"The Key to the City - Chapter 2" by Amanda F. Roberts

Chapter 2

     Bishop Donougal peered out the window in the rectory.  The rain was coming down harder and lightning streaked across the sky, bathing the city in an eerie frothy glow.  He turned away and walked towards the sanctuary of the cathedral, his footsteps echoing hollowly through the hallway.  The cathedral had had many visitors lately due to the great earthquake.  A memorial had been set up at the front near the altar steps.  Some of the people in the parish criticized the great influx of visitors to the church declaring that had the disaster never struck, most of the visitors would never have given a second thought to their faith. Donougal knew they were probably correct in their assumption, but he didn't feel that God would ever turn a seeking soul away and so neither would he. He stepped into the magnificent sanctuary and scanned the room.

      It was a beautiful room with dark oak paneling on the walls and stained glass windows of every hue standing roughly twenty meters tall on each side.  Numerous candles had been lit and the resulting atmosphere was one of peace.  He smiled to himself, thankful that the building was empty for the first time all day and that all the citizens of Vionelle who had been searching for meaning in the midst of this tragedy, were most likely safe in their homes.  He said a silent prayer for anyone who was hurting that night and asked God to keep everyone safe from the storm.  He turned away, ready to retreat back to the rectory and put a log on the fire when he heard a sniffle.  Surprised, the old Bishop searched for the source of the sound and spotted the young woman.

     She was kneeling in front of the memorial with her head tilted upward.  Long chestnut hair flowed down her back, the sides gathered loosely at the nape of her neck.  The candlelight illuminated her face, almost giving her the appearance of an angel.  He recognized her immediately, though unfortunately, he didn't know her name. She had attended the church services faithfully, always sitting with a handsome couple, which he assumed were her parents. The Bishop approached her slowly and cleared his throat. She opened her eyes and looked over at him, quickly rising from where she knelt and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

     “Child, what are you still doing here?” the Bishop asked.  “The storm grows more and more intense.  You should be home where you’ll be safe.”

     She nodded and stood, gathering up her cloak.  “I understand.”  She looked once more towards the memorial with a wistful expression as she turned towards the Bishop. 

     “I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to run you out,” he apologized.

     She held up a hand, “No-no.  I really do understand.  It’s for my own safety.  The storm is getting worse.” She winced as a clap of thunder boomed overhead.  “With all that’s happened lately, the last thing I need to worry about is getting caught up in this.”  She gestured towards one of the windows. "I guess I just lost track of time."

     He smiled at her tenderly.  “May I ask…” his voice trailed off.

     She nodded, understanding perfectly what he meant.  “It was my Father and Mother,” she replied.  “Father worked in the Eastern Quarter and Mother was shopping in the Eastern Market when the earthquake came.  She went there once a week because…you know, everything was cheaper there.”

     “I’m so sorry,” the Bishop breathed.

     The young woman attempted to smile, but tears once more filled her eyes.  “They were the best people I knew.  They wouldn’t want me mourning for them, though.”  She laughed softly.  “In fact, I know if they were still here, they’d be some of the first volunteers for the relief teams.  They never cared about what happened to themselves.  Others always came first. They would have given every last cent and opened our home up to total strangers. That's just how they were.”

     “They sound like admirable people,” the Bishop commented. He was happy that he had the ability to minister to such a large parish. But at the same time, hearing this young woman speak of the two people who meant most to her, made him yearn for a smaller church where he could truly get to know each and every person.

     “Oh, they were wonderful,” the young woman agreed, wiping her eyes again.  She took a deep breath. “So, I just came to bid them a last goodbye and then I suppose I’ll do what they would have done.  What they’d want me to do. It may sound callous of me to try to get on with my life so soon.” 

     Bishop Donougal shook his head. "It's not callous at all. It's apparent that you loved your parents deeply and you'll never let the memories of them die. But you want to honor them in the best way you know how. Besides, everything happens in its proper time. If now's the time for you to move on, then it's right."

     The young woman pulled her cloak around her shoulders and raised the hood to cover her head.  “Thank you," she whispered, turning towards the door. She paused as she reached for the knob and turned around to face the kind man. "Bishop, may I ask something of you?”

     “Of course, Child!” he replied.

     “Can you say a special prayer for James and Draeya Lindburgh tonight?”

     He smiled.  “Of course I will.  Is there anyone else I can include in this prayer?” he raised one eyebrow. 

     The young woman paused and her clear grey eyes shifted up to meet his.  “Yeah…if you could include Elle Lindburgh in there too, I’d be most grateful. I know she could surely use it tonight.”

     “Absolutely,” he said sincerely.  The thunder roared once more overhead.

     “I’d best be going now,” the young woman said and turned to walk briskly out the Cathedral door.

     The Bishop watched her go and admired her quiet strength.  “I will definitely say a little prayer for you tonight, Elle Lindburgh,” he whispered to himself.  “For you and your parents…”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

     As the storm increased in intensity, most of Vionelle stayed inside.  However, under the veil of darkness, revealed only by brief flickers of lightning, several hooded figures hurried past the Central Fountain to a small building with two lanterns burning on one side of the door.  The door opened and a large red-haired bearded man grinned at the newcomers.

     "Come in!  We've got a fire burning and plenty of ale in the back," Peter slapped them on the back as they walked through the door.  "I think that may be everyone, Gil.  When do we start?"

     Gilbert Devries replied, "In a few minutes.  Let them dry off.  We'll see if any other stragglers come in."

     "Agreed!" Peter said good-naturedly and went to refill his glass.

     Gilbert observed the men who were sitting before him talking and laughing.  He wondered if he'd be able to show these men the truth.  And then, even if they believed him, would they work wholly devoted to the cause?  He sighed heavily.  There was too much at stake for half-heartedness.  Several minutes passed and it was clear that no more would be attending the meeting so Gilbert nodded towards Jared, who began to round everyone up and get them to sit down.  He seated himself beside Peter on the front row and smiled encouragingly at Gilbert.

     Gilbert cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight.  Either you're curious as to what I have to say, or you had nothing better to do on such a fine evening." He paused as several of the men chuckled.  His expression quickly sobered.  "In all reality, I hope that I can convince you of what's going on in the city right now and of what could happen if we don't take measures."

     "What about General Tindell?" a man towards the back asked.  "He won't like it too much that you have you're own agenda."

     Gilbert narrowed his eyes on the man, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  "I'm not worried about Tindell," he said.  "There are more important things at stake right now that have my priority." He didn't notice the frown that appeared on Jared's face for a fraction of a second.  "As you all know, the prophet Delaise has predicted this moment in time.  There will be a great catastrophe and the city will cry.  As the sun rises, destruction will come and all will grow dark.  Yet, out of the darkness will step forth the light. The light - the Chosen - is the key to the city," he quoted.  "The catastrophe has come.  This earthquake has devastated Vionelle like nothing else ever has.  There has been tremendous mourning since."

     "But Delaise could have been talking about anything!  First of all, he said that it would happen as the sun rises, and the earthquake happened in the late afternoon, not the morning," the critic in the back commented.

     "Ah, but in which direction does the sun rise?" Gilbert challenged.

     "The east," the man said.

     "And where did the earthquake hit?"

     "The Eastern Quarter," the man replied grudgingly.

     "Exactly.  The sun was already starting to set and soon all grew dark," Gilbert nodded.  He walked around and stopped, turning to face the men once more.  "I believe what Delaise has prophesied.  He has predicted many events in Petrov history and all have come to pass.  Don't you find it strange that the center of Vionelle received no damage from the earthquake when even parts of the Western Quarter did?  It was as if something was protecting it."

     "So what does this have to do with anything," Peter asked.  "I mean, Gil, it's fascinating and really interesting to talk about, but what's so important that you had to call a secret meeting?"

     "Funny you should ask, Peter.  I was just getting there," Gilbert smiled wryly.

     "Sorry..." the big man mumbled, slumping down in his chair.

     "You see, Vionelle was built long ago on a power source, but only a few ever knew about it. The Founding Ten. You don't hear much about them anymore."

     "Oh, please...." the skeptical man in the back rolled his eyes.  Gilbert ignored him.

     "These men and women attempted to harness the power, but they soon discovered just how intense it was.  At first, they thought it was incredible.  Who wouldn't?  You possess a new ability and you're going to be excited about it.  But its sheer enormity overwhelmed them and in desperation, they locked it up.  No one knows exactly where it's stored, except that it's in the center of the city, somewhere beyond our knowledge.  A handful of people retained a fraction of the power, but it was minute compared to what the city had to offer."

     "So you're saying Vionelle has some sort of power lying somewhere in the center of the city?  I mean, I admit it seems odd that the center was untouched by the earthquake, but a power?  Gil, I'm sorry.  I want to believe you and I don't know if I can speak for anyone but myself, but I'm afraid I'm a little doubtful. I need more convincing," Jared shrugged apologetically.  Several men around him agreed.

     Gilbert raised his eyebrows and nodded acquiescently. He walked to the back of the room towards the man who had made several skeptical comments and looked him straight in the eye.  "What?" the man asked nervously.  Gilbert simply smiled and held out his hand.  Balling it into a fist he continued to stare at the man who suddenly cried out in fear.  "I can't see!"  He jumped out of his chair, pushing it back, and groped about blindly.  The men around him leapt up and protested and soon the room erupted in an uproar.

     "Quiet!" Gilbert boomed and a hush fell over the group.  He opened his hand back up and said, "Now maybe you'll be a little less skeptical and a little more open minded?"

     The man blinked his eyes several times as he regained his sight and he looked around in shock.  "How'd you do that?  I...I..."

     Gilbert stepped away from the man and walked back up towards the front of the room.  Everyone stared at him with expressions of shock mixed with horror. He turned to face the group. "That's just an example of the power the city has to offer.  A man could do whatever he wants with it.  And that's what I'm worried about.  The only way it will be unlocked is with a key."

     Dry-mouthed over what he had just seen, Jared asked, "What are we looking for?"

     "Not what, but who.  The Chosen is the Key to Vionelle.  There is a group of rebels known as the Defenders, though what they're defending, I have no idea," Gilbert smiled at his little joke, though no one else found the humor in it.  "They are led by a man named Nicolas Moreigh.  He has been a dissident for many years and has caused much trouble for the city.  I know some of you are familiar with him."  Several men nodded.  "I have a contact within the group and this person has revealed that Moreigh is searching for the Key.  If he gets his hands on it, the earthquake will be nothing compared to the destruction he'll bring.  He seeks power and I fear for everyone should he acquire it.  The reign of Lawrence Viomande will be nothing compared to Nicolas Moreigh should he gain what he seeks. So we need to find the Chosen before he does and we don't have much time.  Moreigh has revealed to the members of the Defenders that the Chosen is a young man named William Valley."

     "How does he know?"

     "He's devoted his whole life to this.  I'm sure he has his ways.  He's not a dumb man.  If he is searching for this William Valley as the Chosen, then Valley must be it."       

     Jared sat back in his chair and sucked in a breath.  He didn't know if he could ever regard Gilbert in the same manner after seeing how he had briefly blinded that man.  He supposed it'd be better to join him than to oppose him.  What had him puzzled, though, was how Gilbert had managed to acquire that power himself.  "You've convinced me, Gil.  I'm in.  But where do we start?"

     "Why, in the Eastern Quarter, of course.  Out of the darkness will step forth the light.  Who else will join me?" he looked around the room, challenging.  Every hand went up.    

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

     Arthur Tindell sat at the desk in his study and traced the grains in the wood with his finger. Outside, the wind was howling and it had started to hail. His wife came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You ok, Art?" she asked, kissing him softly on the cheek. He reached up and laid his hand upon her own.

     "I'm just thinking about everything that's happened lately."

     "Do you need to talk?"

     He turned around and looked at her, his mouth rising at the corners in a smile. Even after being married to her all these years, he still felt a certain elation when she was in the room. "I yelled at one of the boys today, Esme," he sighed. Esme Tindell smiled at him sympathetically, hiding the trace of worry that had appeared in her eyes when she noticed how haggard he looked. Neither of them were young anymore, but at that instant, he had looked far older than he truly was. Tindell continued, "I lost my temper and lashed out at him."

     Esme knelt beside him. "Who was it?"

     "Gilbert Devries."

     She smiled. "This isn't the first time you've been frustrated with him."

     He stood and she quickly followed suit. "But not like this. I can't explain it, Esme. He started speaking and some kind of rage came over me. I couldn't control it. It angered me so much." He sighed. "I need to rectify the situation."

     A loud clap of thunder sounded, causing the couple to jump. Esme laughed at their reaction. "Everything will work itself out. There's no use stewing over it tonight." She lifted her head and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Come to bed soon, alright?"

     "Of course," he answered and grabbed her hand, tugging at her as she tried to walk away. She laughed some more, her voice sounding like tinkling bells to Tindell's ears. He released her hand and she lingered at the door a brief moment before walking out and shutting it behind her.

     Tindell returned to his chair. He still felt uneasy for some reason even with the reassurances from his wife. Normally, a word from Esme's mouth fixed everything. But not tonight. He listened as the storm grew more intense. Outside his window, lightning snaked across the sky and Tindell jumped when he saw upon the wall, the shadow of a man in that brief instant. He looked around the room, but no one was there. He rose from his chair and inched closer to the window. A feeling of dread grew within him as he forced himself to look outside. He took a deep breath and peered all around and saw nothing. Sighing, he turned around, but his relief was short-lived.

     Lightning struck the house and Tindell was thrown off his feet. The room erupted in flames and he looked up in horror to see a face laughing down at him: a specter in the fire. He clutched his chest as he felt a sharp pain drive through it. He could feel the heat around him growing stronger. He could hear the screams of his wife and daughter. He could see the ghastly image of a face laughing at him. These were the last sensations Arthur Tindell experienced before his heart stopped beating.