They walked in silence for many steps before they were called from a platform high above. A single watchman in a tower overlooking the road called down to them from a place cleverly hidden in the stone, at more than twice Dravud’s height. Had this been an outpost on Eigrae, a skilled archer would be able to deplete a sizeable force of its officers and banners from just this point. Looking with a soldier’s eye, and enhancing her vision for the darkness, Lydria found that the lookout was one of several on either side of the road. They were walking into a valley designed for killing.
“Who passes into the domain of Griffis of Vul?”
Dravud spoke quickly before the others could react. “I am Dravud of the beach, guide to three who seek audience with Vul Griffis.”
22-The Palace of Vul Griffis
Lydria thought their welcome would be short and handled decisively with a volley of arrows in their direction. After all they had endured, they would, she thought, be slaughtered at the very doorstep of Griffis while he laughed in his halls. But the response from the guard made Lydria think otherwise. Griffis was waiting for them, of that the guard made clear, but he was not about to let his servants destroy three who had made it so far. He was intrigued, and he would want to see those who had made it to his door. The guards helped satisfy Griffis’ ego, but letting the three living beings inside, satiated his arrogance.
They were waved through to the main gate where a giant black portcullis was winched open slowly, just high enough where Dravud had to dip his head slightly to avoid the sharpened points of the gate. There was a slowness about everything, a theater that in some ways appealed to Lydria. The servants here understood the show and how the palace was designed to make visitors feel inferior and unequal to the man who lived inside. Putting all that aside, Lydria asked a question that was more pragmatic.
“Will you merely guide us, or are you permitted to intercede on our behalf, as we have reached our destination?” Her question came out more pointed than she had intended and Lydria attempted to look apologetic to Dravud. The guide gently lifted the ends of his lips up in a knowing smile, that told her he understood why she should ask such a thing.
“That you have made it in his front door is not the end of my guidance. I am to see you to his presence. If you make it that far, then alternatives may be considered. I warn you, however, that this place is not without its dangers. You may find yourself at times without my company,” Dravud said. “You surely understand by this point that my role as your guide limits my involvement. To go beyond those limits would put me at the mercy of Griffis – and mercy is a concept to which he is unfamiliar.”
After the portcullis dropped, a large beast that Lydria thought looked like a dragon, but without wings, and with human arms, struggled mightily to open enormous bronze doors. The doors were ornate, with carved symbols and shapes that when taken in their entirety must represent a coat of arms for Griffis.
The door and indeed, the shields of his guards were divided into three parts, a top half, and a bottom divided into left and right sides. On the bottom right was a half sun on a horizon, it’s beams moving out, but not reaching the edges of its section – it was plain that this represented a setting sun. On the bottom left, was a dragon, wings spread and head to the right, spewing fire. And on the top was the Sword of Wilmamen, the Sword of True Death, its hilt in the upper left and its twin blades pointed directly at the heart of the setting sun. At the intersection of the three sections, a sphere with a halo radiating from it into all three sections.
The inlay on the door was large, nearly as tall as Dravud and more than the width of Lydria’s outstretched hands.
A low growl from the beast at the door took them by surprise and it jerked its head toward the inside, urging them to move forward quickly. Lydria jumped forward and looked back, noticing a small nod of familiarity between Dravud and the beast. It was slight, and Lydria wondered if she had seen the guide’s chin move up almost imperceptibly in the gloom. Only the shadows cast by the small fires nearby allowed her to catch the moment, and then it was gone.
The foyer, if one was to call it that, of Griffis’ palace was immense. The Tower Cargile could fit in it with room for birds to fly between its tallest point and the cleverly arched rafters far above. The room seemed like something out of a rich king’s passion dream – dark hard woods and expensive stone making up the walls and floors. Gold the width of Lydria’s smallest finger filigreed the wainscoting in an undulating river of color in the wood. The floors in this space were part of a picture, one that took Lydria a moment to recognize, but what she quickly realized as a map of Eigrae. “It’s so big…”
Dravud stood by her side. “What is that?”
“Eigrae. It’s enormous.” The land Lydria knew as Wesolk, even with it’s massive lake, and the land of Dar’Ahlmon, which she had only recently visited, made up just a small portion of the map. The land stretched far to the west and there was a symbol for Eigraenal, and further a great sea. To the east, as she was aware, was the Great Eastern Sea, and beyond the horizon, there lay another land, a land that was larger than all of the Eigrae she knew. Islands and large territories, symbols and heraldry denoting great cities and families. Which of these might still exist, she didn’t know but the map suggested cities that were larger than anything in the world she knew. Among those symbols, the largest she recognized – Sundrughan. The symbol for this place lay in the mountains that ran down the middle of the eastern land – in a land covered with forests and hills, not unlike her own, but a place that looked somehow older.
Haustis and Hokra soon saw what had gathered her attention and investigated on their own, each replicating her initial reaction as to the scope of their world. “How foolish we have been,” Haustis finally said, “to think that we were such masters of our world. Eigrae supports far more life than we have known to exist, yet here it sits, and we find that we are aware of only a tiny portion.”
Lydria realized then that her goal of spreading the stones would require far more travel than she had thought. Keeping them all in Wesolk would invite challenges. She could see Wesolk was one of the smallest cities on the map, and if the map could be believed, it was much smaller than other capitals of the world. Even Dar’Ahlmon, a place Lydria believed had existed since the dawn of time, looked young and insignificant in relation to its eastern counterparts.
Looking up from the floor, Lydria took in two large, wide staircases that started on the walls to either side of her and gently curved to a balcony. On her own floor, the foyer continued straight through a set of double doors as far as they could see. She thought the same was probably true on the floor above.
Lining the walls of the foyer between the doors and the staircases, were a series of larger than life bronze statues. Lydria noticed the ones to her left included the guides they had met in the Nethyn Plains. There was Dravud in the guise of a young man, his boyish grin almost alive, cast in a dark green stone. Rax was there, as was Karjan, Wilmamen, and on the fourth plinth, the shattered remains of what Lydria guessed would have been S’rolek. The statues on the right featured the rainbow ring, the dragon, the Sword of True Death, and a blue ball the size of a large melon.
In the middle of the room, Dravud stood as still as his own statue, and the three crossed the foyer, treading lightly over their portion of Eigrae. The statues of both the sword and sphere were made of a deep black material that was not natural to Eigrae, and that Hokra thought was meant to mimic Farn’Nethyn.
“How could he know of the Stones of Power?” Lydria asked herself and her companions before turning to Dravud and asking him directly.
“I do not know,” He said slowly, seeming to take his time to think through the riddle in his mind. “It is likely, although I am not certain, that he does not know what the sphere represents – only what it looks like. Visions are not limited to those who pursue the light, and rarely do they show themselves clearly and without mystery.”
As interesting as they found the map
and statues, they had to leave the entry. No one had arrived to lead them and Hokra decided he wanted to see what was at the top of the stair. He walked quietly away from the others and placed the toe of his boot upon the first tread of the staircase and immediately threw himself backward as the entire stair erupted in a wall of flame. He dusted himself off as he got to his feet and looked at the others who merely gave him curious glances as they realized he was unharmed. The Chag walked away from the staircase toward the center of the room muttering half aloud, “I guess we don’t go up the stairs, then.”
Lydria shielded the three of them and stood in the middle of the entrance, lifting herself straight up to see down the hallway above. As her head rose above the level of the second floor she saw a brightly lit hallway that suddenly erupted with dark shapes and she released her magic and fell suddenly to the floor, as crossbow bolts glanced off her magical shield and flew unhindered across the foyer to slam harmlessly into the wall opposite the corridor where they fell to the floor.
“So,” Lydria said, mimicking Hokra and wiping herself down as she stood, shaking from surprise at the suddenness of the weapons’ appearance, “I guess we are not welcome on the second floor – is that correct, Dravud?” Her look at the guide was piercing. She knew that he was aware of the dangers of the palace but would not aid them.
“That is correct.” His arms were crossed in front of him again, his warmth palpable in the stale air of the large room.
Lydria’s father had been a good man and a patient instructor for his daughter, whom he taught all he knew of weapons and tactics. All his knowledge, however, did not prepare her for traps of this sort, and she had to smile to herself at the irony; the magic she wielded was in many ways the same as the traps she now encountered, and while she was happy to have such an advantage, she thought it unfair that others might use similar means to their own ends.
“We move slowly from here on and we are always shielded,” Lydria commanded. The sudden change in her demeanor was not limited to her order and she saw the others take notice. She stood taller, and held herself like a commander, like her father. Even the Prince of the Chag Ca’Grae did not question her but offered his assistance.
“We should consider lifting ourselves slightly above the floor as well, Lydria, in case the floors are trapped.” Hokra was already putting his suggestion into practice when Lydria nodded her assent.
Haustis had an end of her bow held by her foot and was bending it to tie the string, when Lydria interrupted her. “It may be that our weapons will work in this place, but it is more likely, I think, that they will not.” Lydria took her sister’s spear and moved her hands along its length, a cracking blue glow following her trace. When she reached the tip, her collar glowed brightly, and she wove her hands over the tip of the weapon until it pulsed with a dark blue energy. “Hold onto your spear and do not let it go. If you find a target thrust it toward your target instead of throwing, but please make sure you are standing in front of us.” Lydria smiled and hugged her sister quickly, and moved forward, her feet inches from the ground as Hokra followed with a shimmering stout weapon that was half hammer and half axe. “Is that your own design, good Prince?”
“I couldn’t decide which I would prefer, so this will serve,” he said with a quick raise of his eye brow.
Lydria started down the left side of the ground floor central hallway with Hokra taking the right side, several feet behind her, and Haustis following Lydria several additional strides to the rear. Behind them all walked Dravud, calmly making his way down the middle of the corridor as if nothing could harm him. Lydria looked back at him once and shook her head, unsure of whether she should be encouraged by his brashness or concerned that their preparations were not enough.
“Hold.” Hokra whispered and pointed to the floor just in front of his feet. “There is a small bit of stone here that is alive,” he said, holding his free hand over the stone and concentrating so that his collar flared quickly. “We have done well to walk carefully and not on the floor,” he said, “but we should also pay attention to the walls.” Moving carefully so as not to disturb the living rock, they continued down the hall.
The walk to the next large room took far longer than its distance would indicate and when they entered the new space, they moved quickly to the sides of the circular room, its curved walls making them feel as if they had cover from unknown enemies.
With both Lydria and Hokra surveying the room for anything out of place, Dravud moved to the center and watched them. Haustis, without magic, used her natural skill to search the area around her, and it was she who felt the first sign of trouble.
“Dead though it may be, there is enough live earth here that I know this place is not well.” She had the attention of the others and suggested they move quickly and determine where they would go. There were doors at the cardinal points of the room but little to distinguish one from the other. Haustis took a dagger and etched a line into the stone by the door they had come through, slipping as she did so and scoring the wood of the door frame as well. It was wise, she had been taught, to leave yourself a sign in an unfamiliar wood, if no apparent sign is visible.
Satisfied there were no traps, Lydria moved forward to the door opposite the one they entered and when all three had left the walls, the room swung violently to the side, so that the floor and the ceiling became the walls, and the walls a circular curving floor. They toppled against each other as they fell from the shift, and they landed by the door that was to their right when they entered. They stood carefully, looking up at the enormous wall that was, moments ago, their floor.
“Fine, we’ll take this door,” Lydria said, moving to open the door they had landed near. Before she could touch the handle, however, the room began to move, turning so that they could only remain in one place by running along the curved walls that served as their floor.
Dravud maintained his original place in the center of the room, though he now stared at them as he stood as if his boots were nailed to the floor where he had started. He was rooted to his spot and stared straight down at his charges, all the while doing nothing.
Seeing Dravud made Lydria furious and a blast of blue light reached out across the room lifting the three of them, so they were eye-to-eye and yet perpendicular to their guide. The room continued to spin, and it was gaining speed, the doors blurring so they seemed to be a single wooden streak against the grey of the wall. Hokra floated down and started to chop at the wall/floor with his blue axe and was quickly told to stop by Haustis as shards of rock flew into the air and became part of the swirling wall. Going back to a door now would mean risking being hit with sharp chips of stone.
“Move aside,” Lydria told Dravud. She had seen he was standing in the exact center of the room. He may have smiled as he stepped carefully to the side, but Lydria’s blood was up and she was paying almost no attention to the guide. “Haustis, hand me an arrow.”
Taking the wooden shaft from her sister, Lydria held it out, standing where Dravud had stood, blue magic crackling along the length of the shaft until it started to grow. Hokra joined in at once, understanding at least part of what she was trying to do, and when the arrow was the size of small tree, she let it go, watching it fall through the wall and into the doorway beyond before being caught by the spinning walls. Everything stopped at once and for a tense moment the three of them watched the glowing blue tree as it bent ever so slightly against the force of the room. “We will go that way.” Lydria lowered herself slowly past the wedged door on the floor and when she passed the doorway she was floating above the proper floor, as if lying on her back – and the others were beside her.
“Do not let go of your magic, Lydria,” Haustis called. In their new hallway, they were floating above the floor and parallel to it, staring straight at the ceiling. “Hokra, turn to the floor and tell me what you see.”
The Chag Ca’Grae made swimming movements with his hand to slowly turn himself in mid-air and looked closely at the floor on
ly several inches from his face. “Yes, I see.” He mumbled to himself a little and Lydria felt a tingle of magic around her. The shield Hokra raised was very strong, and soon a small blue wall that looked like the stone of their collars wrapped each of them from head to foot.
“Have you entombed me in a magic coffin, Hokra?” Lydria said, her voice muffled by the magic wall around her, but still barely visible through its dark blue light.
“I have entombed you in something that will keep you from a coffin. We fall in three, two…”
Even encased in magic, the beating Lydria felt when they touched the floor reminded her of the first time she had used magic. She was not ready for the heat, and noise, and buffeting she took, as if she had gotten the worst of a drunken fight.
After a moment, it was silent again and when they stood, Hokra lowered the dark blue shroud from them, and they looked at a corridor that was all but destroyed. “It looks as if a dragon were here – and angry,” Lydria said, reaching out to touch Hokra’s hand by way of thanks.
“Where to now?” Dravud brushed some stone dust off the green scale armor that now covered his shoulder and arms.
“How much of this is there?” Lydria demanded.
The three stared at their guide and it was obvious they wouldn’t move until he said something. “During your travels in this place, what have you noticed?”
“Are you giving us a lesson? Now?”
“I am trying to help you learn so that you can accomplish what you set out to accomplish.”
Lydria held her tongue, a retort she was sure would land on deaf ears swallowed along with any pride that would only serve to get them killed. “We get to where we need to go in the time it takes to get there.” She recited it like a petulant child, but she understood. “He’s just having fun with us, isn’t he? Waiting to see what we can do so he can defeat us more easily?”
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