Rob Scott - Lessek_s Key

Now Gilmour wrestled with the uncertainty of leaving again: would his magic wane when he stepped outside his home? Mark was right: there was no point in remaining at Sandcliff, and there was nothing in the third Windscroll other than a protection spell that he thought Pikan had planned to use to protect herself and her team from Nerak when he came through the doorway. Even then, Gilmour had failed, for he hadn’t found the scroll in time and Pikan had not been given an opportunity to use it.

‘All right,’ he said finally. ‘Let’s go.’

‘What? When? Now?’ Steven hadn’t expected to leave so suddenly. ‘Don’t you have more work to do with the Windscroll? You’ve been poring over it, and working so many spells in the back hall; are you ready? Do you need more time? Gilmour, as long as we have the key, we control the pace of this horrible cat-and-mouse game.’

‘No, Steven, I’m ready,’ Gilmour said, straightening his shoulders. ‘The Windscroll is an engaging riddle, and I think I’m onto something, but I can keep that research going as we travel south.’ The lie tripped easily off his tongue. He looked at each of them in turn. ‘You’ve all convinced me. Let’s go.’

Nerak’s weakness lies elsewhere – he heard Lessek’s voice echo in his memory and worried for a moment that the others heard it too; it was followed by Pikan saying, I need the third Windscroll. It’s in the library near the top shelf behind Lessek’s desk. Why had she wanted that scroll? Did she know – wherever she was – how hard he had worked and how far he had come to get it?

Nerak’s weakness lies elsewhere.

‘Where, gods rut it?’ Gilmour barked aloud.

‘Where what?’ Steven asked.

‘Nothing, sorry!’ Gilmour found he had begun to sweat and dragged a sleeve over his brow in an effort to hide his discomfort. The pieces had fallen into place. Nerak’s weakness. Pikan had known what to do; Gilmour had lived with that assumption since those terrifying few moments cowering in the corner of the spell chamber, gripping the pommel of that absurd broadsword.

If Nerak’s weakness lies elsewhere, and it doesn’t lie in the third Windscroll, then where in all the wide world does it lie?

Fantus, are you there?

Nerak, you bastard. Where are you? Why don’t you just come and settle this together, face to face, here at home, where we belong?

Fantus, it’s Kantu. Is it you, Fantus?

Gilmour felt dizzy: the voices inside his head had taken on a mind of their own. First Nerak, then Pikan, and now Kantu – what was happening to him? Sweat poured off his forehead and stung his eyes. He mopped repeatedly at his brow and shut his eyes hard, trying to keep the salty sweat from blinding him.

Fantus! It’s me, Kantu. Can you hear me?

He answered, What could you possibly want? To ride along with the others as I lose my mind? And what brings you out at this time of day? I figured you’d be -

Fantus. Shut up and listen!

He was really there. It wasn’t his imagination…

Gilmour tried to relax and to open his mind – as scrambled as it had become in the past half-aven – and allow his old friend to speak with him. Sorry. I’m sorry, Kantu. Give me a moment. I must attend to one thing and then I’ll lie down.

Please hurry. I am in a safe place, but this will tire us both immensely.

Gilmour opened his eyes to find his young companions standing frozen in place, each staring at him with wild-eyed incomprehension. He realised he was gasping for breath, sweating and talking with the demons in his head.

He sent them away, reassuring them he was all right, but pushing them firmly out of the room. ‘I need to be by myself,’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll come and find you tomorrow.’

Steven was the first to protest. ‘Gilmour, we don’t think-’

‘Nonsense,’ he cut them off. ‘I’m fine. I have a few things to work out in my mind before we go, and I am going to need quiet for that. I beg you not to worry. I’ll join you all for the midday meal: whatever perishables we have left. Pack for travel, because we need to investigate this river of yours before we do anything else.’

The others eyed him suspiciously, but no one offered another argument. Steven, following Garec and Mark out, asked once more, ‘You sure you’re all right?’

‘Just fine, really,’ he replied. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, midday.’

‘Good night, Gilmour.’

‘Sorry to be so abrupt, but I’ve just figured out a few things that need to happen before we go. I want to take care of them tonight.’

Steven nodded and pulled the door closed as he left.

In the hall, Mark said, ‘What’s with him?’

‘He’s losing his mind,’ Garec said. ‘Did you see him? I thought he was going to fall down.’

‘If he’s not right tomorrow, we’ll insist on staying here for a few more days,’ Steven said.

‘We don’t have food for a few more days – we’re pretty much out of everything, and even drinking the water is dangerous.’ Mark had run out of ideas, so he clung to the notion that they needed to get to the river right away. Of course, there was the problem of the almor waiting for them outside, not to mention an entire army…

Steven read his mind. ‘If he’s in there getting things sorted, then we have to do our part out here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, if he’s working out the details of the Windscroll, whatever he needs to crush Nerak with the spell table, then we need to make certain we’re ready to travel.’

Garec was confused. ‘What? Pack?’

‘Yes,’ Steven said. ‘You two get us packed.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Mark looked sceptically at his roommate.

‘I’m going outside,’ Steven said.

‘Oh, that’s just-’

‘Don’t try to stop me. You know as well as I do that it has to happen. If it doesn’t, then we’re just stuck here staring at the walls and drinking vinegar until Nerak sends something in here to kill us.’ He shouldered the staff. ‘I have to do it.’

Kantu! Gilmour called into the darkness gathering in his mind’s eye.

Fantus! Are you losing your mind, my old friend? Kantu’s voice came to him across the void. Communicating this way was horribly difficult; it required a masterful use of energy to completely empty one’s mind of thoughts or images that might distract one of them and in turn break the connection between them.

For the moment, yes, I think I am. But how are you? Are you in Middle Fork?

I am well, but I am not in Middle Fork. I hoped I would find you at Sandcliff. I felt the gate open during the last Twinmoon and knew it was either you or him. I have not had an opportunity to try and reach you since then. We have been travelling a great deal. In a secluded corner room on the second floor of a surprisingly comfortable inn, Alen Jasper of Middle Fork lay on a straw mattress, apparently fast asleep. Downstairs, his friends were enjoying a fine dinner, with an extra flagon of wine with his compliments.

It was me.

I’m glad.

Where are you?

I’m in central Malakasia, heading for Welstar Palace.

Gilmour’s surprise nearly severed their contact. Great gods, why?

I have business there, Fantus. That’s why I contacted you. I need to know if you have learned anything at all that might get me safely inside.

He pondered this question before responding. I don’t know why you would want to go in there. Nerak is here, not right here, but near here, and he isn’t -

Please, Fantus, anything at all?

I’m sorry. No.

That’s all right. It was a hope; that’s all.

Why are you going there?

Someone has found the key, Fantus. Someone might have brought it back to Eldarn. I have met a young woman who has come across the Fold through our far portal. She found one in Colorado.