He looked at it and said, “It’s sort of like the rune for flame magic, but there are too many of them.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No,” she said. “That is the symbol of the Angst.”
“But they’re all dead,” he said. “You said so yourself. And that temple was swallowed up by a volcano.”
She nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “This volcano. The temple once stood on this very spot.” She gestured around them. “We are in the center of that volcano’s caldera. Here is where Angus met his end, and this shrine is as much for him as it is for the dwarves who died because of him.” She turned away from him and half-whispered, “Because of me. I failed him.”
Ackard shook his head. “No,” he said. “You didn’t fail him. You did what you did to prevent Darby from taking The Tiger’s Eye. You didn’t know what he was really doing. Giorge is the one who betrayed him—and you.”
Ackard said it with such certainty that she was almost tempted to believe him. But she knew better. She had been so naïve when she thought she could protect the nexus. So naïve that she didn’t even consider the possibility of Giorge’s betrayal until it had already happened, and by then it was much too late. She shook her head sadly and said, “I have long-since come to terms with it, Ackard.” She turned and looked up at the obelisk. “And soon I will do my penance.”
Ackard looked at her in alarm. “Grammy,” he slowly said. “What are you talking about?”
She smiled and brought the magic into focus. “I will not be returning with you, Ackard,” she said.
“Grammy—”
“Use your eyes,” she said without turning away from the obelisk. “What do you see?”
Ackard frowned and turned to the obelisk. He stared up at it, and then said, “There’s a red shadow on the symbol,” he said. “What kind of magic is that?”
“A very old kind,” she said. “Look more closely,” she said. “What do you see?”
He frowned and studied the symbol for several seconds, then tentatively said, “The shadow. Some of it is missing.”
She smiled and reached out for a stand of air. It was a simple thing to tie the knots for the Flying spell, and she did it without even thinking about it. “Come with me,” she said, lifting herself up to the symbol on the obelisk. At its base, the obelisk was an octagon ten feet across, but it tapered as it rose upward. On top of it was the symbol, which was over five feet in diameter. She hovered a foot in front of it and waited until Ackard joined her. He was a bit wobbly, but that would pass as he became accustomed to the spell, just as it had for her. There were three sections of the Angst symbol that had no shadow, and she pointed at them. “You must press them in the proper order,” she said. “This one first,” she pressed the bottom of the top teardrop. “This one second,” she pressed the lower right section of the inner circle. “And then this one,” she added, pressing the tip of the teardrop stretching out from the lower left of the symbol.” When she finished, she descended to the altar and waited for him to join her.
Several seconds passed, and then the altar’s lid began to slide open to reveal a stairway.
“What’s down there?” Ackard asked.
“You will see,” she said as she cast the Lamplight spell and maneuvered herself to fly down the narrow, steep stairwell. She went down until she was a few feet below the altar’s top, and then she stopped to wait for him. When he joined her there, she pointed at a red shadow on the stairwell wall and said, “Press this—” she pushed the missing part of the Angst symbol, “—to close the altar. Always close the altar when you come down here. Press it again when you leave to open it back up.”
“I don’t like this place,” Ackard said.
She took him by the hand and flew down the narrow shaft, dragging him along with her. When they reached the bottom, he frowned and said, “There’s a lot of flame magic down here.”
She nodded and said, “There will be more.” She led him by the hand through a series of corridors, occasionally pointing to a faint red shadow and saying, “Press this one.” or “Don’t press this one.” All the while, the intensity of the flame magic continued to increase. Then they came to a room that had no other exits. She stopped and reached into her robe’s sleeve and brought out her keys.
“This one,” she said as she lifted it up, “is for my room in the Wizards’ School. In it, you will find a chest. This key,” she lifted a second one, “opens that chest. What it contains is yours. This key,” she gripped it lightly and turned away from him. She walked up to the far wall and pointed to a keyhole, “opens the door.” She inserted it and turned it all the way around. A moment later, the wall began to split apart.
“Grammy?” Ackard’s voice was like that of a young child who didn’t know what to do. “Where are we?”
“You know,” she replied.
There was a long silence, and then Ackard asked, “Is it a nexus?” He paused and then asked, “The nexus?”
“Yes,” she said.
“We should go,” he said. “It isn’t safe.”
She smiled. The gap was wide enough now to walk through. She turned to Ackard and asked, “Can you hear them? The voices?” She listened to them calling to her, asking her if she wanted to join them.
“What voices?” Ackard asked, but she wasn’t hearing him anymore. She was listening to the voices, searching for the one—
Embril? It was the familiar voice. It has been a long time.
“Yes,” she replied. “Too long, my love.”
“Grammy!” Ackard shouted.
A tear slipped through her control as she stepped through the gap, and the wall began to close behind her.
About the Author
Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy at a community college and writes fiction and poetry in his spare time. His work has appeared in various small press publications since 1994.
Additional Titles
Poetry
2014: A Year of Poetry: a collection of poems that were primarily written during 2014.
A Bard Out of Time: a long fantasy poem accompanied by other fantasy poems.
A Field of Snow and Other Flights of Fancy: a collection of light verse and other short poems.
Last Rites…and Wrongs: a collection of macabre poetry.
Love & Annoyance: a collection of poems on love and philosophical speculation.
Of Muse and Pen: a collection of poems on writing and the creative process.
Potluck: What’s Left Over: a collection of poems with no particular theme.
Fiction
Angus the Mage fantasy series:
Book 1: The Tiger’s Eye
Book 2: The Viper’s Fangs
Book 3: The Golden Key
Book 4: Angst
Have You Seen My Cat? And Other Stories: a collection of mystery, science fiction, and cross genre short stories.
The Drunken Wizard’s Playmates and Other Stories: a humorous fantasy novel and a few other fantasy stories.
The Snodgrass Incident: a science fiction novel in which the crew of The Snodgrass travels to Enceladus to investigate the formation of a new Tiger Stripe.
Worms and Other Alien Encounters: a collection of science fiction stories.
Table of Contents
Connect With Me
Table of Contents
Voltari’s Map
Prelude
The Hunt Begins
Symptata
An End of Things
Epilogue
About the Author
Additional Titles
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Angst (Book 4) Page 39