by AC Cobble
Walking north again, Ben felt comfortable with their plan. It wasn’t perfect, and he didn’t like the risk Towaal implied about the volcano release, but it was better than nothing.
One snowshoed step at a time, he mused, picking up one foot and placing it in front of the other.
“Not too bad, once you get used to it,” remarked Amelie, who was walking beside him.
“Yeah, it’s a little awkward at first, but I think I’m getting the hang of it,” he responded.
Amelie was about to reply when an angry shriek filled the forest. Ben’s breath caught and held for several heartbeats.
Rhys commented, “Just one of them.”
In the distance, they saw a black shape leaping through the high snow, disappearing then reappearing as it struggled forward.
Corinne slung her bow off her shoulder and smoothly nocked an arrow. When the creature popped up again, she timed it and loosed a shot, hitting it near the center.
A pained howl burst out, but it kept coming.
She fired off two more arrows before it crashed down into the snow and didn’t come back up.
They all listened for a tense minute, but no other sounds intruded on the quiet, snow-shrouded woods.
“Nice shooting,” complemented Ben.
“One good thing about the snow,” answered Corinne, “it slows them down. Easy targets.”
“At least there’s one good thing,” said Ben, kicking loose a clump of powder, which had become lodged on top of his boot.
A week passed and they encountered several more demons, but nothing that they weren’t able to deal with quickly and reasonably safely. The constant cold and effort required to hike through the snow were taking a toll on them, though. Ben felt the entire group was wearing thin.
“Just two or three more days,” grumbled Rhys one morning. They were out of kaf and he had to be stingy with his liquor before that ran out as well.
Ben felt his friend’s pain. They were all grumpy and on edge. In the last two days, they had started seeing more and more tracks that signified demons were in the area. Mostly, it was one at a time, but late in the afternoon yesterday, they stumbled across what could only be a swarm. Rhys and Corinne both studied the path broken in the snow. Neither could tell exactly how many demons were in the pack. Enough, figured Ben.
The trees started to thin out and were replaced by rocky outcrops and ridges. It was a broken land they traveled over. Fewer trees made it more obvious how devoid of life the rest of the terrain was. Anything that took a breath and had a heartbeat had been consumed by the demons. Ben ached to see a rabbit hop through the snow or hear a bird chirp.
“There,” pointed Amelie.
Far in the distance was a high stone butte. It could be the one on the map.
Rhys squinted at the butte and guessed, “Two days walk, maybe a day and a half if we push it.”
“It will take half a day to climb that,” remarked Towaal. “Let’s push it.”
The short northern winter nights didn’t leave much daylight for hiking, but after seeing the butte, Towaal suggested they walk through part of the night. The moon was high above and the snow-covered landscape provided plenty of light to go by. Worst case, if they tripped, they would land in a cold but soft pile of snow.
The wind picked up at night and sent a chill down Ben’s spine. He shivered as it whipped his cloak around his body and sent a blast of loose snow swirling around his legs.
Finally, a day and a half later, they made it to the base of the tall rock tower. It rose half the height of Whitehall, Ben estimated. Out in the desolate Wilds, it stuck up above anything else near them.
They circled the butte until they found a section where a loose scree had collapsed, giving them an easy ramp halfway up to the top. It was steep, but with the thick snow covering it, they were able to climb up with little problem.
At the top of the scree, they found a seam of rock angling toward the top. They would try to climb it.
“Anyone bring any rope?” wondered Ben.
No one brought any. Each of them would have to brave the climb on their own.
Rhys went first, removing his snowshoes and scampering up the seam. It was as wide as his foot. Ben’s heart caught in his throat as he watched his friend climb higher.
“Scared of heights?” asked Corinne, noticing Ben’s nervousness.
“Climbing ice-covered rock three weeks away from the nearest physic and surrounded by swarms of demons? Why would I be scared?” he joked back, barely concealing the quaking in his knees.
Amelie came up behind him and placed a comforting arm on his. She smiled at him but remained silent as Corinne placed a confident foot in the seam and started up after Rhys.
Ben studied where she placed each hand and foot, hoping he could repeat her motions when he made the climb.
Near the top now, Rhys paused and leaned back, gripping an invisible piece of rock as he looked up at the remaining three paces. Ben watched in amazement as he scaled, spiderlike, up a flat-seeming section of rock.
Shortly, Rhys disappeared over the top lip of the butte. Corinne, following close behind, paused at the last section. Rhys reappeared and hung halfway over, one hand vanishing above the lip to, Ben hoped, hold onto something. He motioned to Corinne, who passed her pack to him. Rhys hauled it up. Corinne, unencumbered now, followed him up and out of sight.
Towaal went next. Despite her scholarly appearance, she made good time. She scaled the last section quicker than Rhys or Corinne. Ben watched in amazement.
“She’s magically holding herself to the rock.” Amelie scoffed. “It has to do with gravity and amplifying the force from the butte.”
“Huh?” asked Ben.
“Never mind,” said Amelie. “Just don’t feel bad. She cheated.”
With that, Amelie started up.
Ben was impressed with how easy she made it look. Just like Corinne, Rhys materialized to take her pack at the top and pointed out where she could place her hands.
Ben sighed and placed a booted foot on the seam near the base. He looked down and saw a layer of ice was coating the rock. If he was going to fall and die, might as well climb quickly, he thought. The higher the fall, the quicker the end.
The hard ice was slick beneath his feet but there was enough rock to support him. He was able to find crevices with his fingers and pull himself upward. Halfway to the last section, a breeze picked up.
His arms and legs shaking, he made the mistake of looking down and realized his assessment was right, the butte was roughly half the height of Whitehall, and he was now three-fourths of the way to the top. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the rock, immediately regretting it. It was ice cold. Having his fingers wedged in there was bad enough.
Vowing not to look down again and calculate the time it would take his body to impact the rocks below, he continued upward.
As he edged along the narrowing seam, a piece of rotten rock hived off under his foot and went clattering down the side of the butte. His foot slid down with it, but he gripped hard with his fingers and quickly regained a solid position.
Rhys poked his head over and remarked, “You still coming?”
Ben looked up and whimpered, “Yeah, almost there.”
Closer, Ben was able to shrug out of his pack and Rhys leaned down and lifted it effortlessly away. Ben swallowed and felt along the rock face above him, feeling for any nook or cranny he could wedge his fingers in.
Rhys came back and frowned down at him. “What are you doing? Just go up the same way I did. Look, right there.” He pointed to a crack in the rock that would be a perfect finger hold. Ben hadn’t seen it.
“Oh, right,” said Ben. He scooted over to take advantage of Rhys’ suggestion. He pulled himself up and kicked below, trying to find a foothold. Slowly, he started scaling the flat part of the rock face.
One more time, Rhys came back and groaned. “Still climbing?”
Rhys reached down with one hand and
gripped the back of Ben’s tunic. He dragged Ben over the lip of the butte. Ben’s body scrapped across the rough rock.
“We don’t have all day,” muttered Rhys.
“Well,” Towaal remarked from across the flat surface at the top of the butte, “we actually do have all day, and probably two or three days after.”
Rhys raised an eyebrow.
Towaal explained, “It will take a few bells to far-see and scout the valley. After that, I’m not sure how long it will take to create a rupture.”
“Anything we can do to help?” asked Rhys.
“No,” replied Towaal. “Amelie can observe and I will likely need the power in the disc she is carrying. The rest of you are free to do as you please.”
“Let’s explore,” said Rhys to Ben and Corinne. He pointed to a gaping hole in the center of the butte.
Ben walked over and looked down. He couldn’t see far in the dark, but saw enough to know it went deep. The hole had a rough square shape. It made no sense that something like this would exist in the middle of the butte. “This can’t be natural,” he guessed.
“My thoughts exactly,” agreed Rhys.
Ben and Rhys dumped their gear and Rhys started work on fashioning a torch. Ben watched him. Out of the corner of his eye, he also observed what Towaal and Amelie were doing. Towaal pulled out one of their cooking pans and laid it flat on the top of the rock. She poured half a skin of water into it and then moved to look north, toward the valley.
It was there, in the distance. The two sharp ridgelines they had seen on the map. From the top of the butte, they looked just like Ben would have pictured them. He could see the narrow gap between the two ridges they had planned to pass through. He saw what looked like a frozen river creeping out of it. Beyond that, he couldn’t see anything.
Rhys, igniting his torch, gestured to Ben and Corinne. “Come on.”
Rhys stuck his torch in the hole and they peered down. About two man-heights below was a landing with rough-hewn stairs descending from it.
“Now that’s awfully strange,” remarked Rhys.
“Who built stairs inside of there?” wondered Corinne.
“Only one way to find out,” replied Rhys. He then dropped his torch and smoothly slid into the hole, hanging onto the edge with his hands then dropping the rest of the way down.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to get back out of there?” called Ben.
“Hope so,” answered Rhys. “You coming?”
Ben and Corinne shared a look. Then she, too, dropped down into the hole. Ben sighed and followed.
The landing was small for the three of them but Rhys moved down onto the steps, giving them room to look around.
There wasn’t much to see. It appeared both nature and man had created then enlarged the hole. There were no signs about why.
“Let’s move down,” suggested Rhys.
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 Towa
al.
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.”