I walked over to the table and sat, avoiding Greystone’s eyes. Anger at the old man still roiled in my stomach, mixing with the anger toward my parents for not caring, at the principal for not listening, at Mr. Schumacher for not being fair and even at Clarissa for talking me into helping her cheat which got me into the whole mess in the first place. Despite my lowered eyes, I could feel his gaze on me like it was a spotlight. The others shifted uncomfortably in their seats, avoiding looking at either of us. Except Blade, who grinned with his feet up on the table and tried to wink at me. I waited for Greystone to start criticizing me again.
So it was a surprise when he just said, “Welcome. Now that we’re all here, we may proceed to the palace.”
“We’re going to confer with the King,” Sarah explained in response to my raised eyebrows. “It’s about the tomb we found yesterday.”
“Do we know who it is?” I asked.
“Grandpa does,” said Blade, pointing a thumb at Greystone. “But he’s saving the campfire story for a bigger audience.”
Greystone’s hand jerked involuntarily, as though it had been about to blast Blade with a white-hot ray of something. “Courtesy demands,” he said with a tone of careful restraint, “that this matter be brought before the sovereign of Athorn. Even if prudence does not.”
“Whatever that means,” Raven muttered.
We took horses through the city, our usual mode of transportation around Morrowdust. But this time as we rode, a shadow passed before the sun in the sky above us.
It was a giant falcon, one that Raven had picked up somehow in her wild midnight adventure in Elladorn. It was massive, with a wingspan of at least twenty-five feet and talons as long as swords. I’d tried to get closer to study the thing, but it wouldn’t let anyone near it except Raven. She hadn’t gotten quite used to riding it, though, so she was with the rest of us on horseback.
Among all of us, Raven was easily the most at home on a horse, but Sarah was a close second. I’d never ridden before coming to Midrealm, but it came pretty easily. It was all about rhythm, finding a way to balance your movements against those of the horse. And besides, I’ve always been pretty good with animals.
Calvin was the most entertaining to watch, even though his roughness was smoothing out. For a guy who grew up on stories of wizards and knights, he seemed less comfortable on a horse than he would have on a fashion runway. Blade had issues controlling his mount. He always seemed to get the horses with attitude. Maybe that was because Greystone chose our mounts, or maybe it was Blade transferring his own personality into the horse. Meanwhile, Tess simply clung to the saddle like a rock, staring at the horse with wide eyes as it walked placidly beneath her. Her only problem was that she seemed terrified of trying to guide the thing, and occasionally it would start heading off on its own down a side street. Blade would curse and kick his mount to a trot to catch up to her and lead her back to the convoy.
With the six of us surrounded by our Runegard and Greystone riding at our head, we made an impressive little procession as we wound our way through the streets, each of them like a little tributary leading to the main road that ran straight to the palace’s front gate. The crowds grew thicker and thicker as we went, and soon more and more people were stopping to stare at us. Occasionally they’d congregate in large crowds right in front of us. Then Greystone would start yelling and threatening to set them all ablaze, and the townspeople would scurry hastily out of the way like chickens before a wolf.
The layout of Morrowdust seemed to have no plan, no overruling design. Instead it seemed as if streets, buildings and even entire districts had been added haphazardly, each just tacked on to the outskirts of the city, gradually pushing its borders farther and farther outward. It made for a winding and confusing path. If the palace hadn’t been built on such a high hill, and if it weren’t so tall, I would have long since lost all sense of direction as we grew steadily closer and closer to it. Still, even keeping it in constant sight wasn’t always a help. Greystone and Cara would take us on random-seeming detours, heading sideways or sometimes even directly away from the palace. But it always brought us closer in the end. Eventually I resigned myself to follow behind them obediently, simply keeping my horse’s nose pointed toward the butt of Melaine’s in front of me. Melaine was fully at ease in her saddle, looking as if she’d been born there, and turned back and forth to greet those she knew in the streets.
She turned suddenly, surprising me, and looked at me with an arched eyebrow.
“Something on your mind, Lord Miles?”
With a start, I realized I must have seemed like I was staring at her. I quickly averted my eyes, getting my bearings by finding the palace again.
“No, nothing,” I said hastily. “Just bored, that’s all.”
Near the end of the procession, Blade snickered.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably just an hour, we approached the palace’s massive front gate. Weeks ago we’d fought a hellion at the barrier gate, which dwarfed this one. Still, standing before it was intimidating. Nearly every inch of its massive metal breadth was covered with gold and marble sculptures, complex designs that wrapped around and within each other, drawing the eye and captivating the attention. I felt like I could have stood there for hours studying the carvings and still been unable to draw them out on a sheet of paper, they were so detailed.
Greystone dismounted. I almost did the same, until I realized that all of the Runegard were remaining atop their mounts. Greystone, alone and on foot, approached the gate. He stopped a good twenty feet away, then pounded the bottom of his staff on the cobblestones beneath his feet. Rather than the plink, plink I was expecting, a deep, resounding boom rumbled from the earth.
“The Chosen of Midrealm call upon the King and Queen of Athorn!” he called, his voice taking on the same piercing timbre I’d first heard at the Battle of the Circle. It was a voice that would cut through the din of a war, that could relay orders from one side of Wrigley Stadium to the other in the middle of game seven of the World Series. “I, Greystone Ironheart, Watcher of the Rune Holders, Grand Wizard of the Free Kingdoms, present them. We humbly — ” I heard the laugh almost break his voice “ — request to enter.”
There was a crack, and the gates began to swing open.
“Whoah,” whispered Tess.
The wall and gate of gold and marble were beautiful constructions. Clearly they had taken thousands of artisans a hundred years or more to build. But they were nothing compared to the splendor that greeted us as the gates swung wide.
The road that ran away from our feet to the inner wall of the palace courtyard was solid white stone. It shone like marble, but there wasn’t a vein of grey in sight. On either side of the road stretched the most incredible gardens I had ever seen. Flowers of a million different colors bloomed in a silent cacophony of hues. They were like a flawless painting, as if every great painter from the Renaissance had gathered and struggled for years to find the perfect placement for every stroke of pigment. I recognized roses, daffodils, gardenias, lilacs and tulips, all the usual flowers you’d find at any florist, but there were other types I’d never seen before.
Trees of every description ran along the sides of the road, like signposts pointing the way to the palace. Despite the many species, they were all about the same size, an impressive feat of gardening that must have required dozens of people working full time. The paths leading through the gardens were patrolled by soldiers in ceremonial armor, each of them wearing a white cape.
“Holy cow,” said Calvin. “This is crazy.”
“If you’ve gawked sufficiently,” said Greystone irritably, “we have urgent business.”
He spurred his horse on, and the rest of us hastily followed. I, for one, couldn’t stop staring all around as we made our way through the gardens, and I noticed the others subtly doing the same.
“What does it take to keep it looking like this?” Tess asked.
“A lot,” I volunteered
. “A lot of these plants and trees are from different climates, meaning each must be individually regulated. It’s not like they can just give them all the same treatment. The watering schedule, the soil selection, everything has gotta be individually maintained for each tree. And look, see there?” I pointed to the soil surrounding each tree. “See the different colors of the dirt? They’ve planted each tree in the type of ground that will support its growth best.”
Calvin turned in his saddle with a surprised look. “Why do you sound like me when I’m talking about Lord of the Rings?” he asked.
I shrugged, embarrassed but also secretly pleased.
“It’s because Miles is as much of an egghead as you are,” Sarah said with a little smile. “Except with biology. You know, one of those fields of knowledge you can actually use in real life.”
Calvin waved his hand in a wide circle. “Look around you, cuz. This is real life, and I’m overqualified. I’ve got a Bachelor’s Degree in Swords & Sorcery, with an MD in Fantastical Creatures and a PhD in Epic Quests.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing so hard my eyes started watering. Sarah couldn’t stop her smirk from turning into laughter as well. Then Tess lost it, snickering behind her hand. Blade struggled to resist, but soon joined in while still trying to look like we were a bunch of idiot dorks. Even Raven started chuckling. Calvin looked at each of us, simultaneously elated and utterly confused. All of the Runegard were staring at us like we’d gone completely stark raving mad.
“Calvin, you’re such a nerd,” I choked out. It was just what I needed to put an end to the angry turmoil in my stomach.
He did an awkward half-bow and almost fell out of his saddle. “Thank you, good sir.”
At the head of our column, I heard Greystone mutter what sounded like, “Destiny preserve me.”
We passed through the outer courtyard to the inner wall, which had already swung open to receive us. On the other side was a massive, wide staircase leading up to the front doors of the palace. We reached the bottom of the staircase and dismounted. This time Calvin did fall out of his saddle.
Greystone looked at the six of us sternly. “Listen carefully. This is the Royal Palace. In some ways it is far more dangerous than a battlefield. There are eyes and ears everywhere, so give care and thought to each word you utter. Your every move will be scrutinized, weighed on scales you could not hope to understand. Keep to yourselves. Do not separate from the group. And above all, say nothing about the Runehold or your training.”
I stared at him dumbfounded, sensing the others do the same. “Wait, what?” I demanded. “What are you talking about? You make it sound like people here want to kill us.”
“You face no threat of violence,” he assured me. “But there are other dangers in this life. The world contains many people who are desperate for power, and in whose hands it would be more terrible than all the armies of Chaos. They flock to places like this like moths to a torch, and yet rather than scorch them the flames only invigorate their purpose. They deal in information, knowledge and intrigue. They excel at taking the tiniest of useful facts, like needles in the haystack, and fashioning them into chisels with which they may cut away at another’s foundation of strength.”
“If we can’t trust these people, why are we here at all?” Blade asked, annoyed.
“Because such is statecraft,” Greystone said with a heavy sigh. “We have a purpose, a goal to attain. We cannot do it without the help and support of others, and so we must secure it regardless of their intent toward us.”
“Are you saying the King wants to hurt us?” Tess asked quietly.
Calvin shook his head. “No. Not Nestor. I’ve met him. He’s cool.” He looked at Greystone. “You’re talking about the Queen, aren’t you?”
Greystone looked sharply over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “And I will only say that there are many unfriendly faces in this place. It is never the individual that those with power must fear, but the conspiracy.” With that he turned and began hobbling up the stairway, leaning heavily on his staff.
A page in stiff white clothing greeted us at the door without a word, turning to lead us through the palace. After the splendor we’d found outside, the palace itself was a bit of a let-down, all stone walls with tapestries hung haphazardly, as though put there as an afterthought. The passageway from the main doors split in two directions, and the page led us down the left one. That split again, and then the next hallway split again. Within minutes, I was hopelessly lost.
We finally emerged into a room like the great hall in the Runehold, though it was much larger. The table in the middle was similarly bigger than our own, though the chairs placed around it were less ornate. Sitting at the head of the table, looking expectant as we entered, was King Nestor.
The page, silent the whole walk, finally spoke. “Presenting Greystone Ironheart, Grand Wizard of Athorn, and the Rune Holders.”
Nestor stood from behind the table and bowed formally. “Greetings, Chosen. It is my pleasure to welcome you into my halls.”
Greystone bowed in response. I almost joined him until, again, I saw the Runegard hadn’t moved a muscle.
“King Nestor,” Greystone said. “We thank you for your hospitality.”
“Please, sit,” said Nestor, gesturing to the seats around the table.
We followed Greystone to the table, and I seated myself opposite him. The Runegard, who normally stood behind us in the Runehold, instead found their own seats around the table, further down from Nestor. Even with all of us seated, less than half of the table’s seats were taken.
A servant appeared at my elbow as if from nowhere, placing a silver goblet on the table before me. He was joined by four more around the table. The man beside me put forth a jug, ready to pour. “Wine, my Lord?” he asked, his voice just above a murmur.
“Seriously?” I asked, surprised.
The servant recoiled in horror. “I am sorry, my Lord,” he stammered. “I meant no offense…”
“Dude, I’m seventeen!” I said.
Calvin grabbed his goblet and held it up. “Oh, I’ll definitely take some.”
“No, you will not, Calvin,” said Sarah immediately. She turned to King Nestor at the head of the table. “King Nestor, our apologies. On True Earth it isn’t usual for people our age to drink alcohol. We will have water, if that’s possible.”
“But of course,” said Nestor graciously.
“But Sarah, it’s not against the law here!” Calvin protested, a look of massive disappointment on his face. “I mean, clearly.”
Sarah glared at him. “Calvin? No. Way.”
Calvin’s shoulders slumped, and he turned to the servant beside him. “Fine. Water, please.”
“Well, that’s very nice of our fearless leader to say,” said Blade, “but I’m much more of the ‘when in Rome’ philosophy. I will absolutely take a glass of the good stuff.” He held his goblet up to the girl next to him, who looked around hesitantly.
“Are you for real, man?” I asked.
“Oh, so for real,” Blade assured me. He waved the girl forward. “Come on,” he urged. “No one’s going to bite you. Or shock you, or stone you, or anything.”
“Sarah…” I said, looking at her.
But Sarah merely shrugged. “I’m not going to force him to follow the rules if he doesn’t want to,” she said resignedly.
Calvin perked up. “Sweet! So can I — ”
“No.”
He slumped back down.
Raven raised her goblet. “I’ll take some, too, please,” she said. Sarah’s head whipped around to look at her in shock. Raven kept her gaze lowered.
“If we are all through here,” Greystone growled, “actual matters of importance require our attention.”
Sarah swept her gaze from Raven, though her mouth remained set in a firm line as the room was filled with the sound of the cups being poured. “Of course, Watcher,” she said stonily. “Let us proceed.”
Nestor, seemingly grateful for an excuse to change the subject, spoke first. “You found something in Elladorn. What was it?”
“It was a burial chamber,” Greystone began. “At first I was unsure of how long it could have been there, out of sight and therefore out of mind of that town’s simple people. The opening is ancient, long sealed against the world above. But once I determined who lay in the tomb, I gained a greater understanding of just how long it has sat in darkness.”
“You know who is buried there?” asked Calvin.
“I do,” said Greystone. “I had to consult not only my own knowledge, but many tomes of learning in the vaults of the Runehold. But I have determined beyond any doubt that it is the tomb of Jada, one of the Six.”
I blinked. The others around the table looked as mystified as I did. But Nestor leaned back in his chair and clutched an arm as if for support.
“Greystone, I don’t understand,” said Sarah. “The six what?”
“The six original mages,” said Greystone. “The six who summoned Midrealm into being. They created this world, as well as the magic that has linked our two planes together. Including that which brought you here as Realm Keepers.”
“Six of them, and six of us, huh?” I asked. “So they were basically the first Realm Keepers?” I thought back to the tomb, to the giant symbol on the wall and streams flowing through the underground chamber. “Wait, was she the Keeper of Water, like me?”
Greystone gave a snort that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. The Six were to the Realm Keepers what you are to the common man in the street.”
“Why Elladorn?” asked Nestor. “Of all places to put it, why there?”
“Oh, I highly doubt that the town existed when it was built,” Greystone said. “Remember that the Six created Midrealm ages before man began to scribble with berry juice upon parchment. Elladorn has been a sister settlement to Athorn as long as either one of us can remember, but that is not so long in the age of the world.”
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