Valon nodded at his master and the two held out their hands. They began to shake the stone, and now they could all clearly see the outline of the hidden door. They continued for some more time before Anna realized the two couldn’t do it alone.
She held out her hands and remembered the notes on levitation. She figured a similar mindset was needed to push things and focused her mind on pushing the stone back. As she began, Garon smiled and stood next to her. Quickly after, Becca and Goreth followed, standing and using the same basic magic.
With the combined power of the six members, blue wisps of energy struck against the door and revealed a layer of shimmering gold. As they continued their flow of magic, the blue eventually overwhelmed the gold and pierced its way through. As it did, the door slowly grinded open, revealing a room inside.
“Excellent work!” Seer Mordou praised, almost clapping as they all stopped.
“That was strange, Master. It looked to be protected by magic, but it was gold in color…” Valon noted suspiciously. “But now I can sense that magic even easier. It’s right below us.”
“Yes, we must press on!” Seer Mordou declared with excitement.
Anna watched as Seer Mordou and Valon entered the dark room. She quickly followed, the others just behind her. Before anyone could conjure a wisplight, the torches on the walls began glowing with golden flame. Anna could sense the magic around them, and found it felt different from what she had briefly trained with.
The walls of the room inside had more indiscernible writing on them, and an old stone stairway led down into darkness. As it was the only way to go, Seer Mordou began to walk down the stairway, causing more torches to automatically light. They followed him down, descending into the unknown.
“This is so interesting. How have we never found this city?” Garon whispered.
“Everyone was too afraid of the Cursed Lands. Fredrik and I were the first to travel there in our lives, supposedly” Anna replied, finally able to say his name without choking up.
“None of our people ever traveled there either,” Becca added.
“Why would anyone want to anyway?” Goreth asked.
“There wasn’t much reason until now,” Valon answered from ahead of them.
Minutes went by as they descended the stairs. Part way through, the stairs turned and continued down in a different direction. Various urns stood abandoned in this small flat section, but nobody dared look inside. They continued downward, closing in on the source of the mysterious magic.
Finally, the stairs ended, and a flat hallway led to an enormous, dark chamber. As the six humans entered, torches on the walls and hanging braziers from the incredibly high ceiling flashed to life in a simultaneous explosion of gold magic. Their flames all burned gold, silently but with an imposing presence.
As the light revealed the chamber, they noticed the room was filled with interesting objects. In the center of the large cylindrical room was a large rectangular stone object that Anna thought looked like a casket. Surrounding the casket on the edge of the rooms were seven tall stone statues of strange looking people. The bodies of the statues were taller and thinner than humans, but still muscular. However, the first thing Anna noticed were their ears, which were tall and pointed.
Next to the statues were large metal footlockers. They had no locks, latches, or any other way to open them. Anna squinted and saw there were more strange letters written on the storage containers. They were large, and she wondered what was inside.
“By the gods … This is magnificent,” Seer Mordou said with awe.
“Those statues, they’re just like the one of Imperator Ty’roel in the Great Swamp, but of different elves,” Valon murmured, captivated with the statues.
“So, these are the elves then?” Garon asked, approaching one of a fierce looking elven men with two swords.
“According to Distichum, yes. This is likely a mausoleum of the Holy Elven Empire,” Valon replied, walking toward the strange casket in the center. “The Great Clan had much smaller mausoleums from what I’ve read.”
Anna followed Valon, looking at the floor. The stones of the room had been cut in large circles within each other, like looking at the wood of a stump. She wondered if that was of any significance.
“Wow, look at the ceiling,” Becca whispered from next to Goreth.
Anna looked up to see the circular vaulted ceiling had been painted in its entirety. The outer parts depicted heavily armored warriors fighting each other. As she stared at the art, she noticed half of the warriors wore elegant, white armor with gold trim and the warriors they fought wore sharp black armor. While the warriors fought, unarmored beings argued in the middle, some with fair skin and golden eyes the others with dark, grey skin and red eyes. The artwork intrigued Anna, but she had no idea what or who it was meant to portray.
“How very interesting. Could those darker elves be the Shadowalkers our ancestors fought?” Valon asked, looking at his master.
“Perhaps … But unfortunately we don’t have time for that. Valon, the magic is right here, in this, well, casket,” Seer Mordou said, his hands hovering over the stone casket.
“What is it?” Goreth asked, looking worried.
“I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” Garon added, walking over and standing next to Anna.
They all watched as Seer Mordou began to use his own magic over the casket. Tendrils of blue magic gracefully left his fingers and began to disperse on the casket. As they did, the casket began to glow gold like all the other magic they had witnessed here. Anna kept one hand on the pommel of her main sword, ready for whatever might come next. The blue and gold magic seemed to bounce off each other, doing nothing. Valon went to step in but Seer Mordou protested, holding one hand up briefly. He was focused, and soon blue magic coated the entire coffin.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, all the magic erupted outward, the gold and blue exploding forth and shattering into dozens of shards that disappeared in the air. The power of it physically moved everyone, causing most to take a step back. Anna grasped the grip of her sword, expecting to be ambushed. Luckily, nothing of that sort happened. First, the arm of the middle statue at the farthest point of the room from the stairs raised upwards. Anna noticed it had an hourglass that was activated as it was raised. The sand inside the orange glass began to run slowly.
Before anyone could comment on the oddity, the stone under the casket brought it upwards into the air at an angle so that one could easily step in, or out of it. It shook momentarily, and there was a brief pop as the casket opened, the cover falling loudly to the floor in front of them. It revealed a thick golden layer of visible magic shimmering in the opening of the casket.
They all took a step forward, and Anna stared at the strange aura. Just behind the aura was a face. Not just a face, but an entire body that had been preserved in the casket. Then, with a snap and sizzle, the golden barrier that separated humans from elf disappeared. The eyes of the old elven woman opened, and she gasped for air. Anna couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of another being that wasn’t human, and gripped her sword firmly, ready for anything.
Chapter 23
Licking the wine from his lips, Chieftain Yarmot savored the peaceful moment, for he knew it would not last. He stared out at the many ships in the small Narsho port and docked out at sea. They were just about to finish what would be their twenty-ninth ship, making this the largest fleet any of the clans had ever seen. Still, it wasn’t nearly enough for their entire population to flee with, and Chieftain Yarmot knew this well.
He stood upon a watchtower overlooking the port, watching as ship twenty-nine had its finishing touches done. It wouldn’t be long before the overworked shipbuilders would roll the ship off the logs that held it and into the water below. Still, it was the most minor of victories, and wasn’t enough for the Linta Chieftain.
“Chieftain, the ship builders are fading. We’ve perhaps been working them too hard,” Cora suggested.
�
�I know, I know,” Chieftain Yarmot replied, taking another large gulp of wine and emptying the chalice. “But we haven’t a choice.”
“But surely we don’t need this many?” Cora asked.
Chieftain Yarmot quickly poured more wine from the nearby bottle before his servant, Pil, could do so. His chubby hands shook slightly, spilling a few tiny droplets on the rough wooden table of the tower.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Pil apologized.
“Quiet, Pil, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Chieftain Yarmot snapped, realizing he was far more stressed than he had thought.
“Chieftain, are you alright?” Cora asked.
“No, Cora, I am not. You see all those ships? Those almost twenty-nine ships? That’s not even half of what we would need to safely evacuate everyone from our allied clans,” Chieftain Yarmot replied, trying hard to regain his composure.
“But surely we are not actually going to sail away from our homes?” Cora asked, almost laughing at the idea.
“We will do whatever we have to survive, even if it means sailing south to some unknown land,” Chieftain Yarmot replied unhappily. “If we get word to sail away, that’s what we must do.”
“Excuse me, Chieftain, but that’s insanity. It’s strange enough we’ve all come here to pack ourselves within the city for some threat barely anyone has seen. But to pick up and leave? Our people won’t do that,” Cora said, hands on her hips.
“They will if they truly respect their chieftain,” Chieftain Yarmot grumbled, turning and looking back at the port. “Plus, look at our history; if our Great Clan had not run from their home, we may not even be sitting here right now.”
His blood almost boiled with stress over the idea of his clan refusing to follow him. Not once during his entire rule as chieftain had he experienced any dissent among his people. Although to be fair, the greatest challenge he had previously faced as chieftain was an issue regarding a large group of encroaching raptors. The stress of that event didn’t even compare to the current issues at hand.
“Push with all you’ve got!” a foreman yelled from below the tower.
Chieftain Yarmot peered over the wooden railing of the tower to watch the many shipbuilders pushing the newly built ship off the logs and into the water. With their combined strength, they pushed the newly constructed wooden ship into the light blue shallow water. One worker climbed aboard to ensure it didn’t crash.
The workers cheered, clapping and yelling as the boat slowly drifted out. However, as they all watched, they realized something was wrong; as the boat drifted, it lowered into the water. The worker on the boat yelled, realizing it was sinking.
“No, not now,” Chieftain Yarmot uttered, his eyes locked on the sinking ship as he took another swig of wine.
“Oh, no,” Cora whispered from behind him.
They watched as the man on the boat panicked, running below deck to see what the issue was. Chieftain Yarmot knew it was possible for the boat to be fixed, assuming the worker had the proper supplies aboard. He waited with bated breath, watching the ship slowly sink.
The workers back on the shore had already prepared a rowboat and started out, filled with wooden buckets and patching supplies. They quickly rowed toward the nearby ship, all yelling to their comrade who was still below deck. Suddenly, the worker aboard the boat reappeared above deck, his arms in the air as he yelled a victory cry. Chieftain Yarmot let out a sigh as he noticed the ship had stopped sinking. Still, he kept his eyes on the workers until they had all boarded the ship and gone below deck with their buckets.
As they started to bail the water, Chieftain Yarmot turned away. He felt ill thinking of the close call, knowing if the ship had sunk it would mean less of their people could escape if the time finally came. Chieftain Yarmot sat on the nearby wooden stool, placing his hands on the table and letting his body relax for a moment. While he knew logically he couldn’t do much more than wait for news from the other chieftains, he wanted to do more. However, everything here was out of his skill set. Given the longstanding peace of the Linta Clan, Chieftain Yarmot hadn’t done anything relating to war in his entire life. He only hoped the village wouldn’t face any attacks before the others returned, if they returned.
He shuddered at the thought of defeat, bringing his cup to his mouth and realizing there was no wine left. As he went to pour more, he found there was none left in the bottle. He simply stared at it, lost in deep thought.
“Do you need another bottle, Chieftain?” Pil asked attentively.
Chieftain Yarmot didn’t respond immediately, simply staring at the empty bottle. He felt lost, worried about what the future held. He slowly stood and walked toward the nearby ladder leading down from the tower.
“No, thank you. I’m going to go back to the Chieftain’s Hall. Alone,” Chieftain Yarmot answered, still lost in thought.
Walking quickly, he tried to avoid contact with anyone in the village. However, by keeping his head down, he nearly ran into Olaf. As he stopped, he made eye contact with the old man.
“Ah, Chieftain Yarmot, how are you?” Olaf kindly greeted.
“Oh, Olaf, right? I am, er, fine. Just heading back to the Chieftain’s Hall to take care of some things,” Chieftain Yarmot almost stuttered.
“Hm. Excuse me for saying so, but you seem stressed, Chieftain,” Olaf slowly said, trying his hardest not to offend the man.
“I suppose I might be. These are trying times,” Chieftain Yarmot replied, inching away from Olaf.
“Well, I can brew you a relaxant, if you desire. I have a potion that could greatly help you,” Olaf offered generously. “Warriors of ours sometimes take it after battle to calm down.”
Hearing about battle only made Chieftain Yarmot more nervous. He practically felt sick, and couldn’t think of drinking anything right now, especially a mystery potion from another clan’s shaman. He let out a small, sickly burp, and shook his head.
“Er, no thank you, Olaf. I will be all set. I should be off. Much to do, I’m afraid,” Chieftain Yarmot said with a fake smile.
“Alright then. Come find me if you change your mind,” Olaf replied with a slightly worried look.
“Of course,” Chieftain Yarmot added as he quickly walked away.
As he slowly made his way back, Chieftain Yarmot’s mind was clouded with self-doubt and worry. All he could think about was seeing this far overpopulated, undefended city become subject to an attack. He himself had never fought in battle and was not some war hero like Chieftain Barod. No, if that day did come, he would only be able to sit idly by and watch as his people were torn apart by a horrible foe. As he sat alone in the Chieftain’s Hall, Chieftain Yarmot dozed off, soon plagued by vivid wine-induced nightmares of a possible future.
Chapter 24
“What the!” Goreth yelled, jumping back and grabbing his shield from the floor.
“It’s an elf!” Valon blurted.
The elf quickly lurched forward from the casket, the humans jumping back to give her space. Her skin was withered, old, literally hanging from her bones. Her hair was ancient white, thinly clinging to life upon her head. As she looked at small group, Anna made eye contact with her. The elf still had eyes like a human, except the colored part was bright gold. Anna got the feeling that long ago, this elf was probably the epitome of what humans considered beauty.
“She… she is the source of magic,” Seer Mordou slowly spoke, holding his hands in front of him to show he was unarmed.
“Ty’lo joir feun?” the elf quickly spoke confusedly.
“Er, what did she say?” asked Becca, also confused.
“Perhaps that’s the language we’ve seen on the signs and walls,” Garon replied, trying to look non-threatening.
“Hello, do you speak Clansi?” Seer Mordou asked slowly, his glowing blue eye tinged with flickers of gold.
The old elf-woman seemed to understand and began looking all around her. As her eyes found the hourglass, she stared at it. As she watched the sand fall, it seemed ever
ything was coming back to her. She turned and looked back at the humans standing before her, her golden eyes filled with concern.
“Clansi? Do you mean Lowborn?” the elf asked hesitantly, still unsure if she had responded in the correct language.
“Er, perhaps. Regardless we understand your words,” Seer Mordou answered quickly.
“But you are all humans … Why are you here?” the elf asked.
“We are here because of a vision I had during my last farsight. I saw us in this room and connected with a strange magic. You appear to be the magic that reached out to me,” Seer Mordou answered.
The elf woman stared at him, rubbing her wrinkled chin. She turned to stare at the other humans one by one, perplexed by the situation. It seemed she truly had no idea what was going on. As Valon and the elf’s eyes met, he could tell there was sadness within the old elf’s eyes. She seemed almost disappointed that a mere group of humans stood before her. He watched as the elf woman then looked around the room once more before looking at Seer Mordou.
“You say you, a human, used farsight? Very curious … But you still haven’t truly answered my question. Why are you here?” the elf asked, her sad eyes turning suspicious.
“I suppose we are here for help. Our clans, our people, face a dangerous threat. We sought your magic to aid us against our foes. I am Seer Mordou of the Ancient Clan,” Seer Mordou greeted kindly, looking to the others to introduce themselves.
“I am Valon of the Ancient Clan, apprentice to Seer Mordou,” Valon added.
“Hello, I’m Becca Yarmot of the Linta Clan,” Becca briefly greeted with a smile.
“I’m Goreth Destro of the Forud Clan,” Goreth murmured, still in shock.
“I am Garon Mace … formerly of the Highrock Clan,” Garon nearly stuttered.
“And I am Anna Myhre of the Narsho Clan,” Anna greeted kindly.
Valon watched as the elf appeared intrigued, knowing something about the information she had just heard. She stared into the distance, not speaking for a few moments. Finally, she looked back at the Seer, ready to speak.
Rise of the Champions Page 23
