"The Keepers of the Void" –A Fable III fanfiction

By Kelly Sedai

Chapter Three- "The Seer of the Spire"

There is a certain energy that can only be found in the largest and most overpopulated cities in the world, a certain exuberance and vitality that draws people in. Bowerstone was no exception. The city buzzed with an almost tangible liveliness, almost as if it were a conscious being: it breathed giant plumes of black smoke into a bright, Summer's sky as people rushed past, pushed past, on cobbled streets that branched out into alleys and dead ends; tall houses and buildings stood reaching upwards, crooked teeth against the horizon. At the heart of it all was Bowerstone Market. The marketplace, the lifeblood of the city, held everything that made Bowerstone the wondrous place it was. The yells of the stall vendors mingled with that of idle conversation, the result a deafening roar of incoherencies. Every stall, every building, was a different colour; each as vibrant as the next, and all clamouring for the eye's attention. Masses of people crowded the area, and children wriggled through the crowds, running from their understandably stressed parents. And as the Queen watched her loyal companion Joiner bound across the bridge after a startled gull, she decided that there was no place in Albion she'd rather live. Reaver, on the other hand, was not quite so content with his surroundings.

"The smell here is unbearable! Have your citizens never heard of bathing?" His nose wrinkled in disgust as he watched a local stagger out from the Cock in the Crown and into the Blacksmith's. And then, as gathered by the swearing and shouting that was heard from the building, threw up. "We came here far too early. I stand by what I said earlier: we should make the loathsome woman wait. I am not here to answer to her every whim. And I have no wish to remain in this wretched city a moment longer."

The Sovereign leaned against the clock tower, closing her eyes lazily. "It's a hot day and you know as well as I that they can't afford regular baths. Not everyone has a life as privileged as yours, Reaver. Besides," she cracked one eye open to peer at him quizzically. "I would have thought you'd enjoy the hustle and bustle of the city."

"My dear, why do you think I had such a large mansion built in Millfields?"

She shrugged. "I assumed it was because a mansion in the country seemed so much statelier than one in the city."

"Whilst I agree with that statement, the truth is merely that I prefer a rural setting. The serenity, the beauty… Millfields especially has a certain je ne sais quoi*," he murmured. "Quite the idyllic picture. It reminds me so much of a town from my youth..." He paused, noticing the Queen looking at him curiously. "Perhaps I shall regale you with tales of my youth another time, love."

She continued studying him silence. He grew up in the countryside? She hadn't thought of him as being a country bumpkin, and she certainly hadn't expected him to have a shred of sentimentality. Really, she thought as she watched him idly rub the heart shaped tattoo on his face, she knew nothing of him at all. Her contemplation was broken by Joiner's barking. She turned to see the black and white dog trotting alongside a robed woman, his tongue lolling out happily. The figure's face was mostly obscured, but the heavy, downcast hood, and odd, tattered, red and white clothing made her unmistakable. The Seer was here.

She stood in front of the two, clasping her hands together. "Good, you are both here. There is little time to waste, let us begin." The Queen shuddered. It was rather strange speaking to someone she had only ever met on the Road, and Theresa's blank eyes were terribly unnerving. She felt like they could see right through her, penetrate the depths of her mind and read her every thought.

The Seeress cleared her throat lightly. "Hero of Brightwall, you have fought valiantly over evil and triumphed. The Crawler is no more and your people have earned a brief respite. However, peace is threatened once more." She regarded them both, the gold discs on her robes clanking as she shuffled from one foot to the other. "The Crawler was only part of the ordeal you face now. The Darkness came only to reveal weaknesses, test your forces. The Void stirs and worse has yet to come."

"A test?" The Queen's voice was quiet, tense. "Bowerstone nearly reduced to rubble? People dead, Walter and Eliot gone? All for a test?"

"Yes, Child. The Void is unlike anything you can imagine. Your worst nightmare pales in comparison to its residents."

Reaver clearly had no interest in this exchange. "And we are to do what, exactly?" He drawled, tapping his cane impatiently against the cobbled street.

"Your task is great. You must find those who seek to open Void and revive those thought destroyed. Stop them, no matter what the cost. I have seen all; the help I can give has a limit."

"And if we refuse this quest of yours?" Reaver asked softly, his velvety voice laced with a threat.

"A dead world would benefit you in no way, Reaver. And I advise that you remove your hand from the weapon." She gestured to where Reaver's grip had tightened on the pistol's handle. "Hero of Skill you may be, but your attacks will have no effect. Remember yourself." Reaver's hand eased on the pistol, but his eyes glinted with fury. The Queen had not even noticed him reaching for the Dragonstomper.

"But I have a country to rule. I cannot just leave," the regal Hero pointed out.

"I have spoken to your brother on this matter. The public is to be told you are gravely ill. Jasper, Page and Logan will manage any emergencies between them whilst you are away." The Ruler nodded. She could trust those three with her Kingdom for a short while. "Jasper will stay in Bowerstone Castle and I will temporarily make the Sanctuary my abode. The Guild Seal is in my possession, and I will call when necessary." She tilted her head to the side, studying Albion's reigning monarch. "No one can know you are Queen on this journey; disguise yourself and keep a low profile. Reaver should be relatively unknown where you venture. Your first destination is Brightwall Academy; garner what information you can on your foe."

Theresa reached into her belt pouch and drew out three cards. "These are Fate Cards, and may provide information about the road that lies ahead. Remember them well," she said, holding one up for the Queen and the gentleman to see. It bore an elaborate illustration of a woman screaming, her entire face contorted in pain and dread. Her expression seemed to writhe and her eyes glint with madness, as if alive. The card was bordered with golden, entwined vines, and matching, curly letters at the bottom served as a caption. "The Dream," Theresa named it. "Dreams leak through to our world; the barrier grows weak and worlds begin to bleed. Pay attention to that which you dream; knowledge can be gained, but danger is rife." The next featured a sign post, the two arrows pointing opposite directions. One way faced towards light, the other to darkness. "The Choice. As always, nothing comes without cost. The world has a high price and sacrifices must be made by both; fate teeters upon the edge of a blade." Another card was held up, this one of a hand mirror lying in a pool of blood. A single rose lay on top of the mirror, its petals the same vibrant red as the blood. "The Thief," Theresa announced. "Once called and once more to serve, the Thief knows much of this world. Time has passed him by and his history lays forgotten; he cannot run forever." Reaver's expression darkened at the sight of this card. The Queen was glad he understood the meaning of the last card; she was damned if she did.

Theresa took a step back, regarding the Heroes with blank eyes. "Now go, Heroes; time grows more precious every passing second." And then she simply disappeared, no trace remaining to show she had ever stood there.

The two Heroes exchanged looks. "So, we are to be travelling companions," Reaver beamed. They were going to be travelling companions. They were going to be travelling together. The statement began sink in, its meaning finally dawning on the Queen. They would be in each other's company all day, every day with no respite, sharing meals, gathering information, setting up camp. He would no doubt be bringing women and men back to their inns and camps, drinking until the early hours of the morning, and, in short, making a nuisance of himself. She could picture the adventure all too clearly. Reaver, however, didn't seem to have noticed the expression of growing realisation and horror on her face and had continued talking. "Most splendid! I can almost picture it- the tavern brawls, the balvarine hunts, the clear skies dotted with stars, the inside of the tent we share as we spend each night making l-"

The Queen hurriedly held up her hands. "Reaver, we need to talk."

"Whatever about, precious?"

She sighed, preparing herself for the vague and evasive answers. "Theresa called you the Hero of Skill."

The sun glared down on them, and Reaver adjusted his hat slightly. "She did. I was once a Hero, though not quite as renowned as your mother."

"Do you have any intention of elaborating?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"None whatsoever," he replied with a grin. The ex-revolutionist was lost. So he had been a Hero? That could not be possible, could it? There had not been any Heroes since her mother's time, and Reaver was not nearly old enough. She didn't understand, none of this made sense. Then again, the Queen mused grimly, Reaver wasn't a man known for his simple ways and transparency.

"I take it the Thief Card refers to you? You appeared to recognise it." She paused, thinking, before continuing. "Was that because it was from your time as a Hero?"

"Yes, I hadn't expected to see it again," he answered smoothly. A little too smoothly, in fact. There was something he wasn't telling her, she was sure. How she was going to pry that information out of him, however, was beyond her. Secretive bastard. Sometimes, she swore his sole purpose in life was to drive her insane with curiosity.

She looked at him, cocking her head slightly to the side. "Why were you represented by The Thief?" She asked inquisitively.

"Ah, that's enough about me," He rubbed his gloved hands together gleefully, ignoring her. "Whilst I know that I am of great interest to you, ma belle Reine**, I do believe we have a very important mission!" His eyes glinted as he looked her up and down, appraising her. "We have a Queen to disguise!"

Man, it's lucky I studied French; otherwise all this translation business would be an absolute pain.

*You probably know this one. It literally translates as "I don't know what," and basically means that something has an indescribable quality.

**My beautiful Queen

I'm not really happy with this chapter; I might edit it and change the pacing when I have time.

I know Joiner's an odd name for the dog, but I couldn't help it. I'm not sure how many of you get the reference, but in one of Beatrice Potter's books a dog called John Joiner rescues Tom Kitten from being made into pudding by the rats that live in his attic. Tom Kitten was my favourite character ever when I was like three; after Squirrel Nutkin, of course. Ah, memories.

Sorry for this update being kinda late, I've been busy playing Amnesia: the Dark Descent and Dragon Age. And also, armed only with a list of over a thousand characters that've appeared throughout the books and a rather uninformative fan encyclopaedia, I've been trying to figure Demandred's identity in the Wheel of Time series. Me, insane? Pfft, as if.

Thanks to everyone who read the last two chapters. Keep reading guys! :)