The Iron Veil

by Randy Nargi

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Justin wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep before Klothar began shaking his shoulder.

  “Awake, lad. The gates are open.”

  It took a few moments for Justin’s head to clear, but the ranger literally yanked him out of bed. Pari was already up and pulling on her boots.

  Klothar said, “I had been sitting here, mind wandering, just thinking of Mrs. Lawson back in Rathenhall when I heard a creaking sound. It was the gates. They opened of their own accord.”

  “It felt so good to sleep,” Pari said. “How long were we out?”

  “Less than an hour, my lady.”

  “Need coffee,” Justin croaked.

  “I wish,” Pari said.

  They inspected both gates, the ivory gate to the south and the bone gate to the north, and saw that both gates had swung inwards to reveal dark passages—one heading north, the other south.

  “North, right?” Justin asked.

  Pari rubbed her eyes. “That’s what the circles say.”

  Klothar removed one of the torches and led the way north through the gate.

  The torch was much brighter than any of their glowstones and Justin could make out every detail of the stonework in this hallway. Each block fit together perfectly.

  The hallway turned a corner east and then ended in a spiral staircase down. As they descended, the air grew warm and stuffy.

  At the bottom, to the north, stretched a rough-hewn tunnel with walls of rock and dirt. Justin could spread his arms and touch both walls.

  No one said anything; they all just continued onward, following the tunnel. After five or ten minutes the passage ended in a small cavern with a subterranean stream running through it. A footbridge spanned the stream and, on the other side of the bridge, the path led to an arched wood door set in the stone wall.

  “How are these growing down here?” Pari asked. She pointed to a few dozen orange-red flowers which sprouted beside the stream.

  Justin shrugged and Klothar said, “I wouldn’t touch them. They are likely poisonous.”

  They crossed the bridge and Klothar examined the door.

  “The door is warm to the touch,” he said. “And I can hear something on the other side.”

  “Likely just a fire demon,” Justin smirked. “We should probably just get on with it.”

  Klothar cracked the door and glanced inside. Then, after a few moments, he opened it wider. A wave of heat hit them all right away.

  The room inside was a blacksmith’s workshop, complete with a burning forge, anvils, a workbench, and racks of tools.

  “Cool,” Justin said to Klothar. “Maybe you can make yourself a better hammer here.”

  “This may well be the Forge of Ulan,” Klothar said.

  “That’s what Master Desiderius said was at the center of the circles,” Justin said.

  “I’m not sure that was meant to be literal,” Pari said.

  “Well, I remember the design. It was kind of like a flame logo.”

  “We are in the right place,” Klothar said. “I feel it in my bones.”

  The workshop was a small rounded room with a domed ceiling. The only way out seemed to be a sturdy iron door on the east wall opposite the forge.

  “The last door,” Pari said. “At least according to the circles.”

  The door was five feet wide and eight feet tall and had rivets running all along its frame. In the center was a single iron ring and below it, a keyhole. Engraved above the ring were three words in Dwarvish.

  Justin read them aloud, “The Iron Veil.”

  “What?” Pari’s mouth hung open. “Shut up!”

  “That’s what those words say. ‘The Iron Veil.’”

  “This door? This door is meant to be the Iron Veil?” Klothar asked, wide-eyed.

  “More likely it leads to the Iron Veil.”

  “Okay, wow, so we really found it,” Pari said, smiling at Justin. “Maybe you should do the honors—because we all know you’re going to touch the door anyway.”

  “Nice one. You really want me to open it?”

  “Sure. Go for it.”

  “Hold, lad. Let me inspect it for traps. These metal doors often discharge lightning.”

  “By all means,” Justin said. “You go first.”

  The ranger poked and prodded the door and ran the blade of a thin stiletto around its frame. Then he stuck the blade into the keyhole a few times and finally and used it to flip the pull ring up and down.

  “This is a door built for staying shut, not open,” he said. “But give it your best, lad.”

  Justin smiled at Pari and hesitantly touched the ring. “It’s not electrified. That’s good.” But when he tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t even make a creak.

  They all tried, but the door remained firmly shut.

  “Well, obviously we need a key,” Pari said. “An actual key.” She held up her glowstone and peered into the keyhole. “Unless one of you can pick locks, that is.”

  “Not I, my lady.”

  “I don’t think I can either,” Justin said.

  They decided to comb over the rest of the room. Pari shared her guess that the key might be hidden among the tools—but there weren’t that many tools, and all the hammers, tongs, chisels, and other implements were well-organized—either on racks near the workbench or mounted on the wall.

  “There we go,” Justin said, pointing up at the domed ceiling. “That’s pretty obvious, right?”

  Inlaid into the stone ceiling were metal lines that converged at the highest point in the center of the dome which was marked by a metal star shape. Other lines ran in equally spaced circles. They were just like the meridian and parallel lines on a globe. The star could have been the North Star—if there was a North Star in Greystrand.

  Pari nodded. “Yeah, another world symbol.”

  “At least we know we’re in the right place.”

  For the next half hour, they continued to search the workshop. Klothar even used a metal rod to probe along the ashes inside the forge, and Pari emptied out three water buckets, but there was no sign of a key.

  “I wonder if we were supposed to find it in some other room along the way,” Justin said. “There was so much we didn’t explore.”

  “Could be,” Pari said, fanning herself. “I’ve got to get out of this heat.”

  They all went outside, back into the cave, and leaned against the rails of the little footbridge.

  “What if we picked one of those flowers?” Justin asked. “Could it turn into a key or something?”

  “Doubtful,” Pari said. “That’s not how things usually work around here. If there’s a key, it’s a real key. It might be hidden, but not via transmutation.”

  “Okay, so what do we do?” Justin asked. “Backtrack and search every place we missed?”

  Klothar crossed his arms. “I, for one, am not going back to that wight’s abode. Key or no key.”

  Once they cooled down a bit, they returned to the workshop and searched some more. They slit open bellows and looked for hidden compartments in the workbench. They even checked the woodpile and under the anvils. After several hours they were sweating and exhausted. Escaping from the heat, they returned outside and sat down near the bridge.

  “I can’t believe that after all we’ve been through, we’re stuck because we can’t find a stupid key,” Justin said.

  “It makes no sense to me,” Klothar said.

  “I just want to go back to bed.” Pari tucked her legs in and hugged them close. “But we can’t.”

  “I know. I’m starting to get hungry too. Even those flowers are looking pretty good.”

  “Don’t you dare, lad. Red is the color of poison.”

  “I know. I’m just kidding.” He started to dig through his pouches, pulling out the contents and laying his possessions on the ground. “I wonder if I have one of those disgusting jerky strips left.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Pari mus
ed.

  “Yeah, but it looks like we’re out of luck. Nada.”

  He started to repack his pouches, but Pari held up a hand.

  “Hang on. Maybe there’s something one of us has that might be a clue. Maybe something we forgot about.”

  “What do you mean”?

  “Okay, let’s everybody empty your bags. We’ll take an inventory. See if there’s something we have that could help us get around that lock.”

  She dug into her bag and pulled out a crown. “Remember this? From the Elf queen…”

  “You stole her crown?” Klothar said, his brow furrowing.

  “Oops.”

  Justin began to empty his pouches. He didn’t have much and everyone had seen his stuff: a tinderbox, a small knife, a coil of thin leather cord, a pen, ink, and journal book, the scroll case with his blood clue, the phone from the assassins, his Circle of Reckoning, his money bag, Wreman’s bell, and Wreman’s wax tablet with the cormorian and coastline sketch on it.

  In addition to the crown, Pari had a knife, some vials of medicine and healing salve, a tinderbox, four candles, bandages, needle and thread, two glass globes of Frob’s Burning Justice in a padded wooden case, her Circle of Reckoning, a money bag, and Iniya’s plaque with the carved circles.

  “Now you,” Pari said to Klothar.

  “I know what I have.”

  “Yes, but we don’t.”

  “Very well.”

  The ranger unpacked his rope and grapple, three knives and a stiletto, his lantern, two flasks of oil, a small pry bar, a roll of twine, a tinderbox, a blanket, a mess kit, a quiver of arrows, a sling, and a fishing kit.

  Justin tried to turn the phone on, but it refused to power up.

  “It’s dead.”

  “Let me see,” Pari said. She played with it for a while, then gave it back to him. “Yup dead.”

  She pointed to Wreman’s bell. “What’s that thing do?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You haven’t tried to ring it?”

  “Nope—and it has some cloth wedged in it to keep it from making any noise.”

  Klothar’s eyes widened. “Lad, why have you not spoke of this bell before now?”

  “I’m pretty sure I mentioned it to you guys early on.”

  Pari got to her feet. “This could be it—the way in. Bells can open doors. I’ve seen that a lot. Usually the doors are crystal, but hey, you never know.”

  They repacked their gear and returned to the blacksmith’s workshop. Justin pulled the cloth out of the bell and held it up near the door.

  “I’m going to do this. Ready?”

  Klothar notched an arrow. “Once the door opens, step aside. Let me go through first.”

  “Got it!”

  Justin took a deep breath and rang the bell. It tinkled faintly. Actually, the sound was kind of wimpy. And it didn’t seem to do anything.

  Klothar tugged at the door handle. He shook his head.

  “Try again,” Pari said.

  Justin rang the bell again. And again, nothing happened.

  “Lame.”

  “Well, it was worth a try,” Pari said. She hunted for something in her bag and pulled out a sewing kit. “What if we bent this needle and used it to try to pick the lock?”

  “We don’t know what we’re doing,” Justin said.

  “How hard can it be?”

  “It is more difficult than it looks, my lady,” Klothar said. “Besides, you need more than a pin. You need a set of thieves’ tools, I fear.”

  Justin could see the desperation of Pari’s face. Klothar, too, was being worn down by this whole thing.

  It was time.

  He placed the scroll case with his blood clue on the workbench. “I’m going to open this.”

  “Justin, are you sure? That’s the most valuable thing you own.”

  “I am sure. We’re close, I know it. We came all this way. And Master Desiderius said that I would know when it was the right time to open the clue. And now’s the time. I’m completely sure of it.”

  “If you’re absolutely certain…”

  “Let’s rock this clue!”

  He tugged on the cap of the scroll case and nothing happened. He tried the other end, but it too was firmly stuck. It was like the ends of the case had been welded on.

  “I don’t believe this!”

  He lifted the case to his chest and grabbed the cap and then pulled again, with all his might. His muscles quivered with the effort, but the cap didn’t budge. He kept trying.

  “You’re going to pop a vein, stop it!” Pari cried.

  “Let me give it a try, lad.”

  “You can try, but I think we’re going to have to cut it open or something. Anyone notice a hacksaw around here?”

  The ranger took the case and pulled on the cap and it popped right off.

  What!

  “I think you must have loosened it for me, lad.” Klothar smiled and handed the scroll case back to Justin.

  “Whatever.”

  Pari turned away, but Justin saw her trying not to crack up.

  “Okay, okay. Very funny. Let’s get into this.”

  He removed a rolled-up piece of parchment from the case and pressed it flat on the surface of the workbench. Handwritten in the center of the page were two sentences:

  I have a sea without water, mountains without stones, villages without houses. Once you understand what I am, you must destroy me.

  Justin read it over a few times and then looked over at Pari and Klothar. “Well, what do you guys think?”

  “It just looks like a blank piece of paper to me,” Pari said.

  “Me as well.”

  “What?”

  “These blood clues are keyed to specific sages. Only you can see it.”

  “That’s kind of trippy. Do you want to know what it says?”

  “Um, yes…”

  Justin read the clue aloud, “I have a sea without water, mountains without stones, villages without houses. Once you understand what I am, you must destroy me.”

  “A sea without water could be a desert,” Pari said. “My aunt lived in Albuquerque and we went to a museum there. Apparently, millions of years ago it was all underwater. Scientists found clam shells and stuff under the sand.”

  “Indeed,” Klothar said. “And far to the north in the Anga Wastes there are mountains of ice, not stone.”

  “Villages without houses,” Pari looked off into the distance. “I don’t know. Bee hives? Ant hills?”

  Something didn’t seem right about any of those answers. Then it hit him.

  “I think all the phrases in the clue are talking about one single thing. Not deserts, ice mountains, and bee hives. Because the second sentence says, ‘Once you understand what I am, you must destroy me.’”

  Pari frowned. “You’re probably right, but… I don’t know.”

  Justin kept running the clues over and over in his head. What one thing would have all these places—seas, mountains, villages? Could it be a book? A story? A dream?

  “A map,” Pari said.

  “Yes!” Justin pumped his fist. “Awesome. A map. It must be!”

  “So now we must destroy the map,” Klothar said. “If we had, a map, that is.”

  “We do,” Pari said. She held up the wooden plaque. “This has been our map since we entered Aune. We just didn’t know it for most of the time we were here.”

  That made sense.

  Pari continued. “We need to destroy it in order to open this last door.” She pointed to the center of the concentric circles. “Which, by the way, is to the east, according to this map—and in real life.”

  She was right. The big metal door—the Iron Veil—was on the east side of the workshop. It was all coming together.

  “How do we destroy it?” Justin asked. “I mean, there’s probably a million ways—”

  But Pari was already in motion. She flung the plaque into the burning forge.

  “Are you sure that’s a wise
idea, my lady?”

  “Too late. It’s burning.”

  The wood must have been very dry, because it caught on fire almost immediately. They all stood and watched as the carved plaque blackened and burned.

  When it was done, Klothar probed the ashes with an iron rod and pronounced the plaque completely destroyed.

  Pari took a deep breath. “Now, it’s my turn to open the door.”

  Justin kind of hoped they would have heard the click of a lock as the plaque burned, but, aside from the sound of the forge, the workshop had been quiet. Still, he had a good feeling about this. His blood clue wouldn’t let him down.

  Pari strode up to the iron door and gave a strong tug on the handle.

  It didn’t budge.

  “C’mon!” Justin whined. “This is ridiculous!”

  Pari hammered on the door with her fists and cursed so loudly that Klothar started to blush. Even the ranger took a shot, yanking at the handle with both hands. Then took his pry bar out of his knapsack and tried to lever the door at its edges. No luck.

  “We burned the freaking map. What the hell!”

  Pari slumped against the wall. “Obviously not the right map. And I just destroyed what may have been the most important thing we had.”

  “Don’t worry,” Justin said, tapping his temple. “It’s all up here. I could draw again if we need it.”

  Klothar’s face brightened. “That actually gives me an idea, lad.” He used a pair of blacksmith tongs to pull a hunk of the burnt plaque out of the forge. Then, after checking that the burnt wood was cool enough to handle, he gave it to Justin. “Draw the circles on the door.”

  “What for?”

  Pari stood up straight. “That’s brilliant! We destroyed the map and now we use its ashes on the door as a key: the key to the Iron Veil.”

  “I guess.”

  “Draw the first circle around the keyhole and work your way out.”

  “I’m not very good at art.”

  “Just draw it!”

  So he did, working carefully. Six circles nested within each other. The inner circle with a gap to the east. Then north, southeast, north, north, and finally west.

  “Does that look right to everyone?”

  Klothar didn’t answer. He went right for the handle and tugged.

  No dice.