“How long has this been here... ?”
“Who could have done...”
“The Unseen,” answered the Soul grimly. “These stairs go to a tunnel that leads directly to their dungeons. I know, because I followed it.” The other two Kenkari stared at the Keeper in unhappy astonishment, unnerved by the discovery and fearfull of its portent.
“As to how long this has been here, I have no idea. I found it myself only a few cycles ago. I could not sleep one night, and sought to compose my mind with study. I came here at a late hour when no one would normally be about. At that, I did not catch them quite by surprise. I saw a flutter of movement out of the corner of my eye. I might have passed it off as nothing more than my eyes adjusting from dimness to bright light, except that it was accompanied by an odd sound that drew my attention to this wall. I saw the outline of the door just disappearing.
“For three nights I hid in the darkness, waited for them to return. They did not. Then, on the fourth, they came back. I saw them enter, watched them leave. I could feel the anger of Krenka-Anris at this sacrilege. Cloaked in her anger, I slipped after them, tracked them to their lair. The dungeons of the Unseen.”
“But why?” Book demanded. “Have they dared to spy on us?”
“Yes, I believe so,” the Keeper of the Soul responded, his expression grave.
“Spying and worse, perhaps. The two who entered the night I watched were searching among the books, appeared particularly interested in those of the Sartan. They sought to break into the crystal case, but our magic thwarted them. And there was something very strange about them.” The Keeper lowered his voice, glanced at the open wall. “They spoke a language I had never heard before in this world. I could not understand what they were saying.”
“Perhaps the Unseen have developed a secret language of their own,” offered Door. “Similar to thieves’ cant among the humans...”
“Perhaps.” The Soul appeared unconvinced. “It was terrible, whatever it was. I was almost paralyzed with fear, just listening to them talk. The souls of the dead trembled and cried out in horror.”
“And yet you followed them,” said Door, regarding the Keeper with admiration.
“It was my duty,” the Keeper replied simply. “Krenka-Anris commanded it. And now we are commanded to enter once again. And we are to walk their path and use their own dark secrets against them.”
The Keeper stood in the doorway, raised his arms. The chill, dank wind that flowed from the cavernous tunnel fluttered the silken folds of multicolored fabric, spread them, lifted them, lifted the slender body of the elf. He dwindled in size until he was no larger than the insect he emulated. With a graceful sweep of his wings, the Kenkari flew through the door and into the dark tunnel. His two companions took to the air, worked their magic, soared after him. Their robes glowed with a luminous brilliance that lit their way, a brilliance that died, changed to the softest black velvet when they reached their destination.
Unheard, the three entered the dungeons of the Unseen.
Once the Kenkari were inside, the elves resumed their normal shape and appearance, with the exception that their robes remained a velvet black, softer than the darkness that surrounded them.
The Keeper of the Soul paused, looked back at his companions, wondering if they felt what he felt.
By their expressions, they did.
“There is great evil at work here,” said the Keeper in a low voice. “I’ve never experienced the like on Arianus before.”
“And yet,” said the Book, timidly, “it seems ancient, as if it had always been here.”
“Older than we are,” agreed the Door. “Older than our people.”
“How can we fight it?” the Book asked helplessly.
“How can we not?” responded the Soul.
He advanced down the dark cell block, moving toward a pool of light. One of the Unseen, on night duty, had just departed. The day command was taking over the watch*. The guard lifted a ring of keys, prepared to make his rounds to check on the prisoners, see who had died in the night.
A figure stepped out of the shadowy darkness, blocked his path. The Unseen came up short, put his hand to his sword.
“What the—” He stared, fell back a pace before the advancing black-robed elf.
“Kenkari?”
The Unseen removed his hand from the sword hilt. He had recovered from his shock and surprise by now, remembered his duty.
“You Kenkari have no jurisdiction here,” he said gruffly, albeit with the respect he considered it expedient to show such powerful magi. “You agreed not to interfere. You should honor that agreement. In the name of the emperor, I ask you to leave.”
“The agreement we made with His Imperial Majesty has been broken, and not by us. We will leave when we have what we came for,” said the Keeper calmly. “Let us pass.”
The Unseen drew his sword, opened his mouth to shout for reinforcements. The Keeper of the Soul raised his hand in the air, and, with his motion, the Unseen’s motion was arrested. He stood immobile, silenced.
“Your body is a shell,” said the Kenkari, “which you will leave someday. I speak to your soul that lives eternally and that must answer to the ancestors for what it did in life. If you are not completely lost to hatred and dark ambition, aid us in our task.”
The Unseen began to shake violently, in the throes of some inner struggle. He dropped his sword, reached for the ring of keys. Wordlessly, he handed the keys to the Keeper.
“Which is the cell of the human wizardess?”
The Unseen’s living eyes shifted to a corridor that was dark and appeared unused and abandoned. “You mustn’t go down there,” he said in a hollow voice that was like an echo in a cavern. “They are coming down there. They are bringing in a prisoner.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know, Keeper. They came to us not long ago—they pretend to be elves, like us. But they are not. We all know, but we dare say nothing. Whatever they are, they are terrible.”
“Which cell?”
The Unseen trembled, whimpered. “I ... I can’t...”
“A powerful fear, to work on the soul,” murmured the Keeper. “No matter. We will find her. Whatever happens, your body will neither see nor hear anything until we are gone.”
The Keeper of the Soul lowered his hand. The Unseen blinked a little as if he’d just woken from a nap, sat down at the desk, picked up the night log, and began to study it with intense interest.
Taking the keys, the Keeper—his expression grave and stern—advanced down the dark corridor. His companions came after. Footsteps faltered, hearts beat rapidly, chill fear shook the body, its cold penetrating to the bone. The cell block had been ominously silent, but now, suddenly, the elves heard footsteps and a shuffling sound, as of a heavy weight being dragged across the floor.
Four figures stepped out of a wall at the opposite end of the corridor, appeared to take shape and form from the darkness. They dragged a fifth person, limp and lifeless, between them.
The four looked to all others to be elven soldiers. The Kenkari looked beyond what they could see with the mortal eye. Ignoring the outward facade of flesh, the Keepers searched for souls. They did not find any. And though they could not see the serpents in their true form, what the Kenkari did see they knew as Evil—hideous, nameless, old as time’s beginning, terrible as time’s end. The serpent-elves sensed the Kenkari’s presence—a radiant presence—and turned their attention from their prisoner. The serpent-elves appeared amused.
“What do you want, old twig?” said one. “Come to watch us kill this man?”
“Perhaps you’ve come for his soul,” said another.
“Don’t bother,” said a third, with a laugh. “He’s like us. He doesn’t have one.”
The Kenkari could not reply, terror had stolen their voices. They had lived long in the world, longer than almost any other elves, and they had never encountered such evil.