The Warlock's Gambit (7 page)

T
he dream continued, the scene shifting from what he thought of as the Shadow Cathedral to a room that looked almost the complete opposite. It was somewhere in the Manse, he could tell that. Yet he couldn't have explained how, because it wasn't one of the rooms he had already seen.

The large, square room was made entirely of gleaming, white marble and was full of light. A triskelion of golden fire hung on one wall, high above a silver door. Whoever’s or whatever’s eyes Arthur was looking through floated near the top of the opposite wall. Below him stood a second door, a wooden door, a door he recognized. The door under him led from the Grand Hallway to the Inner Sanctum.

Arthur had expected the Inner Sanctum to be a warm, comforting place. It wasn't — not to him, anyway. Everything here was so bright and so clean and so precise that it felt cold, almost clinical. Honestly, Arthur felt sure it was very wrong to even think this, but … if you got rid of the creepy red light, the Shadow Cathedral would actually be more inviting.

Maybe if he had even a clue about what the Inner Sanctum was for, it wouldn’t bother him. Because it wasn’t a chapel like he had expected. There were no pews, no seats, no altars, no podiums — just a perfectly square room of cold marble. And the silver door: where did that lead? Ylliara hadn't mentioned another room beyond the Inner Sanctum.

Something glimmered on the wall to his right: a pattern of lines forming a complex symbol. The lines were brighter than the marble, almost glowing. But when he tried to focus on the shape to see if he recognized it, the symbol disappeared. He spotted another and tried again. But as soon as he tried to zero in on it, it vanished. He purposefully unfocused his eyes — and took in a deep breath of surprise. The walls, the ceiling, the floor: the whole room was covered with symbols. Whatever they were for or represented, that was the purpose of this room.

Arthur frowned. So why was he in here all by himself?

As if on cue, Kjor strode through the door from the Grand Hallway, once again wearing the cloak of shifting darkness — his mantle of shadow. His hands were stained with dried blood. Every symbol in the room instantly changed to a triskelion and blazed with light. The shadows began to peel away from Kjor, as if the light from the sigils were burning them away.

But Kjor didn’t seem disturbed by this. He calmly drew a shard of crystal from inside his cloak. He spoke a word Arthur didn’t understand, and the room began to darken. The brilliant white light from the sigils steadily dimmed, replaced by the sort of gloominess all the rooms had when they were infested with shades. Kjor’s cloak of shadows returned to its full form. He tossed a dark-heart into each corner, and they rose up until they were almost touching the ceiling.

Arthur couldn’t believe that Kjor was strong enough to out-fight the power of the Manse in the Inner Sanctum. But maybe the Manse was already damaged in some way, or maybe the crystal in Kjor’s hand was some sort of powerful artifact from the Hosts or the Ancients, whoever they were. As usual, Arthur didn’t know nearly enough about anything.

Kjor placed the large crystal shard on the ground and chanted alien words that Arthur couldn’t interpret. Whatever the power was that normally translated things for him in the Manse didn’t work here in the dream. An arched portal appeared over the shard — a frameless doorway that opened onto another world. Through this doorway, Arthur could see towering stone and glass skyscrapers and enormous oblong spaceships hovering in a crimson sky filled with four small moons.

A line of wraiths dozens deep appeared in front of the portal. Arthur winced as one stepped through, and then another, and another. After eight had entered, Kjor spoke a word, and the portal closed. The wraiths spun on him, clearly confused by what had happened. They must have expected their brothers to come through with them.

“You are the best,” Kjor told them. “You are more than enough.”

This seemed to satisfy the wraiths. One went to each corner, where shades were already forming, and two each took up stations beside the doors.

The symbols Arthur couldn’t quite focus on winked out, leaving the triskelion symbol above the silver door as the only light. The inherent brightness of the Inner Sanctum was now completely gone, and Arthur could barely see anything in here.

Kjor marched toward the silver door. “Stay here,” he ordered the wraiths. “Do not leave this room. Do not let anyone pass.”

The next room wasn’t at all like what Arthur had expected.

It wasn’t a room at all, or even inside.

Floating along, he followed Kjor from the Inner Sanctum and straight into a clearing in the midst of a deep forest. Around the edge of the clearing stood a series of twelve standing stones. They were made from some sort of opaque crystal, each one pulsing with a different color.

A rainbow of energy streamed out of the stones and across the ground towards the center of the circle. The light from four of the stones merged to form a thick red band. Four more flowed together into a single yellow stream, and the last four joined to form a blue one. The three arms of a giant triskelion. And where they met at the heart of the triskelion, in the center of the clearing, they formed a bright white pillar of energy that rose up into the sky as far as Arthur could see.

In the midst of this pillar of light floated an angelic woman. She was sitting with her legs crossed in the lotus pose. She wore a shimmering dress. Her skin was rust-colored; her slanted eyes emerald; her hair copper flames. A golden triskelion glowed on her forehead. This had to be Ylliara’s mother, the Aetherian who had powered the Manse, who had sacrificed herself to bring the Manse to Arthur once the disc over his heart broke.

She glared at Kjor as he entered. Kjor waded across the streams of energy, and they didn’t affect him in any way. He also didn’t affect them. The streams flowed right under his feet as if he weren’t there at all.

“You cannot be in here,” the Aetherian seethed. “It is impossible for anyone to enter the Heart without my permission.”

Kjor grinned. “Lies and tricks do not make something impossible, Orella. Especially when I do not care about breaking your rules.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How then did you make it through the Inner Sanctum? That, too, should have been impossible.”

“I had help.” Kjor tossed the shard into the air, and it stopped to hover in place about ten feet away. Within the shard appeared a bright purple eye with a catlike, vertical slit. The eye blinked. A shiver ran along Arthur’s spine.

“Where is Quintus … and Arthur?”

“Dead, but you know that already.” Kjor lifted his bloodstained hands. “I killed him and the boy myself. It wasn’t as hard as I would’ve thought. Quintus never saw it coming. And with the boy gone as well, your mission is over.”

“You are lying.”

Kjor drew a sword handle out from his cloak: Bright-Cage. He tossed it onto the ground.

Orella’s eyes blazed with fury. “I will destroy you!”

“If you could, you would’ve done so already. Without your champion, you don’t stand a chance against the power I now wield.”

“I cannot believe you would kill the boy,” Lady Orella said, with sadness staining her voice.

“Go to him then, give him the Call. I don’t know what good it would do to make a four-year-old the Multiversal Paladin. But go ahead and try.”

Orella closed her eyes and creased her brow. After several moments, she muttered words to herself, and her column of light burned brighter. Nothing happened, and she gave up with a sigh.

“Can’t find him, can you? Honestly, I did him a favor. That boy was doomed from the day he was born.”

“You swore you would protect him. I thought you were a man of honor.”

“I am, but my honor was pledged elsewhere, long before I ever met a Paladin.”

“You have doomed the universe.”

“I doubt that,” said Kjor with a smirk. “I ended your diabolical scheme while furthering my own cause. Oddly enough, I aided both Aetheria and Entropy at the same time. You see, I figured out what was going on. I know who was killing the Paladins. And I know the boy was going to be your special weapon. You and your …
faction
… had designs on him. He’s different than the other Paladins, because his mother is special. It took me a long time to figure that out. Quintus didn’t know. Even Amelia didn’t know. But you … you knew what the boy was. He could change everything. He could’ve advanced your faction’s cause by a thousand years or more. Now he won’t change anything other than the feeding patterns of the maggots in the dirt where I buried him.”

Orella’s eyes narrowed again, and she gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, of course you don't,” Kjor said, shaking his head. “Lies, Orella. Tricks and lies.” He pulled out the Stone of Unbecoming and threw it at her. “But they won't be lies for long. Soon you truly won't know.”

Orella never had a chance to move, and though Arthur had expected the column of light to protect her somehow, apparently it couldn't.

The stone struck her in the chest, causing her to double over and cry out, and then it dropped to the ground, landing in the center of the triskelion. The energy flows all ceased for a moment, then flared so brightly Arthur was almost blinded before returning to normal.

“My memories … what have you done?” Orella muttered.

“I am erasing you. Then I will return to Skrimanta, while you and the Manse slowly fade away.”

“Memories or not, I am eternal.”

“Not in a Manse populated by wraiths and infused with shadow. Your power is slowly being leeched away.”

She screamed. “My databanks! Two thousand years of Paladin history!”

Kjor nodded. “Like I said, you are being erased — your memories as Orella, Herald of Aetheria, and your memories as the Manse.”

Orella closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Then I shall power down to only my essential systems and give one final order, hardwired into the fabric of the Manse itself. As long as the Manse and I endure, however many years it takes, we will continue on this final mission — a mission you cannot undo, no matter how many dark powers you invoke.”

“What are you doing?” Kjor asked, with worry in his voice.

“I am sending the Manse to find Arthur Primus, wherever you have imprisoned him, despite whatever dark magic is hiding him from me, so that he may be rescued and take his father’s place.”

“No! You fool!” Kjor raised his bloodstained hands. “I told you the boy is dead!”

Orella looked confused. “But … but that cannot be …”

His face contorted in frustration, and he seemed to be almost on the verge of tears. “You forgot sooner than I would’ve thought. I should’ve realized the newest memories would be the most fragile.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Even if the boy lived, who would rescue him, Orella?”

“Rescue who? The new Paladin?” She frowned. “The Manse will continue on in the hope that a new Paladin will arise somewhere … somehow. I have even sealed off all the infested rooms with Shadow Wards to help the new Paladin when he comes.”

With a groan, Kjor turned to the floating shard. The eye with the slit pupil inside watched him. His voice was strained now, devoid of all the confidence he’d had before. “She cannot accomplish anything this way. In a few hours, she will have no memories at all, and the Manse will steadily decay.” He sighed. “Nevertheless, given the plot she was involved in, I think it would be best if I remained here to see that it is finished.”

“The boy is dead, though,” said the cold voice of the stone. Arthur recognized it as one of the Hosts. “We know you speak true, for we have searched far and wide ourselves. What could she possibly do?”

“I do not know, but I don’t think we should risk it. They may have a backup plan of some kind. And though her memories are gone, that doesn’t mean she can’t act on her instincts.”

The Hosts were silent for a while, then one of them said, “We agree that you should remain. But know that it will take years, perhaps ten or more, before she fades enough for the Manse to disintegrate.”

Kjor nodded; his shoulders were slumped. “It is a sacrifice I
must
make. In the
trance of suspension
, I will be able to wait it out without need of sustenance. I shall ponder the deepest mysteries of the universe — there are worse things to do with one’s time.”

“Contact us when it is nearly over, and we shall open a portal for you, Fleet Commander Kjor of Skrimanta.”

“Thank you, Honored Hosts. Could you tell my family that I am safe, and that I will return? I especially want my wife to know that I love her dearly.”

“We shall tell her of your love and provide her with a sizeable income. Your fame will spread far and wide, and when you return, you shall be made the Governor of Skrimanta. You will be forever honored by all of Entropia.”

Kjor bowed. “Thank you, Honored Hosts.”

The shard went dark. Kjor knelt on the ground, facing away from it and toward the door to the Inner Sanctum, with Lady Orella to his side but still in his line of vision. She started to say something, but then furrowed her brow in confusion.

Kjor looked right up to where Arthur was floating in the dream. Their eyes met. Arthur took a deep breath and braced himself for some sort of mental attack like he had felt during the battle in the Grand Hallway. But after several moments, Kjor simply closed his eyes.

W
ith a shock, Arthur woke to the sound of a deep gong vibrating throughout the Manse. He sat up, alarmed, but found his room brightly lit with a cheerful melody playing lightly alongside the sounds of chirping birds. Arthur’s heart was pounding; his mind was groggy. He felt trapped between two worlds: one of nightmares and shadows, and the other of cheery, sun-filled bedroom. He shook his head and took several deep breaths, trying to break free from the weight of the dream.

He rubbed his eyes and looked around. Valet stood at the foot of his bed. He bowed and motioned toward the bathroom. A towel was draped over his arm. Vassalus and Morgan were gone.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Lexi arched her back up into a stretch. “Morgan woke about an hour ago and went down to the Paladin’s Office. Vassalus accompanied her, just in case something went wrong.” She narrowed her eyes at him, cocked her ears, and flexed her nostrils while bobbing her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Arthur lied.

“Oh, it’s something, dear. Your pupils are dilated, your heart’s beating fast, and you smell … off.”

“Thanks.”

“Well?”

“Another dream … I’m not ready to talk about it, okay?”

Lexi curled up, tucking her head between her paws. “As you wish, but don’t bottle it in.”

“I won’t.”

Arthur decided the best thing to do, for the moment, was to write the dream down. Normal dreams have a habit of fading, and he didn’t want to risk that with this one. Every detail could be important. “Valet, I need paper and a pen, please.”

Valet went down to the level below and returned, carrying a leather-bound notebook and what Arthur thought was a fountain pen.

Arthur scribbled down every detail he could remember, including those that didn’t seem important to him right then. He read back over it, was satisfied that he had captured everything, then put it aside. He was going to do his best not to think about the dream for a while. It was a lot to process — far too much to think through this early in the morning.

Arthur washed up and dressed in his uniform. He decided not to put on the armor yet, since they weren’t going into battle. He was tired of carrying the helmet around, anyway — he was always taking it off and having to remember to pick it back up.

After an enormous, four-course breakfast (Cook certainly must be all well now), they went to check on Waiter. He had healed a lot. He was sitting up now, staring silently at the jukebox. After saying hello, Arthur didn’t know what else to say. The servitors didn’t eat, and as far as he could tell, they didn’t sleep or have hobbies either. Did they have telepathic conversations with one another? He had no idea. Just because they could communicate that way, that didn’t mean they did it for anything more than work. They weren’t really people after all, but it was hard not to think of them that way.

Morgan decided she wanted to have tea by the fire in the Great Room, but not on the side of the room with the creepy bug creature’s head mounted over the mantel. So they went to the Great Room and settled in front of the other fireplace, where Valet brought them their steaming cups of tea.

“I had a dream last night. It felt real, like the dream I had before. But this one didn't come from my mother.” Arthur took out the notebook and handed it to Morgan. “I wrote it all down as soon as I woke up.”

Morgan read all of it, slowly and carefully as she sipped her tea. “You waited till now to tell me about this?”

“I wasn't ready. I just couldn't talk about it before. It wasn’t an easy dream to shake. I can still
feel
it, you know?”

Morgan nodded. “I do.”

“May we?” Vassalus asked, nosing at the notebook.

Morgan set it on the floor, and Lexi and Vassalus began to read it. Lexi would take a claw out to flip the pages, though she was clumsy at it.

“Well, it’s good that you wrote it down first.” Morgan read it again. “You realize the warlock entered your mind last night and gave you this dream, right?”

Arthur nodded. “I was worried that fighting him off once wouldn’t be enough. Looks like I was right.”

“But then, I’m not sure he’s your enemy, after all,” Morgan said. “Not if that dream’s true.”

“You think so? He did try to take me out when we were fighting for our lives in the Grand Hallway …”

“Well, yes,” Morgan said. “But let’s assume for now that what you saw is true.”

“Okay.”

“Because if it’s true, then Kjor showed you how to defeat him. You know where your father’s sword is … you know where the Stone of Unbecoming is and what it does … you know about that special crystal shard he has … and you know what we’ll have to face in the Inner Sanctum.”

“Maybe, but he’s still a warlock and knows a lot more about how to fight than we do. We don’t even know what he’s capable of, other than summoning monsters through that crystal. And we still have to fight through forty-eight shades and eight wraiths to get to him. Maybe he’s trying to discourage me from trying.”

“Then why show you that other stuff?”

“Because … because he’s trying to confuse me?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to show you terrible visions like he did before? And if it’s not all made up, and I just don’t think it could be, and if you did somehow defeat him, then he’s given you top secret information. Arthur, I kind of doubt any Paladin has ever before seen the inside of that Shadow Cathedral. You may even be the first to see the Hosts — think about that.”

“That’s … a good point,” Arthur conceded with a sigh. “So … so we know that he was given the task of infiltrating the Manse, finding out who or what was killing my family, and then either defeating it or helping it. But we don’t know which one he did.”

The numina finished reading the account.

“It certainly seems most likely that Kjor helped defeat whoever the enemy was,” said Vassalus, “and then took out the Multiversal Paladin while he had a chance.”

“But he lied about Arthur,” Lexi added. “He told the Hosts and Lady Orella that he’d killed Arthur, when obviously, he’d done no such thing. Quintus, maybe … probably.”

“He would have been in big trouble if Arthur popped back up later,” Vassalus said. “That is why he was willing to stay here to see the deed finished, no matter how long it took.”

“Or he was staying to make sure Arthur remained safe,” Lexi replied. “For all we know, Kjor was the one that hid Arthur, trying to protect him. Maybe even though he had to kill Quintus, he had an opportunity to save Arthur and took it, using that device over his heart.”

After a few moments of silent pondering, Morgan said, “There’s something that really bothers me.” Her brow furrowed as she fiddled with her tea cup. “Kjor wanted to go back home to his family. He never wanted the mission in the first place. And the Hosts promised to them take care of his family while he was waiting for the Manse to decay. Are we missing something? Because that doesn’t sound like
evil warlock
or
evil shadow dudes
to me.”

“Yeah, that bugs the crap out of me, too,” Arthur said. “In the dream, I could really … sense … his emotions about that. He was worried about his family. Assuming this wasn’t some sort of attempt to mislead me, then the Entropians can’t be all bad. I’m not saying they’re the good guys, but …”

“We’ve been under the impression they were all outright evil.” Morgan closed her eyes and groaned. “We just don’t have enough information!”

“If I might offer a theory,” Vassalus said, “Kjor claimed to be an honorable man. It's possible he kept his bargain with Amelia. Since he had a family, too, I think he may have felt obligated to protect Arthur.”

Lexi nodded. “Yep. I bet he was the one who hid you on Earth, Arthur. Then … well, we can’t know for sure if Kjor killed your dad or if he died fighting a mutual enemy.”

“He had blood on his hands,” Arthur countered. “And he’s tried to kill me here. He nearly did in the Grand Hallway when he entered my mind, and he certainly felt like pure evil
then.
”

“Maybe some part of him wants to save you,” Vassalus said.

“Maybe he’s putting on a good show because the eye in the shard is watching him again,” Lexi said. “He may even have to try to kill you. Think about it: if they find out he lied, his family is in jeopardy.” She mimed drawing a claw across her throat.

“If they are watching, he’s already in trouble,” Arthur said. “They know I’m alive and that he lied.” Arthur thought of the hooded Hosts and cringed; he wouldn’t want them angry at him. “Kjor’s family is in a lot of trouble. He
has
to kill me now. As long as he finishes the mission, maybe the hosts will forgive him, or maybe he can make up some excuse about how I came back to life or something.”

Morgan was nodding along. “Yeah, maybe he gave you this dream because he wanted you to understand why he did what he did, and why he has to do what he's doing now: trying to kill you.” Morgan grabbed his journal and scanned the pages. “Not only that, but if all of this is true, then Lady Orella was involved in some sort of sinister plot. And you were a key part of it. There was definitely more going on than your basic black-and-white, good versus evil conflict. We just don’t have any idea what. And the only person who knows the truth is Kjor, who we can't trust.”

They sipped their tea in silence, thinking. Morgan's eyes narrowed, but it was Vassalus who spoke. “Why show you this, any of it, if
all
he wanted was to kill you?”

Arthur wasn't listening. “You know what really gets me about all this? I wasn’t supposed to ever get back here. I was supposed to live out my life on Earth with no Manse, no special destiny, nothing. In other words, whoever it was that hid me doomed me to a long, miserable life.”

“I think they thought they were saving your life, dear,” said Lexi. “How would they know you’d be so unhappy?”

Arthur shrugged. “Well, they could’ve guessed, I think. I was born to be a Multiversal Paladin — not a regular Earth boy. I was never going to fit in. Besides, on top of that, I’m extra-special … somehow.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Morgan said. “How was your mother special? I thought she was just … you know, an Earth girl, like me.”

Arthur shrugged. “No idea. Remember, I didn’t even know she did gymnastics until the first dream. And I can promise you there is
nothing
special about any of the other Nelsons.”

“What about that double heartbeat feeling you get, or the tunnel of shadows?” Morgan said. “What if you got that stuff from your mother and not your dad?”

“Maybe, but like you said, we don’t know enough.” Arthur finished his tea and leaned back in his chair. “Hey, at least now we know how the Manse was wiped clean of its memories.”

Morgan suddenly slammed her tea cup down and slapped her forehead. “Oh crap! I just realized — Lady Ylliara — to power the Manse, she had to go into the same place her mother was in!”

Arthur sighed. “The Stone of Unbecoming has probably wiped her memories, too. That’s just peachy.”

“I bet the last things she did,” said Morgan, “were making us our rooms, reviving the servitors, and reinforcing the protection sigils.”

“So we’ll never be able to figure out everything.”

With a yawn, Lexi said, “Kjor knows …”

“Lot of good that does me. It’s not like we’re going to sit down in the middle of trying to kill each other and have a nice long chat.”

“Arthur, my boy,” said Vassalus in a deep, serious tone, “Kjor may be asking for your help with these visions. If you can fight through to him, you might be able to save him — and find out the truth about everything.”

Arthur laughed. “That would be the ultimate in cosmic irony, wouldn’t it? But, honestly, I don’t think I can defeat him even if he does pull his punches, which we don't even know for sure he’d do.”

“Well, maybe if …” Lexi started to say.

But Morgan held up a hand. “Enough. We’re just spinning in circles. There are too many questions, too many possibilities. And we don't have nearly enough information.”

“You know what,” Arthur said, “I could use another cup of tea, and a dessert.”

Morgan nodded in agreement. Valet departed, and minutes later he bustled back in with a tray of raspberry donuts and two more cups of tea. They ate donuts, drank tea, and silently watched the roaring flames in the fire. When they were done, Arthur closed the notebook and set it on a side table.

“The only way we’re going to learn more is by exploring the Manse,” Arthur said. “For right now, the dream doesn’t change anything.”

“So, on to the Library?” Morgan asked.

Arthur nodded. “Just give me a few minutes to put on my armor.”

“Do you need to polish your helmet?” she said slyly.

“Shut up.”

She snorted. “I’ll get Arms, and we’ll meet you outside the Library.”