Chapter 10

Quyloc had trouble concentrating all day. After Lowellin’s frankly frightening comment about the shadow world wanting him alive, he’d refused to reveal any more information.

“I’ll find you tonight. I’ll tell you more then.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“Where would you like to meet? Where do you feel safest?” Lowellin asked him with an odd look.

Quyloc’s first thought was of his chamber underneath the tower, but he didn’t want Lowellin to know about it. Only Rome knew about it and he wanted to keep it that way.

“How about your secret chamber?” Lowellin asked.

Quyloc started to ask him how he knew about it, then changed his mind. Clearly Lowellin had been watching him for some time. It was the only way to explain how he knew so much about Quyloc. Quyloc didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could do about it.

After it got dark, Quyloc headed for the tower. Before he entered he looked around, making sure no one was watching. Once inside, he lit the lantern that stood on a shelf.

On the bottom floor of the tower was a room, about half full of crates and barrels. Quyloc slid some aside, revealing a trap door, cunningly concealed in the floor. Quyloc would never have found it on his own. He’d seen it on an old set of plans stored in the library. Those plans were no longer in the library.

He pulled up the trap door, revealing iron rungs set into the side of a shaft that led straight down. He made his way down the rungs, pausing to close the trap door behind him.

When the rungs ended he was in a rough-hewn passageway that led to stairs. The stairs were rough and uneven. He went down several flights and found himself in another passageway, this one even rougher than the first. The floor was uneven and stones had fallen from the walls and ceiling, making walking difficult.

At one point the passageway sloped down steeply. Where it leveled out there was a wide crack cutting across the width of the passage, like something that might have opened up during an earthquake. It was too far to jump so Quyloc had brought two planks down and laid them across it. Warm, sulfur-tainted air flowed up from the depths of the crack. The one time Quyloc had turned off the lantern and looked down there, he thought he saw a faint, reddish glow.

Further on, the passageway forked. The left fork led steeply down, the stairs finally ending in a natural cave at the base of the cliffs. At high tide the cave was completely filled with water, but at low tide it was possible to walk out onto a narrow strip of beach at the base of the cliffs.

The right fork led to a small room. The room had one small window that opened onto the cliff face, about halfway down the cliffs. Quyloc had no idea what the room was for. When he found it, it was empty except for a badly rotted chair and a rusted sword. The passageway down to the base of the cliffs made sense as an emergency escape route, but that didn’t explain the room. Nevertheless, it appealed to Quyloc. Here he could store his most secret books and know they would not be disturbed.

He had brought a rough cot down into the room, along with a simple desk and a chair. Along one wall he’d set up some bookshelves and they were filled with the books he’d collected over the years. They were old histories and every bit of arcane lore he’d been able to get his hands on. He’d read every one more than once.

Setting the lantern on the desk, he pulled out a heavy volume with a battered leather cover. It was a copy of the Book of Xochitl. Very rare. Very hard to obtain since most of them were destroyed after the fall of the Empire, when the angry mobs vented their pent-up hatred on the Tenders, burning temples and havens, killing the Tenders. After the Tenders refused to help him, he’d begun searching for a copy of this book, thinking it would hold the secrets he sought. It didn’t, but he had still learned a great deal from it.

Quyloc reread everything he could find in the book about Melekath, the creation of the prison, and Lowellin. It corroborated everything Lowellin had said, except for one important point: there was no mention of a flaw in the prison. The prison was supposed to hold Melekath forever.

Suddenly Quyloc realized he was not alone. He stood and turned. Lowellin was there, holding his black staff.

“Are you ready to start?”

Quyloc nodded.

“We will go first to the edge of the shadow world, which is more properly known as the Pente Akka. I will begin teaching you there.”

Before Quyloc could react, Lowellin reached out with the staff and jabbed him in the chest with it. Quyloc fell backwards.

When he regained his balance and looked around, his heart stopped.

He was no longer in the secret chamber. He was standing on yellow sand in darkness. The sky was black tinged with purple. Lowellin was standing a short distance away, looking at him, his hands resting on the top of his staff. There was something about the staff. It looked different. He had the sudden, irrational thought that it was watching him.

The first thing you need to learn is not to let yourself become distracted or careless. The place will try and trap you. Your only chance of surviving in the Pente Akka is to be focused at all times.

Quyloc heard Lowellin’s words clearly, but in his mind, not in his ears.

You will need this. Lowellin used the end of the staff to flip something over to Quyloc. Quyloc looked down. On the sand at his feet lay a knife.

Pick it up.

Quyloc did so. It looked to be made of bone.

Do not lose it. Without it, you will be unable to leave the Pente Akka.

What do I do with it?

You use it to cut an opening in the Veil.

What is the Veil?

Look behind you.

Quyloc turned around. What looked like a very fine, gauzy web stretched out of sight in both directions and disappeared into the sky overhead.

Beyond that is the Pente Akka.

This was moving too fast for Quyloc. He had expected Lowellin to lead up to this, maybe explain some things to him first. He could see vague shapes beyond the Veil and they frightened him. He needed some more time to prepare. We’re not going in right now, are we?

I’m not going in at all. Only you are.

Feeling truly alarmed, Quyloc backed up. I’m not ready for this.

You never will be. Not really.

I need to know more first.

In order to leave the Pente Akka, you will have to summon the Veil yourself. Once you pass through it, I will not be able to help you.

His fear grew. I don’t know how to do that. I don’t think that I can do that.

Then you will be trapped there. And I will look for another to take your place. There are no second chances in that place.

Almost, almost Quyloc threw down the knife then and there. He was insane to be doing this. It couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream. None of this made any sense.

It is all too real, Lowellin said. What you call real has many facets. You have viewed it only from one angle.

I can’t—

Then you are of no use to me. Go back to your little world and I will find another with the courage to wield this power.

Wait! Quyloc held his hands up. I just…I need to know more before I go there.

Look at the Veil. Look at it very closely.

Quyloc did.

What color is it?

It’s white. Grayish white.

You’re not paying attention. Look again. What color is it?

Quyloc tried to stare at it, but he was having trouble. He kept thinking of what waited for him on the other side. He pushed the fear away, concentrated only on the Veil. Then he saw it.

There is purple in it, very faint.

How does the weave run?

What?

How does the weave run? Is there a pattern? Is it random?

I don’t know.

Then you will not be able to summon it and you will be trapped in there. Only if you can picture it exactly in your mind will you be able to summon it.

Quyloc stared at it some more. There was a pattern. It was intricate. Okay, he said. I see it.

Close your eyes. Can you still see it?

Yes.

When you want to leave, picture the Veil in your mind. Picture it perfectly and it will be there. Get one detail wrong and you are lost.

I can do that.

Then there is no more time to lose. Do not stay too long. Look around, then return. If you see the hunter, leave immediately.

Quyloc started to ask him what a hunter was when Lowellin shoved him in the back with the staff.

Quyloc fell forward, into the Veil.

          

It was a strange landscape Quyloc found himself in. There was no sun in the sky. The sky was a dull bronze color, the light emanating from it diffuse. He was standing on a vast, grassy plain. The grass was waist-high and was topped with heavy seed pods. Waves and ripples moved across the grass, though he could feel no wind. That bothered him and for some time he stood staring at it, trying to see if the movement was caused by some creature. But he could see no pattern and after a while he gave up.

When he turned around he saw a rocky knoll in the distance. Since it was the only feature anywhere in sight, he tucked the odd bone knife in his belt and started towards it.

How long it took him to get there he could not have said. There was no way to judge the passage of time. The light never changed. It was hard to tell if he was actually moving. He might have simply been walking in place.

However, at some point when he looked up at the knoll he realized he was standing almost at the foot of it. It was about thirty or forty feet tall and made up of jumbled whitish boulders. Some kind of shrub sprouted from the gaps between the stones and near the top two stones leaned against each other in such a way as to create something of a cave between them.

Something hopped out of the depths of the cave, stopping right at the mouth. A moment later another one hopped into sight. They appeared to be some kind of bird, though their feathers were silvery and their necks were very long. They had very narrow, hooked beaks. As Quyloc began to back away, they fixed bright eyes on him. They began opening and closing their beaks, making loud clacking noises.

Then they jumped into the air and flew straight at him.

Quyloc’s first thought was to flee, but there was nowhere to go and he wouldn’t be able to outrun them. Next he remembered the Veil but they were closing fast on him and he couldn’t remember any details about the thing, much less picture it closely enough to summon it.

They dove at him and at the last moment he remembered the knife. Yanking it free, he stabbed at the first bird, then ducked as the other tried to rake him with its claws.

They wheeled in the sky and dove at him again. This time he was able to wound the first bird, sending it veering away with a shrill cry, but in doing so he left himself vulnerable to the second one. There was a sharp pain on his arm as it slashed him with its beak.

The birds then flew away and disappeared into the distance.

Quyloc looked at his arm. Blood dripped from a shallow wound on the back of his forearm. Though the wound was not serious, it alarmed him. It was time to leave. But the adrenaline was coursing through his veins, his heart was pounding wildly, and he couldn’t remember anything about the Veil except that it was gray-white. He needed to calm himself. He needed to focus.

He took deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. But it didn’t seem to help. His thoughts were in utter turmoil. He couldn’t stop looking at the wound. Blood was dripping from it, way too much for such a small wound. Then he realized that his blood didn’t look right. It looked almost black.

When he looked at the ground he got a new fright.

There was no stain where his blood fell, no puddle. It looked as though the ground was absorbing his blood completely.

The spot where his blood was falling began to move.

A hole opened and something like ants, but with too many legs, boiled out.

Quyloc jumped back.

There was a howl in the distance, joined quickly by two more. He spun, eyes straining to locate this new threat. Far off in the distance the grass was rippling wildly, and the disturbance was getting closer.

Shrill cries from the sky made him look up. The birds were coming back. Only there were hundreds of them now.

It was his blood. His blood was attracting these things.

Panic threatened, but Quyloc fought to get control of himself. If he gave into his fear now, he had no chance.

It wants you alive.

Lowellin’s words echoed in his mind. He was running out of time. The birds were almost on him. More of the bizarre insects were coming out of the ground with every second. The Veil was his only chance.

Though every instinct was screaming at him to run, Quyloc forced himself to stand still. Focus! he told himself. Focus! He closed his eyes to block out everything else, trying to picture the Veil.

All at once it was there, but it was hazy and when he opened his eyes it was nowhere to be seen.

The birds were blotting out the sky. The grass all around him tossed as if in a storm. The insects were swarming up his legs.

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to block it all out, knowing it was already too late.

All at once the Veil was there in his mind in shining perfection, the whole darkly beautiful pattern.

Quyloc opened his eyes. There was the Veil. Birds were diving at him. The insects were a solid mass running up his neck, onto his face. Something toothy and covered in yellow fur leapt at him from the side.

He slashed at the Veil and dove through the rent.

          

He opened his eyes and he was lying on the floor in his room under the tower. The lantern flickered dimly.

Gasping, his heart still pounding hard, Quyloc climbed to his feet and stumbled to the narrow window. He stood there, breathing hard of the fresh sea air. When he had calmed somewhat he realized he was still gripping the bone knife tightly in one hand. He laid it on the desk and looked for the cut on his arm.

There was no wound.

Looking closer, he saw a faint purple line where it had been.

He touched it. The skin felt numb, like touching an old scar. For a moment it seemed he could hear howling in the distance.

Quyloc sank into the chair. What just happened?

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