The Tome of Law Collection

Chapter 2-5

Raoul leaned against a wall, slowly folding his arms. “Are you going to tell us now what happened back there, Bel?”

Belyn looked at his friends and coughed. “Ermm, I was going to let you know eventually.”

“Eventually?” Raoul burst out. “My friend, I think "eventually" has come a mite quicker that you expected. We have been friends since we were apprentices, and I think at the very least you owe us an explanation for what happened in your room.” Belyn cleared his throat.

“Well, it"s like this: I have been experimenting with a great many types of stone in my research over the last couple of years, and while some produce astounding results, rocks we would deem rare and therefore more likely to have such results were lacking.” Belyn sat down on a crate, idly fingering the red crystal.

“One such time I was experimenting with a piece of olive stone, and nothing would happen after a solid half hour of concentrating. I got frustrated and was about to hurl the rock when it suddenly produced a result – the room lit up with a startling green light. Suffice it to say I stopped the focus immediately, but realised that it wasn"t enough to merely focus; there was an emotion involved. I experimented with several types of rock in the following months, but I kept it a secret so not to harm anyone.

“The fossil rock is the only one I know of that can produce a reaction like this. I needed enough energy for the red crystal to concentrate, but it had to be an emotion too. The shield for all of us was true enough, but the side affect was a surge in energy. The surge was created when you doubted your focus was having any affect. It seems that negative energy is the one most easily used, as it is probably due to the amount of pain and suffering we see every day. If something was to use this, it would have limitless energy to utilise and be supremely powerful. That is why I initially wanted to go on a search. I believe I can locate such a focus stone. Unfortunately, I kept the secret from you.”

wasBelyn looked imploringly at his two friends. “You have to believe me, that is the only thing I have ever kept from you. I did not want you experimenting with stones in case you ended up harming yourselves.”

Raoul was unconvinced. “So what happens when you find this almighty focus stone?”

“Belyn smiled. “I either destroy it, or use it for some goodly purpose, like making us rich!!”

Raoul lost his angry demeanour as the beginnings of a grin started at the corner of his face. “Well that certainly sounds like a goodly purpose to me. Let us get on with such a purpose, for we surely cannot leave our destiny waiting.” He reached down to pull his friend up by the wrist, and they set off down the musty passageway. As the three men walked steadily down the corridor the floor gradually got cleaner, evidence that more people had used at least this part of it. Belyn explained that his deal with his sources involved them not coming past a certain part of the passageway; he has wards set and if they were tripped by anyone other than him they would render the person unconscious. With that the other two stopped in their tracks to let him walk in front.

Belyn laughed and commented offhandedly “Oh by the way, my brothers, the warehouse is a general goods and foodstuff depository so we will have plenty of stores for the journey. Oh, and I have several vats of Orit.”

At this declaration, Raoul almost shouted in response, but remembering where he was, he whispered coarsely, “Several VATS? And when exactly were you going to tell us about these vats?”

Belyn didn"t flinch. “Where do you think the easy financing for something like this is coming from? True, the wealthy but stupid buy the focus stones, but that only happens once in a while. I have been brewing an excess of Orit for sale in the poor quarter. The prices are low, but the profit is immense. If it makes you feel better you can drown yourself in it before we leave.” After Belyn said this, Raoul at least seemed appeased, if not eager to see so much of the drink they had made legendary in the underworld. Eventually they climbed some cold stone steps made slippery with the overflow of some unsuspecting lake merchant"s drainage, and eventually Belyn opened a door somewhat similar to the one at the other end of the passageway, and they walked out into a gloomy room filled with vats and shelves.

“Let us rest here for a moment while I decide what is best for us to take.” Keldron made himself at home and left his companion to examine the vats with a very handy shot glass he had produced form somewhere in his lanky clothes.

Obrett turned. With the muffled voices getting fainter he knew his three protégés were off wherever fate would take them. He marvelled at the fact that he could only see the wall where once a more then obvious hidden door had been. Well, he mused, less than obvious to many of my colleagues. The soapstone had crumbled to dust as soon as the surge of the focus had died away; the pale dust that was its ashes had mingled easily with the floor, covered for years by dust and debris. Obrett decided he really should know about such things, and as respectful as he was for his pupils" privacy, he made his way quickly and silently to Belyn"s regal chamber. The dust of the floor was barely disturbed, so light was Obrett"s step. He knew this part of the building not much better than the other old cronies who inhabited it, but he knew it well enough. As he passed through the ancient hallways, the torn decor and peeled paint on the walls made him come to one conclusion. A minority should never have ruled the order; his pupils should have been allowed to prosper in their discoveries, not be exiled because of them. Were the order to have been democratic in its rulings they would be the envy of the other orders with Belyn"s work.

With the spells he could conjure, Belyn was a force to be reckoned with. If Raoul Za possessed half of the talent Belyn did, Obrett expected to see the pure Law emerge within a few years, ten at the most. Obrett knew, as did his pupils that finding the legendary book that contained the pure Law, was the only way this would come about. They were the only ones with the knowledge and talent to do anything about finding it. He could have told them twenty years ago that they would do this, but it would have been for nought. If they had known of their paths, they would have surely gone astray and Obrett was never one to meddle with the lives of others unless he must. He had decided to bide his time and wait, instructing them in the pure Law as he saw it, not the Law as others felt it should be. They would know soon enough why he had only hinted at the future and never explained his actions. That, or they would fail in their task.

Obrett reached the end of the corridor outside Belyn"s apartment. He proceeded with caution, keeping to the side of the corridor across from the main door. He was about halfway there when he saw a shadow appear across the other end of the corridor. Quickly he ducked into an alcove behind some morbid statue of a scaled creature; obviously a piece that once belonged to some barbaric ruler. He stayed completely still, lest the slightest movement give his presence away to whomever it was. Minutes passed, and Obrett began to develop a pain in his lower back from the cramped position he had forced himself to maintain. He knew he would eventually pay for his snooping with a day cooped up in bed recovering from a bad back. He could hear someone shuffling around outside the door, muttering in undertones of frustration. At length he noticed the mutters had ceased and the loud clicks of someone obviously not experienced at lock picking echoed down the corridor. Obrett decided whoever this person was; he knew there would be no one here.

“Who else but me knows they have gone?” Obrett asked himself in a voice so quiet he could barely hear himself speak. He decided to chance his luck and moved slightly every time he heard a click. Unfortunately he was pressed so tightly against the back of the statue that when he tried to move and found his back had seized up, he managed to jolt the entire statue, which must have been much lighter than it looked. “What? Who"s there?” asked a crotchety old voice that Obrett swore blind he knew. “Bah! I will come for you in a minute! There is nowhere for you to go!”

The voice spoke no more as the clicking continued, and with a satisfied grunt, the door swung open.

“Hah. The riches, the jewels, the focus stones are all mine now!” Obrett heard the speaker shuffle forward then felt an impact throw him right back into the alcove as a massive explosion erupted out if the doorway. Stunned, Obrett had no idea of how long he remained wedged in the alcove. When he came to the dust was still setting, so it could not have been too long. He pushed himself up, noting that he ached all over, but thankful for the other person coming along else he would never have been protected from the blast. As he stumbled down the length of the corridor, he saw that where the doors had been, there was a large blackened hole. The wall opposite was blackened also, and showed the outline of a body where it had impacted from the force of the explosion. Obrett stooped and looked at the crumpled heap. There was no doubt who the amateur burglar was. The deep eyebrows and permanent scowl were present even in death on the face of Cyarda. He knew his way here and knew where the youngsters were going. He had obviously decided to come and pilfer from his betters. Well this was a fitting end to the snooping old fool, Obrett decided.

He turned and entered carefully through what was left of the doorway. If the outside of the doorway looked bad, this inside was a scene of devastation. Mysteriously, nothing had caught fire, but everything within had been reduced to black ash. As Obrett looked around he noticed the occasional scrap of paper or stump of wood, but nothing that was of any use to anybody remained. He silently congratulated his student; he had created a ward that was multi-directional, exposing everything to its blast. Obrett walked through to the back room; Belyn"s private quarters. The scene was exactly the same here. The walls were blackened, and anything of use had incinerated. The old man sighed with obvious disappointment. He walked slowly to the window, moving carefully around the piles of ash. As he rested his elbows on the ledge he noticed something wedged into the window frame. A scrap of paper had been carefully folded around a rusty old key and placed rather carefully into a slot in the frame. Obrett unfolded the paper. It contained one word – "Garden".

Obrett pocketed the key and ripped the paper as much as he could before throwing it out of the window, adding a silent prayer to Yogingi to spread the pieces as far and wide as possible. Obrett shut the window and turned, feeling the slightest touch of a breeze. Out of nowhere he was clubbed round the head by something massive. Stunned, he dropped to the floor. His robes made a mess in the ash-blackened room. He tried to crawl toward the doorway, but there was something blocking his way. Obrett groaned as he was clubbed again by whatever it was that swam in his vision; the last sound he heard before he lost consciousness was that of a grinding like moan, as if from a crying rock.