by AC Cobble
“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 refilled 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.
“Before you start reading,” he offered, “maybe there is something specific I can direct you to?”
Lady Towaal explained what they learned from Rhymer the night before and asked the Librarian what he could add to that.
The man laced his fingers together and thought.
“I should start by warning you that almost everything I can tell you about the Rift is conjecture,” he said. “It is based on a few scraps of fact from the time it was created and a large amount of speculation by scholars since then.”
They all settled down and waited for him to continue.
“It is, as Rhymer suggested, similar to a tea kettle,” explained the man. “When pressure builds, there is a flexing, and the Rift opens for a brief time. Demons come across when that happens. That much, I think we can be comfortably assured is correct. As to where the Rift is, that is less certain. There are maps in the books here, but they were drawn thousands of years ago. You are familiar with erosion and geology, yes, tectonic plates and the movement of the earth?” He raised an eyebrow.
Towaal murmured that she was. “Then you understand the geography is unlikely to be the same it was then.”
“We understand that,” agreed Towaal.
“And finally, the thing I would classify as utter guesswork is what would happen if the Rift were to be destroyed. We simply do not know. Some writing speculates that the object itself is unimportant and that the thin point of the fabric between the worlds would continue regardless. Others say the object is critical, and if it was destroyed, the location would revert to just like anywhere else in the world. Most scholars who hold that point of view believe if the Rift was destroyed, it would put strain elsewhere. Demons would become prevalent in areas where they are currently rare.”
The Librarian nodded, evidently satisfied with his own explanation.
Ben raised his hand then quickly lowered it after an amused look from Amelie. “What do you mean ‘the object’?” he asked.
Spinning one of the books around, the Librarian quickly leafed through the pages until he found a sketch of a stone archway covered in runes. To Ben’s eye, similar runes to what he had seen on other magical devices.
Towaal leaned forward. Without speaking, she took the book and began flipping pages back and forth around the rendition of the archway.
Rhys asked the Librarian, “What is your opinion of what would happen if the Rift was destroyed?”
The man’s mouth twisted into a disapproving scowl. “It is not a scholar’s place to give opinions, particularly in this case where there is a great deal of danger hinging on the uncertainty. We should stick to the facts. The fact is, we do not know.”
“When the facts are inconsistent or do not tell a full story,” argued Rhys, “sometimes it is necessary to extrapolate from available information and give an educated guess.”
The Librarian grunted, eyeing Rhys speculatively. “My educated guess, then, is that it is irrelevant what happens elsewhere if the Rift is destroyed. If the reports are correct, which given they are recent and based on eyewitness accounts, we can assume they are correct, then we can calculate what will happen. At the current rate of expansion, the demons will overwhelm Northport’s defenses by next winter–a little over a year from now.”
The man looked around, waiting for a response. When none came, he added, “There are approximately half a million souls normally within the walls of Northport. Due to the recent evacuations of the northerly towns, we can estimate there may be six hundred thousand people here now. Demons grow and thrive when they consume life-blood. If a demon swarm were to overtake this city and consume the blood of six hundred thousand individuals, is there a force outside of the Sanctuary that could stop them? Could the Sanctuary stop them?”
“So you think the Rift should be closed?” pressed Rhys. “To protect Northport and prevent what would happen to Alcott if Northport was overrun?”
“I wish it was so simple,” answered the thin man. “Deciding something should be done and how it can be done are different decisions. Closing the Rift would be a difficult and dangerous task. It would require a combination of magical ability and a determination to survive for weeks in the Wilds. Even with exceptional skill and preparation, success is not assured. I have thought about this a great deal, and I have decided I must stay here, protecting the knowledge in this library. It is too large a risk if I am insufficient to the task. If the Rift is to be closed, it will not be by me. Finding someone else who does have that capacity and courage to do it,” the man finished with a shrug. “That is easier said than done.”
Ben leaned forward to ask the Librarian if he knew how to close the Rift. It sounded like the man had considered trying to do it.
“Librarian,” interjected Towaal. She was pointing to a passage in the book. “This page is describing the leader of the mages who created the Rift. It says, ‘he’.”
The Librarian
nodded and explained while Towaal flipped to another page. “Prior to the Sanctuary’s founding, it wasn’t uncommon for there to be male mages. Men have the same facilities as women to learn the art. The recent ban on male mages is simply a move by the Veil to consolidate power within her walls.”
“I am aware that there used to be male mages. I had not heard the Sanctuary’s role described in such terms before,” remarked Towaal, a drip of acid sneaking into her tone. “I am not sure it should be described as a ban.”
The Librarian met Towaal’s eyes. “What are your instructions from the Veil should you encounter a man who practices magic? Do you leave him alone?”
Towaal frowned. “We are getting rather far afield from why we came here.”
“Yes,” agreed the Librarian. “Male mages are a rather uncomfortable topic for those of the Sanctuary. Shall we change the subject back to the Rift?”
Lips pursed, Towaal tapped on a page in the open book. “What I was getting to was this bit. It says Nyerga, who I believe is the leader referred to earlier, the male mage, founded the Order of the Purple to continue his work and protect all the lands from the ancient evil.”
The Librarian knitted his brows. “And your question is?”
“This book,” explained Lady Towaal, “describes an organization of mages which I was not aware existed, an order founded by a male mage. What happened to them?”
“That,” stated the Librarian flatly, “is not answered in any of the books in this library.”
Over the objections of the Librarian, they borrowed the four books he provided and pressed him for other resources. Lady Towaal at one point demanded to be shown the racks which contained the texts about the Rift. When she returned, she gestured for the group to leave, satisfied they had everything they were going to get.
They returned to their rooms, split up the books, and quickly began to leaf through. They were looking for anything that might be relevant. When they came across something, they shared it with Lady Towaal, who jotted down notes.
Lord Rhymer sent Franklin with a dinner invitation, but Lady Towaal waved him off. “We need to get through this and understand what is happening,” she said. “We came here to ask assistance for Issen, and, well, we have a lot of new information to take in.”