by A. C. Cobble
Rhymer kept a clear head though and he asked pointed questions throughout the tale. By the end of it, his head was bobbing with the new information. Ben could tell the wheels of thought were turning.
At the end of the story, Amelie made her impassioned pitch to the northern lord.
“I do not know how things are going in Issen right now, but I do know how they will go in Issen if my father does not get help. You have known him for years, even decades. You have always been allies. Now, you are officially committed with the signing of the Alliance. Please, honor your commitments and send help for Issen.”
Rhymer drank deep of his wine and remained silent. Frustration and concern was evident in his every movement.
Amelie waited then asked, “Do you know something more of what is happening in Issen?”
Rhymer shook his head then gestured to his seneschal.
Franklin said, “We do not know much more than you do. Issen has been surrounded by a force that is both larger and better prepared than any of us expected. We thought it would be at least another year before the Coalition could raise such an army, maybe two. If we in the Alliance were prepared, it would be a small threat. Combined, we possess far more able bodies and swords than the Coalition, but we were not prepared. As far as the situation on the ground, there have been skirmishes reported, but that is it. So far, they appear content to cut off Issen and wait it out. Our concern is that the Coalition forces are merely waiting for their leader. They have built siege equipment and reports say they have a sufficient force. What else do they need? The missing piece, Lord Jason, has not been there to lead the army. With what you told us, my concern is that he is on his way to Issen now, and when he arrives, they will attack. I believe your father will be able to hold out for months. Issen is well fortified and he knew this was coming eventually, so they are well provisioned, but once the attack begins, entry and exit from Issen will be impossible.”
Amelie shifted in her seat.
Rhys cleared his throat and stated, “That sounds right to me as well. If the initial plan was to capture Amelie and cutoff the weapons supply, they could barter with Gregor from a position of strength. Everyone knows he would do anything for his daughter.”
Amelie’s face tightened but she remained silent.
Rhys continued, “Without Amelie, the next option would be an all-out assault. That fits the narrative the Sanctuary is spreading—that Amelie was killed. If he thought she was alive, Lord Gregor would continue fighting until the end.”
“Once the fighting starts,” said Franklin. “It will be a matter of time. Gregor will hold out as long as he can, maybe a very long time, but he does not have the resources to break the siege.”
“Are you saying you will not send troops to support my father?” asked Amelie bluntly, turning to Rhymer.
Lord Rhymer shook his head. “It’s not whether I want to or not. Regardless of anything you say to me, I simply do not have the men to send.”
“Sir,” retorted Amelie, “it’s readily apparent that you have raised an army within this city. Even the maids are armed! With the Coalition engaged at Issen, there is no threat to Northport. I respectfully disagree that you cannot send help. I ask again, please honor your commitment to my father and Issen. Send your men!”
Rhymer stared down at his near empty wineglass. “I am not worried about threats from the Coalition, or even the Sanctuary for that matter. We have bigger problems to deal with.”
Amelie blinked and looked to her companions in confusion.
“Demons,” muttered Franklin.
“Demons are always a problem in Northport!” interjected Rhys. “What is different now that your help is needed elsewhere?”
Rhymer held up a hand and replied to Rhys. “You are traveling in high company and you speak like you know Northport, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you do have some experience with my city, but things have changed. The threat has changed.”
Rhys sat back and frowned.
“What was once an annoyance,” Rhymer continued, “is now a serious risk to both Northport and I believe all of Alcott.”
Ben drank the rest of the wine in his glass.
“In the Wilds, the demons are massing like we have never seen before. There is nothing like it in the records. Swarms of them are ranging freely and have completely overrun several of the small towns north of here. I am arming every able-bodied man, woman, and child. The few reliable reports we’ve gotten have described packs with four dozen demons. One man, likely crazy, said he counted near two hundred of them together. That he survived to tell about it gives the lie to his story, but, the fact remains, there are too many reliable reports to ignore. The butchery we’ve found at overrun towns is self-evident. The threat is like nothing we have faced before, even in the histories. Hunters no longer risk the Wilds. The population of demons is now growing unchecked.”
Lady Towaal’s face had gone completely white. The rest of the table sat stunned.
“Hundreds of demons in one swarm!” exclaimed the lord, slapping his hand on the table. “That is why I cannot risk even a single armed man leaving the defense of this city. If I send troops away, the people will panic, and they will flee. A mass exodus could draw the attention of the swarms. I may not have the forces to stop them. On the road and away from my protection, the people would be butchered.”
“There must be something that can be done!” protested Amelie.
“Just three weeks ago,” Rhymer replied, “two companies of one hundred veterans each was lost completely. Not a single man made it back. We only discovered their fate through use of a far-seeing device. The bodies…” Rhymer slumped back in his chair.
The man’s pallid look made perfect sense now. He wasn’t suffering from alcohol-induced illness, a sickness of the body, or even stress caused by his young and energetic concubine. Lord Rhymer was contemplating the destruction of his city, the loss of everything.
Ben’s companions all looked at each other across the table. If what Rhymer said was true, it was clear Northport could offer no help to Issen.
Lady Towaal leaned forward, both elbows on the table. She looked hard at Lord Rhymer.
“Has anyone determined the cause of this influx of demons?” she asked.
It was Franklin who answered. “No, we haven’t been able to get reliable information back from the Wilds. Without the hunters venturing deep enough to learn anything, we are blind and guessing. We sent the two companies thinking it would be sufficient but,” he shrugged. “They are gone now. We’re talking about sending ten companies. One thousand men. Maybe that is enough to face down the swarms.”
Rhys coughed politely. When Franklin looked at him, he suggested, “Too large a force will just draw the demons to them. The creatures are attracted to life forces. A large group like that is impossible for a demon to ignore. Individually, they have enough survival instinct to avoid that confrontation, which is why they don’t attack towns, but with a swarm of hundreds, it will be like setting out a fresh roast on a buffet table. They are going to come and feast.”
Franklin grimaced. “We have no other choice.”
“If you have the men and you are able to get there, is your intention to close the Rift?” asked Towaal quietly.
Rhymer moaned and wouldn’t meet Towaal’s eyes.
“I thought so,” she said.
The room was eerily silent until Ben couldn’t take it anymore. “What is the Rift?” he blurted.
Towaal, still looking at Rhymer, answered. “It is a rumor, something that very few have knowledge of and no one really understands, at least, no one I’ve spoken to.”
Rhymer stood, stomped over to a side table. He poured himself another wine, filling the cup all of the way to the brim.
“We know less than you and your Sanctuary brethren think we do,” muttered the lord.
“Tell us what you do know,” encouraged Towaal.
The lord gulped down half his wine glass and refill
ed it before walking back to his chair and settling down.
“My librarian can tell it better than I, but I will try,” he started. “The Rift, in short, is where demons come from.”
Ben sat forward on the edge of his seat, fully focused on Rhymer.
“According to our scholars, the demons and us live in two different worlds. Our world is full of life. The demonic world is full of, I guess you could say, the absence of life. From time to time, the fabric between these worlds tears and the demons, attracted to the life force in our world, are able to cross over. Like all living things, our world has the capacity to heal. These tears are only temporary. The fabric of the world repairs itself, and demons cannot cross over in that space until there is a new tear.”
Ben noticed Lady Towaal was listening just as intently as he was. Despite her vast knowledge about many subjects, this was new to her.
Rhymer ran his hands over his face. “The Rift is a permanent tear in the fabric, though maybe it’s better described as a hole, an intentionally created hole. Ages ago, long before Northport existed in its current state, a group of mages created the Rift. As I understand it, the intent was to relieve tension elsewhere in the space between our two worlds. By leaving one small opening, it acts like the spout on a tea kettle. When pressure builds enough, there is a mechanism to release it.”
Ben watched Towaal as closely as he did Rhymer. He saw her nodding slightly to this new development.
“Here in Northport, we are prepared to deal with the inevitable consequence of that release mechanism, meaning the arrival of demons. Thousands of years ago, the system of hunters was instituted here. As you know, these men and women are highly skilled and make a vocation of hunting down demons and other prey. By paying a bounty on horns, we attract enough hunters to keep the demon population manageable. Every few decades, a large swarm may develop and we send the army to deal with it. It has worked for a very long time.”
“What changed recently?” questioned Towaal.
Rhymer shrugged. “That I do not know.”
“A few summers ago,” added Franklin, “we started noticing the demon population did not drop off as expected. At the end of the summer hunting season, there were reports of just as many sightings as the start of the season. We paid three times the bounties we did just a few years back. It didn’t help. Hunters flocked to the Wilds, but the population continued to rise, and many of the hunters didn’t come back. Since then, even the boldest hunters have been reluctant to venture far out. We started recruiting for the army, hoping to build a sufficient force, but I worry we acted too late.”
“Last winter,” Rhymer retook the narrative, “We lost the first of several towns to large swarms. We knew then we had started losing the battle. When I joined the Alliance, I did so in hopes we could blunt the threat of the Coalition and gain assistance from the other lords of Alcott. That is why I cannot help you, Lady Amelie. When I joined the Alliance, it wasn’t so I could help your father and the others. It was because I needed their help, help that will not be coming now.”
The room fell silent.
“We have a lot to think about,” said Towaal after a long pause. She met her companion’s eyes. Ben could see concern reflected back at him.
“I’m sorry,” said Rhymer. “For Issen and for Northport.”
They were given comfortable rooms in the guest wing of the keep. Rhymer said it was the least he could do.
Ben and his companions sat around the comfortable common room, staring morosely into the fire.
“If Rhymer cannot help, who can we turn to?” Ben finally asked.
Towaal shook her head. “I do not know. Venmoor, Fabrizo, the rest of the cities in the Alliance…None of them have large standing armies of their own. They are in the process of building them, but it will be months or maybe a year before they’ve raised a large enough force to face the Coalition. King Argren is the only other one I’m aware of with the men to break the siege. The betrayal by the Sanctuary, this new threat against Northport,” Towaal sighed and clasped her hands tightly. “Everything we learn is another excuse for Argren to keep his men home. Maybe we can try, but I do not believe he will help us.”
“We have to do something!” objected Amelie. “I can’t just wait while my people die. We have to speak to Argren.”
“With the information we have, I would not send men if I was in his position,” admitted Towaal. “I am sorry, Amelie, but that is the reality of the situation.”
Amelie buried her head in her hands. The companions all looked on. They wanted to comfort her, but what was there to say?
Minutes passed with only the pop and crackle of the fire breaking the silence of the room.
Ben frowned, thinking out loud, “Lady Towaal, what was it you mentioned to Lord Rhymer, something about closing the Rift?”
She nodded. “The Sanctuary knows little of the Rift. It is clear to me Rhymer and the lords of Northport have kept a lot of information from us, though, maybe the Veil and her inner circle know more. What we do know is similar to what Rhymer said. The Rift is a place demons come from. Northport has always dealt with these demons on its own. To my knowledge, Northport has never asked for our help. My question to Rhymer about closing the Rift comes from a discussion I heard years ago. If the Rift was opened, then maybe it could be closed. Some in the Sanctuary have wondered what would happen if the lords of Northport grew tired of being the world’s protector. Would they close the Rift to cut off the flow of newly arriving demons?”
Amelie shot to her feet. “We can close it!” she exclaimed. “If no new demons can come through, then maybe Rhymer can take care of the existing ones and help Issen.”
Towaal, less enthusiastic, replied. “And then what happens? If Rhymer is correct, then ages ago, a group of mages created it for a very specific purpose–to relieve pressure elsewhere in the world. If we close the Rift here, will it tear the fabric elsewhere?”
Amelie sat down, frowning.
“I understand, Amelie,” said Lady Towaal, “but we must know more before we come to any conclusions. Rhymer mentioned his librarian may know more. Tomorrow, I intend to locate this person and find out.”
Amelie nodded, somewhat pacified.
“Also,” continued Towaal seriously, “you must understand that dealing with the remaining demons will not be a quick process. Hundreds of demons cannot be dispatched in a few days. No matter what we do, it may be too late to prevent the Coalition from beginning the siege.”
Ben watched his friend struggle with what she wanted to be true and what she logically knew to be true. As the emotions warred across her face and grim acceptance finally won out, he realized that was the mark of a truly remarkable person—to separate what you wanted to be true from what was true.
***
Early the next morning, the four of them went to Northport’s library. It was housed in a separate structure adjacent to the keep. It was in a quiet building, as one might expect, but the surprising thing to Ben was how nondescript it was. Lord Rhymer and the proprietors of the library did not intend the place to be open to the public. There was no signage, no helpful staff directing people in, and no welcoming looks from the two stern-faced guards standing outside of the door.
“This establishment isn’t open,” growled one of the men, lowering a heavy hafted pike to bar their path.
“Here,” said Lady Towaal, handing him a thick square piece of parchment. “A note from Lord Rhymer granting us access.”
The guard snatched the parchment and stared at it intently.
Moments passed.
Finally, Rhys guessed. “You can’t read, can you?”
The guard looked up, twisting his lips into a scowl but not answering.
“You are guarding a library, and you can’t read,” Rhys guffawed. “How about you?” he asked the man’s companion.
That guard stared back angrily.
Towaal sighed. “Take it to a librarian. They’ll agree to let us in.”
Shortly after, one of the guards returned with a tall, gaunt man. He was dressed in unbleached robes and had a wispy fringe of hair circling his head. His gaze bored into the visitors.
“Come with me,” he instructed in a thin voice.
As they walked inside the building with the man, Towaal asked him, “Are you a librarian?”
The man smiled. “I am the Librarian. Lord Rhymer isn’t a trusting sort when it comes to the knowledge within this place. There is me, and there is my apprentice.”
“Maybe that’s why the guards can’t read,” surmised Rhys.
“The guards can’t read? I did not know that. How is that possible?” asked the Librarian.
Rhys shrugged. “It’s your library.”
The Librarian led them into the dark building, which was lit only by piercing beams of sunlight pouring through tall windows. They passed narrow racks of books both ancient and new. There were tens of thousands of them. It was more books than Ben had ever seen before, but the tight confines made it seem far less grand than he was hoping. These books were not being displayed, they were being stored.
What Ben thought might be midway through the building, they turned. Up against one wall, they found a small, windowless room. There was a stone table and uncomfortable-looking metal chairs. The Librarian pulled out flint and steel. By feel, he sparked alight a mirrored lamp, which filled the room with a warm golden glow. “I try to keep fire away from the books. They are quite flammable.”
He sat down in one of the chairs and gestured for them to take seats as well. “Rhymer’s note referred to ‘our most ancient’ texts. I believe I know what he means, but it is unusual he would share that knowledge. Just so we are clear, what is it you seek?”
“The Rift,” stated Lady Towaal simply.
The man nodded and asked for them to wait in the room. A quarter bell later, he returned with four slim books which he laid out on the table. To Ben’s surprise, they appeared fairly new.
The Librarian saw Ben’s puzzled expression. “One of my projects is transcribing the older works into new volumes. I’m not sure why some of the famous libraries in this world insist on maintaining their decrepit stacks. It’s the knowledge that is important.” The man shook his head at the folly of his peers.