The Riddler's Gift: First Tale of the Lifesong (The Tale of the Lifesong)

by Greg Hamerton

  It pooled beside her on the stone floor of the alcove, a patch of clarity not unlike the Ring—she could touch it, but it was as transparent as water. She could not collect it in her hands, for it spread beneath her touch, then reformed into the puddle as soon as her fingers withdrew.

  Clear essence. The end of a sprite’s life.

  A breeze rustled through the silken tree. Strange, she thought, that no sprites danced in its leaves, as they did in the rest of Eyri. Here at the Dovecote, all the sprites were used in the training, or taken away by the Gifters on missions of healing. She hoped the Rector wouldn’t miss another handful of sprites, for there was no way to take the clear essence with her.

  She gave up trying to collect the puddle of clear essence from the stone floor of the alcove, and began the daunting climb down the outside of the building. Going down was worse than coming up. Ashley had made it look a lot easier than it was.

  * * *

  Late that afternoon, Tabitha visited the Hall of Sky. In part it was to marvel at the grand architecture, and to witness the crystalline beauty of the Source. But in truth she hoped to find the access to the Inner Sanctum, and surprise Ashley with her skill. The prize of the hidden door would repay in some way the risk Ashley had taken on her behalf to bring the sprites and train her in secret.

  Tabitha decided that the Sanctum had to lie close to the Hall of Sky, for it was the centre of the Lightgifters’ monastery. The Hall was vast in circumference. Beginning at the east-door, it took almost an hour to search along the pale stone walls, where the reflections from the Source formed delicate traceries of light. She had to move every time someone passed nearby, lest they considered her interest in the walls to be curious.

  Only in two places was there anything remarkable in the smooth masonry. Where Ashley’s secret door opened from the men’s corridor, and at the similar access leading from the women’s corridor, the stone revealed a fine incision. Tabitha could only notice the doors when she drew on the power of the Ring to aid her sight.

  Having exhausted the walls for clues, Tabitha stepped over the channel where pale sprites already awaited their replenishment, and strode onto the white marble of the Hall’s centre-circle.

  The Scribbillarre, Ashley called it.

  Complex engravings surrounded the dais upon which the Source stood. Words, runes, random lines and intricate patterns had been cut into the floor with precise artistry. It was a difficult place to sweep, that much she knew from the days gone by.

  The moment she began to pace the Scribbillarre, she knew her task was impossible. She had no experience in the old runes of Eyri, and not enough experience of Lightgifting to identify any spells in the patterns, should they be there. The infrequent words offered no clues to the Heart or Inner Sanctum.

  She used the augmentation of the Ring to search for abnormalities in the floor. An overwhelming number of ghostly footprints appeared. They tracked all over the Hall of Sky in heavy concentration, like the prints of sheep in the mud around a feeding trough.

  She tried to ignore the traces of traffic, to see beneath the confusion. Nowhere amongst the small glyphs and sigils was there a sign of the double-rune she sought. The late afternoon sun warmed her cheek softly. She stood quite still beside the Source, mesmerised by the intricate play of light and shadow on the floor. She allowed her eye be drawn where it wanted.

  Time flowed like a river, and the people using the Hall flickered by. If anyone thought she was simple-minded, they didn’t interrupt her reverie to tell her so. The sun sank to the western horizon. The brilliance of the Source began to fade.

  At last she realised what it was she was staring at. The pattern of the Heart-rune stood before her on the floor in shadow. It was a giant pattern, spanning the entire Hall in its breadth. The way it overlapped the edges of other designs and the seams of the floor made it difficult to identify. She doubted she would have seen anything had it not been for the Ring. The way in which the fluctuating light of the Source had been visible to her eyes had revealed the only area in which the scattered illumination did not fall over time.

  The twisted rune of the Heart, across the entire Hall. And in its centre, in the place where the two tails overlapped, was a square scribed in the floor, marked at each corner by a six-pointed star. There were many stars scattered across the Scribbillarre, but Tabitha knew she would not forget those particular four and how they were placed. For when she scrutinised that part of the marble apron, she identified four perfect lines, linking the four stars, lines as barely visible as the outlines of the other portals she knew of.

  There was a door in the floor of the Hall of Sky.

  * * *

  At the evening meal, she ensured that she served Ashley’s end of the table first. She found a short moment to lean close to him.

  “I’ve found the door.”

  He choked on his stew.

  “Meet me tonight in the Hall,” he whispered, between coughs.

  The sparkle in his eyes was all the thanks she needed.

  * * *

  Moonlight, a soft glow against the corridor beneath her bare feet. Her indrawn breath sounded loud in the Dovecote’s silence. Her heartbeat was sure to wake everyone from even the deepest slumber. Yet no one rose to stop her as she tiptoed to the oak door, and no one noted how she stole sprites from the sconce. She worked the Light into the outline of the secret door.

  Tabitha cringed when the door opened with a sucking implosion. It was terribly loud; she was certain the Rector was descending the stairs from his high rooms already, woken by the breach of the Hall of Sky. She sighed out one ragged breath, then another.

  Silence.

  At last she summoned the nerve to step through the door. The frame glistened with the sprites she had placed, so that it was a frame of Light she stepped through. The stone door was cool to the touch, and swung effortlessly away.

  A figure, standing suddenly close in the gloom, made her heart stop altogether.

  “It’s me,” whispered a familiar voice. He pulled a cloud of light from the deep sleeves of his robe.

  Ashley.

  Relief flooded through her legs.

  “Bring your sprites with you,” he whispered. “You can open the door from this side as well, but we shouldn’t leave them open, in case –”

  His voice tailed off, but Tabitha had no desire to finish the sentence. They both knew that the consequences of being caught in the Hall of Sky would be dire. She summoned her sprites from the frame, and pushed the stone door gently to. It sealed with a thud both as soft and clear as distant thunder.

  When they crossed onto the Scribbillarre, Tabitha felt as if she were treading across a pool of silvered water, and that her feet might break through the surface at any moment should they be placed too heavily. The Hall was larger than ever, stiller than ever, colder than ever. It seemed that all the stars of the night sky were reflected in the Scribbillarre. The designs that had been so memorable in the daylight were altered under the moon, the patterns which had bracketed them seemed larger and more indistinct. She began to wonder if the Sanctum was only meant to be found during the day, while sunlight cast the subtle marking pattern upon the floor.

  Ashley shifted nervously while she searched, but he said nothing. She was grateful for that; they stood exposed on the white Scribbillarre, like mice upon whom the fearsome owl might descend at any time. They shared many a nervous glance to the Rector’s room beyond the highest level of stairs.

  Finally Tabitha identified the square cut of the trapdoor with its four marker-stars. She knelt, and sprinkled the first of the sprites to the four corners with a shaking hand. Ashley completed the rest of the outline.

  The stone ground gently as the section sank away. A puff of warmer air escaped with a hiss and blew dust against their faces. Tabitha fought a sneeze, willing herself to make no sound. The square stone trapdoor rested no more than a finger’s breadth below the surface. Ashley reached out a tentative hand, and pushed against the inner s
lab. It sank further, then returned to near the surface when he released it. He tested it with a leg, and the stone sank far beneath the floor. He gingerly transferred more of his weight onto the stone, and so descended until his head was below Tabitha’s knees where she knelt. He came to a rest there.

  Ashley cast a Flicker spell. The dancing light revealed a stairway, leading down into thick darkness. Tabitha hugged her chest. Now that the way was open to the Heart, she didn’t know if she wanted to step down into the yawning maw.

  It was decided upon a sneeze. She had fought the effect of the dust resolutely, but at last her nose betrayed her. She erupted with a muffled blast.

  She looked up in horror, expecting to see the Rector’s round face peering over the high railing of the third floor.

  Ashley whispered sharply to her, and she scrambled into the hole. Ashley took some of her weight, and guided her feet down to the stone. As soon as they stepped clear of the entry slab, it rose up, borne on a rocker arm as thick as a tree trunk.

  “The sprites!” warned Tabitha. Ashley summoned them just in time—they slipped past the slab as it swung into place. The entrance to the Heart sealed with a dull thud above them.

  “The door! How do we open it again?” Tabitha asked in a panicked whisper.

  “It doesn’t matter. At least we’re hidden.” Ashley raised his Flicker spell high. Set underneath the rocker arm was a large ring. Ashley mimed the action of pulling it downward. “We’ll need sprites to break the seal, same as above,” he guessed aloud.

  Tabitha sneezed.

  They hurried to be away from the entrance. The stairs were steep, but dry with dust, and their footing was certain. There was a hand-rail, cut from the stone wall. The passage had none of the polished look of the Dovecote architecture—rather, it was rough, the walls uneven, as if constructed in haste, or secret. The illumination of the sprites did not penetrate more than a few steps down the stairway. Thick shadows lurked below them.

  They descended.

  The passage split in two upon a narrow wedge of stone. To the left, the stairs continued downwards, wide and evenly spaced. To the right, the passage was constricted, and the indistinct stairs seemed to be broken and treacherous, leading only to a blank wall.

  Tabitha’s senses were sharpened by her instinctive fear of darkness. She strained to see in the flickering half-light. The passage to the right had an unfinished look to it, a feeling of abandonment, or destruction. The Ring brought her a sense of foreboding from that place, an emanation of something unsettling.

  A shiver crept up her spine.

  What if this inner sanctum is a tomb or a trap? What are we doing down here?

  The more she ranged outward with the Ring, the more unsettled she became. There was something in the right passage. A movement, though her ears told her of silence, and her eyes showed her that the jagged stones beneath the jumping shadows were still.

  There was nothing there, and yet it moved.

  “Let’s go left,” suggested Ashley. “It doesn’t look as if that leads anywhere.”

  She wanted to avoid the strange aura of the right passage as well, but it had begun to intrigue her. The Ring warmed as she stared into the dark cleft. There was nothing to see, but there was something to sense.

  Ashley descended into the left fork, bearing the Flicker spell away. The mystery within the right fork lured her. A movement, like a current in the air, curling to form a pattern of nothing but motion.

  The clarity of her senses brought the shape of it from the darkness.

  The Heart rune. It marked the passage they should take.

  “Ashley, wait!” she cried.

  But her call came too late to save him from the trap.

  A rock thumped to the floor, somewhere deeper in the passage. A ball of sprites came shooting from the darkness like a sparkling comet. Ashley backed up a step in surprise, but did not ward himself from the Light in time. It struck his face, and formed a glowing network over his head. Then the spell matured, and the flash of its climax was blinding in the gloom, even where Tabitha stood.

  Ashley wailed and fell to his back. His Flicker spell scattered, the sprites thrown like sand upon the stairs. Darkness swelled from the depths of the unknown cavern, hiding everything but the faint glow of essence.

  “Ashley!” Tabitha cried. She wanted to run to him, but could manage no more than a crouched hobble, for fear of losing her steps in the gloom.

  Ashley moaned, his hands to his face.

  “The Creator have mercy!” he cried. “I’ve been blinded. I’ve been blinded! Tabitha!”

  “I’m right here,” she whispered, reaching him and putting a hand on his shoulder. He found her hand, and gripped it with both of his.

  “I can’t see! I can’t see!”

  His eyes were wide open, unfocused, ranging around to find Tabitha’s face. His pupils shone with an inner glow. His hold on her arm was desperately strong. She couldn’t think of anything else to do but to sit there with him.

  “Should I try a Healall?” she asked at length.

  “No! No more Light!” His pleading expression was made all the more awful by the radiance behind his eyes. Tabitha moved herself closer, set his head on her lap, and smoothed his hair away from his face. She tried to ignore her childish fears of beasts crouching in the gloom. She didn’t know the pattern for the Flicker spell. With Ashley crippled, there was no way to defy the darkness.

  “Was that a Spriteblind spell?” she asked.

  “I suppose so,” he said at length. His grip eased slightly. “Then it’s temporary.” He shook his head from side to side, and moaned at the result.

  “Is it painful?”

  “Yes?” he answered, his voice thick with uncertainty. “No.” Some of the tension left his body. “No,” he repeated, “but it’s terrible, Tabitha, like staring at the sun. My whole head is filled—with Light, and nothing else.”

  “Can you recast the Flicker spell?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Why? Oh.” He summoned the sprites, and the flame of essence formed above his palm. It was as Tabitha had hoped—the Lightgifter’s skill did not rely on sight, only on the words and guiding mental pattern. At least one of them could see now.

  The stairway was clear. She didn’t hesitate to help Ashley to his feet, and guide him upwards, away from the passage he had chosen in error. When they came to the fork in the passage again, Tabitha halted. The Heart-rune was still there, as a disturbance in the air, deep in the cleft. It appealed to her curiosity. A secretive charm.

  “I’m going to look in the other passage. Will you wait here?”

  “No, Tabitha!” Ashley gripped her arm tighter. “What if there’s a trap in there?”

  “There won’t be,” she said, knowing the truth of it. “You went down the wrong passage.”

  “How did you know that? I heard you warn me, but too late.”

  “I can see—a guiding mark in this one.”

  “I saw nothing there.”

  “I have sharp eyes.”

  “And I—see even less than I did before,” he ended bitterly.

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “Will you wait here for me?”

  “No.” Ashley squared his shoulders, and stared her down. His blindness caused him to look slightly amiss of where she stood. “If you’re going in there, I’m coming with you. You need my light.”

  It was slow going. The steps were badly hewn, some were missing altogether. The walls slanted increasingly inwards, forcing them to walk hunched over, using their hands to push away from the rough boulders. Ashley’s blindness, compounded by the fact that he had to keep one hand free to hoist the Flicker spell aloft, made it difficult to lead him. But they came upon a sharp turn in the passage, where the rock underfoot levelled, and they could walk easier. They passed through a narrow entrance, and were suddenly in a small, rounded chamber.

  Tabitha gasped.

  “Tabitha, what is it?” Ashley whispered.

  “A man,”
she answered, “the figure of a man, in Light.”

  Facing them across the chamber was a robed Lightgifter, an old man with long, sparkling beard and a thick mane of white hair. The figure didn’t move, but the sprites did, swarming through the outline to create the shifting illusion, a shell around empty space. The spell was reminiscent of a Courier dove, yet this was a masterful version—the figure showed fine detail, down to the individual cords in the rope at the man’s waist, the wrinkles of care in his brow, and the wise cast of his eyes.

  “What does he look like?” Ashley whispered.

  Tabitha vocalised what she could see.

  “The Sage, you’re describing the Sage!”

  “You mean the founder of the Lightgifters?” Tabitha said, awed.

  There was the faintest trace of warmth from the figure. Although the sprites were plentiful, they were pale, and offered little illumination.

  “Damn! I wish I could see this, to be sure. It is rumoured the Sage’s messenger birds were eagles, so great was his skill in the Light. If it is anyone, it is him you see.”

  “Could a spell last that long?” The Sage had been dead for over two hundred years.

  “The Sage was powerful. It would make sense, it ties in with the references to the Heart I’ve studied—all in the first days of the Dovecote, in his time. Our skill has diminished greatly since then. No one has ever equalled the Sage’s mastery of the essence.”

  The Sage’s apparition stared fixedly at the intruders.

  The wise founder of the Lightgifters had created a spell which allowed his form to be hidden for centuries. The secretive chamber was a strange place for a monument.

  She felt unworthy of being there. She had no right to breach the inner sanctum.

  Tabitha averted her gaze from the figure, and glanced around the rest of the chamber. It was smooth-walled, womb-like and empty. There was no exit from the chamber save the opening they had entered through. The only thing they could possibly find in the Heart was the glowing figure, the spell that the Sage had left behind.

  Maybe the entire figure is a messenger.

  The more she thought of it, the more sense it made. A messenger, left to convey a most valuable secret to the future. Knowing its purpose didn’t make her any more worthy of receiving the Sage’s message, though. She felt watched, as if someone was probing her thoughts.