Endless Flight

by A. C. Cobble

  He started down the rock steps, which curved gently as they went. Ben estimated they made two rotations before they reached the bottom.

  They found themselves in a large, open room. It was filled with debris that had mostly turned to dust or rust.

  On one side of the room, there was an indention for a fireplace. A narrow chute led up from it, but the fireplace itself only held lumps of red brown dirt.

  Along the walls, there were knee-high piles that Ben imagined were tables and chairs at one time. Now they were unrecognizable.

  In the center of the room was one of the few things that had not decayed into non-existence. It was a large black-onyx table. Ben brushed aside a layer of dust and saw it still retained a glossy sheen.

  “Don’t touch that,” hissed Rhys.

  “Why?” asked Ben.

  Rhys waved around the room. “It’s been ages since anyone has been in here. Furniture, iron in the hearth, it’s all disintegrated. Why do you think that table still stands, fresh as the day it was made?”

  “I wouldn’t call it fresh,” complained Ben.

  “It’s mage-wrought,” explained Rhys.

  “A table?” questioned Ben, looking down at the glossy surface.

  Rhys shrugged. “I imagine it was created with a larger purpose in mind than eating dinner on. We’ll bring Towaal down to examine it later.”

  Suddenly, a warm glow filled the room. Corinne stumbled backward, cursing. In front of her on the wall a yellow stone was emitting a steady glow.

  “I said no touching!” barked Rhys.

  “I barely nudged it,” exclaimed Corinne, staring fixated at the stone.

  Rhys sighed and walked over to it. It hung at eye level and was embedded in the wall. “I’ve seen these before,” he said. He quickly walked around the room and tapped three more of the stones. The room filled with a warm light.

  “The skill and power it took to fashion these to work for hundreds of years,” Rhys said to himself. “Unbelievable.”

  “Hundreds of years?” asked Ben.

  “If not thousands,” responded Rhys. “Look around here. Anything that isn’t mage-wrought has completely turned to dust. How long do you think it would take iron to rust into nothingness in a dry chamber?”

  Ben shrugged. He had no idea how long it took iron to rust.

  “A long time,” declared Rhys.

  From what Ben could tell, his friend was right. It had been a long, long time since whoever occupied this chamber had done so.

  “Look over there,” said Corinne, pointing to a far corner of the room that had been obscured in darkness. Now that the wall lights were functioning, they could see a narrow hallway and stairs leading deeper into the rock.

  A quick circuit of the first room showed there was nothing else to see. They headed down the stairs.

  The stairs twisted down in a spiral and at the bottom they found a dark hallway. Ben guessed it was directly beneath the room above.

  Six doorways lined the hall in front of them, five gaped open. Whatever door guarded them had long since rotted away. The sixth door, at the end of the hallway, appeared brand new.

  “Look at the floor,” said Corinne.

  Rhys held his torch low and they could see a thick layer of undisturbed dust.

  “Nothing has been in here for ages,” she continued.

  “So, why is that door new?” asked Ben.

  “It’s not,” explained Rhys. “At least, I don’t think so.” He marched down the hall, glancing into the other rooms before he got to the end and stood in front of the door. He paused, examining it closely before tracing a hand along its surface. Soft glowing green sigils appeared when Rhys brushed over them. They quickly faded away when his hand moved.

  “Preservation magic,” he mumbled.

  “Should we get Towaal?” asked Ben.

  “Yes,” answered Rhys. “I think she’ll want to see this.”

  Towaal, it turned out, did want to see what they found. She stopped her far-seeing preparations and immediately followed them back down.

  In the first chamber, she quickly examined the table and in an awed tone remarked, “Unbelievable.”

  “What is it?” asked Amelie.

  “A far-seeing device,” answered Towaal. “We’re wasting our time up top with that pan of water.”

  Ben remembered in Fabrizo a merchant had tried to sell him such a device, but that one was the size of his palm. This was a table large enough to seat a dozen big men.

  “How does it work?” he asked.

  “Sight is simply our perception of light,” replied Towaal. “When we see an object, we are really seeing the light reflecting off of it. This device captures and displays that light. A skilled practitioner can use their will to move the source of the light, which will then be visible here,” she finished, tapping the table.

  Ben frowned, not understanding.

  “It lets you see stuff far away,” added Amelie helpfully.

  Ben rolled his eyes at her.

  “I will examine this in more detail later. Now, I am even more curious to see the door you found,” said Towaal.

  They led her down the stairs and she cautiously approached the door at the end of the hall. Just like Rhys, she waved her hand over the door and read the sigils.

  Satisfied, she grabbed the doorknob and turned. Silently, it twisted in her hand without a squeak or a hint of disrepair.

  Corinne shuffled to stand nervously behind Ben as Towaal swung the door open. Towaal looked back at them then walked into the room without speaking.

  They all rushed forward to peer into the doorway behind her.

  Inside, they found a surprisingly large sitting room with an open door to a bedchamber.

  Filing in, Ben gazed around in wonderment. Unlike everything else they had seen, there was no sign of age or wear in this room. It was perfectly preserved, like someone had just walked out moments before. It smelled nice.

  “Amazing,” breathed Towaal.

  “Have you not seen a spell like this before?” questioned Rhys. “I did not think they were uncommon.”

  “Not to this extent, no,” replied Towaal. “You are right, they are not exactly uncommon. They are frequently used on important legal documents or declarations like Argren’s Alliance, if he trusted mages that is. I have never seen one that was able to sustain itself for a thousand years without needing to be refreshed, and covering two entire rooms. Whoever set this was quite powerful.”

  “I saw some preservation magic worked in the Sanctuary,” remarked Amelie, “but nothing like this. How is it done?”

  “It’s the same concept as the long-lived,” continued Towaal. “An element of control is established which can arrest the natural process of decay. You were never shown because initiates don’t typically have anything that needs to be preserved. Frankly, I find the spell’s use rather silly. Why not just recopy an important document?”

  “Long-lived?” asked Corinne derisively. “Are we talking fairy tales now? I can accept a lot about magic, but I never really liked that one.”

  Rhys grinned broadly at her. “If you don’t like that fairy tale, how about a handsome prince charming coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress?”

  Corinne snorted. “I am not in distress, and you are certainly not handsome. I think you’ll have better luck claiming to be a long-lived.”

  “Maybe I’ll try that,” responded Rhys, his smile growing.

  Towaal ignored the banter and continued to examine the room. Ben followed with his eyes, seeing a well-appointed room buried deep in the mountain.

  In the sitting room, a simple writing desk and chair sat against one wall. Towaal sifted through the few items on the desk. A small notebook made its way into her hand, but the rest of the items were basic and she left them. A quill for writing, blank pages of parchment, and what appeared to be a poor attempt to carve a wooden pipe.

  On the other wall were two comfortable-looking chairs with a stack of books bet
ween them. A crystal decanter of some amber liquid rested on a short table.

  A thick rug covered the floor. Ben paused when he saw hanging against one wall a simple, solid purple flag.

  “The Purple?” he asked, looking at it.

  Towaal frowned and bent close to examine it. “Nothing special about it and no markings,” she said. “But who knows? I am not aware of any other significance to the color.”

  The notebook and books would take further examination by Towaal and the decanter by Rhys. Other than that, the room was bare.

  They moved back to the bedroom and Ben’s breath caught. A shimmering suite of armor stood in one corner, and beside it was a weapons rack. The rack held a massive mace and an elegant longsword. The armor was heavy plate. It looked like it had just been polished. The gleam of the metal reflected the room. Ben saw the companions moving in it as they approached.

  A helmet with a purple plume hung above the armor. Rhys leaned close to see it. He slid a visor down to cover the face and Ben frowned. There were no eye slits in the visor. It completely covered where a person’s face would be.

  “Mage-wrought,” whispered Rhys. “There must be some mechanism to see through the metal.”

  “Mage-wrought armor?” asked Towaal curiously. She moved to look closer. Lightly, she touched the helmet and the plate. Faint sigils followed in the wake of her touch. None of them meant anything to Ben.

  “That’s got to be worth a king’s ransom,” breathed Corinne.

  “More like the entire kingdom,” responded Rhys frankly. “I have seen a lot, but I have never seen an entire suit of mage-wrought armor. Mage-wrought armor would be almost impossible to break or penetrate. A man could be near invincible in this.”

  Ben moved over to the weapons rack and looked at the mace and the sword. The mace was a huge, oversized weapon. He couldn’t imagine the strength it would take to wield it. Sharp spikes sprouted out of the end of it and the shaft was as thick as his forearm. It had to weigh half as much as he did.

  The longsword though was a normal-sized weapon. It had a brilliant silver blade and a finely forged cross guard shaped like the spreading branches of a tree. The hilt was wire-wrapped and on the pommel where a lord might keep a gem, was a round, smoothly polished sphere of a strange wood.

  Towaal joined Ben and suggested, “Take it.”

  “What?” he asked, shocked.

  “The longsword. Take it,” she replied.

  “I-I’m not sure…” he stuttered.

  “It is also mage-wrought. It will take further research to determine its properties, but at the least, it is a finer blade than what you have now. Take it,” she said again.

  “What about Rhys? He’s a better swordsman than I am. He should use it,” argued Ben.

  Rhys tapped the hilt of his own longsword and said, “I already have a mage-wrought blade. That one is yours.”

  The companions watched quietly as Ben reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt. He lifted the sword off the rack. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but nothing extraordinary happened. It was a little lighter than his own blade but near the same size. The wire hilt felt cool to the touch.

  Rhys pulled a simple leather scabbard from behind the armor stand and handed it to Ben. It was inscribed with a glyph, different from the blademaster one. Ben had never seen its like before.

  He stepped back and whirled the sword through the air in a gentle figure eight. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it seemed a light breeze stirred the still air of the room.

  Lady Towaal nodded appreciatively and remarked, “I must study that further when we’ve reached safety. I believe we have found something very special.”

  “What about the rest of it?” asked Corinne, pacing in front of the armor and the weapons rack.

  “I don’t think this will fit any of us,” said Rhys, gesturing to the armor. “Whoever wore that is at least a hand taller than I am, and even bigger than the rest of you. That would be more of a hindrance than anything else.”

  “That is too bad,” murmured Towaal. “If I am interpreting the sigils correctly, I believe that armor would imbue a prodigious amount of strength into the wearer. Someone in that armor would be capable of doing amazing things.”

  “That makes sense,” grumbled Rhys, looking wistfully at the armor then at the mace. He moved over to the heavy weapon and lifted it, barely. He let it thump back down onto the rack. “I don’t think any of us wants to lug that thing back to Northport, even if it is mage-wrought.”

  “So, nothing for the rest of us?” complained Corinne.

  “It doesn’t look like it,” said Rhys.

  Amelie, after realizing none of the weaponry was appropriate for her, had moved over to a wardrobe and opened it up. It held clothes that seemed to match the wearer of the armor. She rifled through but came up with nothing of interest.

  They walked back out into the sitting room and Towaal collected the assortment of books by the chair. Rhys unstopped the decanter and sniffed at it. A sly smile crawled across his face and he tucked the crystal container under one arm.

  “Come on,” chided Towaal, pursing her lips in frustration at the rogue. “I want to look at the far-seeing table. Gather our packs up top and bring them down before you do any further research on that mysterious liquid.”

  Rhys affected a hurt look, which drew no sympathy from anyone.

  “Fine.” He sighed.

  Back in the main room, the ladies cleared the dust off the onyx table. Ben and Rhys climbed up to collect the packs. Up top, Ben could see another storm was forming above the mountains. Dark, angry clouds spilled over the peaks and down into the Rift valley.

  “How far do you think it is to the Rift?” asked Ben.

  Rhys squinted, gauging the distance. “Four or five days, depending on the weather and how often you have to walk around those hills.”

  “Do you think we would have made it?” asked Ben.

  Rhys’ expression grew grim. “Do you think Towaal will be able to open up a volcano under the Rift from five days walk away?”

  “I…” Ben didn’t know.

  “Hopefully she can,” Rhys responded. “I’m just saying don’t cross it out that we might still have to walk a little farther north.”

  Ben swallowed. “Let’s get back inside. I’m done with snow for a little while.”

  The men cleared out the hearth and raided the preserved bedchamber for furniture. Borrowing Corinne’s hand axes, they hacked the writing desk and chair into kindling. The dry wood would burn quickly. Rhys suggested they cut up the bed too. The thick logs of the bedposts would last for a while.

  “Why don’t you use those fancy mage-wrought longswords to cut up the wood?” asked Corinne when they handed back her axes. “I’m not an expert, never seen one actually, but I’ve heard they never need to be sharpened.”

  “Every tool has a purpose and every purpose has a tool,” answered Rhys solemnly.

  “My axes are for cutting through a demon’s skull,” remarked Corinne.

  Just then, a cool light filled the room from behind them. The far-seeing table flared into life.

  The group clustered around while Lady Towaal danced her fingers over the glass smooth surface, explaining to Amelie what she was doing.

  “The device is setup like a bird’s eye looking down,” she said. “This one appears to be roughly the same height as the top if the butte we’re housed in. It’s likely we could adjust that, but I need to understand better how the makers created this.”

  Amelie leaned over the table and looked down. It showed rock and forest, just like the terrain around them.

  Ben watched, open mouthed. He’d never seen anything like this.

  Towaal slowly moved a hand over the table and the image moved with it, showing more rocks and trees.

  “See. When I exert my will, I can alter the location we are seeing. These here,” she said, tapping a glowing set of glyphs near the bottom, “are the focus for my will. They signi
fy direction and…likely some other things I am not sure of.”

  “How do,” Corinne asked hesitatingly, “how do you make it work? Could I do it?”

  Towaal smiled at the huntress. “With training, yes. Small far-seeing devices are relatively common. They are used by all manner of adventurers and seafarers. This larger the surface and the greater the distance, the more difficult it is to manipulate. Without sufficient training and practice in how to extend your will, I do not believe you would be able to control this device.”

  Adjusting the display on the table with growing confidence, Lady Towaal kept speaking. “That being said, this table serves as a focal point, which makes this much easier and clearer than what I originally intended. I believe it will also extend the range of what I can see. My method would have required more effort and time to get it right. It’s obvious that whoever created this table did it with the purpose of a scouting device for the area.”

  “But why?” asked Ben.

  “If this outpost, or whatever it is, was for the Purple…” started Amelie.

  “Then maybe they were using it to monitor the Rift,” finished Rhys.

  They all looked back at the far-seeing table silently. Everyone shared the same thought. It made sense that the chamber was a monitoring station for the Rift. The obvious question was, what happened?

  The soft, consistent yellow glow of the wall lights and the flicker of light from the table as Towaal searched the area began to get tiresome after a while. Ben couldn’t help but think what happened to the original occupants of the room. With the armor and equipment they found in the bed chamber, paired with the magical talents of the people who built the devices, they were prepared to defend themselves. Did they just fade away, or were they attacked?

  While the ladies worked on locating a point of reference for the far-seeing table, Ben picked up Rhys’ torch from earlier and wandered back down the stairs to the lower level.

  He walked to the preserved room and looked through it again aimlessly. The clothing held his interest briefly. It was an unfamiliar style. He wasn’t sure if that was because it was ancient or because it was just a different culture.

  In the room, the only decoration was the purple banner hanging on one wall. The only sign of the occupant’s interests had been the stack of books and the decanter of liquor. He didn’t count the amateurish attempt at carving a pipe. To him, that looked like someone trying desperately to relieve boredom.