by David Bokman
What caught his attention were the four halberds at his throat. Standing in front of him, weapons drawn, were four guards. “Drop your weapon!” one of them shouted, forcing his halberd closer to the old man’s throat. “You’re under arrest!” The guards did not seem to be part of the Townsguard; their armor was not grey, but instead a dark green.
That bastard, Cad thought to himself. “Dolf, you sack of shit! How much did they pay you?”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” came Dolf’s voice through the window. “Fifty suns to risk my life, or a hundred to do nothing. I dislike these guys as much as you do, but their money works just as fine as anyone else’s. I have Castor’s word you won’t swing, though. I felt I owed you that much.”
“The word of a criminal,” spat Cadwell. “I think I’d rather take my chances with these four.” He looked back at the four guards, standing in a semicircle around him, pinning him down with their halberds.
“I wouldn’t. Remember what I told you? Most of them are former military, like us. They’re not the type you want to pick a fight with, not even you. Ten years ago you would no doubt have stood a chance, but not today.”
“You never had any intention of helping me?”
“If the money was right, I might have. But come on, fifty suns for the Colgroves? That’s not how business is done in this city.”
Cadwell was about to spit out a retort, but their conversation was interrupted by footsteps descending from above. One step at a time, a man older than most people dreamed of becoming, dressed in a fine velvet night robe, came into view. “Castor,” said Cad. He spoke the name like a vile curse, filled with disdain.
“Who is this?” Castor asked one of the guards.
“Sorry sir, we’re not sure. New arrival, we think. He’s the guy the blacksmith warned us about.”
“Apparently so. Does he have a name?”
The guard poked Cadwell’s shoulder with his halberd. “Answer.”
“He knows who I am.”
“He says you—”
“No, I do not think I do. He seems to think he knows me, though. Ask him what it is he is angry about.”
The guard poked Cad once again. “What—”
“You’re a corrupt parasite, that’s what I’m angry about.”
That seemed to catch the nobleman’s attention. “Excuse me?”
“People pay you, and you give them benefits. You make sure the Townsguard leaves them alone, you pass laws that benefit them, you crush their rivals. I’ve seen it.”
“Lies, of course.”
“Not only that. When someone speaks up about it, you ruin them. You take their job, their property, their honor.”
Castor stopped for a moment. “Oh, so we do know each other. Yes, I think I remember now. It’s been a few years.” He walked over to a chair a few feet away from Cad and sat down. “You were in the military, no?” Castor snapped his fingers, trying to jog his memory. “Church… something?”
“And then you made sure I wasn’t anymore.”
“Why, of course I did. You were spreading dangerous lies. You brought this fate upon yourself. And now, all these years later, you return to kill me?”
“Aye, like you killed my past life. Eye for an eye.”
“I see.” Castor turned to the guard again. “A rambling madman, clearly. I have grown tired of this. Take him to the Townsguard, have them throw him in the dungeon. Oh, and pay the blacksmith, so we can all be done with this.”
“At once, sir.”
“You’ll pay for this, Dolf,” said Cadwell, as the guards escorted him away.
“To the contrary, Lieutenant - I am getting paid for this.”
⧫ CHAPTER VIII ⧫
The Townsguard barracks looked more akin to a fortress than anything else. Situated close to the center of East Kardh’Ao, presumably for easy access to all parts of town, the collection of dark, cold brick buildings gave an intimidating impression. If enemy forces laid siege to the town, this place would no doubt be where the rich and powerful huddled up, protected behind impenetrable walls. The barracks also seemed to be where any excess guards were placed, as the military presence was enough to protect the king himself. The Dart grabbed the attention of a patrolling guard, and said, “We’re here about the rifts?”
The young man eyed the group and scoffed. “Sure you are.”
“This…” The Dart said with a sigh, “is our findings so far,” showing the guardsman her sketches of the rifts. “If nothing else, your Commander will want to see it.”
After a quick look, the guard conceded. “Very well, but you’re not talking to Commander Stonehand. Senior Guard Attila oversees the rifts. Barrack to the left.”
The building that the guard indicated looked perhaps half as big as most of the others, and its lack of windows made The Dart think it was nothing more than a repurposed storage facility. “Good to see you’re giving the rifts all the attention they warrant. Let’s go.”
Inside the Townsguard grounds, the trio saw guards busy with all manner of tasks. Some were practising with their weaponry, which not only consisted of the standard swords and shields, but also far more exotic weapons, many of which the group could not even identify. One guard, for instance, held what could only be described as a miniature cannon in his hands, which he used to bombard a strawman to great effect. Other guards were slaving away at an obstacle course, while a third group were carrying crates in and out of some of the buildings. “Lots of guards,” observed Florianna.
“More than I’m comfortable dealing with, so let’s not cause a scene.”
When they came within twenty paces of their destination, the doors to the barrack suddenly swung open, and a tall, thin man with unkempt hair barged out. Florianna judged him to be even younger than her, no more than twenty years old. “What do they mean, ‘not interested’?” he said to himself. “How do they not see it? These rifts, in these times - the book would practically write itself! A plague upon you, Attila!” Without so much as laying an eye on the trio, the young man stormed off, muttering curses to himself as he went.
“Well, we can’t fare worse than him,” said Mae.
Inside the barrack, they were met by rows of boxes and gear that looked like they had been quickly and haphazardly put against the walls, making just enough space in the middle for a few tables, chairs and noticeboards. Save for one man inspecting a map, and two others sitting at the tables, the barrack was completely uninhabited. “Yeah?” asked one of the men at the tables. Unlike the guards outside, he wore a simple shirt, and no weapons.
“We hear this is the headquarters for rift research. We hope to be of assistance,” said The Dart, mustering up as much diplomacy as she could.
“You could call it that. I’m Attila, in charge of this operation. Man at the map is Frank, and the man with the papers at the other table is Werther.”
“What have you discovered so far?” asked Na.
“The map has all known locations where rifts have appeared, which aren’t too many. We only set this office up a few days ago, when we finally managed to convince the Commander this was worth looking into. Werther keeps track of the nitty gritty: how the rifts look, victims, events that led up to the rift appearing, et cetera.”
“Any clue what they are, how they work?”
“None.” Werther’s voice was hoarse, as if he was ill or had inhaled smoke.
“Do you people have anything to share? If not, I’m heading home for today,” said Frank.
“You pay?”
“A sun per rift, five if you have information to accompany it. That’s all we’re allowed to give. I’m sorry.”
“Well, let’s get to work, then.”
The Dart got out her sketchbook, and Frank noted the three rifts on the map, taking the total up to seven. Except for the two rifts near Grensby, none of the rifts on the map were close to one another, and try as you might, it was hard to draw any sort of pattern between them. “This is excellent work,” said Frank. “
How have you been able to find so many rifts in such little time?”
The trio looked at each other, and The Dart said, “These two see better than most, and I suppose some dumb luck is involved too. We’d like to find more, though. That’s why we’re here.”
“Look for the purple glow, that’s how we’ve found ours!” said Florianna. “That seems to be something they all have in common. So if you spot it, you can find a rift!”
“From what I’ve heard, the glow is far too faint to be of any use when scouting,” said Attila. “Do your findings dispute this?”
“No… yes, maybe. We’re not sure. Perhaps Florianna just got lucky with the last one.”
“Excuse me,” said Werther. “In what order did you say you found these rifts?”
“Manor, Grensby, forest.”
“Interesting.”
Attila sighed. “Spit it out, Werther. What is it?”
“They seem to be increasing in size. The rifts.”
“By much?”
Werther looked down at his papers again, double-checking. “No, not by much. Barely enough that it can be considered a pattern, but a pattern nonetheless. Worth keeping track of.”
“And the giant?” asked Attila.
“We took a great risk getting him out,” said Samson. “Great and unnecessary, let me tell you.”
“Is it possible he came from within the rift?”
“Until we know where they lead, I suppose so,” said The Dart.
Florianna walked up to the map. The other rifts were marked in locations she had never heard of, presumably small villages like Grensby. “How did the other rifts look?”
“Similar to yours. The one in Karga was the first one we heard of, and the smallest.”
“If we wanted to find out more about them, where would we go?”
“The two places I can think of are the Eastern Library and the Kardh’Ao Archive. You won’t be welcome at the latter, though. As for clues to where the next rift will be, we’ve got nothing,” said Attila, stroking his stubble. “We also have the details of the people who told us of the other rifts, if you want to talk to them. Speaking of which, I’m going to need your names, as well.”
After a quick exchange of names, the trio left the Townsguard grounds, equipped with new leads. I don’t feel too comfortable walking up to The Archive, thought Mae, but if they have answers, it might be worth it.
“It feels like we’re missing something,” said Na. “Surely these rifts are not just appearing at random!”
“Perhaps it will become clear once we find more of them,” said Sam. “You cannot build a house before finding all the planks.”
“And if you live in East Kardh’Ao, you need ten times the planks of everyone else for your house,” joked Mae.
“So, what now? We probably have enough time for one more stop before we need to find an inn. The library, perhaps?”
“I like reading!” agreed Florianna.
“Libraries have let me down each time I’ve looked for information about rifts. And, if there was something of value there, surely we, or at least Attila, would have heard about it already.”
Samson frowned. “Sorry, what did you say? You’ve looked for the rifts before? Have you seen them before?”
“Oh.” Damn it, Dart. “I’ve… heard rumors.”
“But have you seen them before?”
“No, never.”
“Mae, if you know anything that could help, tell us. We’re a team.”
“Everything I’ve heard, we’ve also seen. There’s nothing new, I promise.”
“I trust you!” said Na. “Anyway, perhaps one of the untranslated texts has something! Or a small footnote, or—”
“It is possible. Untranslated texts won’t help us much, though. The Archive, however…”
“I’m sorry? I thought we were supposed to stay away from The Archive? Don’t anger The Archive, and all that?”
Mae chuckled, and said, “I don’t intend to anger them, no. Just pay them a visit, see if we are welcome. I doubt we will be, but it doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“The Archive won’t use force to repel us if they decide we are unwanted?”
“Hopefully not.”
Samson scoffed. “Reassuring as ever, but I guess we’ve survived this far, somehow.”
The group set their sights on The Archive, which, if Mae’s memory served, was located in the northeastern part of town. She found it strange that an organization with so much supposed power decided to place their headquarters on the outskirts of town, but perhaps they valued their privacy.
The sun had by now made it a few hours into its afternoon voyage, and the influx of people on the streets indicated many were done working for the day. Not the trio, though. Instead, they carried on, past merchants and artisans, through streets and alleys. Unfortunately, they had to rely more on their navigational skills than their diplomatic ones; whenever they tried to stop someone in the street and ask them for directions to The Archive, they were met with a quick shake of the head as the person hurried away. A bad omen, according to Samson. He once again suggested that this was perhaps not a fantastic idea, but Mae had already made up her mind, and it would require more force than that to be changed. Much to Samson’s dismay, they eventually found what Mae claimed to be The Archive. “That building is The Archive?” asked Florianna. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
The young arcanist took another look at the house in front of them, as if she was hoping it would magically change shape. It did not. “You people have talked about The Archive like they run the world, and you’re now saying they run it from this? It looks worse than the houses in Grensby!”
Florianna had a point. Although the buildings in this part of town were perhaps a bit less expensive than back in the center, they were still resplendent in their own right. The Kardh’Ao Archive, though, did not look much different than a hut you would find in the woods. The building measured perhaps ten or fifteen yards on each side, and was an almost perfect square. Despite its small size, there were no other buildings within a good fifty yards of it. The timber used to build it looked like it had barely been refined at all, as if the building was a hurriedly constructed shelter, and not the headquarters of a powerful magical institution. Its roof, made of pine needles, instead had the shape of a pyramid. Somehow, despite the wind, the pine needles were entirely unaffected, not moving an inch to either side. “I doubt it shares the same appearance on the inside,” said Mae. “When The Archive was first formed, they did not want to draw attention to themselves, so they intentionally made their headquarters look in worse shape than they were. The tradition has lived on, but nowadays its effect is more comical than deceiving.”
Samson, frowning, said, “But if this is how all their places look, what’s to stop someone with a bit of money from hiring a few mercenaries and knocking it down?”
“Magic. Magic is to stop them, Sam.”
“So do we just walk up to the door?” said Na. “Doesn’t seem to be much activity around here.”
“I… don’t actually know,” admitted Mae. “I’ve made sure to steer clear of The Archive up until now.”
“I say we approach carefully. Slowly, with our hands in the air, announcing our arrival and our intentions,” suggested Sam.
“Well, standing here like scared sheep won’t get us closer to the rifts. Let’s approach and see what happens.”
Said and done, the group, spearheaded by Mae, began the short walk up towards the door of The Kardh’Ao Archive. The building did not have any sort of fencing, no gate to pass through, no visible defenses. It just stood there, alone, separated from the street by nothing more than a paved path of twenty paces. “One step towards it, and we’re still okay,” said Mae, mainly to herself. “Nothing to worry about. We’re friends.”
The next few steps passed without incident. The first incident came halfway down the path, when Florianna, walking between Mae and Samson, stopped, forcing Sam
to a stop behind her. “Everything okay, Na?”
“Did you feel that?” she asked.
Samson looked at her, confused. Before he had time to construct an answer, she continued. “It almost felt like we passed a threshold, didn’t it?”
“Perhaps we did, or perhaps you’re nervous,” said Mae. “We’re still alive, so it can’t have been that big of a threshold.”
Stepping ever closer to the door, they were now within spitting distance. “What now?” Sam whispered.
“Hello?” The Dart asked the air. “We’re investigating the rifts, thought maybe you would have some information? Perhaps we can trade knowledge?”
No answer. Mae and the others took two steps more, which put them within reach of the doorknob.
“I’m going to open the door, okay? We come in peace.” Mae reached out her hand towards the small, wooden door, and prepared to turn the doorknob. Instead, her hand met resistance about a foot away from the door. Her hand had been stopped by a barely visible blue field, which she could have sworn was not there a moment ago. Although the field did not look to have a high viscosity, it still would not budge as Mae tried to push her way through.
“Oh,” said Sam. “Perhaps a bit more than a few mercenaries is needed, then.”
“How did they..? Mae, could you try walking into the door, please?” said Florianna, bewitched by the magic.
“Walk into it?”
“Please?”
With a sigh, Mae took another step forward, and felt her entire body make contact with the field. Trying to take another step was like trying to walk through a mountain, and her entire being told her to walk backwards, not forwards. She quickly obliged, and stepped away from the door. “Incredible,” said Na. “This magic, I didn’t even know this was possible!”
