The Guardian's Apprentice (Beyond the Veil)

by J. Michael Radcliffe

  “I did!” snapped Ms. Hoskins in a no-nonsense tone.

  Acamar and Keegan both jumped, startled by the sharp voice from behind. Neither of them had heard Ms. Hoskins come in and the study door remained bolted shut, but nonetheless there she stood. She wore an expression of supreme annoyance and was standing with her hands on her hips.

  Acamar regained his composure and glared at the housekeeper, obviously furious.

  “You had no right!” he snapped.

  “Don’t you start with me, Master Wycroft,” she barked, wagging her finger at him and cutting him off before he could finish. “The boy has a right to know!”

  “That may be, but I was to decide when, not you!”

  “Humph. If you ask me, you’d be put to better use chasing the mice in the kitchen, you miserable old fur ball! Now, you can tell the boy what he needs to know or I can – it’s your choice, Whiskers.” Straightening her apron she snatched up the tray from the desk holding the teapot and remains of their lunch and bustled off to the kitchen.

  Acamar shook his head and sighed. Looking utterly defeated, he returned to his chair and sat down.

  “It would seem Ms. Hoskins has left me no choice but to explain that which is best left unmentioned.”

  Keegan was astonished to see an accomplished wizard such as Acamar put in his place by the castle’s housekeeper. At this point, he did not care though, because he would finally learn more about the Red Robes that Ms. Hoskins first mentioned. He leaned forward eagerly in spite of the pain from his still throbbing shoulder and listened as Acamar explained about the wizarding world’s most shameful secret.

  ###

  Chapter 31 – The Color of Blood

  “Let me ask you, Keegan,” began the older wizard as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “How many castes of wizards do you think there are?”

  “Well, before this morning I would have said three.”

  “And those are?”

  “White, Grey and Black – the orders of Good, Neutrality and Evil, right?”

  Acamar smiled sadly. Leaning forward, his gaze lost focus as he looked a thousand years into the past.

  “If only it were that simple, my young apprentice. Officially they are the orders of Good, Neutrality and Dark – not Evil, per se.”

  Keegan frowned. “Aren’t they the same?”

  “Not exactly. You see the Dark order and those who follow its teachings are seekers of power – at any cost. They have an unquenchable thirst to attain ever greater magical abilities, regardless of the price they may have to pay.”

  Keegan suddenly sat bolt upright, as if awakening from a deep sleep. “Wait a minute – your robes are black!”

  The older man’s gaze snapped back to the present and he smiled at Keegan. “I wondered if you would ever notice. Yes, I am or was a member of the Black order.”

  “But not now?”

  “Not officially. Although I still seek knowledge and power, there are limits beyond which I will not go. But as you can see from my robes I have not withdrawn from the world or become altruistic; otherwise my robes would have shifted to Grey or White.”

  “And the Red?”

  “Those who wear the Red robes are truly the order of Evil. They worship the Shadow as their gods Keegan; they believe in chaos and destruction and they feed off of the raw emotional energy of others, just like the masters they serve.” The older man leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “After the Shadow were banished, the members of their order were hunted down and killed, though the history books aren’t clear on whether any escaped or not. There have been rumors over the past couple of years about the return of the order, but no one believed them.”

  “You think they’ve returned, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. I also think the longer Ducat is exposed to the Shadow the more his colors will shift; his robes have already become black and I expect them soon to turn the deepest of red.”

  “What about the Shadow? Why were they in the cave of Seba’an that night?”

  “I can only speculate, but my assumption is they were there to exact their revenge. Seba’an was one of the four who originally trapped and expelled the Shadow from our world. The humans who were there that day are long since past, but Seba’an remains. If he is killed it would be some time before a new Alderdrache could be named, most likely leading to another civil war between the dragons and wizard kind.”

  Acamar stood and walked to the window, looking out upon the valley below. “That is why your training must continue in earnest; we have to be as ready as we can when Ducat comes for the amulet.”

  “But why are you so certain he’s coming for the amulet?”

  “Because he’s been readin’ the Black Book is why,” said a gravelly voice from the shadows in the corner of the study.

  Keegan nearly jumped out of his skin, but Acamar was unfazed, still looking calmly out the window.

  “So you’ve confirmed it then?” he asked.

  “Aye. Saw it with me own eyes and brought proof back to boot.”

  Stepping from the shadows, the dark elf Kust came forward – looking strained and more haggard than the last time Keegan had seen him. He approached Acamar, who had stepped away from the window to address the creature. Reaching into the folds of his tunic, he withdrew what looked like a thick sheet of velum rolled tightly into a scroll and tied with a black ribbon. Kust handed the item over to the wizard.

  “Followed the sneaky bastard into the restricted section of the library, I did – caught him reading from Old Master Blackstone’s book. He was looking at the section on the end-times and the Shadow, he was. He’ll be missing that page soon enough, I imagine – old fool got distracted and snatched it right from under his nose, I did!”

  The elf was obviously quite proud of his feat, evidenced by a satisfied grin spreading from ear to ear. Acamar untied the ribbon from the scroll and smoothed out the page on the desk so he and Keegan could both read.

  “…at the end time came the Shadow to the citadel, to throw down the last of those who opposed them. At midnight they came, a blot of pure darkness against the cloudless night. They passed through the outer walls and into the inner sanctum to destroy the head of the white wizards. In the chamber, he waited, sensing the enemy’s approach. Darkness filled the great vaulted room as the Shadow poured in, filling the center of the room above the pool of reflection.

  “This ends now, white wysard” came their voice. “Your destruction will end this foolish resistance – the others will crumble.”

  The wizard gathered his hands behind his back and look upwards to the enemy. “I think not,” was his simple reply.

  From the edges of the room came the others who waited with him – the head of the Dark Arts and the greatest of the grey wizards as well as one other, the Alderdrache. The wizards raised their hands and the dragon his head and the Shadow paused.

  “Fools,” said they ‘to think you could stop us – you will all die tonight!”

  The pool of reflection was becalmed and began to glow with a golden light. Tendrils of pure light began crawling forth from its surface, entwining around the wizards and the dragon. It was then that the great wizards and the dragon began their incantation, drawing upon the power of the ancients that swirled about them. Shafts of light shot forth from the spellcasters, forming a pyramid of energy surrounding the Shadow.

  “NO!” came their cry of fury, as they struggled against the forces surrounding them.

  The beams of energy pulsed and coalesced as the pyramid grew smaller, condensing and forcing the Shadow into an ever smaller form. Unseen by those below, small wisps of black escaped from the trap that had been so quickly sprung – wisps that vanished almost as quickly as they escaped. The pyramid shrank and condensed until the remaining Shadow were compressed into a solid black mass the size and shape of a large egg, banded on four sides by a softly pulsing white line – the magical remains of their prison. As they had been trapped, so too had the p
ower of the ancients been trapped directly beneath them for as the pyramid had formed about them, a mirror image had formed below above the pool. What remained was a large crystalline structure of immense power – the oracle – for the last of the ancients had sacrificed themselves to force the Shadow from this world.

  Thus it was that the BlackStar Amulet and the Oracle were formed – polar opposites of one another. The one contained the infinite power of good, the other the infinite power of evil. The Oracle was placed in a position of honor above the Council, while the BlackStar was placed in the bowels of the citadel, Pahret T’pur. Protected by the spells and wards surrounding the castle, the amulet would serve to power the veil that was created to cleave one world into two. To control the amulet was to control the veil, and if used in the ancient portal of the citadel the power of the amulet could be harnessed to bend even the Shadow to serve one’s whims.

  Therein also lies the greatest danger; if the incantation is interrupted, the master shall become servant and the dimensions thrown open again for the Shadow and worse to return. The gateways to the Abyss will become permanent, forever open to our world.

  Although physically separated by hundreds of miles, the two talismans remain connected by magic, the pull of which can be used to locate one another. If ever the twain shall reunite, the veil shall be torn asunder and the worlds untethered, to be separated forever…

  Set here under my hand, August 14th, First Year of the Veil

  Andromedus Blackstone

  Acamar was frowning deeply as he finished reading. He turned to Kust, who was warming himself by the fire and looking entirely pleased with his performance.

  “You’re certain of this?”

  “Aye. He knows the amulet is what he needs, but the rest he never saw – scurried away with the book before his time was up, he did. Stay too long in the restricted section and it’ll be your last trip to the library!”

  Acamar rolled the page back up, retied the black ribbon and handed the scroll to Keegan.

  “This moves things up a bit, I’m afraid. Master Kust, I thank you for your information,” he said as he tossed a bag of coins to the elf. Straightening his robes, he pulled the door of the study open.

  Keegan’s head was spinning from trying to absorb everything he had learned in the past few minutes. “Where are we going?”

  “To the ancient portal, deep beneath this citadel. We must warn your grandfather, though I’m certain he already knows. I suspect this is why he freed me from my penance.”

  “What?”

  Acamar turned towards Keegan. “Your grandfather stayed my sentence for a reason; at first I couldn’t fathom it but now I do. I believe he intends to destroy the ancient portal, and with it any chance Ducat would have of controlling the Shadow or worse, breaching the void to the Abyss.”

  “But I still don’t understand; if he knows all of this then why do we have to warn him?”

  “Because we have to stop him, Keegan. To destroy the ancient portal he must be in it at the time! The sheer force of magical energy necessary to permanently seal it shut will either consume your grandfather or trap him forever on the dark side of the Abyss.”

  Acamar strode from the study with Keegan close on his heels, heading for the bowels of the castle, leaving Kust to warm himself by the fire and finish off the biscuits left from lunch.

  ###

  Chapter 32 – Sealing the Gateway

  The path to the bowels of Pahret T’pur was a long one. The castle, built eons ago before the Veil, had been added to and expanded in the centuries since the original construction. Keegan and Acamar threaded their way down to the lower levels, finally reaching the pool of reflection after nearly thirty minutes.

  “Is this the place describe on that page from the Black Book?”

  “Yes, this is the pool of reflection – the place where I saw your image for the very first time just a few weeks ago. Beyond the pool is the inner sanctum, wherein lies the ancient portal.”

  Keegan looked in the direction indicated by Acamar beyond the pool. A heavy door of what appeared to be solid silver encrusted with runes marked the entrance to the inner chamber. The door stood partially ajar and there was a faint white light emanating from within. Occasionally a low, distant rumble like far away thunder sounded, vibrating the floor beneath their feet. Acamar walked up to the door and reached out to pull it open, but was held fast the moment his hand touched the ornate handle.

  “Acamar?”

  The older wizard did not respond – or even blink for that matter. He remained frozen in place with his right hand grasping the door handle, although Keegan could see that he was still breathing. Keegan reached into his robes, retrieved his staff, and with a flick of his wrist returned it to its normal size. He had learned that with a simple charm he could reduce the staff to the size of a number two pencil – the perfect size to stow it away in ones robes. Ever since the evening in the garden when his consciousness had touched the staff’s inner core, he had felt a special connection to it. Since then he had spent his few spare hours in between Acamar’s painful lessons exploring the staff’s abilities.

  “Be careful where you tread, young one,” came the voice of Nekk’ar inside his mind.

  “Why? My grandfather wouldn’t hurt me, Nekk’ar,” thought Keegan.

  “It is not your grandfather I am concerned about. You are in the oldest part of the castle, near the very foundation itself. Beyond the doorway lies the portal.”

  ”I’ve been through enough portals to know how to use one, Nekk’ar.”

  “Ouch!” Keegan yelped suddenly, as without warning a spark of electricity shot through the ring into his hand.

  “That isn’t just ANY portal, youngling; it is the first portal. It is the one that came before all others. It is the portal that first brought the ancients to our world and later conveyed the dark ones”

  “You mean the ancients aren’t from Earth?”

  “The ancients are beyond physical form, young one, although they can take the shape of anything they desire. They are not bound to the physical as you are. Their presence here unlocked the magical energy of this dimension and allowed it to flow freely. There is still much residual energy in this place and the power of the ancients still lingers.”

  “Great.”

  Keegan did not finish his thought for fear it would provoke another shock from his temperamental guardian. He was gradually learning to shield some of his thoughts from Nekk’ar, but the spirit of the ring was still far more powerful than Keegan and could easily pierce his defenses if it so chose. Raising his staff and grasping it firmly with both hands, he focused his thoughts on its magical core and could immediately feel the pulsating warmth of energy surrounding him. Easing forward he placed the head of the staff through the doorway, bracing himself against whatever might happen. There was a sharp crackling sound as the tip of the staff passed the doorway and Keegan felt a tingling sensation in his hands. He concentrated on the staff, willing the magic to expand outward away from his hands. The tingling sensation increased and he could feel the staff growing warmer in his hands. Concentrating harder, Keegan felt the staff began to vibrate along its length as it struggled against the wards placed on the door to bar the entrance. Gradually the vibration ceased and with a sharp snap! Keegan almost fell forward as the ward was broken and the resistance ceased. As the protective spell faded, the force binding Acamar to the door handle failed and he fell to the floor.

  “Acamar!”

  At the sound of Keegan’s voice, the older man opened his eyes and blinked several times but made no effort to move.

  “I’m….all right, Keegan. Just…just stunned,” he said in a hoarse whisper, lips barely moving. “I didn’t…expect your…your grandfather to…protect the door like that.”

  “Can you stand?”

  With a visible effort, Acamar shook his head.

  “Not yet. I need time to work the countercharm and for the effects to wear off.”

  Ke
egan knelt down beside the older wizard. Acamar immediately grasped the apprentice’s arm, though his hand was trembling with the effort.

  “You have to go, Keegan. You have to stop your grandfather before it is too late. If he seals the gateway he will be destroyed when the portal implodes; or worse he will be trapped on the dark side of the Abyss with no way back.”

  “But what do I do?”

  “Use your ring, Keegan. Trust Nekk’ar. He is wiser than us all; he can tell you what needs to be done, if he will.”

  Another rumble like distant thunder, louder this time, came from the antechamber beyond. Keegan picked up his staff and stood as Acamar began murmuring an incantation under his breath and sketching glyphs in the air with his pendant. Using the staff again, Keegan pushed against the door, expecting to encounter another protective spell. Unlike the time before however, the door swung silently inward on its giant gilt hinges. With one last glance back at Acamar, Keegan stepped cautiously through the doorway unsure of what to expect.

  Hewn from the bedrock beneath the castle, the chamber was surprisingly large with rough walls that had no visible joints. Looking upward, he was shocked to find that where the ceiling should have been there was a vast expanse of night sky – stars and all! Keegan thought at first it must be a mural painted on the ceiling, but as he peered closer, he could perceive distance between the stars and even a hint of movement if he looked hard enough. A sudden clap of thunder shook him out of his trance. Looking in the direction of the flash of light that had accompanied the thunder, he saw the portal. The ancient gateway was in the far corner of the room, set at an angle to the two walls so that it filled the corner completely. Its obsidian archway curved upward at least twenty feet and in the middle where the keystone was set, he could just make out some type of indention as if an inset stone were missing. The center of the gateway sparked and crackled with energy, as forks of lightning played across the surface of the mist beneath the arch. Watching the arcs of lightning, Keegan could see they all seemed to originate from near the base of the arch.