of blood.
         “Tugal!” Charles cried, but Jerome 
grabbed him and shook his head.  The rat 
grimaced, turned back to the door, and the two 
Sondeckis threw their arms once again.  The force 
of the blow smacked the door through, sending it 
spinning off its hinges to one side.  The 
brilliant light from within blinded them, and a 
horrible shriek came from within.
         Jessica saw a single silhouette of 
darkness within that chamber of scintillating 
green light.  With a shriek of beastly rage, the 
hawk jumped through the doorway straight for the 
shadow.  A thunderclap sounded the moment she 
struck, and for a single moment, all the world fell into darkness.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
Ut Prosim