Alexa Drey- the Veils of Lamerell

by Ember Lane

  I crawled over to the stream, to the little swirl of rocks, and laying on my stomach, I searched the little fella out.

  The fish was there, just like yesterday, all brown, mottled and shiny. Over and over, I tried asking it its name—not literally, but with my mind. It started to swish its tail, almost twitching as though annoyed. I swear it looked up at me and gave me the fin. Redoubling my efforts, I concentrated so hard I thought my eyes would burst. But I couldn’t even get it to change color.

  So, I ran again, all the way to sixty one percent to the next skill level—at least that was a steady improvement, and I guessed I wasn’t hurting my stamina either—though that was taking longer and longer to gain points. Back to the fish, I snuck up on it again, and this time it actually looked up with an expression of not you again on its face. Politeness was my plan. I’d tried out-and-out concentration. Now was the time to turn on my two charisma points.

  “Hello fish, what are you?” Of course, I already knew, but surely it would still have to give up its secret? Or would it? As I knew it was a kaban, why would it have to tell me? But then, I didn’t know its level, skills—any of that. I tried to think politeness, but nope—nothing. Now, what did I do yesterday when I didn’t know what it was? Then it dawned on me, I’d just wondered. I tried that, but wondered what level of kaban fish it was. Sure enough, it got agitated and started to change color. Rather than admire its cleverness, I just kept wondering. All of a sudden, a small, rectangular orange box appeared just above it.

  Kaban Fish Level – 4

  The kaban fish has hallucinogenic poisons that stop predators eating it. It can change its color to hide.

  Status – Irritated

  Congratulations! Your wonder forced the kaban fish to reveal itself to you. You now have the skill, Perception and are level 1. As you enhance your perception, all things you encounter will give up their identities easily. You can only perceive the information of things less than ten levels above you.

  Caution: Ask, and it may be given. Take, and a sharp slap is likely.

  I sat up, beaming. I could only guess, but I was fairly sure the more things I could get to reveal themselves, the more I would level, and the more info I would get. I thought that was a solid theory. I heard clapping from down the vale, and tried a furtive glance. Shylan was leaning out of his invisible window again. I decided I wasn’t going to play his games, and stood. I darted for the top of the valley and back, and again, and again.

  I noticed the tower had appeared when my running skill was eighty six percent of the way to level two. It stopped me in my tracks.

  The tower itself was huge, and I mean huge. At least two-hundred-feet high, it reached right up to the blue sky. I guessed it was about forty feet in diameter at its base, but couldn’t tell if it got narrower as it towered up, or whether it was just the distance it rose. The window I’d thought Shylan had been leaning out of was no more than an archway in its flint-and-slate wall. Without realizing, I’d been walking toward it, almost like I was being summoned.

  From a distance, it had been vast; close up, it was colossal. Looking up at it, it made me feel quite giddy. I now saw that a path, worn in the vale’s grass, curved away from the tower to Greman’s, and Marista Fenwalker’s. At first I couldn’t believe I’d not seen it before, but then it made sense. If you were going to hide a tower such as this, then having a path leading straight up to it would have been a bit silly.

  The path led to the tower’s wall. No door. I guessed it was another test, but backed away a little and sat on the grass and studied it. Why had Shylan decided to reveal his tower to me? And why had he not revealed its door? He knew I had no magic, so it had to be a trick. I looked up at the empty window. What game was he playing?

  One thing was obvious, he wanted me to walk up to the path and knock on the stone wall. As soon as I’d done that, I’d no doubt be laughed at from up high. But something was wrong. Something didn’t quite fit. I jumped up and walked around the tower. At first glance, it looked the same all the way round. I did another circuit, stopped, smiled, and knocked on the wall. I was greeted with the echo of wood, and near jumped for joy. I watched in a sort of strange horror as the path moved, straightened and slid under my feet.

  “How did you know?” Shylan’s voice called down.

  I looked up, still beaming. “The path to Greman’s was curved. You would always take the straightest route and that would be where the door would be.”

  Congratulations! You have shown great reasoning and avoided Shylan’s trap. You have been awarded 1 intelligence point.

  Intelligence allows you to study skills like Magic, Alchemy, Navigation, and Commerce. Intelligence increases mana capacity and reduces its consumption.

  I walked away, back up the vale.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Shylan asked.

  Looking back, I saw he was standing outside his door.

  “I’m nearly at level two running, so I’d best get on. Thanks for… Thanks for the intelligence point,” I said, and then Shylan seemed to crack a smile.

  “You’re very welcome,” he called.

  I grinned back.

  “Say,” he shouted. “Once you’ve leveled up, stop by. I want a chat.”

  By then, I was at the hourglass. I called back to him and said I would, then turned and started running. Something about the whole exchange had put a good feeling in my stomach, a warm feeling. Maybe the wizard wasn’t all practical jokes and insults.

  It seemed to take an age to level up, excited as I was to be going to the tower, but when I did, I was more than pleased. The one thing that did annoy me was that I never got close to getting back with the hourglass less than half gone. It was like my speed wasn’t improving, but I knew that couldn’t be the case as I was definitely getting faster.

  I took the hourglass back to Greman’s and told him about the tower. For some reason he appeared hesitant about me going and told me to be careful—very, very careful. Setting off, I suspected that there would be more traps. The first thing I did was check the path was still straight, then I walked up to the door, near tiptoeing the last few yards, wary of a trap—something. Nothing. The door was ajar, and so I pushed it and sprung back some more. Hmm, no hidden bucket of water waiting to fall and soak me, nothing jumping up to scare me, could it just be an actual door?

  Could it be that he was on the level?

  Inside, a set of stone-flagged steps wound both up and down the entrance hall; no more than a slab of stone. He’d expect me to go up, so should I go down? Or was I overthinking this on the basis of the practical joke with the arch and a puzzle with the path? I heard footsteps coming down, and Shylan’s head poked around the corner.

  “Are you coming up?” he asked.

  I nodded, and stepped onto the first step. The front door slammed shut behind me, and the spiral stairwell darkened; just a feeble light spilling down the steps. I gulped, and followed him up.

  “You’ll meet Cronis, I’m afraid,” Shylan called over his shoulder. “Nothing I can do about that though. He can be odd. Some think him mad. You’ll have to make your own mind up.” And Shylan swiveled around, his long coat fanning out. “Oh, and it’s not the tidiest up here. I mean, not as bad as Marista’s—I haven’t got ivy growing inside—nothing like that, but it’s not as spick-and-span as Greman’s.”

  The steps wound up and up, and I followed the wizard, a strange mix of fear and excitement bubbling away in my stomach. At the top of the steps, a corridor curved away. On a small, stone shelf, a round, glowing orb was spraying light about. I made the mistake of looking directly at it—like you do—and instantly saw stars. Reaching out to steady myself, leaning against the tower’s outside wall, I felt something pass through me. It was like a mild electric shock, a static charge, and my vision cleared instantly. Shylan had stopped in the corridor and was staring at me.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. I didn’t want to look stupid, but my gaze was a
lready drawn back to the spinning sphere. It was like I’d imagine a planet to be. I wanted to look closer and study it, but the light was so intense.

  “Hardly nothing,” was Shylan’s reply.

  “I just like the sphere, it’s…it’s so beautiful.”

  He grunted and walked on. “Hardly nothing,” his words cast over his shoulder again.

  The corridor bent around, the walls were almost like the Gilden Lode but without the golden veins. The black, slate-and-gray stone made it much like how I’d imagine a medieval castle wall would be. I trailed my finger along it again, and felt that strange tingling once more. Shylan stopped in his tracks, huffed, and then continued on.

  “Glowspheres,” he barked, all of a sudden. “The orbs are glowspheres, they are fashioned by the skilled artisans of the Salatays of Petreyer. There, that better?”

  I felt my temper rise, but checked it as fast as I could. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Hasn’t Greman told you not to be sorry?”

  “He has, but I’m sorry I don’t know anything. I’ve only been here three days.”

  Shylan stopped, made to turn, but appeared to decide better of it. “You’ll learn. Salatays are vast, underground caverns where the Petreyen people live. Shame really.”

  “Shame?”

  This time, Shylan stopped and turned, sweeping his arm out to direct me through a doorway in the inner wall. “It’s a shame, Alexa, because Petreyer is one of the most beautiful of lands in the whole of Barakdor. It is a shame because they are quite the folk for fun and laughter, and it is a shame because they are highly skilled in making jewelry, fashioning stones and the like. Things that truly need sunlight to thrive.”

  “Mole people,” another voice growled low, like grinding rocks. “Blah!”

  Shylan sighed. “It’s a shame, but inevitable. Alexa Drey, let me introduce to you my companion through the ages, none other than Cronis.”

  I walked through the doorway and into chaos.

  It would be difficult to describe the circular room and do it justice. Four windows quartered it, but they were more like alcoves and no more than arched holes in the outer wall, and they were all at differing heights as though they were tunneled through, under the spiraling outer steps. A vast, wooden table stood central with a myriad of books, scrolls, pestles, mortars, jugs, and cages with varying animals inside—most with their little, wire doors open. Shelves lined the walls and were packed with ranks of books, some as small as an inch or two in height, others as tall as the doorway I stood in. There were long chairs, cushioned sofas, and wicker stools all spread around like a bar just after a mass brawl. It was, chaos, nothing more.

  And then there was this thing sitting opposite the entrance, and I guessed it was Cronis. He was hunched over, like he was forcing his head forward. His hair was long, sparse, short and thick, all at the same time, and gray, but not distinguished: gray—a dirty gray—clumps of dirty-gray hair interspersed with balding spots. Blistered and ruddy would adequately describe his face, with his forehead, cheeks, and chin all fighting to protrude farther than his nose. Rags of gray hung around him like a vagrant’s, their ends black and appearing almost charred.

  “Who’s this?” he barked.

  Shylan shuffled around me, as though he wanted to put himself between us, as though he were protecting me. “I told you, it’s Alexa Drey.”

  “Who?”

  “Alexa Drey!” Shylan shouted.

  A great grumbling, like a volcano about to erupt, filled the air around me, and I somehow knew it was coming from Cronis.

  “I heard you the first time. I didn’t ask the whelp’s name. I asked you who she was.” Cronis’s voice echoed around the room, bouncing off the circular walls. It shivered through my very body. Shylan looked at me with a waning, apologetic smile, then addressed Cronis.

  “She’s Greman’s charge for now, at least until we can find her the right level of settlement to live in.”

  My heart sank. For some reason I’d thought they’d taken me in for good. I’d thought this my home, my base where I could learn and grow. I turned to leave, suddenly not wanting to be in the tower any more. What was the point? Why bother?

  “Where’s she going?” Cronis growled.

  “I don’t… Where are you going?” Shylan asked.

  “I just…” I stuttered. “I just…” I looked back at them. Cronis was on the edge of his seat.

  “What?” he said, no longer a growl.

  “I want to stay here. Stay in the vale with you two and Greman.”

  I expected compassion. I expected some flimsy excuse why I couldn’t stay, or that I might get some logical explanation. Instead, they burst into laughter; Cronis, with spittle flying from his mouth in fat gobs, Shylan, just bent over, holding his sides. That was it, my heart sank, and I turned to run out of there.

  Shylan’s hand darted out and grabbed my tunic. “Don’t you understand?” he said, his eyes pleading, though still dripping with tears of mirth.

  “Understand what?” I said, my sorrow gone and replaced with the hatchings of rage. I’d let him trick me again, trick me into thinking I was welcome here.

  “Oh, my poor, dear child. You make a wonderful, sweet, diversion. Why yesterday, I laughed for the first time in an age.” And then he turned sheepish. “Admittedly, it was when you ran into the tower, but that aside, fun is to be cherished—like eating the kaban.”

  “And I,” said Cronis, “enjoyed watching you running up and down. It’s been an age since I saw such determination in a human. Plus, you’re keeping Greman amused. All the time he’s with you, he’s leaving us alone.”

  “Then...” But I had no idea what to say. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Marista Fenwalker,” they both said, together.

  “She won’t let anyone else live in the vale. It’s her…sanctuary,” Shylan added.

  “Sanctuary,” Cronis agreed.

  “Couldn’t I just…have a chat with her? Ask her?” I pleaded.

  “Nope,” said Shylan.

  “No, no, no,” agreed Cronis.

  “Why not?”

  Cronis looked at Shylan, and vice versa—both dithering. Eventually Shylan reached out, took my hand and led me to a chair by the table. He sat next to me, looking deep into my eyes with his piercing, emerald stare. “Alexa, you can’t ask her, because she isn’t here.” He sat back.

  “Well, when will she be?” I asked.

  He tapped his chin and looked up at the flat, stone ceiling. “Hard to tell,” he uttered.

  “Hard,” Cronis confirmed.

  “Why?”

  “Could be weeks, months, years or even centuries before she returns. She has—”

  “Wanderlust,” Shylan interrupted.

  “Yes,” said Cronis. “Wanderlust.”

  “So, I could stay all the while she’s away?” I ventured.

  Shylan lofted his eyebrows.

  Cronis sat back, a yellowy smile gracing his red face. “Can’t see why not.”

  “Me either.”

  My heart leapt. I had a stay of execution.

  “And will you teach me?”

  They both darted a look at me.

  “Teach you?”

  “Magic,” I said, firmly.

  They both erupted into laughter again.

  6

  Pique

  I’d left soon after. “Quit while you’re ahead” is as good as a philosophy to hold dear as any while establishing a new life in a virtual world, and I was definitely ahead. They’d agreed I could stay, and that was an achievement in itself. While I was walking down the steps to the sound of their receding laughter, I got a new point in charisma, and as a huge and unexpected bonus, I opened the skill of Commerce. So, all in all, win, win, win—with a healthy dose of humiliation thrown in.

  I decided to carry on with my day as planned and not let the whole tower thing get to me, and so I started to run and run—it was getting to be my new favorite thing—though I got
no luck with beating the hourglass.

  At about eighty percent progress on the next level—it was getting harder to increase as I’d expected—I rested at the top of the vale. Since I’d been able to run to the top and back without stopping, I’d hardly bothered with looking around there, but it was time to have a little explore.

  Right by the stream, a jutting, dirty, gold-colored rock burst up from the ground, pointing up at the tall mountain at the valley’s head. The tip of the rock was about six feet above the ground, so I clambered up its slope and sat atop it. From there, I could see through the trees, though not much; and turning, I could see a little bit farther down the valley, but again—not by much.

  I kind of wished I had a packed lunch, as it was a great place to sit and eat undisturbed. It appeared to me that the vale was completely isolated from the world by the conifer trees themselves. In every direction, trees and mountains hemmed the green grass in. Only Shylan’s tower reached above them, and I yearned to climb up to its top and look around at the land. I laid on the slab for a while, soaking up the late-morning sun, before I started to get bored. Sitting up, I decided that if I couldn’t see through the forest, I’d have to explore it. As long as I stayed by the stream, there was no way I could get lost.

  Jumping off the rock, I faced the trees, took a breath and stepped under their cover. It became dark the moment I was in their shade—an eerie dark. And the silence—though peaceful in the vale—became oppressive in the forest, and I was no more than a couple of yards in.

  It was soft underfoot, pine needles cushioning my footfalls, and there was no undergrowth, as though the trees overhead stifled all. The river cut through them though, and the faint tinkles of its flowing water lent me at least a little reassurance. I mirrored its path as I ventured farther in.

  A bird suddenly fluttered away, disturbing the pine needles a few feet over, then I heard the scuttle of a creature running through the undergrowth. I heard the burp of a frog and the far off growl of something much bigger, as the forest gradually came alive. Though there seemed to be nothing to fear—discounting whatever the growl came from—my nerves were on a knife-edge. I crouched by the stream and took a sip of water. In the dark, I saw the golden belly of a small newt. As I looked at it, a small orange square appeared just above it.