Chapter 4: Not Another Expedition

Paula was almost enraged. The last time Hank had wandered off to do some investigation on his own, he was accompanied only by a baby dragonet (who was not much bigger today) and some building diagrams from the 1800s. Now this building was even older, colder, and no diagrams at all. In fact, no knowledge at all except for some obscure documents.

“Hank, what do you mean you are going off on a trip to northern Alaska to see if there are any fae or non-norm creatures in a hidden prison?” She asked.

“It’s only for a couple of days and it’s in the US. Besides, I have Brim and Karen going with me.”

“I’m not worried about Brim. With his current collar he’s damn near a fumeral himself. I do worry about Karen in the event of a conflict being able to cope.” Paula said

“She isn’t any worse than you were when you burned two senior Mages in the Foyer when Jeffery was hurt. You did all the right things then.” Hank said with a smile.

Pala shuddered at that memory. “I was so scared. I was so afraid they had hurt him.”

“Honey, you did exactly what you needed to do. Stop the threat, then render aid.” Jeffery said. “And every experience that Karen has revealed so far means that she will do the same action.”

“Well, I wish we had someone else to go with you, Hank.”

“Paula. Who do you recommend? Peter is tied up with the Mage Council problems in New Orleans, Jeffery is working with you on the Plutonium and uranium leaks into Acid Canyon in Los Alamos, Natalie is running her wheels off with all that she’s doing, and this might just need more than a single Power Mage in doing the exploration. So who do we have on deck? That has the comfort level with Fae that I have?”

“How about Charlie and two of the Sprites? The Sprites can do light remote recon for you and Charlie can see damn near any quiver of any shield. He’s probably one of the best miners we have and has a sense of smell and hearing that is incredible. Between the three of them, you should be able to sense almost anything. And we can hang a necklace on all of them to give them some power to run if they hit anything.” Paula suggested.

“Ok. You sold me. So it’s now six instead of just three. You are a great planner. So how fast can I get them necklaced and ready to go?”

“You paid me to be that way for seven years.” Paula said. “I can have them ready in a day.”

“Karen, Listen up. You bring my little brother home safe, do you hear?” Karen heard in her mind.

“I’ll do nothing less. I promise.” Karen replied. This mental speech is taking some getting used to. You don’t have any clues like tone of voice or physical clues to what is really going on. Almost like a telephone in nonvoice. You have to listen to the words. Totally different.

So, on Wednesday in the late afternoon, after a single day preparation, a fully energized Dragonet, the world’s senior Power Wizard, a new Power Mage, a very sensitive Gnome and two sprites embarked on a trip to the northern range of Alaska. In search of a prison in a cave that had been abandoned for over a hundred and fifty years. And everyone was dressed very warmly.

And it was good that they dressed warmly. It was ninety degrees colder at the point of arrival east of the Anaktuvuk Pass on the northern edge of the northern range of Alaska. A land of green, and beautiful mountains, and snowy highlands. And DAMN COLD.

The arrival was timed to be late in the day, with the sun in the almost setting to the west. The goal was to let the gnome and sprites see to the East, where the shield and geas were supposed to be. The goal was to make use of the gnome’s better black and white eyesight to sense the shimmer of the shields that surrounded the prison.

“Today’s high is supposed to be twenty-five, Fahrenheit. That minus three Celsius.” Gerald, the gnome said. “Everyone comfortable?”

Karen was watching her breath fog in front of herself. “Sure. I’m great. Just like skiing again.”

“I didn’t know you snow skied.” Hank said.

“I don’t. But I might want to start if we are going to be here very long.” Karen said.

Looking around, Gerald spotted what he thought was a shimmer of a Geas on a mountain side about two miles away.

“Can you sprites jump to there and look at the base? Then come back for us?” Hank asked.

“We can. But if we have a problem, will you come for us?” The younger one asked.

“You are a member of Clan Lambert. You know what I will do if you are harmed or trapped.” Hank replied.

A few moments later, a mental cry reached to Hank. “Hank, this place is ugly. It wants us to leave. It’s trying to make us sick and to fly away. And the energy here is pulsating against us.”

“Brim, do you have a lock on their position? And can you get us all there?” Hank asked.

“Grab onto my horns and tail. And don’t let go.”

Moments later, all six of them were standing at the base of a cliff which pushed against Hank’s and Karen’s Shields. “That, my dear lady, is a major aversion spell. The kind that either redirects you or makes you sick. Or tries to kill you.”

“It’s not bothering me at all” Karen said.

“No, but your arm is glowing again. That means you are absorbing the shield directly. You might even be better at this then I am.”

“Hank, I think I am going to throw up.” Gerald said.

Hank then expanded his shield to wrap Gerald and the two Sprites. All of whom felt a lot better under and inside of the shield.

“Anyone see any opening?” Hank asked.

“I sense a whistle of the wind around the base just in front of us.” Brimstone said.

“I detect a layline ahead of us. I don’t think it’s a fumeral, because its’ not as forceful.” Karen said.

Walking forward into the base of the cliff, the aversion increased with each step until suddenly, it disappeared. Almost like a bubble popping, a large cave entrance was visible ahead. Hank kept the shield up regardless, because this seemed a little unusual.

The cave opening had no bars. No blocks or doors. But soon the passage opened, leading to a center open space and another aversion closed in behind them, making them want to not go back out the way they came in.

“Totally managed by aversion. That takes a lot of power to make this work. There’s got to be a pretty big leyline here somewhere.” Hank thought aloud.

The silence had an oppressive feeling to it. Almost a push of despair. Which was leaking around Hanks shields in spite of their being up and running.

“Hank. I feel sick and suddenly tired. Can we leave here, Please?” Gerald thought to Hank.

“Of course. Gerald, Mayfair and Mayfly, trigger your return bracelets now. Go home”

The disappearance of the three scouts made Hank feel much more secure. The scouts were not supposed to get into combat. He didn’t want to either. But there was a very heavy sensation of pending doom that Hank could not shed.

“Karen, do you feel that?”

“The coming of doom? I sure do. I feel like I am a bug on a plate waiting for a swatter.”

“Touch my horns” Brimstone said. “Let me give you some of my power.”

“You might want to save it for later” Hank said.

“I am sure I have enough. My collar was upsized last year.” Brimstone said.

“Let me borrow enough to send up a Light.” Hank said. And opening his fingers, he set up a ball of light and had it rise toward the roof. And all around in the cave, they saw five more tunnels leading away, and that they were standing in the center of a summoning platform.

A large circle within a circle was carved into the floor, with white powered limestone and chalk filling the groves all around its circumference. Triangular blocks surrounded the outside of the space, focusing the energy to the inside to hold and depress whatever was contained in the circle’s center. The wall etchings in the surround directed force down along lines to touch the tips of the focusing triangles that were in the surround.

“Shit. This is the entrance. And the etching on the walls are runes depicting sorrow, surrender, depression and compliance. Hank, this is a summoning and subduing chamber. No wonder we are feeling depressed.” Karen said. “We have some documents in Sumerian about this sort of construct being build within the walls as a shield against the forces of evil. But this was built earlier. With greater care. This is an Elven construct.

“That’s what you read on the walls?” Hank asked.

“Heck yes.” Karen said. “Hank, this is a transport target. There is a story about that in one of the old Elven scripts that Paula showed me. They must have shipped folks to here like we do with our Arch’s and then subdued them and walked them down the tunnels. The Elves used to do that with human prisoners.”

“Considering how long this place has been abandoned, there will probably be some pretty grim things down those hallways.” Hank said.

“Well, let’s look and see.” Karen said.

The next six hours were exhausting and very depressing. Fortunately, Brimstone acting as a Familiar to both Hank and Karen allowed them to keep their energy up. Looking at the Runes over the doors of the small cells off to either side of all of the tunnels yielded many dead creatures in different states of decay, while others seemed to be alive, but barely. Karen reached through herself and found energy to feed some of the ones that were not too far gone, including a group of gargoyles and three dragonets. They found three full sized dragons in different sections that were on the verge of expiration, that a hand-to-hand passage of a charged stone revived from a deep and ending slumber. Three Mountain Trolls were huddled in a corner, as were a number of orcs.

The most depressing of all was the shortest hallway, that ended in a room with a large chair, and along the wall box after box of quartz crystals. Round and cut to fit into a helmet. Like the Stripper that Hank had destroyed.

“Hank, we need more help. A lot more. And we need it fast if we are going to make a difference to some of these.” Karen said.

“I agree. See if we can get the coordinates of the gateway here so we can use it to transport into and out of. But first let’s find a way to deface these runes with the aversion and depression spells here too.”

“Hank, we need Pae’le and Par/ma here. There are many gargoyles here that would do well to be with them. And we should talk with Aine about allowing some of the larger ones to come to the fumeral in Arch Park. The temperate weather and leyline at the surface will allow gentle recovery.” Brimstone said.

“Agreed. Ok. Brimstone, you reach out to Aine to let us bring the larger dragons there. Let’s get Paula online to get all of the stones we have charged and brought here. We need to find a place for the Trolls to get them warmed up and fed. Then we should ask them to come back here to help us dismantle this place. And have Natalie tell Arno we may have found another Ripper helmet.” Hank said. “I believe that we have a lot of work to do.

Paula and Jeffery both got very busy with all of the stones they could charge as quickly as possible. Natalie reached out to Arno to inform him that there was a discovery of many Fae creatures in Alaska. She also reached out to Reggie and let him know that there was a possible massive animal influx that Clan Lambert was handling. And that it was an abandoned facility of the European Mages Council since 1857 (The year that the Alaska territory was sold to the United States).

Sir David Drummon was also advised that Clan Lambert was taking charge of this fantasy creature zoo complex and that he would be working to settle these creatures into safe and stable areas.

Natalie then sat down, poured a glass of wine, and called Jerry to tell him of the latest “Hank Folly”. Only she was sure it wouldn’t be.

A dark Wednesday night in Arch Park.

“Sir Grounds Keeper. May I have a few moments of your time?” Brimstone said

“Of course, my friend. How can a Humble groundskeeper be of help at this early hour?”

“In the words of Hank Lambert, Cut the Crap.” Brimstone said.

“My, my, you have certainly acquired the human expressions very well. I only wish I was as good. How can I help?” Aine asked.

“Hank has asked if you would object to him boarding a few Fae creatures on your grounds. They are recovering from long imprisonment and will need warmth, full meals, and safety. Would you be comfortable to provide that to a few of our sort?”

“Are they Clan, or are they Not Clan?” Aine asked.

“You are asking if they will uphold the Charter.” Brimstone asked.

“It is the only objection I could bring up. Otherwise, this park is for all Fae. And all of Clan Lambert.”

“If we make that is a condition, that they read and obey that in full and with good conscience all of the terms of the Charter and Rules of Conduct for Clan lambert, will you object to temporary housing until other arrangements can be made?”

“Not at all. I only ask that they treat the grounds with the same respect that I treat it.”

“I hear that the Gnomes still won’t let you even mow the lawn” Brimstone said with a chuckle.

“No. they won’t. But it is for the best. When I say that a particular branch needs trimming, or a hedge, or a plant is sickly, they respond like it’s a major fire. They love that I am able to speak to them of the land, and I love that they care for it better than I can. Gnomes are human sized or smaller and are much more dexterous with trimming and planting. I will insist that any boarder here will treat the land and them with the same respect.”

“We all would expect no less as part of our respect of you.”

“Brimstone, you have been around Hank too much for too long. You are starting to sound like him.” Aine said with a laugh.

“I have to admit that it rubs off.”

“Should I greet them at the gate, or will they be coming into some other place here?”

“I don’t know, but I will let you know in advance.”

“Thank you. And be well my mighty and small friend.”

Albuquerque. Wednesday night.

“Here’s everything we have charged and I am expecting a expedited shipment from Brazil. What I don’t have is any sort of artifact mounting for these yet. We will have to make do with silk wraps for the small jewels. We have a Lot of ten Joule Quartz, but higher charged stones we are short of.” Paula said

“Hank grabbed something to eat, some stones and went back. He’s running around in tunnels looking for other captives. One tunnel is closed off and will probably need to be excavated. And he wants to get the Depression Runes wiped off of the spells that are all over this place to aid in recovery. We have found almost two dozen gargoyles and six dragonets so far. Four of the Dragonets are very weak and two are very weak, almost passed. The gargoyles are the same. Hank thinks if we can break the runes and spells already in place we can redirect the energy to feed the weakened inhabitants. Plus, energy that does not depress should help improve them.” Karen said.

“I was there with Hank when the first dozen of the Gargoyles came in. and later when the first Dragonets and the second batch came in as well. Hank handled them better than anyone could have. It was amazing how quickly they recovered.” Paula said.

“And I understand that you played a big role in that. How do you get those hoses to go from the Fumeral to the creatures?”.

“I can show you a few things about setting hoses and feeding. “Paula said. “And Damn It, I’m coming too. But you better show me where we are going so I can get there now.”

And that’s how two women, six Gargoyles, two dragonets and a laundry basket full of quartz crystals and some diamond artifacts showed up in the oldest summoning circle on earth. And were promptly assaulted with spells and runes designed to force fear and compliance.

“Tear Those Damn Things Down” Paula said, and Brimstone and the Gargoyles complied. The focus stones in the overhead and the lines of quartz going up to them immediately blazed with fire or cracked from the cold that was expressed from the three. It almost totally exhausted the dragonets before they shattered. Which caused the sensation of depression and fear and loneliness to dissipate to nothing.

“I need a charge, My lady.” Brimstone said to Paula. Paula who had always been the one to supply succor in times of energy need. Only this time, it was Karen to responded first.

Energy is neither good nor evil. It simply is. Like sunshine, its warmth and a force that nature places in motion. The shaping of it in transition, like sunlight through a magnifying Lense, can burn. Or it can simply tan the skin and cause the building of Vitamin D. Energy has no evil in itself. It requires direction to flow, and intent to take form.

Karen let the energy flow from in from her left to her right, along the surface of the shields she wore and placed it into Brimstone’s collar. Which glowed brightly and, in a few moments, became fully recharged. Moments later, she had fully recharged the Dragonet. Then she walked over to Pae’le and Par’ma and made sure that they were also full.

“Now all you need to do is learn how to use a hose and you have it, my dear.” Paula said. “Get the color filtration under control and you are a new gas station.”

“This is what you were talking about yesterday afternoon. The sensation of flowing power across from point to point and channeling it to a purpose. Wow. This is real Witchcraft. I know what it means, now.” Karen said. “Let’s go fill some more.”

“Hank? Where are you? We’re coming.”

All God’s creatures, Great and Small.

This is what Hell must be like, Hank thought to himself. After sending everyone to get supplies, he continued walking down further into the tunnels, stopping at the caves carved into the sides and looking at the prisoners within. In one he found a dozen Sprites, sitting huddled in a corner, frozen in place to conserve energy. He threw a Jewel into there to give them some sense of food and promised to return. There was no real acknowledgement, just a sigh of depression.

In another he found the remains of what had been a massive Chinese dragon, coiled tightly in a circle while it awaited starvation.

“Damn, I hope the girls get back here soon. I need Paula’s hose trick.” Hank thought to himself. The fumeral below barely pulsed with energy enough to power the light balls that Hank had deployed.

There was a separate room with gargoyles all around, some very small, on shelves cut into the rock. Some were broken and in dust, but some barely were able to move their eyes.

In another room were three trolls, immense creatures leaning against each other, huddled in silence.

Yet in too many rooms, all that was there were the piles of ash that remained behind when a Fae died. And human skeletons aplenty as well. Hank tried to cast off the gloom of so many dead and dying creatures, thinking of how many had been here without aid for over a century. And thought to himself that the “Greater council of Mages” was due to pay a bill for this kind of abuse of any animals. And that Arno needed to be aware of this creation as well. Politely and in private.

Suddenly, a small ripple in the energy erupted down the hallway of the tunnel. The weight of depression and pain gradually eased, and the sense of gloom lightened. The quartz crush that was in the middle of the hallway darkened for a moment, but then gradually returned to a pale glow. Pure white, no colors. And the mental silence that had weighed on Hank suddenly stopped with Paula’s voice, yelling in his mind “Hank. Where the hell are you?”

Tell me again why I shoved that scroll through the shield in the Caracas Mountains? Hank thought to himself. Now why did I ever swim in that creek? Times like this are why. When people, fae, human, or creature, need my help and I can try to help.

“K” street, Washington, Tuesday Morning.

“Mr. Webster, I’m sorry but you are no longer in federal service and not cleared to this level of compartmentalized information. You will have to await clearance from our deputy director who will review and define what can be released and what needs redaction.”

William Webster inhaled, calmed himself, and then replied to the army colonel on the other end of the phone.

“Colonel Jenkins. I realize you are acting in the best interests of the nation and so I am going to give you some advice. Go to your closet and take out your umbrella. You will need it for the massive Shit Storm that is about to fall about your ears. Set the unredacted files on the corner of your desk, keep your black magic marker in your desk drawer and wait for follow up. It will arrive today before lunch.”

Whereupon the Colonel at the other end of the phone hung up.

This was the third such phone call that William had this morning, and all of them yielded the normal bureaucratic run of “We don’t have it, we have it but it’s not here, it’s here but you are not on the list, yes we can but we need to edit it first.” William was not accustomed to hearing that, and in previous years, people that said that to him felt his ire. But he was not in command of the CIA or the FBI anymore.

“God Help us if the Bureaucrats ever gain power over the elected. I cannot imagine the president being told what to do by any agency. RR would have cut off their budget. And put them in the street.”

William made one more phone call.

“White House. How may I direct your call?”

Tuesday Afternoon.

There were a lot of laughs in the “K” street office. Theodore McMillian was there with his old friend and occasional tea partner talking about the different cases they had seen, when the Conference phone rang, with William Webster’s secretary asking for him.

“Sir, there are six men here in reception for you. Two are in uniform, and the others look like cookie cutter pieces from the alphabets.”

Helen Stevens was not overly impressed by federal suits. But that not abnormal on “K” street.

“Send them in, please.”

A few moments later, the six came into William’s office. One of them was very familiar

“Hello Robert, how are things at the puzzle palace.”

“William, you left me a mess when you left. I swear it took me almost two hours to get the idiots there to cough up the documents, and then they wanted to redact everything. DOD was almost as bad as our own agency.” Robert Gates said. “And did you have to demand that I deliver it in person? Traffic going home is a bitch.”

“I was tired of the run around. So, who else do we have here.”

“Sir, Director Fried strongly suggested that I remain here while you review these personally and that I take these with me when I leave.” One of the suits replied.

“You’re Mr. Douglas, right? The fellow I talked with at the FBI?” William asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you my response. You will place those papers on my desk. And then you will get out of my office and go home. And you will tell Louis that you did exactly what I told you to do. Is that clear?”

Douglas got very red faced. Records systems analysts at the FBI were a world of their own and they responded to requests. Not orders. And not orders from some ordinary civilian. But orders from Louis Freeh were clear, concise, and he had signed a paper that he understood them.

The two men in Army Uniforms were a different story.

“Colonel, I assume you have Raymond “Jack” Lambert’s service records here in unredacted form.”

“Yes sir. All of his records from the 75^th Regiment, his post-Vietnam service at the Army War college and at the Naval Command college as well. And his other citations for service to both Army intelligence and Delta Force. Sir, I don’t need to tell you that we have concerns of these being shared. And I was directed to ask why you have interest, if you don’t mind. My peer in Gettysburg was curious.”

“Jack Lambert is not my primary interest. His son is. And I was wondering what kind of mold the young man had growing up.”

“Sir. I took Jack’s class on Ethics in Leadership while I was a cadet at West Point. He was a guest lecturer. If his son is like he was, then you are dealing with an analytical, ethical, decisive, and committed person of the highest order, who holds himself responsible for any and all actions of anyone in his command. And he will inspire those in his command to hold true to the highest levels of integrity and fair play. They will do this because they all will feel that their behavior reflects on him. And good troops would rather die than embarrass him. All of his son’s records since high school have been marked as “Unavailable” to us, so we don’t know what he is. But if he’s like his dad, look for cast iron ethics, small ego, and leadership skills that are downright scary.”

“Colonel, for reasons I cannot yet share, that is both the most encouraging and frightening thing I have heard all day.”

“Thank you, sir. And please accept my apology for my conduct over the phone earlier. You were right about the shit storm.”

Webster laughed. “I assume you didn’t get wet.”

“No sir. But I do have orders to provide to you directly any and all further information that you require in the future.” Jenkins said with a smile.

Looking around, Webster saw that the others probably had similar orders. “I assume that all of you have received similar orders regarding information I request in the future.” Webster said with some conviction. Seeing nodding heads all around, looked at them and said “Gentlemen, I don’t want to detain you further today. If I have need for any future communication, I will reach out to you.”

And William Webster, Former Judge, Former Head of the FBI, Former head of the CIA, and who had served in various positions under four presidents, sat back and started reading to discover what the father figure of this Hank Lambert would be like. And hoped for the best, prepared for the worst, and wanted to be somewhere in the middle. Next Monday would be interesting.

“I wonder if I should invite anyone else Monday. Not yet. Karen might take offense.”

Emptying the prison.

Arno was impressed. Hank and his people were running around feeding and talking encouragement to over sixty different creatures (so far) that were on the edge of starvation, and despair, while simultaneously cleaning up the signs of decay that had settled over the entire prison. The elves had lost this to Humans led by the now dead half fae wizard bastard Karudorich, whose mind now resided in a crystal somewhere in Hank Lambert’s closet. It had been a prison to humans, fae and fae creatures for over three thousand years. The Wizards in the past has simply placed runes of depression, and loss and sadness, sent the creatures to the circle, and then walked them into cells to sit and starve. It was the epitome of disrespect to sentence someone or something to that. Arno was just glad that the Fae were not the ones who ran this piece of hell.

Hank was sure that he was going to hear something from someone about this. Someone somewhere was going to get an alarm of something that this place had been breached. Which was why he had stationed Peter in the circle. The older, calmer and wiser head would better quiet down the initial screams of outrage. And he was sure they would be coming. Before his departure, Arno told Hank “Whatever you need. We’ve already geared up the hospital and emergency center in Brazil. Whatever we can do to help.”

It took Rudolph Ressenham until Wednesday afternoon to show up, with an entourage of mages in battle dress, to protest the “Invasion of Sovereign Over Council territory”.

“Rudolph, I am sure you are a figure of some history in Europe. But this property was purchased by the United States in 1867, and your council abandoned it to the “Colonials” at that time. Or haven’t you read your history lately?” Peter said while passing a crystal to a small gargoyle.

“That was by the Russians, not the Over Council.”

“Well, be that as it may be, you abandoned it when the Russians left. We found it, we claimed it and now we are doing recovery of this place and its contents.”

While this discussion was going on, two of the Russian Mages were working on trying to rebuild the runes that Karen and Paula had destroyed. Karen was closest to the platform when she saw what they were doing. And decided to try out the trick that she had read in Paula’s journal of magic. The reflection of the effort created a rune that was carved on the head of the one Russian, and he collapsed.