by Lana Axe
“I wanted to be rich,” he began. “Unfortunately, everywhere I went, people looked down on me and treated me like dirt. The only jobs I could find involved cleaning up after animals and other manual labor that humans are loathe to do. They wouldn’t consider allowing me to work alongside them in any respectable position. I finally tired of it and took to the streets. I’ll spare you the sad story there.”
“But you got off the streets,” Taren said. “You found work as an assassin.” He was still interested in hearing more of the story, and he had no intention of dropping the subject.
With a sigh, Zamna continued. “Let’s just say when you live on the streets, you have to learn to steal. Then you have to learn to defend yourself against those who would steal what you’ve already stolen. It’s a vicious way of life, and only those who are willing to do what it takes will survive.”
Taren wasn’t sure he wanted the details of that way of life. It would seem his friend had been forced into killing from a young age. Life on the streets had to have been brutal.
Before the mage could press him further, Zamna chose to continue his story. “One day, I saw a man in a black cloak who was wearing a jeweled ring on every finger of his right hand. I stole three of those rings before he realized I was there. He was angry but impressed with my abilities. He introduced me to his friends, a group of highly skilled assassins. I spent the next few years training to become one of them, and I’ve been doing that work ever since.”
Taren understood. A life of hardship had led him to become what he was. There was only one question that remained. “If you find treasure in Ailwen’s tomb, will you continue on in your profession?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “If there is treasure in that tomb, I’ll never need to take another job. I’ll find someplace to settle down and enjoy my wealth.”
Pleased by his friend’s response, Taren smiled. “Then I hope there is treasure beyond your wildest dreams.” The man next to him was not a hardened criminal who killed people for pleasure. He had been a frightened child alone in a world that refused to accept him. He had done what was necessary to survive. Taren respected his desire to move on to a better life. If he could help his friend accomplish his goal, he would. Zamna was free to take any and all riches inside the tomb, with the sole exception being the magical symbol Taren sought for his master.
Chapter 15
The rain of bones ended sometime in the night as the travelers slept soundly in their shelter. Taren awoke first and looked out into the morning sunlight. To his amazement, all of the bone fragments had completely disappeared, leaving no trace of their presence behind. Taren stepped outside the wooden structure to have a better look at the land. Everywhere he looked, the ground was clear of debris. All that remained was the same red-brown dirt that had been there before.
Stepping back inside, he saw that Zamna was awake and sitting up on his bed. He stretched his limbs and cracked his knuckles before nodding to his companion.
“You’ll never believe it,” Taren said. “The bones are gone.”
Puzzled, Zamna pulled himself to his feet and stepped outside. The mage had spoken correctly. There was no debris. Stepping back inside, he said, “I guess we won’t have to climb over mountains of bones today.”
They shared a few rations for breakfast before packing up their gear. Both men hoped the rain would stay away this day. They were anxious to get moving, hoping that they would arrive at the tomb soon.
“Did that master of yours say how we’ll recognize this tomb?” Zamna asked. “There could be dozens of graves in this land.”
“Unfortunately he did not,” Taren replied. “Ailwen was an incredibly powerful sorceress. I don’t think her remains will lie in a common tomb. I’d expect it to be something impressive.”
They marched on until midday, when a large building came into view. Pausing, they stared toward the horizon, taking in the sight before them. The building was crafted of white stone that shone brightly beneath the sunlight. Exchanging glances, the two men moved closer for a better look.
As they approached, they realized this was not one single building. It was a massive compound. Dozens of buildings of varying sizes stood tall in the distance. Each was crafted from the same white stones, which showed obvious signs of wear and neglect.
“Is this a city?” Zamna asked.
Taren didn’t think so. “This has to be what we’re looking for,” he said, pulling his map from his bag. “If it were a city, it would not be so weather worn.” Every city they had encountered so far had not appeared on his map because the map had been drafted long before those cities existed. As his eyes pored over the structures before him, he could plainly see that it was ancient. The domed-roof architecture had not been employed for a millennium, and the crumbling walls suggested their advanced age. “This must be where the sorceress lived before she destroyed herself and left a curse on the land. Her actual tomb has to be somewhere inside.”
“Which building do we go in?” Zamna wondered. There were several small buildings, as well as a few large ones, all of which were connected by a series of stone corridors. Finding the tomb could take days if they had to search each building. “Do you have a map of the inside?”
Taren shook his head. An interior map was a luxury he wished he possessed. “I think we should go in the center structure,” Taren said, pointing at the large building standing at the front of the compound. “All of the buildings are connected, so we might as well start front and center.”
Zamna shrugged. It was as good a plan as any. They marched on, finally coming face to face with the stone door where they hoped to gain entry. At its center, it bore a large, round stone engraved with hundreds of runic symbols.
Taren placed his fingers on the stone, feeling the lines of the carvings. They were rough and cool to the touch, but the runes were still readable. Unfortunately, he did not recognize some of the symbols. The writing appeared to be gibberish. “Some of these runes make no sense,” Taren said.
“Maybe the ancient dialect was different from what you’ve studied,” Zamna suggested. None of the runes were familiar to the assassin. If Taren couldn’t read them, he hoped deciphering them wasn’t necessary to gain entry.
Taren shook his head. “Magic hasn’t changed,” he stated. “There’s something different about the runes, though.”
“Does it matter?” Zamna asked impatiently. “Can we get inside without reading the door?”
Taren pressed his hand against the stone entrance, but it did not budge. Zamna approached and shoved his full weight against it, but still it held fast.
“Maybe the symbols tell us how to open it,” Taren said.
Zamna sighed and took a seat near the door. “Then it’s up to you,” he declared. “I can’t read it, and I can’t perform any magic on it. If all else fails, try blasting it open.”
“I’d rather not damage anything if I can avoid it,” he replied. “Anyway, I’m not sure I know a spell strong enough to blast through the thick stone.” He ran his hand along the rough stone surface of the door. Its composition was strange to him, as if it had been crafted from an unknown mineral. Mostly gray in color, it had a strange sheen to it despite its weathered exterior. Seemingly impenetrable, he saw no cracks or other signs of weakness.
“If only I had my books with me,” Taren said with a sigh. “Maybe I could figure out what this says.”
“Take your time,” Zamna said. “You’ll figure it out.” Hoping Taren just needed some time to solve the puzzle, he settled in with his back against the stone wall. He was confident in the mage’s abilities and hoped it would not be long before they were inside.
Taren studied the runes closely, still unsure how to proceed. After an hour, he realized that most of the words referred to spells from the four schools of magic. The spells varied in the level of difficulty as they approached the center of the stone. Seemingly, they were in no particular order. Different schools were placed next to each other, and the
re appeared to be no pattern involved in their positioning. The spells did not build or complement each other, and he had no idea which one he should cast, if any.
“You still have no idea?” Zamna asked, growing impatient. He had hoped to be inside by now. If Taren couldn’t figure out how to get inside, their journey would be nothing more than a waste of time. “Maybe we should try a different door,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” Taren said, scratching his head.
Zamna hopped up and led the way as the pair attempted to circle the grounds. They approached the nearest building, but to their dismay, it had no door, window, or other visible means of entry. Moving on, they inspected a third and then a fourth building. None of them revealed a path inside. Even the corridors between each structure were completely enclosed with no openings at all.
“Not even a window?” Zamna said in disbelief. “What kind of place is this? The people who lived here encased themselves in stone?” He couldn’t imagine living in such a way. Being eternally confined within stone might as well be death.
“There aren’t too many records of Ailwen’s time,” Taren said. “Master Imrit found what he could, but there was no explanation of how to get inside.”
“We might as well go back to the front,” Zamna said, frustrated by the situation. “At least we found some sort of door. Try blasting it with your magic.”
Taren agreed and followed his companion back to the runed door. Summoning his magic, he blasted energy at the door. It stood unfazed. Trying again, he sent a second energy burst, this time more intense. Nothing. The door held fast, refusing to allow the pair entry.
Zamna shook his head and sat once again, his arms resting on his knees. “We’ll just have to wait until you figure it out, I suppose.” He was quickly losing faith in his companion, but he would wait as long as he could stand it. Getting into the tomb was his only chance at retrieving the riches inside, and he hadn’t traveled this far to go away empty handed.
This time when Taren observed the runes, a zigzagged line stood out to him. All of the spells along that line belonged to the school of earth magic. Maybe all he needed to do was cast each spell consecutively, using the door as his target. “I have an idea,” he announced to his companion.
Zamna did not speak. Instead, he raised his eye ridges and waited to see what the mage was going to do. Taren moved away from the door a few steps and focused his energy on the first spell. The corresponding runes glowed with a green light as the spell hit its target. Moving on, he cast the second spell, causing those runes to glow. As he moved to the third spell, he noticed that the first set of runes had stopped glowing, and the second set was fading. When the magic reached the door, only the corresponding set of runes remained alight. In earnest, he continued casting each spell in turn, hoping that when he came to the last one, all of the runes would light up and the door would unlock. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case. Once he had finished casting the final spell, only the matching runes were lit. After a moment, the color faded away, leaving the wall as it had been before. The door was still locked.
Taren growled low in his throat, annoyed that his idea had not worked. How was he supposed to open the door if the answer would not show itself? Staring intently at the runes, he strained his eyes to the point of pain. He simply could not see the solution to this puzzle.
Searching along the etchings, he found another line of zigzagging spells, all from the school of air magic. Though it was not his specialty, he felt he would be able to cast each of those particular spells. Taking a few deep breaths to center himself, he tapped into his magical stores for a second try. The runes flashed with silver light as the magic touched the door, and Taren felt a spark of hope. Concentrating on the second spell, it too lit the correct runes, but the first set of runes had already gone out. Determined not to give up, he continued each incantation until he came to the end. Waiting with bated breath, he stood expecting the door to open. It did not.
Taren searched his memory for any trace of a clue as to how to get inside the tomb. The only words that came to mind were Zamna’s. In his travels, he had heard little about the tomb, but what he had said stuck in Taren’s mind. If the door could be opened only by a true master of the arcane as Zamna had suggested, then Taren would likely need to cast spells from all the schools. Studying the runes again, he searched for a similar zigzagging line of fire or water magic.
After several minutes, he found such a line of fire spells. It was not the exact same pattern as earth or air, but it would have to do. As he studied each of the runic symbols, he realized that three of them corresponded with spells that were not familiar to him. Had he been a master of fire, it was possible he could have cast them with ease. Was this why Imrit had sent all three of them? Did he know more than he had revealed? Or did he simply wish to cover all the bases? Taren could not be sure. All he could do was wish that his fellow apprentices had not perished in The Barrens. Their deaths were senseless wastes. Tissa and Djo deserved to be here beside him to unlock the secrets held within this tomb.
With his last ounce of hope remaining, he searched the runes for water spells. The result was the same. An even more random zigzagging line presented him with seven water spells he could not possibly cast. Two of them contained runic symbols he had never seen, rendering them completely meaningless. Staring in disbelief, he forced himself to admit that he lacked the skills to get them inside the tomb.
“I can’t do it,” he said, placing his head in his hands. “I’ve failed.” Sitting down heavily next to Zamna, he felt the heat rising into his face. A lifetime of work had led him to a dead end, and he would never be able to retrieve the symbol for his aged master. Wishing he had died in The Barrens and saved himself the agony of this defeat, the tears crept into his eyes.
With his voice perfectly calm, Zamna asked, “What does this tomb mean to you?”
Taren wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked out at the horizon. “It means immortality for my master,” he admitted. His mind filled with images of the elderly wizard, hard at work in his laboratory. Taren realized he would never see him again. How could he possibly return and tell him he had failed? No, he would not do it.
“I don’t know this master of yours,” Zamna replied, “but I do know that you admire him greatly.” He turned to look at the young mage. “If he means so much to you, giving up isn’t an option. I can see that you’re frustrated, but it was never supposed to be easy to get inside.” He sighed. “I hoped it would be. I hoped you’d have that door open in a matter of minutes, and we’d be finished by sundown.” He too looked out over the horizon where the sun was setting, and the sky was filling with a soft orange light. “That just isn’t how things work out. You’ve been reading too many fairy tales if you thought you’d get here and everything would magically work out the way it was supposed to.” Hissing softly with laughter, he patted his friend on the back. “Maybe we should get some rest. You can look on it with fresh eyes in the morning.”
Despite all his quirks, Zamna’s words held wisdom. The La’kertan was not the sort of man to sugarcoat things or lie to make someone else feel better. Obviously, he had true confidence in him, and that made Taren hopeful once more. If his companion believed in him, it was time he started believing in himself.
Leaning his back to the wall, he stared at the sky above. There were three moons present in the sky, each of them overlapping the one next to it. Ruffling his brow, he pointed to the moons and asked, “Have you ever seen that before?”
The La’kertan shook his head. “In all my travels, I’ve seen only one moon at a time.”
Taren continued to observe the moons. How could they possibly have changed? Could it be a result of the curse on this land? Maybe it was a sign of some kind. Perhaps he needed to cast magic from only three different schools. Shaking off the idea, he realized it didn’t make sense. Why only three schools when there were four to choose from?
With his stomach beginning to rumble, he decided to hav
e a bite to eat. The pair shared a few rations of nuts and fruit, their supplies of which were becoming quite low. It was unlikely they would find anything to hunt in this land, and there was little chance of finding food inside the tomb, if they ever got inside. All that remained were the ingredients Taren had harvested in the meadow, and the potions he had crafted before leaving home. Some of them could indeed take the place of food in an emergency. Content that he at least had enough to get them to the nearest town, he unrolled his bed and lay down. Potions were something he could do correctly. If only he could use them on the entrance. Sadly, he had never heard of a potion that could unlock a door.
Chapter 16
Sleep eluded Taren, so instead of sleeping he silently stared up at the night sky, searching for familiar constellations. To his surprise, the stars in this land did not resemble those of his home. Here there were no familiar arrangements to the stars, and it puzzled him. As the sky grew darker and more stars appeared in the sky, he became ever more certain that he was correct. He felt like he had been transported to another world.
With the pattern of the alien stars embedded in his mind, he finally drifted off to sleep. Swirling patterns of color appeared before his sleeping eyes. Shades of red and green swirled themselves against a black background. Out of nowhere, bright-silver dots appeared through the black, some of them far brighter than others. They formed a shape that was unknown to him, but he was certain it was some sort of runic symbol. The lines crossed over themselves, connecting the brightest lights while the colors continued to swirl. He awoke with a start, his mind more confused than ever.
Zamna was already awake beside him, sitting cross-legged near the white-stone wall. “Good morning,” he said. “Ready to try again?” Grinning at his friend, he gestured his thumb at the door.