The Guardian's Apprentice (Beyond the Veil) (16 page)

The little man braced himself for a retort, but seemed to think better of it.
 
Slouching back towards Keegan, he muttered something under his breath and harrumphed again.

“Pardon?” said Keegan.

“
Nemwith
!
 
I said the name’s
Nemwith
blast it!
” he shouted, scowling up at him.
 
“Happy now, you old bat?” he snapped over his shoulder.
 

Keegan jumped back just in time as a large dusty volume came flying out of the pile of books where the old woman was working and landed smack in the back of Nemwith’s head, knocking him off the stack of books he was standing on.

Clambering to his feet, Nemwith adjusted his visor and dusted off his breeches, muttering under his breath as he did so.
 
Obviously on the losing end of the battle, he turned his attention to Keegan.
 

“Right, you’ll have to excuse the wife.
 
Evalsef gets a bit testy after a day in the archives,” he said somewhat sheepishly.
 
“Now, let’s get down to business.
 
If I’m not mistaken, you are here for your first test.”
 

Reaching over his head, he extracted a large tome from the dusty old shelf, setting it down with a heavy thump on the table beside Keegan.
 
He motioned the boy to take a seat in the cushioned chair next to the table.
 
Scuttling over to another shelf across the room, he retrieved a cobweb covered decanter and goblet, setting both on a silver tray.
 
Setting the tray on the same table as the old book, Nemwith blew the dust off and poured a generous portion of a dark, blood colored liquid into the heavy crystal glass.
 

“You’ll have to forgive my manners, young Master.
 
It’s not often we get visitors down here in the archives.
 
There you are,” he said with a satisfied tone, “now drink up and we’ll get started.”

Raising the glass to his nose, Keegan inhaled deeply.
 
The dark liquor smelled strangely of spices and herbs, with a hint of something Keegan could not quite pinpoint.
 
Shrugging, he took a long sip of the bittersweet liquid.

“What is it?”

“A very rare brandy, almost five hundred years old.”

Taking another long sip of the dark liquid, Keegan set the heavy crystal glass back on the tray and picked up the dusty old tome.
 
Laying the book on his lap, he unclasped the heavy leather binding and opened the book.

“So, what am I being tested on?” he asked Nemwith.

“You mean you don’t know?” Nemwith asked in a somewhat amused tone of voice.

“How am I supposed to know?!” snapped Keegan “I was just dumped here by the Council without any warning.”

 
“Ingenuity.
 
Specifically, the identification of a
poison
by observation and its nullification by the proper incantation.”

“
Poison?
”

“Yup,” the little man said with a nod.
 
“One of your most important studies, to be exact.
 
You’d be surprised how many of your predecessors neglected the subject, only to regret it later – or at least their heirs did,” he said with a wink.

“Wait – you don’t mean…” Keegan’s voice trailed off as he glanced at the decanter.

“Why yes, I do mean, actually,” smiled Nemwith.
 
“Oh, don’t worry.
 
It’s a very slow acting poison.
 
You should have at least ten minutes or so before it reaches your heart.”

“
WHAT?”

“Did you think these tests were supposed to be
easy
, boy?
 
Do you have any idea the amount of responsibility the Guardian has?
 
Surely, you didn’t think we would hand over that much power to a youngling like yourself without making sure you could handle it, did you?”
 
Chuckling to himself, Nemwith plunged his hands into his pockets and slowly strode over to a pile of books as tall as he was.
 
He slowly clambered up the stack and took a seat on top of the books, so he could watch Keegan.

 
The book in Keegan’s lap was apparently a very old treatise on poisons, with numerous descriptions, symptoms and antidotes.
 
It had only been a minute or so since his first sip of brandy and Keegan could already feel a slight tingling sensation in his fingertips.
 
He began flipping through the book feverishly, scanning the pages for something,
anything
that might tell him what poison he had just consumed.
 
Sweat beaded up on his forehead as he glanced over at the book stacks where Nemwith had gone and saw the little man sitting on top of a pile of books with his feet propped up in front of him.
 
The old gnome was watching Keegan over his glasses, puffing contentedly on a long pipe and blowing smoke rings that curled up and about his little white-haired head.

“Nothing like a little incentive to speed the learning process, eh my boy?” Nemwith chuckled.

Keegan snatched up the bottle and began examining it for writing or clues that might give him some idea of what it contained.
 
The tingling sensation was now in his feet as well, and had started moving up his left arm.
 
Dropping the bottle back onto the tray, he resumed his frantic search through the book; strange symbols were drawn on some pages, while others were so crammed with writing they were barely legible.
 
Finally the word “Antidotes” appeared at the top of a page and his heart leapt.
 
Moving his fingertip along the lines of ancient text, Keegan scanned for the answer he so desperately needed.

“…As with many types of potions, poisons (and their quality) vary widely depending upon the skill of the witch or wizard mixing the concoction.
 
Likewise the antidotes to those poisons vary widely in their effectiveness.”

This wasn’t helping.
 
The tingling was getting worse now, having moved up his forearms and his shins – he didn’t have much time at this rate.

“…While the careful choosing and mixing of ingredients is essential, in many cases timing may be an important factor.”

“No kidding,” he said with some difficulty; his mouth was dry and his tongue felt like an old bath towel.
 

“
…Most mages can however produce the desired result and neutralize the poison with the use of the proper incantation and their particular talisman.
 
In many cases, use of the following incantation, along with proper concentration will convert the poison to an inert mixture that will pass harmlessly through the victim’s system.”

Keegan scanned the passage, concentrating on the incantation.
 
Grasping his signet ring, he began repeating the spell with increasing fervor, as he could now feel the tingling sensation caused by the poison moving up his torso.
 
He pulled up the sleeve of his robe and glanced at his forearms.
 
Both were now covered with a latticework of fine black lines, etched across his skin like a fine black spider web.
 
As he watched the lines were slowly making their way further up his arms.

“Anrheithia 'r gwenwynwch mewn, cartha 'r chrau a achub 'r enaid”

It’s not working he thought, starting to panic.
 
His heart was beginning to race and he was starting to feel dizzy.

“Anrheithia 'r gwenwynwch mewn , cartha 'r chrau a achub 'r enaid!!”
he shouted, twisting the signet ring on his finger.
 
Over and over he chanted the incantation, trying to focus on the poison coursing through his veins, until slowly the room dissolved into darkness and he slid out of the chair onto the floor of the library, knocking the bottle from its tray as he fell.

***

Nemwith dropped his pipe and ran over to where Keegan lay on the floor.
 
He quickly checked the boy’s pulse and his pupils.

“Oh, dear; this isn’t right,” he fretted.
 
He picked up the decanter and sniffed carefully at the contents.
 
“By the Ancients!”
 
He recoiled from the smell and dropped the decanter to the floor.

“Nemwith?
 
Nemwith, what’s the matter,” said Evalsef as she came over from the behind the bookshelves.
 
She stopped short when she saw Keegan’s body and decanter on the floor.
 

“Something’s wrong, Ev,” said Nemwith nervously.
 
“I gave the boy the bottle of elderbrandy, like I was supposed to.
 
But something’s wrong.
 
He passed out after only five minutes or so.
 
It shouldn’t have worked that fast!
 
I checked the decanter and it smells like
nettlewine!
”

“Nettlewine?!”
 
Evalsef covered her mouth with her hands.
 
“But Nemwith, how is that possible?
 
It’s kept in the restricted stores section and we’ve both got to use our keys in order to retrieve any.”

“I don’t know, Ev… I just don’t know.”

“What about young Master Whitestone?
 
Is he okay?”

“I think so.
 
The boy actually did it.
 
He found the incantation and it appears to have been effective.
 
He’s still breathing, and the markings on his arms are starting to fade.”

“Ancients be praised for that,” she said with a sigh.
 
“There’d be no end of trouble if Old Master Whitestone’s apprentice were to die while in our care!”

“I’m afraid the stakes are much larger than either of you realizes,” said a new voice, startling both librarians.
 
Nisha stepped forward and knelt beside Keegan, placing her hand on his brow.

“Mistress Nisha, you must understand!
 
I gave him the correct bottle!
 
My wife will tell you, it takes both our keys to enter the restricted storeroom.
 
I don’t know how the nettlewine got into the decanter!”

“I’m sure you don’t Nemwith.
 
You and Evalsef have served the Council since the library was founded.
 
You have their complete trust.”

“Will the young Master survive?” asked Nemwith’s wife, her brow creased with worry.

“Yes, Evalsef, I believe he will,” said Nisha calmly.
 
“I’m amazed he completed the incantation correctly.
 
His natural talent must be strong to perform an advanced bit of magic like that with no formal training.”

Nisha looked at both librarians, shaking her head.
 
“We must keep this to ourselves for now, I’m afraid.
 
To access the restricted stores without being detected means someone powerful is behind this.
 
I will return Keegan to his grandfather’s chambers, where he can recover.”
 

She grasped Keegan’s arm and took her pendant in her right hand.
 
Murmuring the portal spell, she and Keegan disappeared in a swirling vortex of energy, leaving Nemwith and Evalsef to exchange worried glances.

###

Snow swirled around the feet and robes of the dark hooded figure, blown by the tough, biting wind that howled through the mountain pass.
 
The figure, bent against the blowing snow, trudged onward towards a dark crack in the side of the mountain.
 
Barely noticeable from a distance, what looked like a crack in the face of the mountain was in reality a deep passage, wide enough for six horses to stand side by side.
 
The traveler continued deeper into the mountain until the passage widened into a cavern with an immense domed ceiling.
 
There were scorch marks on the wall and rubble strewn about as if a great struggle had occurred here once, eons ago.
 
Towards the center of the cavern was what appeared to be a large, ornate golden seal set into the floor.
 
The figure brushed the snow away from a glyph carved into the middle of the seal.
 
Running a gloved hand across the stone carving, the figure murmured quietly causing the glyph to glow a pale green in the darkness.
 
The mark had been exactly where Brimstone said it would be – now, had he told the truth about what lay beneath it?