CHAPTER TWENTY (cont.)

Inception (cont.)

As strong as my dislike for loneliness was my dislike for the disquiet that welcomed me upon my return. It was morning in my city, a busy hour, but it was business of another nature that I read in the faces of the scholars and sages hurrying in and out of the Temple of Order.

As I ascended the temple's steps, a young novitiate ran into me. He had been hurriedly paging through the book on top of the stack he carried and not minding his path. I caught the precious tomes before they could fall; I knew a few of these would not have survived a tumble. I gave him a stern look.

Wide-eyed, he quickly came to his senses. Profuse apologies coupled with deep bows nearly caused him to lose his balance again. When I grabbed his arm to steady him, I could swear his heart stopped. I thought he would faint right there before me.

"Steady," I said in my most soothing tone. "You carry quite a burden. You take these to my father?"

"Yes. Yes, I do, My Lord. I do," he stammered.

"I was on my way to him as well. Why not let me help you?" I smiled as pleasantly as I could manage to try to settle him. One so prone to nervousness should never have been given such a task. I wondered at the present state of our libraries.

I took the oldest texts into my care lest they should never arrive intact at my father's chambers. I made quick note of their titles as I gathered them. Judging by these, one might think Eschaton approached!

"Come then, we should not delay," I said. He nodded amply and we entered the temple.

I allowed him to precede me into the adytum. We lay the books on the table closest to where Father was working. My young companion was unsure whether or not he should wait for dismissal, and my father's attention was elsewhere. Seeing this, I tapped the young man's shoulder � he jumped as if I had prodded him with a bolt of lightning � and threw a glance and a nod toward the door. He quickly bowed and left, easing the door shut in front of him as he backed away.

I turned then to address my father, but something caught my eye, causing me to momentarily forget myself. A man in a hooded robe of dark maroon stood perfectly still in a corner of the room. Now, I was beginning to feel as anxious as our nervous novitiate. I was sure this was a monk of the Order of The Chronicle, Keepers of The Never-Ending Scroll and Possessors of The Mind's Eye. They were clairvoyants who recorded the Realm's history on a magical scroll that never failed to have more room for their writings. And such was the power of The Mind's Eye, which allowed them to see everything of significance that happened in the entire Realm, that they never ventured from their sanctuary. Or so I thought. But I remembered then that my father had told me that one had come to witness the birth of me and Kareena.

"Father?" I began, my eyes still on the monk.

"Some things can only be witnessed with one's own eyes, my son," he answered before I could ask the question. "Do not heed him. Now, I am glad to see that you have returned safely from your...meditation."

I had expected his scornful tone. I never could effectively lie to him. "Punish me later if you like, but you must listen to me now! We have to save Kareena!"

He looked at me and half sighed. It was more like he had been holding his breath. I had the feeling that he had nothing hopeful to impart.

"There is nothing any of us can do to save her now," a kindly feminine voice spoke from behind me.

"Lady Zandora," I acknowledged with a slightly impatient, but not discourteous, bow. "You will forgive me, Lady Zandora, but Father, I must hear this from you."

It was obvious he was deeply troubled, but he said nothing.

I fought to control the anger welling up inside me. "If you both are so certain in this, then what is this work you do? What are these chests you toil over?"

My father finally spoke. In a controlled and even tone, he replied, "One is the Box of Balefire, the instrument of summoning He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken. The other is the Box of Purefire, the one of banishing."

The Boxes of Balefire and Purefire. I had heard a whisper of them, but I never thought to lay eyes upon them. I stood there, staring at these simple-looking things, dumbfounded, and further realized the direness of this crisis.

"He enters the Realm?" I asked, hearing the trepidation in my own voice. My mind was racing, I didn't fully understand what this could mean. And why was the Box of Balefire here beside?

"Why should both be here? Surely you mean to destroy the Box of Balefire," I said.

"That cannot be done," my father said.

"But�"

"There is no time to explain such things."

He went on with his work, making me feel like a troublesome child, but I wanted answers!

"If He could be banished . . . should it not break His hold on Kareena?" I dared to ask.

"The Unspoken's hold reaches beyond what I can control, even with Zandora's aid. Now, you must go, my son. Stay within the temple or go home, but your safety is paramount."

I couldn't believe he was sending me away at such a time! Surely there was something I could do. I had confronted Kareena already. I would see this through!

"No!" I told him. "I will not go! You cannot expect me�"

"Go!"

I straightened and eyed him with contempt, but leave I did. I left the Temple of Order and walked aimlessly about the city. He had shut me out, just as he had before. Perhaps I would have been underfoot, but I hated being excluded from this. I felt I was involved too much to turn away even if I wanted to. Who was he to tell me to leave?

Inwardly, I sighed. He was my father, the Dungeon Master.

"My safety," I said aloud, "What of theirs, my mother's and my sister's? Where were you then?"

I stopped and leaned against a wall where no one should bother me. I shut my eyes to the world. I needed to collect myself. I needed to think in peace. I needed rest. But there was time for none of this!

"Troubled, young master?"

The shadow demon once again. Vexatious pest!

"Go away. Leave me be," I pleaded.

"Not this time. You've run out of options, save one. Now you must hurry lest the work of the Dungeon Master and his sorceress is soon successful."

I eyed him with the same contempt I had just shown my father. "How do you know of their work?" I demanded.

"Shadows know," was all he said.

I sighed, disgusted with him. I wanted no more of his bedevilment. I let my head fall back. I wanted nothing more than to bathe and to sleep, to dream of my mother and my sister in happier times � all of us home with no troubles. I wanted the world to stop and let me catch up to it in my own time.

It was infuriating being forced to stand idly by and do nothing but watch events happen as they might. But what could I do? I was not the Dungeon Master. I was no sorcerer. I felt small and unutterably alone. Helpless and numb, there was no faith left in my being.

"My father told me Good would always prevail against Evil," I said, more to myself than to him.

The shadow demon shook his head at me, pityingly. "Ah, such a failed axiom," he said. "Tell me, did Good prevail when husband expelled wife and child? Did Good prevail when daughter slew mother? And will Good have prevailed when sister slays brother?"

I looked up at him, compelled to listen as he continued.

"It began with your father. The Dungeon Master governs the Realm with a compassion he has never shown for his own family. He has dishonored you all. The Scion must now rise and take control, or risk losing his birthright � this Realm. My Master will give you the means to accomplish all you desire.

"The choice is yours, Son of Dungeon Master."

I found nothing in my heart to counter any of this. I did blame my father for the ruination of our family. I did feel he had dishonored us. He divided our family when he should have involved us all in resolution. We should have worked through our problems together. Why hadn't he tried? Why wasn't I given the chance to . . .?

My mother was dead! Damn him! This was all his fault!

None of his teachings prepared me to battle such as what my sister had now become. I could not allow my fate to be decided by them, nor by anyone. I wanted the power to command my own destiny!

Rage burned within me. I didn't fight against it; I let it consume me. As if it were a palpable force, I let it empower me. My fists clenched at my sides. I hardened myself. I made my choice.

"What must I do?"

The shadow demon floated gently down to me. For once, I was not looking up to see his face.

"Come," he said, laying a dark hand on my shoulder. "You must prepare yourself. Cleanse the way. . . ."