Rise of the Nightkings

by Levi Samuel

  It took a long moment to answer, the events replaying in Tylor’s mind. Closing his eyes, he exhaled before speaking. “No, it’s okay. I saw what was to come of my life. I didn’t know it at the time. I’m pretty sure there’s some old saying about hindsight that applies here. But for me, the halls and the cavern were nearly the same. I stepped through the entrance and made my way along the corridors. There were a couple rooms which seemed meaningless to me at the time. When I reached the end, I was greeted by family. One by one, I witnessed their deaths, unable to save them. The halls labeled me a wild elf long before I accepted the title myself. Once I was free, I was sworn to service and given my first assignment. I went home before I was due to report. But when I got there, I learned that they’d been slaughtered.” Tylor wiped the tears from his face. “I witnessed their deaths as they’d happened. But I wasn’t there to stop it. I wasn’t there to protect them.” Strengthening his resolve, Tylor corrected his posture and concealed the emotion he’d allowed himself to feel. Sniffing, he continued the tale. “Anyway, I had nothing left but the corps. I accepted my fate and requested reassignment. I was a wild elf. I didn’t belong in a unit. And your father granted my request. From that day on, I’ve served him loyally. But don’t let my story frighten you. I assure you, most are nowhere near as dreary as mine. Some claim it was downright enjoyable.”

  Inyalia stood awestruck at the wild elf’s tale. She’d assumed he lived outside society by choice. In many ways, that was probably close to the truth. But to lose his entire family twice over, three times including the cavern, sounded like torture. A sorrow crept into her. She didn’t pity him. There was too much respect for that. But she certainly felt for him. Closing her eyes, Inyalia nodded. “Thank you for telling me.” Turning, she marched toward whatever hell the halls had in store for her.

  Inyalia’s footsteps were muffled by the thick rug lining the center of the corridor. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Tylor standing outside the entrance. Though that wasn’t her motive. She felt like she was being followed. But no one was there.

  Watching the firelights dance in sequence with the steady breeze from the entrance, Inyalia continued deeper. The reservations she’d had about entering were rapidly fading, but that didn’t set her mind at ease. She knew she didn’t want to be here. She clung tight to that memory. The comfort the halls provided was little more than a guise, designed to trick her into submission. She was done with that. Never again would she allow magic of any kind to control her. Though it did kind of feel like home. This was a place for people like her. Why should she fear it? Every ranger who’d trained in Caelum had walked these halls. It was a protected piece of history, linking them to the time of their founding. She’d learned from Tylor that her father had taken these same steps, as had Baal. For all she knew, Vera would be the next in her family to do the same. They were with her, though not physically. Not in the way it had seemed for Tylor.

  “No—I will not become complacent!” Inyalia demanded, forsaking any comfort the halls provided. She couldn’t afford their tricks. Increasing her pace, she came upon her first choice. Recalling what Tylor had said about every decision having a consequence, she paused, carefully examining her options. The path continued left and right. They were identical in appearance, neither holding sign nor indicator above the other. Of course there wouldn’t be. Inyalia smirked at the thought. What kind of test would announce, This way to the finish line! Scanning both directions, Inyalia turned left. Something inside her said it didn’t matter which way she went, she’d reach her destination just the same. All that mattered was finding the path for her.

  It took but a moment to reach the first chamber. Inyalia found it odd. She’d just started down this route. Her initial glance appeared to lead on forever. How was she already in a room? Dismissing the question, she decided not to focus on it. This was probably the first of many oddities she was going to encounter in this place. The answer was irrelevant. She simply had to complete her objective, whatever that was supposed to be.

  Stepping inside, Inyalia noticed the walls were made of the same dark crystalline rock she’d seen outside. The ceiling was too high to examine, but it held a reflection similar to glass. It was dull and unpolished but reflective, nonetheless. The room was a relatively simple design. It contained two rounded walls connected at the entrance, and again at what she guessed was the exit. Though it was barred by a closed door. There were four sconces mounted just above head level, containing small but powerful flames that lit the entire room. A slim pedestal set in the central floor, marking the only point of interest. Upon it rested a single white feather.

  Inyalia approached and inspected the pedestal. Both the base and top were made of stone, though it had been polished smooth. Kneeling, she got a closer look at the feather. There were no markings of any kind. Not even the spine carried a discoloration from where it had once adjoined its owner. Gently, she lifted the flawless plume and inspected the vanes, twisting the shaft between her forefinger and thumb. They shimmered under the orange glow.

  The grinding of stone demanded her attention. Inyalia was surprised to find the entrance from which she’d come was sealed much like its opposite. “So much for going back.” Glancing to the other door, it now stood open, offering invitation.

  Feather in hand, careful to keep from ruffling its perfect configuration, she marched onward. As before, the path came to an end, offering a choice. Versed in how this was going to work, Inyalia turned right, giving little more than a second’s thought to the decision.

  The crackle of the wood fueled braziers spit sparks along the path, though there was no evidence as to when, or even if the wood had been restocked. Each one was filled to capacity, piled atop a bed of burning coal.

  Once again, Inyalia came to an open door. She stepped inside, certain it would close behind her. So certain in fact, she didn’t bother to check.

  The room matched the previous, with one exception. A ring of stone had been carved from the floor itself. In its center a tree sprouted. It wasn’t much larger than a sapling, but the limbs were thick and outstretched, as if reaching for something in the distance.

  Inyalia had never seen a tree like this before. The bark was black, much like the stone so frequent in this place. But what made it even more interesting, the leaves were made of crystal, reflecting the light in small concentrated beams.

  “What am I supposed to do with a tree?” Inyalia asked aloud, though she didn’t expect an answer. Answers seemed to be in short supply when you were training to become a ranger. Though it seemed this time was an exception.

  To her surprise, one of the thicker branches snapped. It crashed to the floor, scattering its unique leaves. They shattered, showering the stone in tiny fragments which made it sparkle. Only now did Inyalia realize the floor was covered in the quartz dust of these fallen leaves.

  Approaching the downed limb, she stared at it for a long moment. It had broken at a knot, leaving two lengthy, and fairly strait pieces of wood. It wasn’t large enough for a bow, but perhaps that, paired with the feather, she could craft a couple arrows. Reaching down, she grabbed the broken limb and inspected it.

  The wood was strong, stronger than any she’d handled before. There was no reason it should have broken. Yet it had. And she was here to witness it. Recognizing it for what it was, she silently thanked the tree and placed the broken limb in her quiver. Turning, she searched for the other door, though to her surprise, there wasn’t one. Only the door she’d entered remained, open and waiting. Making a mental note, she marched through. It seemed this place was adapting to her. If she thought she had something figured out, it would change.

  It took much longer to reach the intersection than she recalled. The feather room rested to her left, its door closed, and likely locked if she was being honest with herself. But now there was another path. This one continued straight across.

  Aside from randomly choosing which direction to take in an endless supply of hallways, there hadn
’t been much in the way of tests. Though she refused to admit that aloud. She was exhausted from her days walk to the arcanum, not to mention everything she’d experienced since. Her stomach was empty, and if truth be told, she was in desperate need of a hot bath. The last thing she wanted right now was a challenge.

  The passage ended in another room. As before, a pedestal rested in the center, but this one held a wide basin overflowing with what appeared to be precious gems. Bright beams of every color shot from the basin, decorating the walls and ceiling.

  Curious, Inyalia approached to get a closer look at the numerous bobbles awaiting her. It took longer to reach the pedestal than she’d expected, but she began to understand the moment she crossed the threshold.

  This room was so much larger than the others she’d seen. Nearly half of Highlor could have fit within these walls. But she couldn’t tell that from the door. The proportions made everything seem closer than it was. And now that she was a part of it, she felt small by comparison. Inyalia reached the center. From here, the door was little more than a blip on the horizon, and the towering pedestal was easily twenty foot tall. Standing beneath it, the basin had to be large enough to hold a small pond.

  Searching the base, there were no holes or protrusions to climb. But she had to reach the top. Why else would she be here? Her only option was to scale the side. Forming a plan, Inyalia knew she couldn’t risk using her grappling hook. If the basin were to fall, it’d crush her in a heartbeat. But there was another way.

  Dropping her pack, Inyalia fished out her rope. She’d spent the majority of her younger cycles scaling trees. Not all of them had had rough bark or even low hanging branches to grab hold of. But that hadn’t stopped her.

  Twisting the rope around itself, she doubled it and secured the loose end. In this configuration, it looked to be just long enough to wrap completely around. She took a few steps back, preparing herself. She’d done this many times over, but never on something so large. Rushing forward, Inyalia twisted at the waist, slinging the thick whip against the smooth surface. It popped, wrapping itself around the polished trunk. An instant later, it reappeared on the left side. Inyalia lunged, catching the folded end as it began to drop. She’d done it. And on the first try no less. Smiling her victory, Inyalia wrapped both ends around her hands and walked the rope as high as she could. Pulling tight, she pressed her feet against the wall and climbed a few steps at a time.

  It took some time, but Inyalia finally reached the top. Now that she was here, she was faced with a problem she hadn’t considered sooner. How was she going to get around the underside of the bowl? Her rope was in use, and even if it weren’t, the grappling hook was still just as dangerous. Though now that she was so close, it seemed unlikely her weight could make much of a difference.

  Locking herself into place, Inyalia reached overhead, feeling the underside of the basin. She’d expected it to be smooth, like the pedestal, but she’d been mistaken. Instead, it was ridged and wavy, reinforcing the heavy walls. And conveniently, it’d make climbing a breeze.

  Getting a solid grip, Inyalia pulled herself onto the bowl, wedging her feet between the grooves. Carefully, she pulled the rope to her, wrapping it over her shoulder. There was no telling if she was going to need it again.

  As ready as she could be, Inyalia extended her legs, pushing herself along the outer wall of the basin. She kept three points of contact, working her way toward the rim. It took no time for her to reach the top, and when she did, she found herself entranced by the sea of gemstones before her. They were so vibrant, so enthralling. There had to be thousands, in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors. They were piled to the top, near overflowing. But she couldn’t stay on the edge forever. Eventually, her arms would give out, refusing to hold her weight any longer. Taking a deep breath, Inyalia pulled herself over the edge and fell into the basin.

  It wasn’t a long drop. In fact, it wasn’t much of a drop at all. If anything, it was no different than rolling into a pile of river rock, only without the water. The loose, polished gems were much harder to climb than a wall of rough stone, but she managed to get away from the edge. The last thing she wanted was to be washed over if the pile decided to collapse.

  Finding a spot where she could rest, Inyalia laid back, admiring the treasures around her. Some were the size of her fist, while others were larger than her head. Just one of these stones was likely valuable enough to purchase the entirety of Highlor. But wealth was not why she was here.

  Shaking its beauty from her mind, Inyalia looked upon the pile once again, only this time, not for its riches. There had to be a reason she was here. Nobody would have left such a treasure lying around. This was simply another test.

  Amidst the semitransparent reds, blues, greens, and every other color imaginable, Inyalia now saw other materials. Some were made of coal, some were granite. There even appeared to be a few polished chunks of wood lingering about. She was swimming in a conglomeration of prismatic orbs that made no rhyme or reason. But there had to be a purpose behind it. And she had to find out what it was.

  Grabbing one of the gems, Inyalia tossed it over the side. It crashed to the floor and shattered, sending thousands of tiny pieces in all directions. She smiled. Gems wouldn’t break like that. Most of these had to be glass. That was the only explanation.

  One after another, she tossed the orbs aside, hearing some break, while others bounced harmlessly, landing where they fell. It didn’t matter which ones were real and which weren’t. There was something here.

  Hours passed and Inyalia continued to dig. She was nearly halfway down and in desperate need of food and rest. Unable to turn another stone, she laid against the curve of the basin’s wall. Her eyes were heavy, nearly as heavy as her arms. Pulling her pack close, she reached inside and grabbed a piece of dried meat she’d been reserving for a rough day. It seemed no day was rougher than today.

  Taking a bite, she rested her head against the retaining wall and stared up at the ceiling. Like the others, it held the reflective surface of glass, but this one was clean. She could see what appeared to be stars on the other side, though they didn’t twinkle. Moreover, the moon that had been so bright and so close mere hours before was nowhere to be seen. It made her wonder if it was the actual sky she was seeing, or a simple depiction. It didn’t matter either way. Staring into the dark she didn’t feel so confined. A part of her was even feeling relaxed. Lost in its eternity, Inyalia’s eyes began to close. And before she could stop herself, she drifted off to sleep.

  Inyalia woke with a start. It took a moment to realize where she was, but the uncomfortable gems beneath her brought the memories flooding back. She had no idea how long she was asleep, but it was enough. At least for now.

  Returning her attention to the task at hand, she picked up a ruby about the size of her fist, though it was oblong about twice the width. Tossing it over the side, she noticed an off-white opal. It was one of the smaller objects she’d come across, but the first of its kind. Picking it up, Inyalia immediately noticed the change in temperature and density. It weighed next to nothing at all, and, unlike the others, it felt warm to the touch.

  Inspecting it closer, she noticed a grain pattern in the surface, but it clearly wasn’t wood. Sighing, Inyalia tossed it over the edge. It was interesting, but it still wasn’t the right one, not that she’d know it when she saw it.

  Second guessing herself, Inyalia got to her feet. She didn’t want to risk losing the opal just in case she was mistaken.

  Climbing to the edge of the basin, she straddled the brim. Staring down, a realization came to mind. She’d made more progress than she’d realized. Most of the bobbles were scattered across the floor, most of them broken. And the basin itself was maybe a third full, all piled against the side she was currently straddling. That was her mistake.

  The basin began to tip. The higher it rose, the more the loose stones rolled to the low edge. In an instant, it was teetering on the bottom lip.

  Inyalia
knew she was in trouble. She didn’t think there was anything beneath her, but just in case, she moved her leg. Feeling the bowl settle to a stop, she was afraid to move. She’d trapped herself. It was her minimal weight, the weight she’d believed inconsequential, that kept the basin stationary. If she moved in any direction, it was going to roll, flip, or tip. Weighing her options, they were few. She could jump, hoping it didn’t land on her. But there were too many unknown variables. If the basin didn’t hit her, she still had the impact to worry about. And to top it off, she’d littered the floor with shards of broken glass and spheres of death. Jumping was not an option.

  Inyalia scanned her surroundings, hoping some stupid, yet equally marvelous plan would come to mind. Seeing her pack buried among the collected stone, the wheels started turning. Inyalia bent at the waist, pulling it free. Her heart raced. If she disturbed the weight distribution too much, nothing but dumb luck would save her. But that was about all she had at the moment anyway. Holding her breath, she watched the gems fill the void. To her relief they settled without too much trouble.

  Crouching in an attempt to lower her center of gravity, she pulled the grappling hook from its pocket and quickly secured it to her rope. Finally, it was going to prove useful, provided her idea actually worked and didn’t get her killed instead. Racing through the possibilities of her plan once again, she calculated the options. Only one had any chance of success, and it was likely to hurt.

  Standing just enough to give clearance, Inyalia swung the hook, letting it gain momentum. This part was key to her plan. If she was off, even a little, the whole thing would come crashing down, literally. Counting down, watching the arc as well as her target, Inyalia released, letting the rope fly. She waited for the perfect moment. Seeing it, she yanked, setting the hook. It caught the top rim of the basin, near center of where she was trapped. It wasn’t as close as she would have liked, but it was better than it could have been.