A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  After hearing the tale, Cornar felt a little more respect for Solidin. The elf didn’t seem maniacal, so why would Krindal fear him?

  Cornar stopped and took a deep breath. He glanced to his right, to an opening allowing a view down to the central chamber. The elves were giving Kalder and Gregan something to eat. Several surrounded Igan and were removing the scarf around his mouth. A couple held their weapons pointed at the wizard, undoubtedly threatening him before removing his debilitating gag. Kalder and Gregan watched Igan while eating.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Solidin asked. Cornar reluctantly stepped forward. “Watching your men…” the elf mused. “Don’t worry. As long as your mage friends don’t make a scene, they’ll be fine.”

  Solidin continued through the hall once Cornar was beside him. “From what I’ve learned, this temple held the final step of initiation for potential Keepers. One text says that the process was quite arduous. You see, the trek to the twenty shrines—as you put it—was to expose potentials to the various disciplines. To see where they were best suited. One would spend time with the members of that shrine’s Order, learning the basics of their discipline.

  “This,” he lifted up his necklace and tapped the gem, “was given to a potential Keeper upon visiting their first shrine. Once the gem was attuned, the potential Keeper would begin their training and stay until they achieved a certain level of mastery. Then they would move on. One account claims the process could take up to a decade. It definitely wasn’t for the fainthearted,” the elf grinned.

  “Here at this temple one would receive their calling to one of the Twenty Orders, and be granted access to Dalgilur’s Isle, the Keepers’ headquarters.”

  Yet another name Cornar was unfamiliar with.

  Solidin turned another corner, coming to a straight hallway. Grand doors marked the end of the hall; they looked like the ones at the temple’s entrance. Thick stonework surrounded the doors, with glowing words etched upon its surface. They were in Common, Elvish, and another language with sharp-looking characters.

  “That’s Draconic,” Solidin said, pointing to the unknown set of symbols. “More proof.” That wasn’t really proof. Those scribbles could be anything. Cornar focused on the Common words. It looked like a code of ethics. “Preserver of Innocents. Shield to the Defenseless. Honorable in all things.”

  As Solidin neared the doors they opened outward, revealing a darkened room. “And this is the Chamber of Attunement,” the elf said, stepping into the darkness.

  * * * * *

  “That wall is giving off some strange light,” Sharon remarked. She squinted, straining to see through her thieving lenses. Ordreth stepped beside her. He couldn’t see anything, of course. Whatever Sharon was studying was hidden from the natural eye.

  “Do you think it’s a hidden door?” Nordal asked. He was holding Krindal’s mapping tevisral. It currently showed an upside-down-looking structure. They had followed the map to the very bottom of the catacombs of Klindil. From what they had guessed, they were in a room that connected to a series of caves.

  “No…” Sharon shook her head. “It looks like magic… umm, that kind that reforms stuff.”

  “Transmutative?” Hem asked. The illusionist stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. “Want me to try a dispel?”

  “Go for it,” Nordal said.

  Hem uttered the words to cast the dispel. Off-white magic flowed around his hands, then shot to the wall. Parts of the wall turned to dirt and a large section fell into the room, almost crushing Sharon’s toes.

  “Whoa!” Hem exclaimed, eyes wide.

  “Someone must have passed through here recently,” Midar speculated. “Do you think it was Cor?”

  “Master Igan probably dissolved those parts of the wall,” Tinal said, he spoke fondly of his teacher in the magical arts. “Look at the holes. It looks like disintegrating magic bored through the wall.”

  “But we don’t have a transmuter among us,” Cordel said, sounding worried.

  That Sapphire Guard, Ordreth thought. They probably had transmuters.

  “I’ll inform the prince,” Nordal said, and turned to exit the room. “Ordreth, take a group ahead and start looking.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ordreth said, stepping close to the hole in the wall. He extended his lightstone lantern into the opening, finding an earthen cavern. “Hem, why don’t you conceal us?”

  “Why?” Hem asked. The illusionist was always so oblivious.

  “You weren’t paying attention, were you?” Demsal asked, coming beside Ordreth.

  “Oh…” Hem nodded. He quickly cast a spell, veiling himself, Ordreth, Demsal, and Sharon.

  Now invisible, Ordreth crept through the opening. Ordreth would find his uncle.

  * * * * *

  The Chamber of Attunement became lit once Solidin was inside. Cornar followed close behind the elf, intrigued by room’s instantaneous illumination. Light shone from circles in the ceiling, each bearing a symbol for one of the Twenty Orders. They were arranged around a larger circle in the ceiling’s center, which bore the symbol with the seven sharp points. What was the significance of that symbol? It was all over the temple.

  Solidin sauntered to the center of the chamber while Cornar stayed near the doors. Cornar was wary of what would happen next and kept his hands over his weapons’ hilts.

  There were no other entrances or exits in this room. Columns lined the walls, with twenty-one lavish thrones placed between them. Why was there an extra one? Weren’t there supposed to be twenty Orders? Cornar wondered if these thrones were for the heads of the Orders.

  Solidin reached the center of the room, and a voice speaking Elvish boomed within the chamber. Cornar didn’t understand any of it. A beam of white light shot from a gem inlaid above the central throne, striking Solidin in the chest. The elf gasped, falling backward. He struggled for breath, his limbs twitching.

  Cornar started to lunge forward but hesitated. Solidin had tricked him, used him for his own purposes. The elf and his people were holding Cornar and the others hostage. Yet, something compelled Cornar, a surge of conviction within him. Cornar dashed to the elf, sliding and then settling upon his knees beside Solidin.

  The elf’s gem was glowing a brilliant hue, giving off faint heat. Solidin gazed at the ceiling without blinking, his mouth open.

  “Solidin!” Cornar grabbed the elf, but Solidin didn’t move. He wasn’t even breathing. Blast!

  “Help!” Cornar yelled toward the door. “We need an arpranist!”

  He turned back to Solidin, still motionless. Cornar leaned to Solidin’s mouth, but felt no breath.

  What should I do? he wondered, then a flash of memory struck him. Cornar remembered a technique his father had taught him. Cornar put his lips to Solidin’s and blew into the elf’s mouth. Nothing happened. The nose. He pinched Solidin’s nose shut and blew again. Still, nothing happened.

  “What was next?” he grumbled. Press on the chest… Cornar groaned. Solidin’s armor was in the way. He reached to unfasten it.

  Then a voice spoke from beside him. “Well done!”

  Startled, Cornar turned to see a stranger standing near the throne aligned with the door. The stranger smiled and looked down to Solidin, pleased. Where had he come from?

  The stranger was of average height, wearing odd-looking clothing, like the statues in the temple’s foyer… In fact, he looked identical to the statue in the foyer. How was that—

  Solidin gasped, sitting upright. He blinked several times, then glanced to Cornar. “I know …” the elf said, wide-eyed. “I know!” Cornar shook his head, confused. What was Solidin babbling about?

  Footsteps echoed into the chamber, undoubtedly those coming in response to Cornar’s cry for an arpranist.

  Solidin pushed himself up, grinning. “I am a Bladesinger.”

  “A worthy Order,” the stranger said, nodding. He stepped in an arc, circling Solidin and Cornar.

  “Bladesinger?” Cornar muttered.

&n
bsp; “The Guardian Order devoted to the mastery of bladed weapons, particularly dual-wielding,” the stranger said. “Entalin founded the Bladesingers on the principles of tenacity and finesse. They were often the second wave of troops after Wardwalkers or Shieldriders broke through enemy lines.”

  What odd names, Cornar thought.

  A clatter of armored footfalls echoed into the chamber, followed by shouts in Elvish. Cornar turned to see ten members of the Sapphire Guard, all converging toward Solidin.

  “I’m fine,” Solidin said, waving off his soldiers.

  “There are many elves here,” the stranger said, eyeing the members of the Sapphire Guard.

  “And who are you?” one of the elves demanded.

  The stranger stopped pacing, placed his hands behind his back and raised his brow. He raised his chin before answering. “I am Dusel Nadim,” he said, “the first and last Guardian of Kalda.”

  “The Unspoken One will fight against his brother. This will fuel his fervor.”

  - Prophecy of Soron Thahan

  Dusel Nadim? Solidin said that was the man who founded the Keepers… But how was he standing before them? Shouldn’t he be dead? Cornar shook his head in disbelief.

  “You are now a Keeper of Truth and Might,” Dusel said to Solidin, stepping up to the elf, “a Guardian of Kalda. Welcome to our ranks.”

  “How is this possible?” blurted one of the elves. “Is he not dead?”

  Solidin narrowed his eyes. What was he thinking?

  “Dead?” Dusel cocked his head toward the elves.

  Solidin stepped forward, stretching out his hand to Dusel. His gauntleted fingers touched Dusel’s clothing, then moved through him.

  By Heleron’s Trident! Cornar’s eyes widened. Was this an apparition? Cornar had heard of ghost tales, but he had never seen a ghost. Most ghost stories were not actually ghost stories at all. Creatures in the remote parts of Kalda—called phantasmal essences—could mimic a person, but in order to do so it had to kill them. Comrades of the slain would often find corpses and then see their dead friend walking nearby. Those ‘ghosts’ never said anything, nor acted in a way that resembled the minds of the fallen.

  Dusel simply looked down at Solidin’s hand, now partway through his chest. “You should stop doing that,” the man said.

  “You’re not really Dusel, are you?” Cornar ventured the question.

  The man smiled and paced back to the central throne, the one where Cornar had first spotted him. “I am Dusel as much as Dusel is Dusel.”

  Another elf stepped between Cornar and Solidin. He said something in Elvish that Cornar didn’t understand.

  Solidin shook his head. “He’s not a magical essence.”

  “Gholirisulem?” the elf asked, proffering another unknown term. Solidin cocked his head, looking unsure.

  “I am neither,” Dusel said.

  “And neither are we,” two other voices said in unison.

  Cornar and the elves spun, looking to the right and left. Now, a woman and an elf stood on either side of the chamber. They wore identical clothing, odd shirts and equally strange pants. They approached Cornar and the elves.

  Where did they come from? One second they weren’t there and the next they were.

  The woman’s thick brown hair bounced as she walked around Cornar. Her lime-green eyes studied him and the elves. Lime-green irises? He had never seen someone with that eye color. And their shape… dark lines swirled toward her pupils. That was not natural. Sure, people had different-colored irises, but the dark lines in their eyes always pointed straight to the pupil, not swirled.

  “I am Elynia,” the woman said, pursing her full lips into a amused expression. She had high cheekbones and olive skin.

  “And I am Arceylain,” the elf said. Arceylain looked much like the other elves beside Cornar—tall, blond-haired, and fair-skinned. His eyes were a pale sea-gray color.

  “The three of us,” Dusel said, “represent the three races of the Kaldean Alliance.”

  Arceylain and Elynia stepped away from Cornar and the elves and joined Dusel. They all clasped their hands behind their backs.

  “Three races,” Solidin said, looking to Cornar. “Human.” He pointed to Dusel. “Elf.” He pointed to Arceylain. “And dragon.” He pointed to Elynia.

  A dragon? But she looked human, except for her strange-looking eyes.

  “You are correct,” Elynia said with a chuckle.

  Cornar shook his head. “Impossible,” he muttered. The three Keepers glanced to Cornar with confusion, but returned their focused to Solidin.

  “We congratulate you on completing your pilgrimage,” Dusel said. “We know you are in need of rest, so you are welcome to stay here before proceeding to Dalgilur.”

  “There is lodging in the southeast wing,” Elynia said, gesturing to her left. “The other Keepers there will tend to your needs.”

  Other Keepers? But there was no one else here; surely she should know that…

  “Ah… kolphigrym,” an elf said, nodding. “That makes sense.”

  “What is that?” Cornar asked.

  “A projection of illusionary particles that are acting on a predetermined set of instructions and reactions,” Solidin said. “These three aren’t real. They’re a manifestation of some tevisral.”

  “I beg to differ,” Arceylain said, pursing his thin elven lips.

  Footsteps hurried into the attunement chamber, and several more elves marched to Solidin.

  “Solidin,” the lead elf said. “We found a transportium.”

  “Is it working, Tregal?” Solidin asked, turning away from the three projection-things.

  “We don’t know,” Tregal replied. “Gladis and some of the others are checking it. But it doesn’t look damaged, like the others we found.”

  “This transportium network is only to be used by full-fledged Keepers,” Dusel said.

  The elves seemed to ignore him. They talked among themselves in Elvish, then hurried out of the room, leaving Cornar with the three projection-things.

  All three of them eyed Cornar thoughtfully.

  “Who are you?” Elynia asked.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Cornar said.

  She giggled, then looked to his weapons. “You are an odd man. You deny the existence of my kind, but you wield weapons forged by us.”

  Weapons forged by us? He squinted an eye thoughtfully.

  “Those blades of yours were not forged by men,” Elynia continued. “They were made by draconic hands… probably inside Mount Ul’goth. Draw them for me, will you?”

  That seemed a reasonable request; after all she was just a cluster of magic, right? Cornar drew both of his blades, extending the serrated dagger toward Elynia.

  “Fine craftsmanship,” Dusel said, nodding.

  Elynia extended her fingers and touched the serrated dagger. “Absorption,” she muttered with intrigue. “And reflection… my, whoever crafted this knew what they were doing.”

  Her observations surprised Cornar. Wasn’t she just a simple projection of magic? Yes, his weapons could absorb magic. And on a rare occasion he had deflected an arcane bolt. It was a tricky stunt, but it sent the bolt back into the caster’s face.

  “Odd shape, though,” Arceylain said. “Like an oversized bread knife.”

  Dusel chuckled and grinned at the elf-projection.

  “But deadly…” Elynia observed, gliding her fingers across the serrated edge. Tiny particles of light trailed from her fingers and wisped into the blade. If she was real, the blade would have cut her. “These are weapons worthy of a Keeper.”

  “They probably belonged to a Keeper.” Arceylain frowned. “Where did you get them? Did you steal them?”

  Taken aback at the accusation Cornar replied, “They were my father’s.”

  “So he stole them,” the elf-projection said. That thing definitely acted like an elf. Pompous. Self-righteous.

  “They were a gift to him,” Cornar said, and gritted his teeth
.

  “So someone else stole them.”

  “Why is that your answer for everything?” Elynia spun, glaring at the elf-projection.

  “Because when a Keeper falls in battle their weapons and armor are rescued, taken by others of their Order and housed within their armories,” Arceylain retorted. “Unless the Order is overrun on the battlefield.”

  “Nonsense,” Elynia said. “Besides, the blade doesn’t have any seals indicating to which Order it belongs.” She turned back to Cornar. “The other one?” She pointed to the short-sword..

  Cornar held out his other weapon.

  Elynia hummed and squinted. “The same properties…” Another trail of light followed her fingers, seeping into the blade.

  * * * * *

  Solidin descended one of the many stairs inside the Keepers’ Temple, following Tregal. They were in the northeast wing of the temple, now on the third floor. Another group of elves entered the hallway, waving for Solidin.

  “Sir,” a newcomer said, and saluted Solidin, speaking in Elvish. “We have not found anything else. There are no weapons or tevisrals in any of the chambers we have searched.”

  “Then this is all for naught,” Fingas said. He was one of the elves who had responded to Cornar’s call for aid.

  “We still have Dalgilur to search,” Solidin said. This place was not the Keepers’ headquarters. It wouldn’t make sense for them to hide a weapon cache here.

  The elf continued with his report, but Solidin didn’t care to listen. He had come to this temple with one purpose only—finish the attunement process. They could find other trinkets that the Aristocracy’s High Lords could sell elsewhere. Besides, diagrams and depictions of this temple would fetch a fortune if sold to the right people. They could fulfill the High Lords’ goals for this arduous quest just by writing it all in a tome.

  They turned a corner and walked down a long corridor that opened into a large circular room. Solidin could see several members of the Sapphire Guard kneeling around a raised dais in the center of the room. Others were inspecting pillars with floating globes atop them; they were the size of a man’s torso. Gladis was across the room, standing behind a chest-high pedestal.