Rob Scott - Lessek_s Key

I know, I know. Her friends are with me. We have Lessek’s key and the second portal with us.

There was a long silence; Gilmour’s mind was an empty cave. Then Kantu spoke again. The one called Steven Taylor?

You would love him, Kantu. He reminds me of you. And speaking of which, do you have any recollection of a staff? A hardwood staff, hickory, nondescript really, that might have been imbued with something experimental, something powerful? Anyone working with hickory that you remember?

Working with hickory? There was another pause. No. Not that I can remember.

Ah well, it was a hope; that’s all.

Why are you back home, Fantus?

I came for the third Windscroll. I thought it might have some secret to help me defeat Nerak.

The Windscrolls? That’s funny. I was just thinking about those. But why the third? There’s just one spell, isn’t there? A common-phrase weave for protection, right?

Gilmour was growing weary; he felt his body sink comfortably into the blankets. He tried to ignore the fatigue. It’s a protection spell, but I never knew that. And it’s written in Pikan’s hand. Were you not there for that trip?

I was, but I injured my leg and was not able to make the climb with them for the final tests. Pikan kept the records for us that time out.

She did? That’s curious.

Why?

Well, the night that things came to an end here at Sandcliff, she was working the spell table, trying anything to cast Nerak’s demon back into the Fold. When I arrived, she sent me for the third Windscroll. I’ve studied it now for the past twenty days or so and I can’t imagine why she wanted it, except as a last-breath shield for her team.

Kantu was silent again. Gilmour felt rather than heard a heavy sigh resonate sonorously from somewhere far to the west. She would have wanted it for herself, Fantus.

Gilmour didn’t see anything to be gained by passing judgment on a dead magician. We were all scared that night, Kantu. I don’t blame her.

She wanted to live.

So did I.

She wanted it for other reasons.

I don’t understand.

She was a mother. She would have asked for the third Windscroll to preserve her own life. It was her only goal, to get back to the baby.

Taken aback, Gilmour asked, How do you know this?

I was the father.

Gilmour tiptoed towards the edge of the great empty space in his mind, knowing he was about to fall in. So the third Windscroll -

Will offer you nothing against Nerak. I’m sure if she called for it, she was trying to stay alive for the baby, our baby, Reia. This time Kantu did sigh, and it echoed for a moment inside Gilmour’s head.

Don’t go in there, Kantu.

I was going to send Hannah home, but if you have the portal…

Turn back.

Perhaps I’ll go in alone.

You should bring her here. We can send all of them home together.

Do you know that he has had magicians, slaves, I’m sure, searching for me night and day for the past nine hundred Twinmoons? Did you know that, Fantus?

He has done the same with me – except those pursuing me have periodically come wandering in for a visit.

I want to kill him myself.

He’s already dead, Kantu. You can’t kill him.

I’ll find a way.

You’ll get killed, and you know it.

There was a pause, then Kantu spoke again. Where are you going?

Traver’s Notch, to meet with what’s left of the Resistance over here, and then to a valley in the Blackstones. I’m not exactly sure where it is.

Kantu didn’t reply.

Will you bring Hannah here? Will you join us? It would be good to have you here, Kantu, good for me. I have not been very effective recently, but being home has helped me hone some of my skills. It would be nice to work together again.

Kantu ignored Gilmour’s plea. Where is he?

He thinks he has us fooled, that he has hidden the spell table where we won’t find it, but we believe we know where it is. We have the key, so he won’t be far from us, of that I am convinced. He has tried on numerous occasions to get it, but so far, we’ve been lucky.

Lucky?

Absolutely. Gilmour would not take credit for any of the successes his company had experienced in the past two Twinmoons, but he added, Luck, and the hickory staff I mentioned, which has proven both powerful and effective.

First I’ve heard of something like that.

No matter. Gilmour pressed again. Will you contact me from Orindale?

Malagon’s daughter is there.

Who cares?

I care; I had a daughter, Fantus. Reia was my daughter, and I will never forgive him, not ever. I have lived a long time, and I can still feel her there, Fantus. She is as real in my heart as the day she was born, and I will not go on like this one more day. I will never go back to Middle Fork. I am through hiding. For the first time since they began speaking, Kantu’s voice rose. Gilmour was surprised that his friend was able to shout. He did not recall anyone ever being able to yell in this manner before.

Killing Bellan will do nothing to ease your suffering, my friend.

But it won’t hurt.

Don’t risk Hannah for your personal vendetta. That’s not who you are.

You don’t know me any more, Fantus.

Contact me from Orindale, please.

Afterwards, perhaps.

Please.

I may, if I… well, you know.

Thank you.

Keep well, Fantus, and sorry about the Windscroll.

It’s all right. Gilmour lied. It was not all right. He felt the world opening up to swallow him. Fine; let it take me. I need the rest, anyway.

Goodbye, Fantus.

Orindale, Kantu. Contact me from Orindale. Gilmour tumbled backwards, knees over head, into the sorrow and confusion that had welled up to take him. He would remain there for the night and much of the following day, sleeping fitfully. The third Windscroll, held open on his chamber table with two stones and an old inkwell, went unread that evening. Pikan’s thin script noted the common-phrase spell she had hoped to employ in the moments before Nerak broke into the tower that night long ago. As he tumbled away, Gilmour was reminded – from some disembodied spirit of himself lingering in the hollow well of his insecurity – that if Nerak’s weakness really did lie elsewhere, there was no one who had any notion where that might be.

‘I want to go outside with you.’ Garec came up behind him, making Steven jump.

‘Jesus, Garec, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to do that to someone about to challenge a demon to a fistfight?’

‘I want to come.’ He wore his quivers and carried the rosewood bow.

‘I thought you were finished with that thing.’

‘I don’t know when I’ll kill another animal, and I hope to live out my days without ever shooting another person, but this is different. You’re going outside into the snow, Steven, snow. Here in Eldarn, we make our snow out of water.’

Steven chuckled. ‘Yes, us too – but what can you do? Forgive me for being blunt, but you can’t fight it, Garec, and with you out there, I’ll be worried about you and if I’m not paying attention, it may come on us without warning.’

The young man Sallax had once dubbed the Bringer of Death held out his longbow. ‘Remember the cabin? Let’s try again. Maybe it’ll work a second time.’

Steven withheld the magic but reached out with the staff and touched the bow, anyway.

‘Come on,’ Garec chided, ‘do it properly.’

‘I don’t want you out there,’ Steven confessed. ‘This thing is an unholy killer. We already lost Versen to an almor and I’m not about to risk your life, just to have a back up in a one-on-one fight.’

‘Try again,’ Garec insisted, ‘for real this time.’

Steven exhaled and let the magic come; it wasn’t difficult. The staff understood they were about to go into battle and was prepared for his summons. The air around the wooden shaft lit up with mystical energy.