Brand's Sanctuary

Momus arrived promptly after lunch the next day, carrying a rapier and dressed all in black. His blue cravat added nicely to the effect, and I had to admit, he did look rather dashing. But it was the unusual amulet he was wearing that quickly drew my attention It looked like an eye and was definitely magical, but I could not immediately discern its purpose. Intriguing.

Momus smiled and bowed, then got straight to the point. "Did you want to go ahead and carry Werewindle, or were you going to let me borrow it for the course of this adventure?"

I quirked an eyebrow as I replied dryly, "I think I shall hang on to it, thank you."

Momus looked somewhat surprised to hear this, which in turn surprised me. Had he honestly thought I was going to release the sole means of reaching Father's sanctuary into his possession? I was not nearly that naive. I decided to offer him a few words of reassurance, however, claiming, "It is more in terms of keeping off certain creatures than any doubting of your ability."

Momus merely nodded his assent, commenting, "I had no idea you knew how to use one."

I smiled a bit smugly. "I know enough not to run myself through with it." Not much more than that, to be sure, but Father had insisted that I know how to use one if my life depended on it. Not that such knowledge had done him much good, in the end.

"Oh. It seems so few women...so few ladies in Chaos are also trained with that knowledge. It impresses me."

I had expected him to be put off by the fact that I knew how to use a sword, not impressed by it. I was not quite sure what to make of that, so instead I changed the subject. "Interesting little trinket you have there," I observed, indicating the amulet that hung around his neck.

He smiled a somewhat bland smile. "I've found it useful in the past. If you are ready, shall we go?" He extended his hand. I took it with my left, then concentrated on dispelling the illusion that concealed Werewindle's presence. With the sword visible once more, I drew it with my right hand, focused on the Trump in its hilt, and then stepped forward...

The first thing I became aware of was that the air had become very dry. There was just a bit of wind, although not enough to really effect the temperature, which was not terribly cold or warm. The sky was overcast, but there was enough light present that I could tell there was a sun beyond the clouds. Glancing around, I saw that we had arrived at the side of a well-maintained road, near the edge of a cliff. The area was surrounded by very rocky terrain, with a few dead and browning trees scattered about, but nothing green to be seen anywhere. Surprisingly, when I glanced down over the side of the cliff, I saw no ocean below. It looked like there had been water there once, but somehow it had all vanished. Looking up along the road, I could see the keep standing a short distance away. Interestingly, while I could detect a good level of magic present in the Shadow, it was not what was maintaining the condition of the road. Stranger still, in addition to the magic, there was some kind of strange energy present that I could not categorize. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. More like Pattern than anything else, but not really Pattern either. Unsurprisingly, its source appeared to be from somewhere inside of the keep.

I made sure my defensive spells were all in place, sheathed Werewindle, and then made it invisible once more. Feeling as prepared as I could be for whatever lay ahead, I looked over at Momus. "Shall we?"

Momus readied a few things as well. "Of course."

The walk up towards the keep was rather eerie. There were no birds, no noise of any kind, really, other than the wind. It was as if the whole Shadow was devoid of any life, save us. I shivered slightly, despite myself, but thankfully Momus did not appear to notice. Given the condition of this place, I had to wonder what our chances were of actually finding Theocritus here...alive, anyway.

We approached the big double-doors of the keep, which were both shut fast. Momus remarked, "I don't suppose any servants will come down and do that for us," then reached up to the big knocker and clapped loudly. After waiting a few minutes, during which there was no response, Momus simply pushed against one of the doors. Much to my surprise, the door swung open, revealing a short, dark hallway with a bright light at the other end.

Momus entered the keep first, with me following close behind. I offered no objections to him taking the lead, of course. I had wanted him along for just this purpose. It quickly became apparent that the light was coming from a courtyard, which lay at the end of the hallway. As we emerged into daylight again, I was rather surprised to find a large statue of Father, standing right in the middle of the courtyard. So much for any doubts as to who had owned the keep. I indicated the statue to Momus. "I image that is the redhead that owned the place."

Momus glanced briefly over. "Oh, I suppose it is. Oh, what was his name now? Um, Bland, Brand...Brand, yes, that was it."

It was rather ironic, I suppose. Both of us trying so hard to pretend that we did not know much, if anything, about Father. I examined the statue closely, but could find nothing odd about it, no sign that it was anything other than what it appeared to be. Such as Brand trapped in stone, for example. Not that this was likely, but after my own imprisonment in stone I tended to regard any large statues with a bit of suspicion. Interestingly, there was no inscription of any kind on the statue, not even Father's name. I suppose he figured in his arrogance that anyone who saw it would recognize him simply from his appearance.

My examination of the statue was suddenly interrupted by Momus, who indicated the second floor of the courtyard and quietly informed me, "We're not alone here. I distinctly saw a movement up and to the left, there. Along one of the openings to the hallway."

"Really?" I drew Werewindle, although I keep it invisible, noting, "Well, someone must have been maintaining the roads." I touched the base of the statue briefly, but nothing happened. Looking around the edges of the courtyard for ways into the keep, I spotted one main entrance and two side entrances. I nodded at Momus, indicating the main set of doors. "Well, we may as well proceed."

"Oh, of course." He pushed open one of the big doors for the main entrance, which appeared to be a bit difficult for him. There were a number of paintings hanging in the hallway beyond, including paintings of Father, Mother, Fiona, Bleys, Clarissa and Oberon, but thankfully, not one of me. They were all in the style that I know knew to be Theocritus', very telling portraits with all kinds of strange symbolism present in them. I indicated them to Momus, observing, "I see your friend has been here, at least."

Momus looked them over appraisingly. "Very good work." He spent the most time examining Father's picture, but he made no comment about it. His interest was unsurprising, for Father's portrait, in particular, was rather odd. In it, Father was holding a small hand mirror, with another mirror behind him, so there were infinite reflections of his own image. An interesting bit of symbolism, given how many times Father had been thought dead, only to return, somehow.

Strange as Father's portrait was, however, I found Mother's to be even more disturbing. She stood beside a desk on which rested an open book. She was turned away from the book, though her hand still rested upon it, as if she were just distracted from idly thumbing through its pages. She was dressed in an ivory and magenta gown that was set with pearls and gold buttons. Her olive complexion was shown off well, and her dark brown hair cascaded in ringlets down over her right shoulder. Standing at an angle, the viewer's eyes were instantly drawn to the curve of her exposed throat and the delicate line of her jaw. Her smile was bemused, her eyes flirtatious. Her other hand was tucked just behind the folds of her skirts, as if she were hiding something there. Fine work, to be sure, her likeness and personality captured so well that one could almost expect to hear her speak at any moment. It was a harsh reminder of what she had been like before her Abyssal corruption, but it was not that alone which disturbed me. No, what caught my attention was the odd symbol worked into the comb in her hair in the portrait. It looked like an infinity symbol, but stylized to take the appearance of two skulls. I could not recall ever seeing it before, but it seemed rather obvious in its symbolism. It implied eternal life after death...or undeath. Quite accurate as far as Mother's fate was concerned. What made it disturbing was that Theocritus had disappeared long before the Abyss War, when she had been corrupted. Which meant he had somehow known what would happen to her before it happened. Or had caused it to happen. For Theocritus' sake, it had better not be the latter.

Melanie's Page | Melanie's Journals

All text on this page is © 1999 by Kris Fazzari.

Last modified on August 16, 1999 by Kris Fazzari.