by DB King
“And how is the House?” Alec heard Tanuin ask as the young man made his way across the deck. The question struck Alec as supremely strange: who asked about a house when they were this high up in the air?
“Quiet, mostly, these days,” Uriel said, taking a long sip of his drink. Though Tanuin always waited for his coffee to cool down before drinking it, the elderly mage had neither the patience nor the need. Uriel had told them it ‘warmed his old bones’, whatever that meant, and no matter how hot Eleira or Alec warmed the kettle, the man drank the brew down as if it were room temperature. “My last sojourn there was... less interesting than usual. I’ll be visiting less frequently, of course, now that I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
“I just thought they might help us, is all,” Tanuin protested. Neither of the men seemed to have seen him. “You know them better than just about anyone else, Uriel. If there’s any chance of making a deal with them, you’re the man to do it.”
Was that a wry smile beneath Archmage Diamondspear’s beard? “I don’t think signing a treaty would have quite the result you hope for,” the man said, chuckling. “Those who dwell within the House of Doors adhere to the letter of the law—but, importantly, almost never the spirit of it. I would have the finest legal minds in the kingdoms go over such an arrangement in triplicate, and I still wouldn’t trust it.”
The House of Doors. Something about that phrase stuck in Alec’s mind. It took a moment to remember. The first time he’d been introduced to Uriel Diamondspear, the older man had rattled off a list of titles he held—and one of them had been ‘Master of the House of Doors’. It had intrigued him, but hadn’t had time to ask about it in all the hubbub within the Temple Grounds.
He decided to now.
“What is the House of Doors?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea. It had just hit the perfect temperature.
Both men gave a start at the nearness of his presence. “Gods,” Tanuin said with a smile. “You’ve turned into quite the little sneak, haven’t you, Alec? I didn’t even hear a board squeak beneath your toe!”
“How could you, over this wind?” Uriel asked. The man’s short beard blew this way and that as they crossed over the clouds, though it was nowhere near as extreme as his tone of voice made it sound. “The House of Doors, Alec? Ah, that’s a question without an easy answer.”
Alec let his gaze travel to the elven ranger. “Tanuin made it sound like there are people who live there,” he guessed. “Is it part of your estate?”
Uriel raised a hand to his chin. “You could say that,” he mused, staring out over the endless expanse of clear blue sky. “The House of Doors is a very special structure on the Northmund Estate. You’ll see it when we arrive—it’s very hard to miss. It resembles a large, circular rotunda, with a domed roof. People who see the estate for the first time mistake it for many things—a very large animal pen, perhaps, or a shielded enclosure for a statue I might be building.” His smile deepened. “It is none of those things. Inside is a room with many doors.”
“In many shapes and sizes,” Tanuin muttered. “So many of the damn things.”
Alec’s mind worked feverishly. “But if it’s merely a one-room dwelling, then all those doors must lead right back outside. Don’t they?”
Uriel and Tanuin shared a look.
“Not exactly,” the elven ranger said.
“On the other side of the doors are other places,” Uriel explained. “Other realms, other dimensions, other planes of existence, but also other kingdoms in this world of ours. Several of the doors lead to quite boring locations, actually. One simply deposits you in a root cellar not far from the Hamlet of Matachin, a village completely indistinguishable from the dozens which surround it. But some, well…”
“They lead to magical places,” Alec finished. His imagination conjured up sensational vistas—fairy lands, underwater kingdoms, fantastical worlds. “I want to see one!”
“Listen to him!” Tanuin said, sipping his coffee. Far behind him, a slender man climbed the rigging with a knife, evidently cutting free a stuck piece of rope. “He’s barely started this adventure, and he already wants to go on another one!”
“It speaks well of him,” Uriel said kindly. “But you must not enter the House of Doors without supervision, Alec. Most of the doors you can pass through open back on our world just as easily as they do anywhere else—but there are tricks to navigating the other realms. Only someone with an advanced knowledge of magic can do it safely.”
A connection formed in Alec’s brain. Uriel had mentioned he’d been searching for Alec—or someone like him—for a very long time.
“You’ve been using the Doors to look for me, haven’t you?” Alec guessed.
Uriel Diamondspear looked impressed. “Yes,” the Archmage said. His coffee was nearly gone, while Tanuin’s still steamed. “Or at least the person who would bear your mysterious powers. I searched far and wide, all while you were right beneath my nose. Only a few days travel by air from the Northmund Estate, in the Archon Temple of Graysten.” Uriel shook his head. “Not to worry, incidentally—Tanuin has been let in on our little secret. We may not know exactly what powers you are capable of, but I doubt we could hide the fact of their existence from your friend.”
“That’s right,” Tanuin agreed. “Even if Uriel hadn’t explained it to me, I would have figured it out as soon as I saw the unicorn. I know there’s no way you’ve ever held one of the noble’s grimoires. Your magic wasn’t awakened by a book, Alec.” Tanuin gave him a serious look. “Speaking of which, I’ll need my dagger back.”
“Your dagger?” Alec said, confused. “I thought it was a birthday gift!”
“Well, not exactly,” Tanuin said. “The gift was stirring your magical potential. That’s what the dagger does. It stirs an inexperienced mage’s latent abilities, bringing them to the fore. And now that yours are certainly stirred…”
“I see…” Alec felt a little offended that Tanuin was taking the dagger back, but he didn’t really need it anymore.
“It’s something of a family heirloom,” Tanuin shrugged. “As prized as a noble family’s grimoire, actually.”
That tickled a memory in the back of his brain. He made a mental note to return Tanuin’s dagger before returning to more pressing conversation. “I’m pretty sure Master Abel knows that I haven’t held a grimoire, too,” he said, glancing from Tanuin to Uriel and back. “You don’t think he’ll tell, do you?”
Uriel shook his head. “We can trust the monks, young man. Perhaps more than anyone else. After all, they have a vested interest in keeping you safe.”
Alec started. “They do?”
Both men laughed. “They care for you, young man,” Uriel said, smiling into his coffee. “And were they to allow some harm to come to you on your travels, I expect the other boys in their care would never forgive them.”
As Alec stared out over the endless blue, sipping his tea, a black cloud moved across the sky. At first he thought he might be seeing things, as it looked like little more than a dark smudge on the horizon. He’d had a mark like that once in his eye after getting sand in it, and the blur had lasted for nearly a week.
But as it grew, drawing steadily closer, he realized something else was happening.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing a finger.
Uriel saw it and stiffened. “Ready the cannons,” he called over his shoulder, catching the attention of the crew. “The two of you had better get below decks. This is unlikely to be much more than a minor nuisance, but I won’t have either of you coming to harm—”
The deck rocked beneath their feet. A sudden burst of turbulence shook the airship, nearly sending Alec and Tanuin onto their rears. The man who’d been halfway up the rigging slipped, then managed to grab a rope as he fell, landing on the surface of the deck like an acrobat.
“Damn,” Tanuin said, glancing at the fast-approaching cloud. “We don’t have time!” He gestured at the wooden railing wrapped around the aft secti
on of the airship. “Hold on tight, Alec! And keep your head down!”
Alec had no idea what to expect. He clung to the wooden railing, a sudden patter of rain beating down on his head. The temperature dropped, as if the airship had hit a storm front, and the ship’s prow tilted downward, his stomach turning at the sudden dive. He’d never been seasick before, even when Master Abel took the foundlings on a riverboat in choppy water, but airsick was a whole different beast entirely.
The black cloud twisted in the air, coming alongside the ship. As the sky darkened to match, Alec realized it wasn’t a cloud at all. A mass of twisting, half-formed things writhed in the smoke, hissing and sputtering like a fire that had just been doused. One of the things reached out like a snake, trying to wrap itself around a section of the ship.
“Ready!” one of the crewmen called. “Brace for fire!”
Alec looked down. Three slots had opened on the side of the airship, and silver cannons protruded through them. At a yell from down below, the two on the outsides fired. The recoil rocked the entire airship, tilting it dangerously backwards as massive cannonballs shot into the black cloud.
There was a roar like a stampede of cattle—a thousand overlapping voices, screaming and gibbering. The black cloud retreated, dissolving into the clear blue sky. The air filled with a sound like an overheated teakettle as the last of the black, snakelike creatures faded into smoke.
Warmth returned to the world. The airship straightened, once again on its intended path.
Only belatedly did Alec notice he’d broken out in a cold sweat. Something about those creatures froze the marrow in his bones, for all they’d failed to do serious damage to the airship. Next to him, the relaxation in Tanuin’s shoulders told him the elven ranger had held a similar worry.
“What in the Elements was that?” Tanuin demanded, looking around for Uriel. The Archmage emerged from the passageway to the bridge, evidently finished with the airship’s defense. “I’ve never seen an attack like that, Uriel—and I’ve faced down my share of nonhumans.”
“Shrikes,” Uriel explained, wiping his forehead. “More annoying than truly dangerous. Borne on dangerous currents, they ride the downdrafts forming and deforming until they find an airborne vessel to harass.”
He sounded perfectly calm. But his eyes said he was worried, and that didn’t escape Alec and Tanuin.
“I’ve never heard of them before,” Tanuin said, sounding almost offended.
“Yes, well, the skies are not what they used to be.” Uriel cast a worried glance over the bow, staring down into the clouds. “Things are astir, Tanuin. In the sky, the sea—both on the land and beneath it. Things are likely to get worse before they get better.”
For a moment, the three of them were silent. Then Uriel brightened. “The important thing is that it’s over,” the old man said, giving the pair another one of those patrician smiles. “Hopefully, we should be safe for the remainder of the trip.”
“How much longer is it until we get to Northmund?” Alec asked. He shook off the shrikes, sensing that there was no more danger to be worried about from them. After all, even air creatures wouldn’t dare tangle with an Archmage. “Is it bigger than the Archon Temple? When will we know we’ve arrived, if we can’t even see the ground?”
“All very good questions—” Uriel said, pausing as the door leading to belowdecks swung open. Eleira emerged onto the deck, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Unlike Alec, the elvish girl was prone to both seasickness and airsickness—as a consequence, she’d passed most of the last two days belowdecks in a hammock. Only the commotion and turbulence of the attack could roust her from down below.
“What was that?” Eleira asked, a little green around the gills. “Did we just get attacked?”
“Shrikes,” Alec explained, trying to act like he knew what he was talking about. Eleira either knew what the creatures were or was very good at faking, as her expression betrayed nothing.
“We were just talking about the Northmund Estate,” Uriel said, gesturing for her to join the group. “This conversation involves you as well, young lady, so you might as well take part. Are you feeling any better?”
Eleira made a face. “I’ll feel better when I’m back on solid ground,” she said, making her way unsteadily across the deck. Unlike the rest of them, she carried neither coffee or tea—she’d learned to her chagrin that her stomach would tolerate neither while airborne. Alec had heard the retching most of the first night.
“The Northmund Estate is my home,” Uriel explained. “It is larger than the Archon Temple—considerably larger. Were you to put the Archon Temple together with the small town your monks visit to resupply their larders, you’d be just a bit smaller than the Estate. Many servants and other people live there—nearly all of whom work for me in one way or another.”
Alec had heard of the Estates before. Great tracts of land held by the noble families, where the royalty lived in splendor while serfs tilled the soil. From the way Archmage Diamondspear described it, his was actually one of the smaller Estates. Alec had heard that some of them were practically their own kingdoms, much less cities.
Tanuin flashed a broad grin. “The rumor mill’s been buzzing with tales that Archmage Diamondspear’s been building himself a private army on his Estate,” the elven ranger said, his tone keen and interested. “Is there any truth to that?”
Uriel pulled at his short beard. “An army? Hah, they would call it that, wouldn’t they? No, I have no desire to make war with any of the other kingdoms of men.” His eyes grew unfocused, as if he looked out upon a far distant enemy. “But things are changing in the world. You saw a small taste of it just a short while ago. The time is coming when we’ll need those with the skills and the fortitude to fight the Shadow up close. Not to mention those with a mastery of magic to lead them.”
Alec couldn’t help but be reminded of Archmage Diamondspear’s explanation of his enchanted weapon. Battle mages, he thought. Protecting the innocent. With the clarity to do what needs to be done, to get their hands dirty if it means defeating evil.
Clearly, the Archmage meant him. It intimidated him to think about it.
It did not, however, seem to intimidate Eleira. The elven female pulled a face, her ever-present scowl deepening into confusion.
“I thought we were going to the Academy,” she said, giving Tanuin a questioning glance. “You told me they were going to teach me how to be a mage.”
“And we most certainly are,” Uriel said, cutting off Tanuin before he could speak. “The Leafwalker Dynasty will be returned to its former glory. You, Eleira, are the most promising pupil I’ve seen in many years.”
The elf girl crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Her scowl softened, replaced by a self-reproaching expression. “I couldn’t stop the bandits,” she whispered, looking upset with herself. “My spell fizzled out before I even cast it. Meanwhile he made an entire unicorn out of water, like it was nothing at all!”
Uriel laughed. “Young lady, let me give you a piece of advice. If you spend your entire life comparing yourself unfavorably to those around you, you’ll never find the fortitude to improve. Nothing kills a person’s drive to better themselves faster or harder than convincing themselves they will never be better than someone else.” For a moment, his eyes were as hard as steel. “The only person you need to worry about being better than is the person you were yesterday. And not one in a thousand people could have done what you did to those bandits, Eleira.”
She pondered Uriel’s words, her head bowed in contemplation. “Truly?” she asked.
“I think you know what a prodigy Alec is,” Uriel whispered, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Trust me on this, young one—you will make your ancestors proud. The Leafwalker Dynasty will shine again, even brighter than before.”
Alec still didn’t quite understand Eleira’s motivations in joining him at the Academy, but he sensed the heavy burden on her shoulders. The weight of expectations pressed against the slender elf gir
l—no wonder she walked around scowling so often. For the first time in his life, Alec counted himself lucky to be a common nobody. At least he didn’t have a title like ‘Leafwalker Dynasty’ to live up to!
As the group stood on deck, thinking about Uriel’s words, a break opened in the clouds ahead. For the first time since the airship took off, Alec was able to see all the way to the ground. Winding rivers cut across the landscape far beneath them, feeding deep forests broken by long, stubby mountain ranges. It looked as if the spine of a giant lay beneath them, pointing the way to Northmund.
“Ah!” Uriel clapped his hands together, striding to the very front of the airship. “We’ve arrived even sooner than I expected. Gather around, all of you. We’ll be beginning the descent to the Estate any moment now. You won’t want to miss this sight.”
Uriel was right. As the airship slowly descended, sinking beneath the clouds like a child’s toy in a draining bathtub, the landscape went from a vague blur beneath Alec to something like a living painting. His heart filled his throat at the sight of the white stone buildings stretching over the hills, each with a red roof formed of overlapping shingles. People on the streets looked up and waved as the airship passed, the sight of the airborne beast brightening their day.
Like the town Alec knew so well, the houses slanted slowly upward. Fields carefully tilled and cultivated for agriculture surrounded them, leading all the way up the hill to a craggy cliff overlooking the sea. A castle stood at the apex, looming over the town like a buried giant. Its parapets were of the same white stone as the buildings, with the glorious red roofing repurposed into the window shades and braces of the castle building.
It was beautiful—like something from a fairytale picture book. But once Alec saw the island, he couldn’t look at anything else.
There was no other way to say it—it floated. The island resembled a child’s spinning top, pointed at the bottom and widening up the sides to a flat, circular topside. A heavy chain connected the island to the grounds next to the castle, as if without it the island might float away into the heavens. A single building stood upon the island, exactly as Archmage Diamondspear described. A stubby tower with a domed ceiling, like a rotunda or a gazebo for building statues.