Chapter 7: Legacy

Allen was stupefied. Certain he had just witnessed the Witch being eaten by a monster. He was unsure whether it was actually safe to proceed after following her all the way here. However, Allen soon found his resolve once more. Walking into the shadow of the wall himself, he was admitted relieved when it remained unchanged.

Approaching the gate, the high stone walls of the Alliance seemed more intimidating without his guide. His concerns lessened though, as a flash of the card the Witch had given him easily permitted him entry. Waved past the check points stationed at each layer of the outer and inner walls of the fortress. Allen came to find himself standing within a grand hall in a relatively short time.

Lined with tall arched windows that stretched to meet the top of its high ceilings, it was flooded with the dreamy pinkish hue of the setting sun. Mixed with the mysterious light of massive glowing crystals adrift in the air, they cast mesmerizing streams of color onto its dark polished floors. Marveling at the crystals, bobbing peacefully like boats moored in a still harbor above his head, he approached a large desk.

Near the door he had entered. It held a wall of pigeonholes, some filled with papers and others with parcels, which were whisked away periodically by the attendants managing them. Eventually catching the attention of a clerk as they rushed past, he asked “I was told to speak with a Rika Trenton?” A petite woman with curly hair and a friendly demeanor turned from sorting a pile of papers in response to hearing her name.

“That’s me.” She answered. Walking towards him with a bright smile, she wanted patiently while he considered how to explain himself.

Hoping that the card might aid him in offering a suitable account of how he came to be there, he produced it from a trouser pocket. However, the instant the clerk had seen the little slip of paper the Witch had given him, her eyes grew wide. Snatching it from his hand agilely, she held it so that it was nearly pressed to her nose.

“Chiri gave this to you? Where is she?” she questioned, rushing out from behind the desk. Frantically looking around as though the Witch was hidden behind him; Rika did a full circle around Allen before stopping in front of him.

“Is she here with you?” she asked, her large eyes full of concern.

Embarrassed by their sudden proximity, Allen rubbed the back of his neck as he responded “She was with me a while ago, but…” His answer petering out as the answer of ‘a giant shadow coming to gobble her up’ began to sound absurd in his mind.

Oddly the woman seemed to infer what he could not say aloud. Watching as she breathed a sigh of relief, Allen assumed the woman must be well acquainted with the Witch to display such an animated reaction. Although, Allen found it hard to fathom that the Witch having any friends. Nevertheless, he was comfortable enough relaying some of the details surrounding his visit to her.

“So, that’s what happened.” Rika said, after having listened attentively to Allen’s explanation. Regarding Allen with a degree of admiration now. It was not to his knowledge that he was the first to ever be issued an entry permit by Chiri Krane. It was such a rare exception on her behalf, that Rika stared at him in wonder for an exceptionally long minute, before announcing cheerfully, “I’ll escort you then.”

Walking down the corridor they turn into one of the many large arches. Mid-way down the grand hall, it opened onto another wing of minutely smaller proportions. From there Allen only remembered a few more turns, before losing track of their direction. Although after descending several flights of stairs and winding through a maze-like series of halls, he couldn’t care less if it were north or south. He only hoped, as they made their way deeper within the bowels of the building, that they were not heading to the center of the Earth.

At last, reaching an area densely populated by uniformed guards, their pace began to slow.

Dissimilar to the lavish upper level, it was scarcely lit by a few torches. Damp and foreboding it was far underground. Smelling heavily of earth and smoke, with no windows or natural light to speak of, its grim atmosphere was oppressive as they progressed along its murky corridors.

“Pierce!” Startled by the sudden sound of a booming voice, Allen turned. Approaching them, the rugged muscular man patted him on the shoulder roughly roaring with laughter. “You must be a Pierce. You look just like old Harry in his hay day.” He exclaimed.

Puzzled as to how this man knew him, Allen chuckled uncomfortably. He had often heard his grandfather, Harold Pierce, referred to by his friends as ‘Harry’. However, had no recollection at having ever been introduced to such a hulking figure in all of his life. “Here to follow in the old man’s footsteps, are you?” the man continued. Crossing arms the size of tree trunks across his chest, he looked down upon him approvingly, “A legacy Hunter like you would be gladly welcomed into the Twilight Gate.” He remarked.

“Sorry, what?” Allen blurted out blankly. Unable to prevent the words from leaving his mouth, both now blinked at each other in confusion.

Harold Pierce had always been reluctant to talk about magic and seemed generally suspicious of people from the Alliance. Hence, this was the first time Allen had ever heard of his grandfather being a Hunter. Of course, Harold Pierce had been an excellent marksman. Teaching him to shoot on their farm, Allen had never been suspicious of his grandfather’s skills until this instance. Taking the old pistol and silver bullets that had belonged to his grandfather, they suddenly began to fit perfectly into the unsaid mysteries of his behavior. Feeling closer to him with this new piece of information, Allen absentmindedly placed a hand over the pistol on his belt.

Made uncomfortable by the prolonged silence that fell between the two men, Rika intervened. Recognizing the man who had addressed Allen as Chief of Guards, she took the opportunity to bring up the freshly transferred werewolf. Listening to her query thoughtfully. The Chief nodded, before turning to bring them into a secure area of the Alliance holding cells.

Hearing wails and shrieks, both animal and human, as they moved past. Allen felt an uneasiness as they moved through the dark and dismal hall. Flanked on either side by doors of various sizes and protective measures, they continued until they came to a stop in front of a mid-sized bolted wooden door. Knocking on the door, there was a brief pause, before an elderly wizard promptly emerged “Now is not a good time, Chief Guard Brunes.” Said the old graying mage.

“Can we enter?” Brunes asked.

The old man looked between the three of them from a tiny slit in the door, shaking his head. “We are still undertaking a hex removal on the werewolf.” He replied solemnly.

An arduous task, removing a hex required a great amount of skill and patience. Hexes could consist of multiple layers and contain as many as eight different conditions for each one applied. Similar to door with many locks, the number of hexes placed on any given person or object could be limitless. Provided, the caster had enough power to create them and that none of the subsequent conditions contradicted those placed before it. An ingenious method, the only notable shortfall it offered was that its intricacy often demanded a unique signature, which if deciphered correctly could easily reveal the identity of its creator.

However, before either Allen or Brune could ask any further questions of the mage a chaotic uproar erupted from within the cell.