by E J Gilmour
‘How long will the pain last?’ asked Eben, looking to Meara for an answer. He felt a little anxious about the idea of being blind and crippled.
‘I don’t know for sure, an entire day I would guess,’ said Meara. ‘You don’t have to accept this mission.’
Eben thought about the implications. He could see that it was necessary to gain the support of the Fire Order in the coming battle. He also thought that being immune to fire caused by magic would be of great benefit. He remembered back to when Zarceler had used fire spells against him and how the Zyranian wizards had rained fire down on them on the battlefield in Ortaria.
‘I will drink from the pool,’ said Eben resolutely.
‘The journey to the Tower of Fire will take several days. I believe that I am the only one here who knows the way,’ said Chiara. ‘I will lead you there.’
**
The following morning Eben, Red, Stella, and Chiara set out for the Old Guardian Mountains. Cassiel had been instructed by Meara to remain behind as she felt that it would be unwise for him to go anywhere near the Tower of Fire. She also wanted to continue his training as an Irilian and prepare him for the coming battle.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse. A solid wind was blowing from the south. The further they journeyed away from Elcalee the less they encountered settlements. The beauty of Irvaria seemed to fade away. The land mostly flattened out into large grass plains with occasional thin clusters of trees.
As they rode on Eben became aware of the Old Guardian Mountains in the distance. The mountain range rose up like craggy dark fangs into the sky above. They were approaching the northern edge of the range where the Old Guardian Mountains intersected the Sunset Hills. The main highway was curving westward. Chiara led them off the road and into the grasslands. By the time the day came to an end the mountains were only a few hours ride away.
The Old Guardian Mountains and the Sunset Hills had long been a natural shield that protected the lands of Everdon and Irvaria from the desolate curse of Vastoria. The only way across the mountains was by way of the ancient Grey Pass, a dangerous road which passed through deep valleys and traversed high ledges. The lone fortress of Hawkwatch stood at the height of the Grey Pass. The fortress stood like a lone sentry high in the mountains and had guarded the people of Everdon for centuries. It had long been considered an honour among young Everdonian soldiers to serve in the garrison of Hawkwatch.
The only other inhabitants of the Old Guardian Mountains were the Fire Order, but the Tower of Fire was situated in such a remote location that few ever gave much thought to its presence. The Fire Order lived out their lives far from the affairs of the wider world.
The company set up camp under a group of trees and lit a small campfire. Chiara meditated for some time outside the camp and watched the sunset over the hills. After the sun had fully retreated behind the hills she returned to sit by the fire with the others. Red was cooking up a mushroom stew, and a sweet aroma filled the campsite.
‘Dinner should be ready in a few minutes,’ he said cheerfully.
‘It smells nice,’ said Stella.
‘I managed to take a few ingredients from the kitchen pantries in Elcalee,’ said Red, lifting the wooden spoon to his lips to taste his success. ‘Even better than it smells.’
Red prepared a bowl for each of them. They sat around the fire enjoying his wonderful stew as the night grew dark.
‘Tomorrow morning we will come upon the northern edge of the Old Guardian Mountains,’ said Chiara. ‘The path to the Tower of Fire will be difficult and very steep. We should reach the Fire Steps by midday. From then onwards you will go alone, Eben. Just beyond the cave you will see a long natural rock bridge that crosses a deep chasm. The bridge will lead you to the Gate of Fire. We will wait at the base of the Fire Steps for you to return. You must be careful; the Fire Order is known for their ability to defend the Tower of Fire.’
**
Eben woke to the rumbling sound of thunder. Dark storm clouds were crossing the mountains and heading west toward their camp. They set out early and before long they were pushing forward through heavy wind and rain. Chiara led the way onward. Eben pulled his leather cloak tightly around himself in an attempt to keep the weather out. They rode on with determination. Around midday they entered hilly moorlands that led upward toward the craggy peaks. They followed a goat track through a valley and up a steep hill. The summer rain continued to shower down from the dark swirling clouds above.
Gradually the way became rockier and difficult. The horses were struggling with the terrain. Eventually they decided to continue on foot and left their horses in a grassy dale. They pushed onward up a steep hillside. At the height of the hill they could see an outstanding view of the snow-capped mountains ahead. The Old Guardian Mountains rose like contorted spikes toward the sky.
Chiara stopped and gazed out on the mountains. In silence they all stood and stared ahead. ‘We are not far from the stairs,’ she said.
Chiara led them onward. They traversed a ridge that led to a gradual descent and came to a place between two steep mountainsides. A crystal clear stream flowed through the base of a mighty chasm. An ancient walkway had been hewn from the rock and followed the course of the rushing water. For several minutes they moved upward through the chasm. As they rounded a final corner Eben’s eyes caught sight of a long flight of steps that ascended directly up the side of an enormous mountain. The steps went on for hundreds of yards and rose in a straight line.
‘The Fire Steps,’ said Chiara. ‘From here you must go on alone. At the height of the stairs you will find the cave which leads to the Chamber of Ash and the Pool of Radiance.’
An icy wind blew toward them. Eben stared up at the mountain peak above. He couldn’t see any tower, only the thick dark clouds. He slung his backpack and sword over his shoulder.
‘I will return as quickly as I can,’ said Eben, walking forward toward the base of the steps.
‘Be careful,’ shouted Stella as he bounded up the first few steps.
The Fire Steps were made of slippery grey stones slabs that ascended on an almost vertical angle. A practical man would have thought that they were built by a fool, but the wise knew that the Fire Order had deliberately made the way to the Tower of Fire challenging.
Eben began his ascent and found he could use his hands for extra support. The wind blasted across the side of the mountain; he often had to hold on tight to stop himself from being blown away. After several minutes of climbing he looked down and could see his friends far below. A slight sense of dizziness came over him as he realised how far he had already come. He climbed onwards and focused forward and upward. After a difficult climb he arrived at the top of the steps.
A stone path led across the top of the mountain. He walked forward and followed the path; the way curved through jagged outcroppings of rock. As he crossed to the far side of the mountain he could see a large stone bridge that spanned hundreds of feet across a deep valley to the adjacent peak. Atop the opposite mountain was a daunting fortress which was carved into the pinnacle of the mountain. The fortress soared high toward the clouds above. Dark smoke rose from the tallest tower.
Eben followed the way forward. Just before he came to the rock bridge he caught sight of the dark entrance to the cave. It looked very murky and uninviting, but he knew he would have to continue. He lit his small lantern and walked into the darkness. The tunnel descended deep into the mountainside. He followed the way downward for several minutes. The cave widened, and he caught sight of a faint glow ahead. As he proceeded the light grew brighter and the tunnel opened into a large cavern. Directly before him was a small stone landing, and beyond the landing was a shallow pool of shimmering water that lit up the cavern. The water itself seemed to be infused with bright light; it appeared as if the sun was shining from beneath the pool itself.
Eben stepped toward the edge of the pool and knelt down. He reached out and scooped up a small amount of water. The water was gl
owing and shimmering in his hands. Without delay he lifted his cupped hands to his lips and drank the glowing water. At first he felt nothing. A few moments passed without any change. He wondered if anything would happen.
Suddenly he felt a burning sensation deep within which was followed by a twisting pain in his stomach. The pain began like a swirling sword and gradually spread outwards to his hands and feet. He focused, resisting the sensation, thinking that it was only a matter of controlling his attention and not focusing on the pain, but the pain grew the more he tried not to focus on it.
He sat beside the Pool of Radiance and stared down at the glimmering water. He attempted to distract himself. The pain was steadily worsening; he realised, in that moment, that the pain was going far beyond what he had prepared for. He found himself in excruciating agony. He held his head in his hands as he felt every part of his body burn as if struck with blades of fire. His breathing quickened and he let out a groan, hoping it would pass, but the pain didn’t pass. He lay down on his side and held his knees to his chest. He cried deep in his soul and begged for someone, something, anything to liberate him from the agony but nothing came. Wave after wave blasted his flesh. He felt his vision fade and his body weaken. All went dark.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eben awoke and the pain had passed. He felt light headed and sat up and looked at the shimmering pool for a moment. A shiver went up his spine. Nothing could have prepared him for the intensity of the experience. He felt that he had pushed through a barrier in his mind, and he knew that many things would be different in the future.
He found his way out of the cave and stood for a moment in the faint light of the morning as soft rain fell from above. He looked up at the sky in silence and felt a sense of peace in his heart. He turned toward the stone bridge and slowly walked toward the Tower of Fire. Ahead of him, standing in the middle of the stone bridge, was a ten foot tall bronze statue of a man with the head of a fearsome eagle. The statue held a massive battle axe in its right hand. The bronze gargoyle stared at him, frozen in place, as the light rain fell. He continued to cross.
Suddenly the bronze statue took a step toward him. The metal screeched as it took another step. ‘Go No Further!’ bellowed the gargoyle. The inhuman voice boomed across expanse between them and echoed back off the mountainsides.
Eben stopped in his tracks and stared at the massive statue. ‘I am Eben Ecorian. I have come seeking the help of the Fire Order!’ he cried out in return.
The gargoyle stood completely still and gave no reply. Eben waited and nothing happened. The only sound was the passing of the mountain winds. He waited for a minute and then decided to move forward again. Suddenly the massive bronze eagle head lifted and the bronze statue took two steps toward him.
‘Go no further!’ repeated the gargoyle in exactly the same tone.
Eben knew that he would have to pass this guardian if he was to ever meet with the Fire Order. He continued to walk forward. ‘I mean you no harm. I have only come seeking help.’
Suddenly the gargoyle’s eyes started to glow brightly, and the bronze of its body became hot; the rain steamed and hissed as it fell on the metal. The gargoyle lifted its axe and with heavy grinding steps started moving toward Eben. Eben drew the Sword of Light and waited on the bridge.
‘You must let me pass,’ he cried as the massive metal gargoyle approached. The gargoyle lifted its huge battle axe. Eben knew in that moment he would have to fight. He focused his mind and held the Sword of Light between himself and the approaching metal creature. The massive axe came swinging with tremendous power and might. Eben was quick to react. He dashed out of the way and quickly struck back. The gargoyle deflected his blade with ease.
Again the axe hurtled down with a great amount of power. Eben dodged the blow, and the axe caused sparks to blast up from the rocky surface of the bridge. He quickly rushed behind the gargoyle and brought his sword down with all his might as the gargoyle turned to face him. The sword cut through the statue’s metal shoulder, slicing through the solid bronze. The gargoyle was untroubled by the damage and struck Eben with its free hand. Eben tumbled back away from the living statue and staggered along the bridge.
The crippled gargoyle closely trailed him. He found his balance just in time to dodge another blow from the huge axe. He quickly stepped back and held up his sword. The eagle headed statue again cut down at him. Eben waited until the last possible moment and then dashed aside and simultaneously cut off one of the statue’s metal legs. The gargoyle instantly collapsed and floundered on the ground. Moments later it attempted to rise up but lost balance and toppled over the edge of the bridge. Eben watched as the emotionless bronze statue fell silently away into the misty chasm below.
He waited a moment to catch his breath before turning to continue across the bridge. At the far side a large stone archway led into a tunnel that was at least fifty yards long and cut directly into the mountainside. Above the archway were carved words in an unknown ancient script. Eben knew in his heart that this was the Gate of Fire. He stepped forward and held his sword ready. The tunnel walls around him started to glow red. He continued as the glow became bright. Suddenly the flames blasted out from the wall and completely swamped him. He felt no heat at all and knew the experience of the Pool of Radiance had protected him. After a few moments the flames retreated. Eben saw that not even his clothes were affected by the flames.
He arrived at the far side of the tunnel where a large ironclad door stood in his way. The door had no lock. He pushed through and found a dark stairwell that ascended upward for hundreds of yards. In the distance he could see a faint light. He quickly ascended the stairs and came to a large, dimly lit, and long chamber. Faint light drifted down from several small portholes cut high into the ceiling above. The chamber was completely sparse. Directly ahead of him, opposite the stairwell, was another large ironclad door. He walked across the chamber and pushed open the door.
Just ahead was a short corridor that led to a door made of solid bronze. A moment later he pushed the second door open and instantly he found himself stepping into a great amphitheatre. The massive area was circular with walls ascending to an open ceiling high above. Stone seats lined the rising edges. All the wizards were seated and facing the centre of the amphitheatre where a single stone block stood with a bright flame burning intensely atop it. The wizards turned to face him as he entered. They appeared to be a bedraggled bunch of misfits; they were mostly bearded and wearing rags. The wizards silently stared at him as he walked toward the flaming stone in the centre of the amphitheatre.
‘What is the meaning of this? How did you pass the Gate of Fire and the guardian?’ cried out one of the company.
‘My name is Eben Ecorian. I am the last of the Ecorians. I have come here to request your assistance in the battle against the Prince of Shadows who has returned to Veredor to destroy men and mer.’
The room became deathly silent and the wizards stared down at Eben. Almost a minute of silence followed as Eben waited for their response.
‘The Ecorians are extinct,’ cried a wizard. ‘You cannot be an Ecorian.’
Eben turned around and stared up at the wizards as he walked around the flaming stone.
‘I tell you the truth. I am the Ecorian, a descendent of both men and mer. I know that you have taken an oath to help me if I should request your help. I have come here to make such a request. The Prince of Shadows will soon land his army of muckrons on the shores of Everdon. The Zyranians are working with him. Without the Fire Order we may not win the battle.’ Again the room fell silent.
‘We are not convinced,’ said an extremely ragged and old wizard who was seated at the back of the amphitheatre.
Eben caught sight of Mostyn, the wizard who had been at the council in Faircastle. ‘Mostyn, you were at the council. You know what I say is true.’
‘Yes, he tells the truth. He is the only remaining descendent of the Ecorians, but he is not an Ecorian Emperor. We are required in our rule
to help the Ecorian Emperor, not an Ecorian descendent.’
‘Surely you must see the danger we face and the evil forces that will enslave us all. You must help us in our struggle against the Prince of Shadows.’
The wizards murmured among themselves and after some time discussing the matter Mostyn spoke. ‘We will only follow the Ecorian Emperor. I was at the council. I saw you refuse your birthright. The Sapphire Throne was built by the Astarians as a gift to Jeriel the Just and his descendants. It was your right to take your throne. You refused; therefore we believe you are not the Ecorian Emperor. You conceded to the wishes of the Ecorian Arbiters.’
‘I only want to help save our world from evil. I cannot force you to help me, but you should know this: if you do not help me the Prince of Shadows will be the next person to enter this place. I am sure you will regret your refusal in that moment. You are the Fire Order; your power was granted to you by the Astarian Lumen with the hope that you could help save Veredor from evil. Now you have arrived at a crucial moment in the history of your order, the moment where you are called to follow your original mandate. If you refuse to help me then I say your days are numbered, and the memory of the Fire Order will fade from Veredor forever. These are the words of the Ecorian; you know they are true.’ The wizards were stunned to silence by his words.
‘We will not help,’ said Mostyn.
‘So be it; may the light of the Fire Order fade from Veredor.’
With Eben’s words a strong wind blew through the amphitheatre and circled around the wizards and then blasted around Eben. The flame that burned on the stone suddenly blew out. The wizards cried in horror.
‘For thousands of years the Pure Flame has burned here in this place. You, Ecorian, have caused it to go out?’ cried Mostyn.
‘Only an Astarian can do what he just did,’ cried a wizard with tangled red hair who was seated beside Mostyn. The amphitheatre fell eerily silent.