“You found something?” Be’naj asked. “I don’t see it.”
Thaelios followed the line of the crease up and over, confident it belonged to the outline of a door. “It is very well made. Now, how do we open it?” He took a step back from the wall to change his perspective. It still looked massive, and dark, and blank.
“How did the one upstairs work?” Be’naj asked after the passing silence failed to yield answers. “The door to the stairs?”
The obvious missed opportunity felt like a slap to Thaelios’s brain. “I don’t know,” he answered after mentally chiding himself. “It was already open when we entered the room.”
“Well,” Dyphina said, wandering over after abandoning the cupboard. “Either it’s magical or there should be a mechanism of some sort.”
Thaelios hoped for the latter. If it was opened by magic, they might be guessing at passwords until the next moon-cycle. Although the Dampening Stone would probably end their chances well before that, he thought darkly. “She’s right. Everyone, look around and see if you can find a lever or button hidden somewhere. It would probably be nearby.”
After a translation from Saffron, Rhazine joined the rest of the group in spreading out and searching the walls and floor close to the secret door. Only Phaerim stayed put, confining his half-hearted search to the pillar he’d been using to support him.
“Maybe it’s over by the cupboard,” Dyphina mentioned before wandering back that direction. “Ugh, it’s too dark this far from the lamp. Can’t you cast that spell again, Thaelios, or at least give me the spellbook and let me try?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” he admitted. He started toward Rhazine, who had the books in her pack, when Saffron sidled up to him.
“You don’t think the way in might have something to do with that tablet on the pedestal, do you?” she whispered.
He had to consider the possibility, though his intuition still screamed that they shouldn’t disturb it. “I doubt it,” he replied, feeling dishonest. “That’s too far away.” He’d reached Rhazine and got her to stop moving, but had trouble opening the pack with one hand while it was on her back. “Could you help me?” he asked Saffron.
“I found something!” Phaerim shouted, his voice cracking with dryness.
Thaelios turned in his direction, but the lamp was now too feeble to show more than his outline. He could hear movement, though, the soft grate of sliding stone coming from the wall where he’d been standing.
Everyone hurried over, denying him the chance to retrieve Cauzel’s book. Even Phaerim limped that direction, the sounds of his struggle to move still clear in the blackness. Sure enough, a rectangle of even deeper darkness now interrupted the smooth surface of the wall.
“We still need more light,” Thaelios reminded them.
“Right.” Saffron handed him the nearly extinguished lamp and dug out the spellbook from Rhazine’s pack. Swapping with Thaelios, she held the lamp closely overhead as he flipped through the pages to the desired heading.
Casting a spell required more than just the right words. He made room for Dyphina to slide in beside him so she could read, for she needed the full instructions in order to succeed. Physical ingredients, if there were any, the correct phrasing and emphasis of the triggering words, and directions for the sequencing and flow of the spell’s energy all had to be absorbed. Beyond that, the practice of initiating the internal magical spark to begin harnessing the sahd was not easy to master, and nearly impossible without the innate talent to do so.
“Alright, I think I’ve got it,” she said after reading over the page. “Can I have the dagger?”
Saffron slipped it from her belt and presented the hilt to her friend.
Dyphina touched the pommel and recited, “Lucemi.” The expansion of white light, though not overly bright, was still shocking in comparison to what was left of the lamp.
“Congratulations,” Be’naj said with sincerity.
Dyphina beamed. “I could have done it a long time ago if someone had been sharing.” She gave a sideways glance at Thaelios, but had a playful twinkle in her eye.
“Let’s get going,” he said, cognizant of their diminishing window. The room was similarly shaped to the Summoning Chamber where the arch-devil was trapped, but the center of the floor was cut out to reveal stairs heading further down. Saffron went first as usual, and after what seemed like at least twice their previous level of descent, the ground leveled.
They were no longer in an eladrin-made structure, however. The walls were hewn rock, and no one had bothered to smooth them out. The floor had collected a layer of sand, but was solid underneath. The tunnel was wide enough for two to walk abreast, and after ten paces it curved around a full one-hundred eighty degrees, leading them back at least as far as they’d come.
It curved again, only half as much, but then abruptly ended in a wall of stone. An arm’s length from the wall, however, on a knee-high block of stone, was another metal basin, similar to those they’d seen in the Hall of Doors.
“Do you think there’s another hidden door?” Saffron asked, already reaching out her empty hand and moving it along the uneven rock surface.
The time had come for the full explanation of their predicament, but Thaelios was still having trouble thinking how to phrase the awful requirement. He cleared his throat. “I think it’s another portal,” he said, looking at the basin. “And, according to M’thenzor, passage requires a sacrifice.”
“What sort of sacrifice?” Dyphina asked, her uneasiness clear by the way she drew out the words.
“Unless it’s a trick,” Thaelios replied, “and your guess there is as good as mine, the doorway to the Planar Key will only open if one of us willingly kills themselves.” He trailed off toward the end, his final words barely more than a whisper.
Saffron had heard him plainly enough. “What?” She laughed the word uncomfortably, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous.”
Thaelios shrugged. “I agree. But, it’s what I was told. He professed to be unable to deceive me, but that could all have been some elaborate deception of its own.”
“How do we decide?” Dyphina mumbled.
“No one is killing themselves!” Saffron wailed. “We’ve kept each other alive through too much to end things in such a way.”
“That’s not what I meant! How do we decide if the fiend was lying?” Dyphina clarified. “Thaelios was the only one who could understand it.”
“True, but what do we do if we think he was trying to mislead us? We have no other way out.” Phaerim’s voice was still croaky, but calm.
“And probably not much longer before we can’t use magic anymore.” It hadn’t escaped Thaelios’s notice that the lamp had gone completely out. He took a closer look at Rhazine, who seemed completely dismayed at what probably sounded like arguing while continuing to stand silently to the side.
Saffron sighed, put her back to the tunnel wall, and slid to the ground. “I know we can figure this out, we just have to stay calm and think.”
An uneasy silence descended. Thaelios looked from person to person – none of them looked like they were making progress toward an alternate solution. He imagined that, like him, they were probably struggling with the hope that someone else would volunteer to do the hardest thing, as horrible as the thought was.
Dyphina made eye contact with him, though the others had all been looking at the ground. He knew trickery was part of the very nature of fiends, though he felt like M’thenzor was being honest. His head went in circles, thinking that if Trigilas had bound the devil, there must have been conditions. And yet, perhaps all of that was just a ruse by the devil to trick a mortal into committing suicide. Wasn’t that scenario just as demonstrative of a fiend’s nature? How could Thaelios not second-guess any conclusion he reached?
“Anyone come up with something?” Phaerim finally asked. All their eyes moved to him, though no one said anything. “I didn’t think so.”
Saffron’s tone was obsti
nate. “We can search every brick of this building for more secret doors. There could be one that leads out of the Hall of Doors altogether.” She stood as if ready to begin looking.
“One that the Eladrin who built it didn’t know about?” Thaelios pointed out. “If such an exit existed, don’t you think those poor souls who were trapped here centuries ago would have used it?”
Saffron grumbled and stiffened her hands. “This can’t be all we have!” she exclaimed, jostling the basin with her boot so it spun noisily on its pedestal.
No one reacted for a long moment, so Thaelios broke the silence. “Should we draw lots to be fair, then, or try and reason this out further?”
Saffron shot him a stare sharper than the dagger in her hand. “Reason it out? That would require this making any sense in the first place.”
“Saffron, I would gladly give my life for you,” Be’naj said, taking her hand. Then, she looked around the tunnel. “But I think Shecclad was speaking to me for a reason, and since that’s why we are here in the first place, I think I need to go on in order to receive his guidance.”
“Whoa,” Phaerim took a turn. “Like you said, Be’naj – you’re the reason why we’re here. Maybe that makes it your responsibility to get us out, no?”
“She’s the only one of her kind, Phaerim,” Saffron said, squeezing Be’naj’s hand. “There is no way I’m letting her kill herself. I would die twice before that happens.”
“What about the new girl?” Thaelios thought it was worth mentioning. She was only there because she couldn’t follow directions, and beyond the contents of her pack, he couldn’t really see how she was useful to their quest. “You haven’t even explained to her yet what’s going on.”
“I’ll do it,” Dyphina mumbled.
Thaelios was still waiting for Saffron to translate when the half-fey’s words registered. “Wait, what? When did you learn Begnari?”
“I said I’ll do it.” Dyphina pointed her thumb toward the basin. “We’re running out of time, and we’re all dead if we don’t open this gate, so I’ll do it. Thaelios is better at magic anyway – you don’t really need me. Give me the dagger, Saffron.”
“No, Dyphina, that’s not true.” Saffron let go of Be’naj’s hand and placed both of hers on Dyphina’s shoulders. “We do need you.” Their eyes locked and Dyphina’s lips began trembling.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Phaerim said from where he’d slid to the floor. He held a small vial between his finger and thumb. “A little left-over from the Wolfspider’s stores,” he said, manipulating the vial with his fingers before pulling out the stopper. “I guess you’ll all owe me one, then.” Without further discussion, he put the vessel to his lips and tipped it back.
“Phaerim, what are you doing?” Dyphina screamed through her first falling tear.
“Phaerim!” Saffron added sternly. “We haven’t decided … you can’t just …”
“The poison’s probably enough to stop my heart, but give it moment to do the job.” He hissed as if a delayed, bitter taste had just washed over his palate. “I was only going to slow you down, anyway.”
Dyphina dropped to her knees and took Phaerim’s hands in hers. “Why did you do this?” She started weeping in earnest and rested her forehead against his.
A lump rose in Thaelios’s throat and his eyes prickled annoyingly.
“You’re beautiful, Dyphina.” Phaerim’s voice was still calm. “I hope you remember me.”
“Phaerim,” Saffron repeated as she shook her head, her voice sad, her expression one of defeat.
He glanced up and smiled, and Thaelios could see wetness forming around his eyes. “Find your ways home.” Phaerim closed his eyes and breathed harshly through his nose three of four times, then became still.
Dyphina slid onto her backside and covered her face with her hands as sobs wracked her body.
Thaelios wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle it when he told her they’d have to cut out Phaerim’s heart…
Chapter 3
Return from
Sepathia’s Lair
T hough they’d talked much of the way, Annoxoria wasn’t sure Thuvian truly understood her better by the time they’d reached the edge of the swamp. She’d succeeded in acquiring one of his sister’s scales, but at what cost? Her stomach had been pierced by Sepathia’s stinger, her fingers were throbbing in pain from her climb up the Nightwing’s lair, her lover had risked his life coming to save her, and she wasn’t even sure the transformation was going to work. Izefet had clearly set her up.
At least his treachery was now in the open, though it came with new worries. “We need to be prepared for anything when we reach the castle,” she said. “Izefet and the Aasimar will have had free reign of the castle for days, and we’ve no idea how deeply they’ve infiltrated. We may have to retake it by force.”
Thuvian growled, though she was certain it was not at her. “I am not losing my hard-earned throne to some outsiders.”
Annoxoria nodded, glad to hear his resolve, though she expected nothing less. She concentrated on blocking out the pain enough to focus her magic and conjured a shadowy steed for them to ride.
“How does it fare over terrain?” Thuvian asked as he boosted Annoxoria onto its back. “With Sepathia on the hunt, we should avoid the road.”
“Certainly,” she replied, leaning to make room for Thuvian to mount. He knew the woods of Ifelian even better than she, and she was too weary to navigate in her compromised state. Her mind wandered to other matters as she grasped her lover’s waist and closed her eyes. She had to believe the wards on her private rooms within the castle were still intact – if she ended up losing any of her research or enchanted collection to Izefet the Damned, the rampage to come was going to make the Xithany Cataclysm seem like a child’s tantrum.
They rode west, into the rising sun, and the journey allowed Annoxoria plenty of time to seethe. Her embarrassment at being outmaneuvered mixed with her anger at being betrayed and the disappointment of her dream remaining beyond reach. It was a potent combination that eventually hardened into resolve. She would make the Name of the Beast pay and use the Living Fire to become the graceful harbinger of death she knew she was meant to be.
As the last of the overnight frost melted from the ground, they crossed the Ifelian Corridor. Thuvian slowed their pace periodically to check for signs of being followed, but so far, naught had been discovered. An added benefit of their spectral steed was that they left no tracks.
They pushed hard, but shortly after reaching the root of the mountains and turning south, they stopped to get some rest. Both needed sleep, but Thuvian insisted on keeping watch and took the first shift. He checked the dressing of Annoxoria’s stomach wound, which was stained red at the source but no longer spreading, before allowing her to lay down. “We still need to properly clean it,” he said, his countenance grim as usual. They would only get a couple hours of sleep each before moving on, and she was too tired to argue or pretend she was strong enough to ignore treatment.
Annoxoria felt better after resting, even though her body craved more. Some of her anger, at least, had slipped away. “Thank you for coming after me,” she whispered to her lover as he slid into her still-warm bedroll.
“I will always come for you,” he stated, his tone devoid of tenderness, though she knew he felt it. “Wake me if there is need.” A few moments later he was snoring, and she envied his ability to still his mind.
As Thuvian slept and what was left of the morning slipped into afternoon, she worried more about coming reprisals. Surely Sepathia had returned to her lair by now and found Annoxoria missing. Would she guess that her half-brother had snuck in and stolen her prey? Could she smell the lingering traces of his presence? Would she pursue them immediately or wait for night to fall again? Mighty as Thuvian was, getting caught in the open by a Nightwing was a serious threat. Perhaps they should plan on how to face such an occurrence…
Annoxoria’s brain didn’t stop,
cycling through dangerous thoughts until Thuvian awoke. “Do you think your sister is looking for us?” she asked as soon as he’d risen.
Thuvian yawned and stretched his muscular arms. “Undoubtedly, but that’s why we’re keeping under the trees.” Unfortunately, besides the firs, many had lost the majority of their foliage.
The day never seemed to have warmed much as the sun remained shrouded by a persistent layer of clouds. As her Lord rolled up the bedding, Annoxoria rummaged through her pack for food. “What are we going to do if she finds us, though?”
Thuvian looked at her intently, first at her face then down to her stomach, but completely ignored her question. “I’m famished and tired of trail rations. There is a hunting post nearby, stocked with some cured meat. We should not suffer too much from a slight detour.”
She nodded and pushed the plain fare back into her pack. She knew Thuvian well enough to realize he’d not given an answer because he saw no choice in it. He would die before allowing Sepathia to get the better of him.
Annoxoria summoned a new nether horse for them, and in little more than an hour, the pair entered a clearing with a crude, but stable, wooden shelter. Shelves within the refuge were stocked with knives and other tools for stripping and preparing carcasses, and jars of salt and herbs for curing.
Thuvian unblocked and lifted a heavy hatch in the floor, revealing an underground chamber used for storage. He retrieved dried meat and frost-packed leafy vegetables that had been picked in season from the wired-in garden behind the shelter, while Annoxoria scavenged the shelves for a pot and wooden spoon.
“There’s a stream a hundred paces east if you’d like to get water while I start a fire,” Thuvian suggested. “Don’t wander any further.”
The Hall of Doors Page 5
