Quest for Ambition

The pursuers had but one thought: the journal must be destroyed.

This knowledge gave swiftness to Rutbar’s feet as he fled down the hallway, the pounding on the front door matching the beating of his heart. He had to make it to his study. Only there would the journal be safe. Rutbar had not spent the last year secretly gathering information only to have his work disappear with the lighting of a single match.

New strength surged through him as Rutbar entered his private study and stood before the fireplace. Trembling, he fumbled the ring off his finger and pushed it inside a design in the mantel. With a click! a compartment opened. Rutbar placed the journal inside and, with a final shove, sealed it shut.

Tears of relief escaped his eyes and Rutbar only laughed at the approaching footfalls of the invaders. In the time left, there was nothing they could do to him now. Placing the ring back on his finger, Rutbar gazed at the blazing fire, awaiting the confrontation.

The two heads of the Unity Council, Bellanor and Douglas, barged through the study doors. Rutbar did not acknowledge their presence but continued staring into the flames.

“Where is it?” Douglas demanded.

“Feel free to search. And please, do not put on airs but do as other thieves do; disrupt my papers, break furniture and vases, take what you desire but is not yours.” Rutbar laughed, confident of his victory. “In fact, I believe you shall forget all about it presently. You already cast the spell, did you not?”

“Rutbar,” Bellanor said in his gentle, elderly tone, advancing towards him, “understand that we are not the ones in the wrong; that is you. You have betrayed the Council.”

“How am I the villain?” Rutbar’s square jaw set in anger, the flames of the fire set in his eyes as he turned to face them. “Did I go about having art and literature destroyed? Did I desire to control the thoughts of not one, but two worlds? Did I decide to keep these plans from the rest of the Council? No, that was the two of you.” His index finger pointed accusingly.

“For someone who is angry with us for withholding information, why did you not confront us or tell the rest of the Council?” Douglas asked, grabbing books from shelves in his search.

“And what would they have done?” Rutbar spoke forcefully, as if he still needed reassurance. “They would have debated on whether or not you were right. Meanwhile, you would have been putting your plan into action, same as I, and the three of us would still have arrived at this encounter. Without telling others, I only had to worry about the two of you stopping me. Better numbers this way.”

“You overheard us.” Douglas was through searching the bookcase and turned his attention to the desk. “Therefore you know our reasons. You know the people are beginning to mistrust one another. The people of Tryale and Earth are on the brink of war. Everyone must forget about the other world and the portals that connect them. Our chance for peace will be destroyed with that journal.”

“No.” Rutbar shook his head. “You already put the last part of your plan into action. Who knows how much time is left, but before the sun sets everyone will forget the other world; your world, Douglas. And you shall return there with no memory of ours. The only exception will be me. And do not worry, I can keep a secret.”

“What did you write in that journal?” Bellanor asked. Instead of joining his comrade in tearing apart the room, he kept a rigid stance, never taking his eyes off Rutbar.

“Everything,” Rutbar bragged. “The portals locations. How to open them. The two of you even merited a mention: how you decided to play gods with the minds of men.”

“Did you include the riots? People being trampled and beaten by mobs? The fights in the streets that ended in blood and death? People banging on the Council doors, begging us to close and destroy the portals? As part of the Council, your duty is to protect the people of both worlds. You know what we are doing is the only option.”

“Yes, yes.” Rutbar waved his hand impatiently. “The portals cannot be destroyed. And if we merely block them, well, that is a waste of guards and possible sabotage. How simple a solution then to force people to forget. But, you yourselves are forgetting a very important danger in destroying this knowledge.”

“Oh, please, enlighten us.” Douglas did not look up as he threw out a desk drawer, scattering papers and quills across the floor.

“The portals cannot be destroyed,” Rutbar stated calmly.

Bellanor sighed. “We are aware of this fact. That is why people must be made to forget; the portals cannot be destroyed, but the knowledge can.”

“And ignorance shall not keep people out. No one shall be looking for the portals, but that does not mean they shall not be found.” Rutbar advanced to Bellanor, imploring him to understand. “What of those unfortunate travelers? They will be called mad. They will not know how to return home. Some must know of these portals to guide those lost souls back to where they belong.”

“And in return, reward their savior handsomely,” Douglas spat out.

“That will be their choice.”

“You are not the saint you claim to be. Now, where is it?” Douglas pulled out his sword and aimed it at Rutbar’s chest.

“Fine. Kill me. You shall never find the journal.”

At that moment, a sound of thunder outside drew their attention to the window. A sight no one had seen before was quickly approaching Rutbar’s house, engulfing everything before it in a red mist.

Though they had not known what to expect, they recognized this to be the memory spell Douglas had cast earlier.

“Too late,” Rutbar crowed.

Douglas shot him a look filled with venom. Without hesitation, he grabbed the oil lamp from the desk and threw it against the bookcase. Rutbar shouted as the flames spread, hungry to consume the papers. He rushed forward to put out the fire, but was pushed back and felt pain across his arm as Douglas’ sword sliced through his skin.

Bellanor did not interfere as he was attacking the sparks by beating them with a drape he had torn down. In the distance, Rutbar saw the mist fast approaching, and the ground rumbled in anticipation. The wisps of red smoked slide through the window, surrounding Douglas as tightening vines. Only a scream could be heard from inside the small cloud that had surrounded the Council member, then dispersed, revealing nothing; the spell had transported him back to his world.

Rutbar could not remember the name of who had just left. Had there even been someone standing there moments before? Rutbar saw Bellanor clutch his head and sink into a nearby chair, coughing from the smoke. Rutbar wanted to continue to fend off the flames but found he was unable to move. He went inside his mind, telling himself he knew what was happening.

The spell is trying to make me forget about the portals. The journal. I must remember the journal. The journal will tell me everything. I will not let myself forget. I must remember the journal in the hidden compartment of my fireplace. The journal is….important. I must remember…I cannot forget…the journal…………………….I must not forget………..I must not………………… forget…………..forget the journal…………forget.