The Gilweean Gateway

by R A Lindo

  As he did so, visions of an ancient, powerful enemy formed in the imaginations of the young trio. An enemy now separated from the dark artefact he’d traded time for: Elias Reepe. The figure who’d taken seven steps for seven grains of sand, unleashing a hell he had subsequently abandoned.

  18

  A Room of Clues

  The Revolving Room returned them to Philomeena Renn’s quarters in The Cendryll, providing the secret passage increasingly required in light of The Sinister Four’s arrest: an act which would send shock waves through the Society. News of the public altercation between the four Implementers and Kaira’s dad and aunt was already sweeping through The Cendryll, the hum of rumour rising through the vast, circular chamber.

  Taking on Casper Renn and his sister in the trading lane was concerning enough; however, it was the attempt to harm the youngest members of the S.P.M.A. - and what they had publicly claimed to the gathered crowds in the walkways - that formed the centre of feverish discussion in The Seating Station and beyond.

  Whispered fears took hold as Erent Koll’s name carried within the numerous departments, including Creative and Restrictive charms. Their work, in particular, would increase should the rumours be true - that The Sinister Four, an already questionable alliance, had formed a secret pact with the Prince of the Underworld. Little had been confirmed or clarified, mainly due to Casper Renn remaining locked away in his sister’s quarters on the fourth floor.

  Formulating a plan, an elderly group muttered near The Seating Station as they held copies of No News is Good News, doing their best to manage their anxiety as a faint picture appeared on a pamphlet which had remained blank for decades.

  The picture was too faint to identify, yet it was enough to turn rumour into fever in The Cendryll as other members noticed the image appearing on the Society pamphlet, their shocked responses bringing a hush over the ground floor, the faint buzzing of the Quij the only sound now discernible. If confirmation were needed that the long-held peace was fading into another battle for power, No News is Good News was it.

  The image slowly forming on the Society pamphlet could only symbolise one thing: The Sinister Four were just the beginning of a mist of malevolence disrupting the peaceful fabric of the S.P.M.A. Darkness was descending … a darkness focusing on potential suspects yet to be apprehended, allowing suspicion to seep in as groups gradually splintered into factions on the ground floor of The Cendryll, breaking a unity that had existed for so long.

  As rumour and suspicion spiralled, Kaira sat on her bed in Aunt Phee’s quarters, stroking Churchill as Guppy rattled off her thoughts on the mysterious whereabouts of Elias Reepe. The heightened buzz of activity could be heard within the bedroom, The Cendryll’s circular, hollow centre acting as an echo chamber.

  Like the water in Gilweean, the sounds reverberating outside the confines of Philomeena Renn’s quarters signified the current mood. Kaira and Guppy’s run in with The Sinister Four, and the Implementers humiliating demise, spun between various groups, taking on its own life as each version morphed into a more dramatic, violent version of events.

  Kaira listened to Churchill’s rhythmic purring, thankful for the time spent with her beloved cat as she and Guppy awaited the outcome of the adults’ conversation in the adjacent room. With Guppy rattling off her theories on the whereabouts of Elias Reepe, Kaira pondered the mysteries awaiting in ‘the room of clues’.

  She remembered the multitude of boxes lining the walls … at least two hundred, from memory. Aunt Phee had produced a Vaspyl as a welcome present to them both and, ever since, the boxes had held a fascination for Kaira - holding their own mysteries, no doubt.

  She wondered if the boxes or illustrated window offered the pathway Farraday had mentioned during their lessons in The Glass Arch: the pathway to Theodore and Conrad Kusp. She was still struggling with the notion that Conrad was, somehow, involved in the shadow world increasingly enveloping the Society.

  Guppy’s convenient remark on ‘knowing he was weird’ was by-the-by. Guppy hadn’t suspected, and neither had Kaira nor Jacob. He was a lost boy shrouded in sadness and grief … someone who had recently lost his mother. Kaira and Guppy had gathered this information via a Looksee, listening in on the adults’ interrogation of Theodore Kusp on her first day. Was he really a bad egg or just hiding secrets, like everyone else?

  “Anyone home?” quipped Guppy as she threw a pillow in Kaira’s direction. Never one to dwell on things, Guppy was keen to share her theories on the whereabouts of Elias Reepe - the boy/man from The Curse of the Sarilin Sands. The original owner of the dark artefact which held profound danger for the Society: the Terrecet.

  Kaira offered Guppy a weary smile as Churchill jumped off her lap, unnerved by the pillow just missing him. Her long, brown curls had been tied up, partly to better negotiate entering and exiting The Revolving Room. It was a fine art to keep your balance whilst attempting to reach the central bay housing the dial, and obstructed vision was one of the easiest ways to misjudge your timing and lose your grip.

  With Churchill resting comfortably at the foot of the bed, Kaira prepared for Guppy’s theorising. Both dressed in jeans, T-shirts and jumpers, their close bond was something each increasingly relied on, immersed in an adult world as complicated as the mystery they were attempting to unravel.

  “So,” began Guppy, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “I’ve already thought about using the Follygrin to locate him but, if it was that easy, everybody would know his whereabouts.”

  “And he’s not someone you’d want to seek out,” replied Kaira as she studied the faint mark on her left hand - a tiny battle wound from her first lesson in advanced magic. Her smooth, caramel skin had rarely suffered any bumps and bruises, partly due to the overprotective nature of her dad, making her mildly proud of the mark that symbolised progress in her magical training.

  “Anyway,” continued Guppy, clearly keen to go through her list of theories. “If he is alive, he can’t live in Society Square or The Society Sphere.”

  “Obviously. I think people would spot a thousand-year-old-man.”

  Guppy offered Kaira a sarcastic smile. “But, he’s going to be old, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And he’s done really bad things. Killed loads of people … so where would someone more evil than Erent Koll live…? Somewhere like The Wenlands, maybe.”

  Guppy patted her legs in triumph, pushing her long, brown hair behind her ears whilst awaiting her friend’s assessment.

  “I think you’re forgetting one thing, Guppy.”

  “Which is?”

  “My dad took a Terrecet fragment to The Wenlands which makes me think that, unless he’s keeping a big secret from us, Elias Reepe isn’t hiding out there.”

  Guppy’s excitement was muted by this point - an obvious one she had overlooked. Her enthusiasm returned at a theory she hadn’t considered - one offered by Kaira.

  “There’s another way of looking at it,” Kaira began as she studied the hand-drawn pictures of artefacts, charms and remedies decorating the walls. “What if Elias Reepe was living in the Society Sphere…? In Founders’ Quad, even…?”

  Guppy’s eyes were alert once more. “Go on…”

  “Remember the man who gave me the Follygrin…? The man you said was dead?”

  Guppy leapt off the bed. “Francis Follygrin,” she whispered, almost unable to contain her excitement. “Francis Follygrin is Elias Reepe!”

  “It’s just a theory, Guppy,” contended Kaira. “I mean, he does look about a thousand-years-old but, then again, my dad and aunt left me alone downstairs in Follygrin’s with him, so how bad can he be…?”

  A comment which brought pause to their current theory of whether Francis Follygrin was, indeed, Elias Reepe. The man Kaira’s father trusted. The man who was presumed dead by many, according to Guppy and Jacob, taking refuge in a location presently unknown to them.

  A man with the ability to hide in plain sight whilst getting his hands on rar
e artefacts. It was a puzzle they pondered over until Churchill suddenly swiped at Kaira who had, inadvertently, kicked out at her beloved cat in the throes of excitement. Never one to appreciate surprises, Churchill had shown his claws in a sign of frustration, before settling at the end of the bed once more.

  “Maybe Churchill’s Elias Reepe,” offered Guppy in feigned seriousness. “A shapeshifter who sleeps by day and attacks by night.”

  The absurd theory brought fits of laughter from both girls - laughter that released the tension of the day’s events. Having exhausted the topic of the existence and whereabouts of a legend, the giggles subsided, making them realise how hungry they were. It was time to return to the world of adult company, and the discovery of a new magical wonder before dinner was served.

  Recognising the flaws in their ‘Francis Follygrin being Elias Reepe’ theory, they joined the awaiting adults at the dining table. With the open-plan kitchen stretching to the heavens behind them, Kaira’s aunt addressed the matter at hand whilst her dad, Farraday and Smyck drank the current remedy on offer.

  “News of your run-in with The Sinister Four has caused quite a stir,” Philomeena began, a silver scarf now complimenting her black dress. “Your father and I will need to appease the growing swell of alarm, so we’ll discuss things quickly. The room of clues your grandfather referred to, Kaira, links to the wall of boxes in the room you’ve already seen.”

  Kaira glanced at the room in question, remembering how her aunt had picked up a spoon and clinked the edge of her teacup, causing it to creak open.

  “Farraday mentioned a pathway,” commented Kaira.

  “That’s right,” her aunt replied. “The boxes, like most things in the Society, have a number of functions. One of them is the pathway they offer to a location offering sanctuary.”

  As Kaira pondered the idea of hundreds of boxes forming a pathway, her dad put down his cup and continued the explanation.

  “The formation of the pathway will become apparent soon enough,” he stated, brushing a hand over his unshaven face - a rare lapse in his otherwise immaculate demeanour. He shared his father’s intensity and strength of will, the balance of brown skin and angular features a sign of his mixed heritage. “The matter at hand is the purpose of the pathway … to meet Theodore and his son, Conrad.”

  Guppy wondered why Conrad would need protection, although thought better of asking. Rumblings in The Cendryll were clearly preoccupying the gathered adults, meaning time was limited. Instead, she asked a neutral question regarding her brother’s whereabouts.

  “Jacob’s in Creative Charms,” Philomeena Renn explained, “managing his mother’s tirade of questions regarding our little battle, this morning. He’ll be able to fend off the questions whilst we pay a visit to Theodore and Conrad.” With that, Kaira’s aunt clinked her teacup with her spoon, causing the door in question to open once more.

  The room was as Kaira had remembered … hundreds of small, square boxes lining two of the walls - each with a brass number-plate and key hole - and an illustrated window standing at one end. The activity on the window reminded Kaira of the magical properties of a Panorilum, albeit a more colourful version which included sound.

  As she listened to the collection of soft sounds emanating from the illustrated window, she wondered what it would be like to be able to study the movements in The Cendryll and beyond from the comfort of a single room. The images fascinated her, reflecting places known and unknown … popular and barren … moving images of a majestic, magical universe currently under threat.

  Opposite the illustrated window stood a fireplace above which rested a large mirror, making Kaira wonder where a pathway was going to appear. Perhaps, it was through the mirror - the reflection turning to liquid at a simple touch - or, maybe, the illustrated window formed a doorway into something more than thin air.

  The mystery was solved when Kaira’s aunt reached for a key from her handbag although, this time, no box was taken from its chamber. Instead, the small, brass key was placed in seven of the brass locks: 11, 42, 58, 86, 106, 133 and 202.

  “It’s a combination,” whispered Guppy as they watched Kaira’s aunt step back, returning the key to her handbag. Guppy was proven to be right as the seven, unlocked boxes retreated into their wooden chambers, followed by the sound of every other box doing the same … until the heavy, oak frames running adjacent to one another began to tilt forwards.

  “When the wooden frames start falling towards us, don’t move,” instructed Farraday.

  Balancing her unease with the fact that Farraday and Smyck had controlled a rain of glass, steel and iron fragments only hours earlier, Kaira stood her ground alongside Guppy as the wooden structures teetered towards them. There was no use of magic to stop its fall, as expected, causing Kaira to close her eyes at the impending weight crashing onto her.

  Of course, normal rules of gravity and mass didn’t apply in The Society for the Preservation of Magical Artefacts - evident in the fact that she was now standing amidst a grid of numbers where the wooden shelving should have been.

  As Guppy attempted to step onto a different number within the grid, Smyck held out a hand, signalling for her to stop. “You can only move to odd numbers, Guppy. Kaira needs to move to even ones. The number you start on - odd or even - is the pattern you follow.”

  Both girls nodded, no longer concerned with the intricate rules of every wonder they discovered, although the following vision was something to behold. As the adults led the way, stepping onto the relevant odd and even numbers on the grid, other numbers appeared with each step taken. These numbers, rather than extending the grid, appeared in the space where the wall of boxes had been - a space stretching ahead underneath The Cendryll’s enormous skylight.

  The most puzzling feature of the space was that it occupied nothing but light and air, the numbers forming the pathway Farraday had described: a pathway in a pocket of space underneath the enormous skylight. It was a portal which could not be accessed by any other means nor seen by anyone below, according to Kaira’s aunt, including the colourful army of Quij who floated nearby.

  “The numbered boxes your aunt unlocked are the code chosen by the person who has sought sanctuary,” explained Casper Renn, sensing that the intricate pathway of light and air would benefit from a brief history. “The wall of boxes only opens when a code linked to a person here is unlocked. This is the first layer of security because this code is transmitted to a ticket master; a ticket is only provided if a correct code is used. The rest will become clear as we travel.”

  “So, we’ll basically be walking on air,” surmised Kaira, fighting her fear of heights in the knowledge that the elaborate pathway was perfectly safe. She took comfort in the fact that her dad and aunt stood alongside her, nodding for Farraday and Smyck to lead the way.

  “And no-one can see us?” asked Guppy, mildly puzzled by the fact that The Cendryll below was in clear view, including the soft buzzing of the Quij and the rhythm of the doors opening and closing on the outer walls.

  “That’s right,” replied Kaira’s aunt. “The pathway is a portal like many others, but to a safe house. By its very nature, a safe house is a secret location; therefore, travel there needs to be also carried out in secret. Although we can see down into The Cendryll, you’ll notice when we cross that there’s a fine mist hovering below the pathway of numbers we’ll be walking on. This mist acts as a protective layer, allowing us the clarity to cross but also the protection of not being seen.”

  “Remember, odd-to-odd, even-to-even,” instructed Aunt Phee as Kaira carefully stepped from one even number to another, her sense of trepidation increasing as they neared the end of the room of clues and the beginning of a space walk.

  The most unnerving thing about the pathway forming ahead was the way each number appeared one-at-at-time, requiring a large degree of faith. After all, Kaira thought, as she reached out for her aunt’s arm to steady herself, what if the number didn’t appear in time and you found yoursel
f toppling, head-first, towards the ground floor of The Cendryll.

  Of course, like the collapsing wooden frames which created the grid of numbers, magical laws were unlike above-ground ones, evident in the way Farraday and Smyck casually stepped from number-to-number, as if walking underneath the skylight of The Cendryll was the most normal thing in the world.

  Gaining courage from the close proximity of her aunt and Guppy, Kaira took her first step into mid-air as the number 12 appeared. Not yet confident enough to let go of her aunt’s arm, she took each step gingerly, trying not to be distracted by the sights and sounds below. The Quij fluttered close to the mist, creating the barrier which offered secret passage. The bookshelves beneath the enormous skylight ended a few feet from where the numbered pathway was forming.

  “Almost there,” encouraged Aunt Phee as Kaira relinquished the grip on her aunt’s arm, realising that the numbered pathway was both wide enough and sturdy enough to stop her losing her balance. There was no chance of falling, it seemed, added to the fact that the layer of mist below, unbeknownst to Kaira, offered an additional safety net.

  With the spacewalk negotiated, they found themselves in an open-space decorated only by a semi-circular desk in the centre. Above the desk hovered a collection of lamps which floated in the air, suggesting that they carried out a particular function. The only other distinctive feature was a brass plaque on top of the desk with the word ‘TICKET’ carved into it. The ticket master, evidently, was not a person but another magical mechanism, the required ticket appearing out of the narrow gap in the brass plaque.

  Casper Renn uttered the numbers on the boxes her aunt had unlocked repeating slowly: “11, 42, 58, 86, 106, 133 and 202.”

  With this, a ticket popped out of the opening in the brass plaque, floating into his hand, as one of the floating lamps began to move towards the outer, tiled wall, guiding them to the secret location of Theodore and Conrad Kusp.