by AC Cobble
“Are you okay?” asked Amelie.
Towaal nodded. “I have been learning a lot over the last two days.”
Ben waited for her to continue.
“The Purple has not entirely disappeared,” remarked Towaal.
“They were here?” asked Ben, looking around the room with renewed interest.
“Yes,” answered Towaal. “The Librarian was more than he seemed.”
“The Librarian is part of the Purple!” exclaimed Amelie. “Does Rhymer know?”
Towaal replied brusquely, “I am certain Rhymer knows more than he’s told so far. I want to find out what I can in this place, and then I will confront him. This is too serious to keep secret. And the Librarian was part of the Purple, not is.”
“What do you mean?” queried Ben. “Is he dead?”
“After the battle, the Librarian is no more,” she answered. “He…” She frowned, visibly searching for the right word. “Disintegrated.”
Ben stared at her.
“I believe he utilized more will than he was capable of commanding,” she explained. “Whether on purpose or on accident, he somehow converted himself into pure energy. It was expended attacking the arch-demon.”
“The lights!” guessed Ben.
Towaal nodded. “Yes, that was him. I was at my limit and had used all of the power stored in the rod. Without him, the arch-demon would have run rampant. As I suspected he would, the Librarian stepped in and defended Northport.”
“As you suspected?” asked Amelie.
“Yes,” replied Towaal. “I knew that if the arch-demon had truly been alive for millennia, even with the repository, I would be insufficient. I counted on the Purple resurfacing. They had to prevent the slaughter and harvesting of the life-blood in Northport as well as protect the rift key.”
“How did you know they would be able to, uh, resurface?” asked Ben. “How could you be sure?”
Towaal replied, “When I found the rift key and the documents relating to it, there were clues. The Librarian was extremely upset I found what I did, and after that, he refused to answer questions. It was enough for me to put some pieces together. For example, there is only one Librarian listed anywhere in relation to this library. How no one else seems to have noticed that, I do not know. The mind believes what it wants to believe, I suppose. Certainly no one expected there to be a male mage. The man we met was long-lived.”
“What about his assistant?” asked Amelie.
Towaal shrugged. “He is missing. Whether he had something to do with the Purple, whether he is also a male mage, I do not know.”
Ben frowned. “And you think the Librarian was here to protect this rift key?”
“I can only assume, yes,” answered Towaal.
“Are there others? Other members of the Purple in Northport?” asked Amelie.
Towaal did not answer. Most likely, she didn’t have an answer.
“So, it’s over then,” declared Ben. “You have the rift key, and the arch-demon was defeated. Now we can focus on our other problems, like Issen.”
Towaal coughed. “Not exactly.”
Ben frowned, dreading what was next.
“We have a rift key here, which, of course, must be protected at all costs,” continued Towaal. “If you remember, right before the fight, I mentioned there is another key. These documents lead me to believe it is located in Irrefort.”
“The capital of the Coalition?” Ben groaned.
Towaal nodded.
“What does that have to do with us?” griped Amelie.
Towaal sat down in the lone reading chair in the room and slumped back, silent.
Amelie stared at her. “You want us to go to Irrefort?”
Towaal didn’t deny the accusation.
Ben paced back and forth across the small room. “What do you expect us to do in Irrefort? Go ask Lord Jason if he has any magical keys to create a new Rift?”
“I’m not sure what you should do,” answered Towaal quietly. “I wish I had the answer. Helping Issen would be an honorable thing to do if you can figure out how to do it, and I worry the demon problem is not yet finished here. Hundreds of demons fled after the battle. Maybe we could help with that somehow.”
She sat in the chair listlessly, not meeting their eyes. “I cannot help you by giving you the answer. I am trying to help by sharing information that is contained in these documents.” She waved to a sheaf of parchment stacked on a small writing table. “As you’ve been told, I am willing to follow your lead. It’s up to you what you want to do.”
“And if we did go get this rift key…” started Ben.
“It would need to be protected or maybe even used,” finished Towaal. “Remember, we do not know what the consequences of destroying the first rift will be. If I could go back, I would have spent more time interviewing the Librarian. At the time, of course, we did not know his role, and he did not have a chance to confront us before we made our final decision. He was rather angry at us afterward. I can only hope we did not make a mistake.”
“This is not enough information,” protested Ben. “You’re asking us to make decisions about things we know nothing about. We need to know more.”
“I agree,” nodded Towaal sagely, “but I do not have the information you want.”
“Who does?” exclaimed Ben.
“The Purple,” replied Towaal calmly.
“But,” complained Ben, frustrated at Towaal’s reticence, “we are back at square one. Where do we even find one of these Purple?”
“The Librarian was located in the same place as a rift key,” remarked Towaal. “Maybe the rift key in Irrefort also has a guardian?”
“Well, that is just…” Amelie started then paused. “I’m too tired for this,” she finished helplessly.
After breakfast the next morning, Ben went to check on Rhys.
In his friend’s room, a chambermaid directed him outside to a small, bare courtyard. Rhys was sitting, wrapped in a heavy cloak, and sipping a cup of kaf.
Ben stepped into the courtyard and Rhys began speaking without looking over. “Funny, isn’t it. It is cold when you think about it, but after the Wilds, I find it quite comfortable outside.”
Ben grunted. It felt pretty cold to him.
He walked toward his friend then slowed as he got close. Something was different about Rhys.
His friend finally looked over and gave a wan smile.
Ben stared, confused. Shallow laugh lines webbed out from Rhys’ eyes, his cheeks looked gaunt, and two wings of snow white graced his hair at the temples. Rhys was older.
“You look…different,” said Ben hesitantly.
“That I do,” agreed Rhys.
Ben sat next to his friend on the iron bench and almost immediately regretted it. Despite Rhys’ opinion, the bench was damn cold. The chill crept through Ben’s thick wool britches.
He looked at Rhys again. He didn’t know where to start. How do you ask a friend why he suddenly appears fifteen years older than he did the day before?
Rhys brushed back his cloak and laid a hand on his longsword leaning against the bench.
“When Towaal explained mage craft to you, she discussed how anything was possible with enough will and knowledge,” he murmured. “For the most part, that is true. To be complete, there is a third ingredient to performing magic. Energy. Will and knowledge are the tools to manipulate the world around us. The material you are actually manipulating is energy. The electricity she raised, the heat Amelie used to start a fire, it is all energy. If there is no energy in the environment, a mage, or someone using a magical device, can draw that energy from within themselves.”
Ben nodded. Towaal hadn’t said it this way, but that was similar to what she described.
Rhys kept talking after a sip of his kaf. “You’ve seen Towaal draw from her own reserves. She gets tired and sleeps. There are other, more permanent sources of energy that can be drawn from.”
Rhys’ sword lay between then, the wir
e-wrapped hilt sticking up. Ben edged his elbow away from it.
“I don’t understand,” responded Ben.
“Demons feed on our life forces as a source of energy, for example.”
“Oh,” said Ben, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach.
“That type of thing,” remarked Rhys, “you can’t just get a good night sleep and recover from.”
“You mean, there is a slower recovery, or no recovery?” asked Ben hesitantly.
Rhys finished his kaf and shrugged. “I’ve been alive a very long time. I’ve seen a lot of things I didn’t believe were possible and a lot of things I didn’t expect to see. So, who knows? Anything is possible with enough will.”
“Is there,” Ben paused, “anything I can do?”
“Like make me a casserole?” snorted Rhys.
“I, uh, I guess I don’t know,” replied Ben sheepishly. “If I can help…”
“No, Ben, there’s nothing you can do,” answered Rhys. He raised his empty mug. “Come on. I need a refill.”
Rhys stood slowly and grimaced. He placed a steadying hand on the arm of the bench as he rose. “This will take a bit of getting used to. I think it must be similar to what you feel like when you try to drink with me.”
Ben snorted. “Faker.”
The rogue chuckled then headed back inside the keep. Ben followed behind. His friend didn’t move like the creaky grandfather he pretended to be when he stood, but he also didn’t move like the buoyant raconteur he had been a few days before.
The cleanup of Northport progressed slowly. After a few days, Rhymer devoted more resources and the city started to look like a livable place again. One by one, markets reopened and kids came out from hiding to play in the streets. The scars of the battle would last for years though, maybe generations.
Ben and Amelie briefly pitched in, but Ben quickly found he had no interest in carting off several-day-old dead bodies. He didn’t even know where to begin on rebuilding. They’d fought for Northport, and that was enough.
Rhymer was a whirl of activity, the polar opposite of Ben’s impression of the man when they were in Whitehall. He supposed losing his crutch of a seneschal and nearly losing the entire city was a wake-up call for the man.
Towaal remained buried in the library, trying to learn anything else she could about the Purple and their purpose with the Rift.
Rhys drank, heavily.
In and of itself, that wasn’t unusual for the rogue, but he carried a darkness around him now. He’d lost some of his jovial, joking nature. Corinne spent a lot of time with him. Mostly, she stayed silent by his side. Ben hoped that, in time, his friend would come out of himself and see her there. She had lost her father. They both could use someone to lean on.
Ben prodded Rhys about it, trying to cheer him up.
Rhys responded sharply, “I’ll be fine. She’ll be fine. We both just need to move on, to go in a new direction. How is that going, by the way?”
Ben sighed. That was the problem. He and Amelie didn’t know what direction they should take. She was worried about her father and family in Issen. There were the rift keys to consider in Irrefort. Expeditionary parties would be formed in the coming weeks to scout the demon’s movements, and there was the ever-present threat from the Sanctuary. If they knew where to go, they would leave that day.
Instead, they delayed in Northport. They spent their days resting, practicing the sword, the Ohms, and hardening their wills. Amelie practiced some minor healing on Ben’s wounds, and while he would always have scars from the fight, the sharp stab of pain faded away. It was tender, but he could live with that. For sword practice, he was able to move about without fear of tearing open his stitches.
Word came that the siege had begun in Issen. The messenger said Amelie’s father was putting up a stout defense. The Coalition was reported to have four times as many men, but Lord Gregor had his walls. A siege could last for months.
When she first heard, Amelie wanted to rush immediately to her father’s side. After discussing it with Ben and Rhys, she realized that without an army at her back, there wasn’t much she could do. It was unlikely they’d even reach Issen with the Coalition completely encircling it. Getting captured outside of the city walls would just make it worse for her father and everyone inside.
She needed an army, and Lord Rhymer was in no position to provide one. They didn’t know who else to turn to.
A week after the battle, Ben and Amelie were returning across the square from another fruitless discussion with Lady Towaal. The woman was buried in ancient paper and artifacts. She had no advice she was willing to give the two young folk. She just turned it back on them, asking them what they wanted to do.
The square had a scattering of people rushing about trying to finish their chores before they lost the last light of day. It was growing colder and a light dusting of snow had fallen the night before. It still clung to the cobblestones and coated the eaves of the rooftops like a light froth on a freshly poured ale.
Ben imagined in better times the square would be filled with young people escaping from their parent’s clutches and congregating with their friends. The sounds of laughter and children getting into innocent trouble should be filling the space. Now, no one had time for that.
Ben meandered along, lost in his thoughts, until Amelie clutched his arm.
“Ben,” she hissed, “is that…”
He followed her look and saw a slight figure darting ahead of them and vanishing down a narrow side street. He knew that brisk, determined stride.
“Meghan,” he muttered.
“Should we get Towaal?” asked Amelie.
“We’ll lose her if we do,” replied Ben anxiously. He started toward the street Meghan went down, pulling Amelie behind him.
“Is this a good idea?” worried Amelie. “She betrayed us, Ben.”
“She did, but she’s my sister and was your friend,” he responded. “Maybe it wasn’t her, maybe some other way they found out. Maybe she had a change of heart.”
“She could have men with her, or worse, a mage,” argued Amelie, jogging along behind Ben as they hurried to catch sight of Meghan.
Ben felt Amelie’s sense of foreboding. Meghan showing up here was unexpected. He doubted she could have found them without help, but he had to know. He had to know why she betrayed them.
“You should get Towaal. Tell her we saw Meghan,” suggested Ben.
“If this is a trap, you can’t go in alone,” snapped Amelie.
They reached the street Meghan went down and Ben peered ahead into the shadows. The sun was setting, and the narrow streets of Northport would quickly be plunged into darkness.
“If this is a trap, we need Towaal,” rejoined Ben.
“I’m going with you,” demanded Amelie.
“Fine.” He sighed.
“There!” exclaimed Amelie, pointing. They saw Meghan just in time to see her turn down another street, crimson cloak fluttering behind her as she walked.
“She’s not being very circumspect,” mentioned Amelie.
Ben nodded. Meghan wasn’t trying to hide from them with that cloak, he was sure of that.
Several more blocks and they were trailing half a block behind her. Ben slowed their pace to follow from a distance.
Half a bell, they followed Meghan’s cloak through the thin crowds. She never once looked back, which eventually made Ben doubt she knew she was being followed.
“What if this isn’t a trap,” he wondered.
“Then I’m going to knock her head for tattling on us at the Sanctuary,” grumbled Amelie.
“And if it is a trap?” Ben smirked.
“Then I’m still going to knock her head,” snapped Amelie.
Meghan turned and entered a long building. They stopped. They were in the warehouse district of Northport and the streets were nearly empty.
“If I was going to set a trap for someone, I’d do it here,” stated Amelie. She fidgeted, looking up and down the rough
street.
Ben agreed.
“Let’s move around back,” he suggested. “No sense in walking right in and making it easy on them.”
They dodged through a narrow alleyway cluttered with crates, barrels and other debris. Near the back of the warehouse, Ben spied windows high up, under the eaves of the roof. They’d be opened in the summer to get a cross breeze through the big structure, he guessed.
Silently, he pointed at them. Amelie looked around then waved him forward. A stack of broken and rotting crates leaned against the wall at the end of the alley. They appeared to have been there for years, sitting out in the weather.
Ben walked up to the boxes and shook them gently. The pile barely moved under his hand. He glanced back at Amelie and shrugged. They would either be able to climb up the pile and access the window above, or they would come crashing down with a huge amount of noise then land in a pile of broken wood. Either way, there was no chance he was going to walk in the front door of the warehouse. The pile was the only other option.
He knelt down to boost Amelie up, and she started scaling the stack, grabbing loose planks and hauling herself up and over each crate.
Ben followed slowly. Amelie was smaller than him. Just because the structure didn’t collapse under her weight didn’t mean he would make it. Concentrating on listening for any ominous sounding creaks, he crawled up the pile. Watching Amelie above him, he wasn’t paying close enough attention to where he was putting his hands and earned himself a nasty splinter from a broken piece of crate.
Muttering under his breath, he sucked on his hand, trying to draw out the sharp spear of wood. A bit more carefully, he continued upward.
At the top of the pile, the crates shifted dangerously under their weight. Ben and Amelie moved slowly to not jostle the stack and send it all crashing to the ground.
They found the windows under the eave were shut. Ben examined them and saw they were loosely fit. He could see a simple catch through a gap and drew his hunting knife. Wedging it into the gap, he jimmied it along to push against the catch, springing it free. Then he pulled the window open.
“You learn that from Renfro or Rhys?” whispered Amelie.
“Heard about it in a story,” he explained.