Into the Catacombs

"This is rather uncustomary," a guard at the entrance to the catacombs said in a strong, deep voice that gave Leif the impression that he was one that was used to having his way, no matter what. He wore a black cloak, one that looked far more tattered than the white cloaks both he and Korah wore. That meant that he was not in the employ of the White Guard. Perhaps that was the problem. That there was a problem was evident; the man seemed quite annoyed by Korah and Leifs collective presence.

Korah stood between the annoyed man in the black cloak and Leif. It was clear to Lief that Korah disliked the sort of people that insisted on speaking to him other than respectfully. The tension was building in the air between Korah and the as yet unidentified sentry. That same sentry didn't seem to budge, blocking their access into the catacombs. In short, Korah was visibly distressed and having difficulties explaining to the sentry the situation. It was clear, he wasn't in the habit of providing much in the way of explanation.

Lief stood two paces behind, unsure of what was happening but watching Korah closely. He didn't think that he knew the man well enough to know what he would say and what he would do, but even a simpleton would have no problem realizing that Korah chose his position between Leif and the other very carefully, that it wasn't happenstance.

"Its quite clear in the Articles of Order that strangers--" the cloaked man said, looking at Lief, making him uncomfortable. Lief simply looked away from the man, first at the space between his boots, then the cobbled road that led to the catacombs, and then back at Korah. When again he was looking at the back of Korah's head he noticed that hadn't been the only thing he hadn't noticed. Korah was now nearly close enough to the sentry to kiss him should he care to do so.

"I know quite well what the Articles of Order say, but Leif is part of the White Guard. You can clearly see that. We have a situation that requires the entire Guard to meet inside those catacombs. You have no authority whatsoever in not allowing him to enter with me. Stand aside, knave, stand aside, " Korah commanded, in a deep, authoritative tone that Leif had never heard come from his mouth before.

Leif made a mental note to re-read the Articles of Order. He remembered coming across it in his reading, but the writing was droll and uninspired and he had skimmed most of it. He had been bored at the complexity, bored of it's normalcy, bored of reading old, badly-penned legal double-speak. Perhaps he had done so in error.

His stance had changed as well. His feet were shoulder length apart and both his arms had dropped to his sides and were open, readying his hands to grab the hilts of the enchanted spell blades that hung from his hips most places he went.

Without another word nor another gaze at Lief, the man in the black cloak stood aside and into the catacombs they went. That he stood aside, Leif guessed, was going to become common for them now, if his observations were correct. He could feel the magic in the air, something he would usually be personally excited by, yet something didn't feel right to him, it nagged him incessantly. He thought perhaps the magic he had sensed had been Korah initiating the enchantments on his spell blades, but Leif knew quite well how that felt, each magic he'd encountered having its own physical properties. What he was feeling walking into the short, cramped hallway of ancient stone, was something new altogether.

Leif didn't look back at the man in the black cloak. He kept looking down, his mind swirling around his most recent anxiety that tugged at his suspicions. The previous anxiety—the conflict he nearly felt hovering between Korah and the black-cloaked sentry—had all but fled from his mind. He felt eyes on the back of his head and didn't need to glance back to know who was likely still concerned about his entrance.

He tried to keep up with the large strides that Korah took as the oily, cobbled steps moved first in a sharp right turn out of gaze of the sentry and then down a rampart lit on both sides my magically-powered, jade-colored light that flickered like green candles, lighting the way. The further the way down that they wound around and down the cyclical, descent into the catacombs, the dustier and grimier the walls became.

Pulsing on the finger of Korah's right hand was the signet ring—one all White Guard members had, but Leif. Though it was small and only a ring, it pulsed in warning that they must come together, and be quick about doing so. It meant one thing and one thing only: Report Immediately; stop whatever you're doing, it's a task that can wait for the time being. It meant something; all was not well.

Leif swallowed hard against an increasingly more arid throat, reached up with his left hand at his neck, rubbing the outside and knowing that wouldn't help, that for whatever reason he was thirsty. On the left hand, Leif had a ring that, though it didn't pulse in warning, was adorned by an intricate engraving of the Witches' Pentacle. It soothed him, focused him. He reached for his silver vial of Tempest Extract, took a sip from the flask with the un-ringed hand. He felt the burn scorch down his throat and then landed in his stomach where it sloshed around uncomfortably for a moment, until its effects started to take place.

He only finally caught up with Korah when his protector stopped at the bottom of the winding rampart, and looked first to the right and then to the left, looking for something. Cobwebs and assorted, empty beds lined each wall; these walls, too were lit with magical lanterns though their glow gave much brighter light than those on the rampart. And while the rampart light was a spooky, unclean green, the ones that Leif looked at now were brighter and a yellow-white.

"Medical Bay. These lamps aren't usually lit, Leif. They've been lit recently." Korah explained. Leif, who hand't had guessed as much yet just nodded that it made sense that they hadn't been so brightly lit for however long the catacombs had been unoccupied, the beds empty. He watched the movements on his stern, worried face, studying it's intricacies until his reverie--something a little bit like awe-inspired contemplation--was cut off by a higher, cheerful voice from the other end of the long hall which was the abandoned medical bay."

"A bit of problem with the help?" Elle, Korah's whimsical sister, chided, each of her thin arms rested on each side of her slender waist. Each arm was covered with as many scars as enchanted bangles, and were punctuated by slender hands, each consisting of small, articulated fingers. She had a full head of fiery, red hair, worn up and tied away from her face--a look not customarily worn by her, and, even from the other end of the bay, Lief could see her charming, toothy smile.

"Would it have taken me so long to bring dear Leif if not for imbeciles--, "he ranted. Even Leif, who knew Korah, he suspected, with far less insight than Elle, could tell that. She interrupted him.

"Those imbeciles, are all part of the Lords Army." she reminded her brother.

To her remark, Korah only nodded that he knew what she meant all too well. Leif thought so too: the guard, the one he had chastised and wearing the threadbare cloak, was only doing his job. Leif did not like him, did not trust him, but it was what it was.

"Report," Korah said a moment later. He and Leif made their way across the medical bay. An open door stood behind Elle, who had turned her back on them as they paced her way briskly, reports of their footfalls upon the stone echoing in the mostly empty space. She motioned them forward with one hand when she began to walk into the other room.

Leif didn't know what to expect, not really, not anymore. His, until recently, continuous move from one place to the next in the new Aenim, had left him in nearly constant surprise. Oasis hadn't been much different. Most of what he had done up until this point was read, read, and read some more about Oasis's long and uninteresting history. Though it had its charms, its dark sides, and moments of triumph, Leif found the long discourses of the royalty and the royal family a bit dry and exceedingly long winded. He had also began to pen his understanding of his form of magic, one drawn from different sources than those that Oasis normally employed. And while all those things were important, he felt invigorated that something was happening.

The room beyond was a large auditorium-like structure that lead to an ornate, jewel-encrusted altar at the back of the room, the door that stood partially hidden and behind it closed. They followed Elle down a long row of stone steps between narrow isles of stone and wood seating likely used more by rats, spiders, and the like than anything humanoid in a time that went further back than Leif could accurately determine. This was a surprise to him, his mind seemed unable to forget some of the droll history he had digested. Centuries, he guessed, but didn't share his theory.

"It's Adams--you remember him, dear?" Elle asked Korah, her voice bouncing off the aged walls, echoing just enough to be noticed, and continued without waiting for a reply. "Well he's back. Somewhere behind that door." She pointed with her right hand, a pulsing ring on her slender middle finger.

"Just walked right in?" Korah asked.

"Apparently so," she answered, then elaborated further, "you must understand, he left without ever resigning his signet ring. Nobody--apparently--deactivated its circuitry, so it still worked. Long enough to fool the guards, long enough for Adams to be down here quite a while..."

"So even some guy who isn't even in the White Guard has a ring, but I don't?" Leif heard himself ask, mostly just to say something. It had been meant to be sarcastic and nothing else.

"In time, dear," Korah answered the rhetorical question, and in a small, sympathetic voice.

"I didn't mean—," he began, but was interrupted.

"How long?" Korah barked; Leif listened intently and felt the energy of the Tempest he had blessed, or rather, he amended his thought, was the tool of The Lord and Lady and had been the channeler for the blessing, had taken its effect. His heart beat in his chest in a pronounced fashion that came to his attention for only a moment, and then vanished. His mind focused on an array of things about the room that perhaps would've normally escaped his attention.

While Leif was using his foresight to try and be as useful as he could be, not really knowing what was going on, a deep voice bellowed from somewhere off to his left and further down the several stairways that led from the multiple doors around the circumference of the chamber. He followed the voice down to an altar—one of a pregnant woman, a high-elf, with both hands on a very pregnant, well sculptured belly ordained in the center by a gem that Leif thought could only be a diamond.

"My best guess, just short of six hours..." the aged, crackling voice of High General Jeffers boomed through the room's natural acoustics before even Leif could locate it. He had been transfixed by the altar, one that Jeffers had been behind when he began speaking.

"He could be anywhere—" Korah began, but became distracted when he glanced at Leif, who seemed in a trance-like state he knew damned well none in the room had ever seen on the elf's face.

The statue of the diamond-adorned elf, though rustic and something that a less-alert Leif Starchaser would normally study with greater intensity, walked right by it though it were a common, plaster pillar and not the important symbol of new beginnings it was. His focus changed that quickly. He went straight to the door at the back of the room and put his hand on it with one palm and allowed his third eye to do the seeing for him. He allowed his physical eyes to dilate and rest for a moment.

"What the fu--," General Jeffers began, but Elle silenced both he and her brother.

"Let the man work...," she said, looking only towards Leif and lapsed once more into silence.

In a distracted manner, Leif tried to hear the syllables that made up the words spoken, though their meanings he couldn't comprehend. His third eye searched, though for what he was still unsure. He may not have understood her words, but he understood her intent and reminded himself she was an empath and, as her duty was likely to be, was giving Lief the chance to see what he could. Perhaps what she—nor the others—could.

There was an eerie silence in the chamber. The kind of silence that comes from apprehension and tension, though, and for quite a rarity, felt that all of his usual anxieties had fled from Leif's body. He heard only Lord and Lady, and the five elements they had once bound together. And he let his powers to do his seeing. Everything else became incoherent whispers as his magic took stronger hold over his senses.