Standard Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns the Dresden Files, no profit is being made from this piece of fan-fiction.
Ebenezar opened his eyes slowly, groaning as he pushed himself off the cold floor. He stared blankly for a moment at the room around him, until the events of last night returned in a rush; Some bastard Warden smugly informing him of Margaret Le Fay's death, unknowing of the pain it caused. All of his sadness, anger, and despair transfused into his magic and aimed on one man, no one thing! Raith. He recalled the preparation, setting up the incense, the candles, all of it had refined his power.
As he remembered it rushing out of him, the grim satisfaction that Raith would be smote down to whatever hell he deserved, he remembered the oddest sensation. His magic had faded away, not being deflected by another source of magic, but sliding off his target. He tried to comprehend what had occurred, but it just didn't make sense. He had never felt or seen anything else like it in his considerably long life. He remembered consciousness slipping away as the magic rushed out of him and was nullified on this foreign force. Despite his ignorance, he knew at the core of his being that it didn't belong in this world. He sighed, most of the stuff he crossed paths with these days didn't, he couldn't help but be amazed at people's capacity to remain ignorant.
Ebenezar's anger had disappeared now; it couldn't aid him. All that remained was the black shadow of despair and the knowledge that, despite his best efforts, he had failed her. He was bereft of even vengeance to satisfy him. He sighed in his pain, examining the subterranean basement of his Missourian home. His greater silver circle was still infused with power, with a flick of his finger, he released it. He remembered with nostalgia the day back in the 1840's when he had bought it, but he shook the errant thought from his head. That had been over a century ago, and he need to focus on the here and now. What next.
Ebenezar stooped down, gathering up the half melted candles and placing them in the pockets of his black robes. He directed his gaze at the side of the cavern and exhaled in annoyance. The wall was piled with shelves of various tablets, books, and other magical supplies. He grumbled under his breath, walked to the nearest table and haphazardly placed the candles upon it. He'd regret that later, but now wasn't the time.
As he finished, he felt a flare of awareness spring into his mind. His wards had been tripped by something powerful. It didn't seem to have malevolent intent, but Ebenezar grabbed his stumpy staff to prepare for the possibility. It flared with brilliant emerald light, his emotions were running high. Whoever, or hopefully whatever it was, he doubted it was as dangerous as him.
Ebenezar dashed up the creaking wooden stairs, recording the creaking in some vestige of his mind . He knew that everyone died someday, but his death wasn't going to from a collapsing set of stairs, not if he could help it. He reached the fake wall at the top and opened it with an impatient gesture. He strode out of his abode and into his spartan mansion, closing the wall behind him. He ignored his few tapestries of bygone wars, including a couple with the original Merlin, and marched by his kitchen, grabbing his steel rings just in case.
He took control over his emotions, channeling them through his staff. He was prepared, if necessary, to blast whoever dared intrude onto his land into oblivion. Standing back from the door he made a sharp motion with the staff in his left hand: the elegant double doors flew inwards. Ebenezar was shocked enough to release the power he had been channeling, his staff dropping to his side as the runes twinkled out. The Gatekeeper stood tall and gaunt in front of him, dressed in the semi-formal robes of the Senior council.
"Were you going to kill me before or after saying hello?" The Gatekeeper inquired wryly, his Middle Eastern accent placing the slightest drawl on his words.
Ebenezar stood speechless for one of the first times in his life, his bushy eyebrows up in surprise.
"I didn't notice you, Rashid," he gruffly admitted. "These days one can never be too prepared."
As he spoke he glanced at Rashid's staff. It was different than usual: an hourglass shone brightly near the knob with what seemed to be the eye of Horus on either side. Normally runes were either to strengthen or channel a wizards power, but the symbols he saw were different.
His focus was wrenched back as Rashid asked "May I come in for a moment?"
Ebenezar paused for a moment, considering the possibility that the man in front of him was a shapeshifter. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again he opened the Sight along with them, just for a second. He Saw Rashid through his Council robes; a figure cloaked in gray mist and mystery, exuding both great power and wisdom. This was someone he could trust. However, it was none of those details which captured the authority of his attention. The staff which Rashid leaned on seemed alive with power, tendrils of magic crept from its core, reaching out towards everything around it. He could feel its aura burning into the back of his retinas, and as quick as he could Ebenezar closed his eyes again. The image stayed, ringing through the corners of his mind.
He took a deep breath while fortifying his mind, thrusting the Sights to some inner vestige of his mind, hoping to minimize what he had seen. It was a forlorn hope.
"You may come in if you need to sir," Ebenezar announced, opening his eyes gradually, "but now isn't the best time."
"I understand," Rashid replied softly, looking on with kind concern. "I've experienced similar losses before, I had a family once..."
Everyone had a family, but he doubted anyone knew the truth behind The Gatekeeper's past, or what he did with the majority of his time for that matter.
"..but it is of utmost importance, and you may be the only person who can help," Rashid finished, his speech elegant and understanding.
Rashid was a mysterious man, and Ebenezar had always wondered about him; his native country, how old he was, he didn't even know his last name! Then again, now wasn't the time to wonder or ask questions.
With a nod he motioned follow me, and began walking into the heart of his house. Rashid smoothly followed, his black robes swirling around his his hiking boots as he walked. Ebenezar returned the way he had come, boots smacking lightly against the wooden floor. They quickly reached the kitchen, his private one. He had a separate kitchen and dining room for the occasional war councils which he held. It contained a countertop in the center, numerous shelves stuffed with food, and a wooden stove stuffed to one side. He had learned long ago the dangers of gas stoves, and he didn't want to face that near death experience again.
"You can sit there," Ebenezar pointed towards the oaken table, with six chairs resting near it. "Want anything to drink? I've got coffee," Ebenezar inquired, yawning as he spoke.
"I'm afraid not, what you Americans drink now days can not truly be considered 'coffee'," Rashid intoned. He had pushed the cowl back from his face, revealing the tanned, age-wrinkled skin underneath. Only one of his eyes was a normal dark brown, while the other was made of a silvery metal. A massive scar akin to burn marks ran down one side of his face through the silvery eye. He'd seen a lot of scars in his work over the years, but that was one of the worst. It took a moment to start the coffee pot.
"I'm sure you already tried to kill Raith," The Gatekeeper inquired with amused smile touching the corners of his mouth.
Ebenezar froze in his work, carefully considering his options. Blackstaff or not, an attack on the White Court was still a breach of the Accords, and thereby illegal. Although the White Court were a bunch of soul-sucking, manipulative, evil bastards, he wasn't supposed to be gunning for them without the authority of the White Council. Knowing Wardens, such an act could easily be interpreted as treason. Trigger happy didn't even get close to an accurate description.
"What do you know of him," he asked casually, wondering what The Gatekeeper had to say on the subject while avoiding answering directly.
"Raith's protected from all magical attacks, don't try to go after him again," Rashid brusquely warned.
"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not a rash stripling anymore," he objected, simultaneously thinking how to get around a direct order from a member the Senior Council. "What sort of protection, the White Court aren't wizards."
"Trust me," Rashid muttered darkly, his face becoming darker and sharper, "You don't want to know anything about it, some things don't belong her," Rashid spat out in a vehement undertone.
Ebenezar narrowed his eyes slightly; to affect Rashid so difinitively it must be serious. He would need to reconsider attacking Raith, it was definitely worth remembering.
"However, that's not the main reason I came here," Rashid informed him suddenly, lightening the mood considerably. "I have a small favor which may involve your considerable skills." He paused for a moment, as if in thought.
"Travel to Istanbul," Rashid announced confidently, his rich voice pronouncing the word with native emphasis.
Ebenezar stood near the counter, expectantly awaiting further instructions. An awkward silence fell for a second, then two…
He cleared his throat unsurely "Ahem, what exactly do you want me to do there," he questioned.
"Oh you don't need to worry about any of that, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," Rashid remarked with a conspiring grin, his eyes twinkling. Exactly who he was conspiring with Ebenezar didn't know. "Most importantly don't interact with any members of the White Council or anyone without your complete trust," he ordered, "do you understand?"
"Yes sir!" Ebenezar replied instinctively, not really understanding at all.
"You have considerable talents, you'll be more than up for the task" Rashid assured him. "I'm afraid I've got to go."
The Gatekeeper stood up, pushing the chair back from the table. "Good luck, remember the lessons of Mr. Bond." With a graceful bow and a wink he exited the room.
Ebenezar shook his head slightly, wondering what all of that had been about. To say that Rashid was mysterious was to say that Morgan was stubborn, or that Kremmler had been misguided. He poured himself a cup of coffee, his mind spinning with questions and probabilities. He brought the cup to his lips, "Damn," he muttered as he burned his lips on the scalding liquid. He groaned, feeling that this was going to be a rough week. Rough, as it turned out, didn't even come close to describing it.
Authors Note: I would like to thank TheFreakWithTheWings for inspiring me to write, and beta-reading my story. Furthermore, any comments, critiques, and reviews would be excellent.
I've done a titch of dialogue and story revision, I hope its better.