The Guardian's Apprentice (Beyond the Veil) (18 page)

“Thank you, Acamar,” replied Phineas.
 

Leaving Keegan’s bedside Phineas walked over to the open door and paused, turning to look at his grandson.

“You’re a Whitestone, Keegan.
 
Never forget that – I know you’ll do our family proud.”
 
Closing the door behind him, Phineas left Keegan to consider the task ahead.

***

Watching the door close, Keegan flopped back on the bed and flung his arm back over his eyes.
 
Perhaps Phineas was right.
 
Maybe he did have something deep within him that he had never realized before.
 
He had coasted through life up to this point, happy to accept his mediocrity and afraid to commit to anything more; maybe that was why he had never had a relationship last more than a month or two.
 
Maybe it was time for him to let go of the past, to forget about the rantings of his father – a selfish old man who thrived on belittling others.
 
Maybe he could make a difference for once – maybe.

###

The Council chamber was brightly lit as always and was filled with the sound of arguing, which was also not unusual.

“He
failed
!” screamed Portia, slamming her palm on the table in front of her and setting off a small shower of sparks in the process.
 
Her red tresses pulled back in a long pony tail made her sharp features that much more frightening.

 
“The hell he did, Portia!” shouted Nigel Bannister, just as angrily “He
lived
, didn’t he!?”

“Barely!
 
He was unconscious and had to be dragged back to the Council by a servant!” she snapped.

“He successfully completed a complex incantation – he passed!”

 
“Oh do shut up, Nigel – you should know by now how little weight your squeaky voice carries with this Council,” sneered Portia, her voice dripping with contempt.

“Forgive me, Portia, I did indeed forget my place.
 
I had forgotten the power and prestige which is brought to the Council by
Cedric’s little lapdog,
” Nigel replied icily, glowering at her over his glasses.

Standing up so abruptly she knocked her chair backwards, Portia flung her arms wide and brought her wand out of nowhere.
 
Her arms were coming down in a wide sweeping arc when the Oracle in the middle of the Chamber focused a beam of pure white energy on her forehead.
 
Blinded by her rage, she had stumbled into the trap laid by the white-robed wizard.
 
She had barely had time to utter a muffled “
SH--!”
before she was completely encased in crystal.
 
Bannister sat chuckling, gazing into Portia’s still flaming eyes.

“Second time this year,” he chortled.
 
“You
really
must learn to control that temper of yours,” he said as he blew her a kiss.
 
“Think about that over the next week as you thaw out, why don’t you?”

Shocked by the ferocity of the exchange, the other Council members sat in stunned silence, until a somewhat disheveled looking Ducat entered the room.
 
Striding over to his place at the table, he sat down beside Phineas.

“Right, are we ready to – ” he stopped cold as his eyes fell on the figure of the dark witch Portia, now encased in the crystalline prison.
 
“Oh surely, not again?” he asked, glancing around the table.

“She did ask for it, even if she is of my own order,” said Alicia Sadak.
 
“Portia has no respect for anyone, Alex; especially not those of the other orders.”

Shaking his head, he gave one last glance at the imprisoned witch.
 
“Yes, but one would think she’d learn after the first time the Oracle saw fit to encase her in crystal,” said Ducat.
 

Sighing, he sat back in his chair.
 
“Well, she can still hear us, so the Council will proceed with business.”

“It certainly will be quieter,” smiled Bannister.

“
Enough!
” snapped Ducat.
 
“Nigel, I expect that sort of behavior out of Portia, not you.”
 
He waved his hand and the door across the chamber opened.
 
Keegan, still somewhat weakened from his bout with the poison, was standing in the doorway, leaning on a staff borrowed from his grandfather.
 
Motioning Keegan to come forward, Ducat rose to greet him.
 
As he motioned with his hand, a chair materialized near the Council table.

“Congratulations, young man, you have succeeded in your first task.
 
Please approach the Council.
 
Though not customary, it is quite understandable after your last task that you are still somewhat weak.
 
Please sit while we explain your next task.”

Keegan came forward and took his place in the chair.
 
Across the room, he could see his grandfather seated next to Ducat.
 
While he saw the other nine Council mages seated around the table, he noticed that one of the three chairs reserved for the Heads-of-order sat empty.
 
Since Phineas and Master Ducat were seated in the other two, the third must be Cedric’s.

The Council members debated quietly for a few moments, with members occasionally casting a glance in Keegan’s direction.
 
He noticed Portia, encased in her crystalline prison near her place at the table.
 
If he didn’t know better he would have sworn she was staring right at him.

“Keegan?” asked Ducat, motioning towards the young man.

“Yes, Master Ducat?”

Keegan was determined to make his grandfather proud and accomplish something in his life for a change.
 
He had squandered most of his teenage years and early twenties in the frivolous pursuit of whatever caught his fancy.
 
He was determined to end that now and become a better man than his father ever had been.

 
“We have determined your second task.”
 
Ducat motioned for Keegan to approach the Council.
 

“As you might have surmised, my young friend, each sect determines one of the tasks you must complete in order to become an approved apprentice.
 
Not surprisingly your first task was decided upon by our esteemed representative of the dark order, Portia Nightshade,” he said indicating the now silent crystal-encased Council member.
 
“The second task which you will be tested with was determined by my order, the order of Grey.”

“I’m ready, Master Ducat” replied Keegan evenly.

“I dare say this one is somewhat less threatening, though just as challenging.
 
Your task is to survive an interview with Seba’an, the Alderdrache,” Ducat smiled.
 
This has been a tradition followed by all previous apprentices, which we have decided to continue.”

“Alderdrache?” asked Keegan, having never heard the term before.

“He is the ruler of the dragons of this world and quite possibly one of the oldest creatures you will ever have the privilege to meet.
 
He is wise beyond our understanding, and though blind can see more than most men.”
 
Sipping from a small glass of water in front of him, Ducat reclined in his chair, waiting to gauge Keegan’s response.

“But, Master Ducat,” Keegan asked tentatively, “you said ‘survive’ an interview.”

“Yes, you heard correctly.
 
You see, if you do not survive the interview with Seba’an, then obviously you will have failed.
 
Your ashes, or whatever remains of you, will be returned to your grandfather for disposal.”

Rising from his place at the table, Ducat muttered an incantation that Keegan didn’t quite catch.

“STOP!” roared his grandfather, rising in what was obviously a fury, though Keegan had never seen him this angry before.

Ducat froze and the wispy edges of a vortex that had started to form dissipated quickly.

“After two attempts on Keegan’s life, I believe the Council will agree that it is my responsibility to see him to the lair of the Alderdrache,” said Phineas intently, his eyes fixed on his friend Ducat.

“Surely Phineas, you don’t think I was…” Ducat stammered.

“After what has happened over these past few weeks Master Ducat, I wouldn’t be surprised at anything.
 
I am obliged to see that he makes it to this task in one piece.”

Seeing that Phineas was not to be swayed, the grey wizard assented, and returned to his seat.

“Good luck Keegan; remember you are a Whitestone and I am very proud of you, never forget that,” said Phineas.
 

Raising his staff, he summoned a large vortex, ringed in a blue-white fire.
 
The power radiating from it dwarfed the one Ducat had summoned.

Taking up his staff, Keegan rose stiffly from his chair and walked over to the portal.
 
Ducking slightly so his head would pass through, he stepped through the portal to begin his second task.

###

It took Keegan’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness.
 
He appeared to be in a large cavern that seemed to descend down into the bowels of a mountain.
 
The tunnel arched out of sight above him, but the air was quite warm for underground.
 
The cavern was lit on both sides by what appeared to be glowing red orbs; floating about twenty feet off the ground, yet from what Keegan could see they did not touch the walls.
 
While the light was by no means bright, it was enough for Keegan to walk by without stumbling.
 
Taking his new staff in hand, he strode towards the end of the tunnel, where he could see a dim reddish glow in the distance.
 
The staff felt oddly comfortable in his hands – not at all what he expected when Acamar had given it to him.
 
Though lightweight, Keegan had found it was impossible to bend or even flex the staff in his hands; whatever material it had been cast from was obviously far stronger than wood yet much lighter than metal.
 
He reached the end of the cavern and stepped through an enormous archway directly in front of which was a block of black granite, that rose at least twenty feet above the floor.
 
Atop the massive stone, reclining like some gargantuan cat was a large black dragon, who appeared to be staring intently at Keegan.

“You certainly took your time, my young friend,” said the beast, head still resting on his enormous claws.
 
“I’ve been waiting for you for several years now.”

Not sure what to say, Keegan knelt before the dragon “Forgive me Elder, but I was only just summoned a few days ago.”

“A small matter,” said the dragon.
 
“The wizards have been in turmoil trying to decide who should succeed the Gatekeeper for many years.”

The dragon shifted on its perch and only then did Keegan notice that unlike Brimstone’s fiery eyes, this dragon’s were a dull red in color with no visible pupil, although they still glowed like embers in a fire.

“Yes, young one, I am blind,” the dragon said simply.

“But how did you…”

“You are far more blind than I, little one, because you only see with your eyes.
 
I see through scent and motion, through thought and magic.”
 
Shifting on his perch again, Seba’an lowered his neck so that his gigantic head was level with Keegan’s; “I am ageless, young one; I was here before your kind had learned to walk upright on their hindquarters.
 
Do not make the mistake of underestimating my abilities.”