by S K Smith
‘Welcome to the Temple of Scholars,’ He said, chuckling, ‘I remember the first time I laid my eyes on it too, it is something you have to see to believe - and even then, you may have to pinch yourself.’ That was certainly true, Elle thought. She could never have guessed from outside that this could have been built within the Mountain itself. The torches lit up a magnificent collection of interconnected domes carved from the Mountain. The Temple, although not taller than the Stone Castle once was, it was wider and in the dark, when lit purely by torches, had a magical feel to it. Bridges of rock were formed over the flowing streams and she could make out lit paths in the distance far from their position.
‘Is this the only route in?’ Sir Rakel asked the Old Man, looking around.
‘No, this is the back entrance, very few know of it, and even fewer can climb the other side,’ The Old Man chuckled again, ‘There are two main entrances, much grander, but both watched. This is the best way to keep you unnoticed.’ The Old Man gestured for them to follow and led them along the glistening pool of water.
‘Are we not going into the Temple?’ Ayda asked from behind.
‘Good heavens no, you’d be killed on sight.’
‘Because the Scholars work with the Elders?’ Elle asked.
‘Not all, but most.’ The Old Scholar sighed,
‘Why don’t you?’
‘Because I know something they don’t.’ he signalled for them to keep quiet. In the cave, sound travelled easier and quicker through the air, and along the water. They had to remain unnoticed. Their guide led them closer to the Temple, keeping to the shadows of the rocky cave. Elle wondered how the Scholar knew where the shadows were but said nothing as she followed closely. The Temple grew more impressive the closer they moved, the domes were smooth, and Elle could make out intricate gold detail patterned along the walls of each building. Elaborate decorative archways marked entrances and huge golden doors emitted a yellow glow from the flickering torches. Closer still Elle could see the reflection of the lights in the streams flowing around the domes, the floors nearer to the Temple were painted gold with gemstones sunk into the floor like mosaics. She had never seen such a sight of splendour. Red cloaks could be spotted prowling the exterior. The Legion had the Temple of Scholars heavily guarded. The Old Man was right, they would all be snuffed out as quick as a candle if seen. Elle found herself growing nervous the closer they moved. Butterflies were flapping their wings furiously in the pit of her stomach. Their guide was an expert at moving in the shadows, she wondered how he could see. Soon, they found themselves moving away from the Temple and away from the danger that came with it. Finally, they reached a strong oak door imbedded in a rough wall of rock. Elle spotted many tens of similar doors nearby and hoped no-one would appear from them. A click of a lock, the oak door was open, and they were ushered quickly and quietly inside. Elle had not realised how cold she was until the warmth of the fire embraced her. They had walked into a cosy room, that she presumed was the Scholar’s living quarters. Cosy armchairs relaxed in front of the simmering fire, bookcases lined the walls of the room, thousands of books nestled on their shelves. A large table was positioned against a stone wall, burdened heavily with parchment, more books and odd bits of strange coloured stone. Two oak doors led off the room to the Scholar’s bedchamber and private quarters. Groaning slightly, the Old Man locked the door and sidled into the room, and slowly lowered himself into his favourite armchair before the fire, breathing heavily.
‘Your friend is dying.’ He said sadly, cutting in before they could speak.
‘Can you help her?’ Ayda asked desperately.
‘I can’t,’ He replied, ‘But I know someone who may be able to help.’ He took his walking stick in his hand and knocked three times on the cracked slate hearth surrounding the fire. The sound echoed slightly. Elle watched expectantly, waiting for something to happen. She could sense the anticipation of her friends around her, all staring patiently at the old slate. Maybe he was crazy? Elle thought. What was he hoping to happen? Suddenly, the sound of grinding stone on slate filled her ears, as the fragmented slate lifted away from the hearth, revealing a dark stairwell leading down. Elle’s curiosity got the better of her as she moved closer and peered in through the gap in the floor. The gap was small enough to let one person through at a time. In the dark, the stone stairs leading into the dark belly beneath them looked difficult, they would need to be careful. Elle looked back at the Old Man who had not moved at all.
‘Go on, Princess.’ He nodded at her.
‘How can we trust you? We don’t know you!’ Ayda cautioned Elle.
‘Right now, your friend doesn’t have time for me to explain. If you want to save her, move.’
Could she trust him? She thought, her confidence in him wavering slightly. Was she about to walk willingly into a trap? A prison that she had just watched open? The Old Man had said they could help Syren, was this a risk worth taking? The faded appearance of her red headed friend pushed her on. Waiting until Ayda was by her side, she carefully stepped on to the stone and began her descent. The steps were uneven, she lost her footing early on. Putting her hands out either side to touch the wall as a guide, she made her way lower and lower. She wondered if it would be safer for her to crawl down on her bottom but decided against it. Her friends had followed her down, she could hear their boots as they too, slipped on the deceiving ground. It wasn’t as dark as she thought, small candles were flickering in their sconce, casting dim, golden light to dance warmly along the cold walls. Finally, she reached the bottom. She gasped. She wanted to run far, far away from this place, she shimmied backwards into her sister, who groaned and moved her aside.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Ayda asked, looking down at Elle’s expression of shock.
‘This-this place!’ Elle stammered, the rest of the group piled into the room, Syren being carried along by Karl and Theo. Brielle could not take her eyes from the large domed room. Every inch of stone was covered in glistening crystal, everywhere her eyes scanned, from the floors, to the ceiling, the crystals glittered like stars against the dark stone. It tugged at her deep inside, it looked so familiar…
‘Bring her in, bring her in!’ A young female voice sounded rushed. Brielle jumped as she saw a young woman, about the same age as Ayda emerge from an archway at the end of the dome, and frantically gesture to them. Karl and Theo quickly carried Syren as gently as possible across the empty dome and through the archway. The other’s followed quickly. Elle was left alone. They did not understand the significance of this room, she thought. To her, it felt, like a dark version of home. Like she had been here before.
‘This room is familiar to you?’ The Old Man was at her side, she had been caught in her reverie and had not heard him emerge.
‘Yes…’ Brielle responded quietly, ‘It’s the Ritual Chamber back at home.’
She had remembered why it caused her such fear, such a deep ache. To her, the Ritual Chamber of her home had caused all the misery that followed, she wished she had never stepped foot in the chamber. She had been such a fool to be so excited about her summons, and she had lost everything in doing so.
‘Look closer at the crystals.’ The Old Man said simply. Reluctantly, Elle got closer to the walls beside her. The crystals were an inch or so wide, jagged and dotted in the stonework across the walls, floors and ceiling. They were also black. A deep, beautiful ebony. Her breath hitched. They were not the same. She remembered the crystals in the Castle Chamber as being clear as water.
‘What are they?’ She asked, feeling more at ease in the mysterious dome.
‘They are my most important discovery,’ The Old Man said seriously, ‘soon I will tell you of them, but for now, promise me, that you will not use magic unless instructed by myself.’
Elle’s curiosity piqued. His most important discovery?
‘Why are you helping us?’ Elle asked,
‘Your Father made me promise, besides, I would have anyway. You are far too import
ant.’
She opened her mouth to press the Scholar for more, until she saw Ayda and Sir Rakel beckon her enthusiastically from the archway. Remembering Syren, she ran to them without looking back. Ayda looked at her happily.
‘You are not going to believe this!’ Ayda beamed. Brielle felt elated at her sister’s excitement, what had they found? The Princess followed her sister into the room beyond the archway, it was like the last, black crystals adorned every inch of the smaller, domed room. Much like the living room they had left, this room also had books lining the walls and scrolls and parchment along desks and shelves. Amazement shook her body as she saw what was happening in the centre. Her friends had gathered around a table, their faces were pale, and their eyes were wide as they contemplated what they were seeing. Elle felt the hair on her arms and neck stand up, as shock crawled over her body like a spider.
Syren was led peacefully on the table, but she was glowing. Brielle could not move, she knew that glow. She had been practising her magic and seen that white light so many times. Magic was flowing through Syren! The white light was so bright that Elle nearly missed the hands resting upon Syren’s body. Following the arms, squinting against the gleam, she noticed that the hands belonged to the young lady who had called them. Her eyes hurt, the glare from the light was strong in the dark, underground rooms, she raised her hand to shield herself. Ayda immediately noticed.
‘What’s wrong?’ She asked worried, placing a hand on her shoulder.
‘The light – it’s too bright!’ Elle whispered.
‘I knew she was going to heal her, but I didn’t know she had magic!’ Ayda exclaimed wide-eyed. The light pierced her eyes for mere moments before she adjusted. Finally, able to focus without wincing through the pain, Elle moved closer to examine what was happening. Elle watched as beads of light emerged from the outstretched hands of the healer and disappeared into Syren’s body, Elle could see that much magic was being used as Syren’s body glowed. The healer’s eyes were scrunched shut in concentration and only opened once the glow had begun to dim. She had finished. Elle looked at Syren’s face expectantly. The magical light dimmed to nothing as the healer pulled away from her body. Syren still did not move.
‘What happened? Didn’t it work?’ Elle asked timidly, waiting for Syren’s eyes to burst open.
‘The Magic can only do so much, little one, her body now needs to do the rest.’ The lady replied.
‘What did you do?’ Ayda asked, approaching cautiously, afraid of the unknown.
‘She had internal injuries that caused her to gradually lose a lot of blood, much longer and she would be lost.’
‘Now what?’
‘Now we wait for her body to recuperate and replenish itself. All her injuries are healed,’ The healer explained, ‘Now, if you would be so kind, please settle her in that room behind you.’ She gestured to the small arch leading off the dome. Karl and Theo obligingly carried her into the room. Elle felt a rush of relief, that was mirrored on Ayda’s face, Syren was going to be OK. The healer put her hand around Elle’s shoulder and embraced her gently. It was a warm gesture, and one that made Elle instantly love the young lady who had saved her friend.
‘Come, little one, we have much to discuss.’ She said.
‘You’re a mage?’ Elle blurted out excitedly. Brielle was awed by the display of power she had seen and felt a bond with this mage. She had felt so alone before, shouldering the responsibility of magic that no one understood, now she had a mage as an ally. Someone who could teach her and understand her.
‘I am.’ The woman replied kindly. Elle, Ayda, Niall and Sir Rakel were following her back up the stone steps, towards the warm living room above. Elle had so many questions, she couldn’t wait to reach their destination.
‘Can you teach me?’
‘Partly…’
‘Can I heal like you?’
‘Maybe…’
‘Are we alone?’
The questions poured from her like water from a tankard. The healer barely had time to answer before she was hit by the next onslaught of questions. Finally, they reached the living room where the Old Scholar was waiting, comfortable back in his arm chair. He gestured for them to sit around him as the Healer slid the slate hearth back into place.
‘I see you have met my friend Nhima,’ He smiled. Elle was fascinated by them both, how the Scholar could smile at her, knowing where she was sat when he was blind was beyond her.
‘Yes, she’s a Mage, like me.’ Elle explained breathlessly. The Old Scholar chuckled.
‘Who are you?’ Ayda asked him bluntly.
‘I am Scholar Byran, or just Byran now really…’ He muttered to himself, fidgeting with his robes.
‘You’re not a Scholar anymore?’ Sir Rakel asked, confused.
‘Oh no, too old my dear boy.’ Byran muttered. Elle saw Nhima’s eyes flicker to Byran’s and guessed something was being left unspoken. Brielle continued.
‘Are you the Scholar who taught our Father to use his magic?’ She asked, anticipating the answer she was sure to come.
‘I am. The King at the time – your Grandfather – begged me, I accepted.’
‘Can you teach me?’
‘I promised your Father that I would, but I fear I will be of less use to you.’ Byran sighed.
‘You were not blind when you mentored the King.’ Sir Rakel pointed out.
‘Who are you?’ Byran asked the Old Knight, his face faltering slightly.
‘Sir Rakel, Chief Protector to the King and Head of the Elven Army.’ Sir Rakel responded proudly.
‘Yes, yes, I remember you, the King was very fond of you.’ Byran nodded. At this, Ayda shot Rakel an evil glare as he looked guiltily to the floor. Elle knew he was going to regret his actions until the day he died.
‘If I am to teach you, there are rules you must follow.’ Byran began, Elle sat up eagerly.
‘You are not allowed to use magic, anywhere other than below. The training rooms below were designed for your Father and this is the only place you can use magic.’
‘Why?’ Elle asked.
‘The Scholars here are not your friends. If they hear, sense or see your magic, there is nothing we can do to stop them. The Legion is strong here and they will hunt you down,’ Nhima replied softly.
‘The rules also apply to me, for they are no friend of mine.”
‘They want to kill you too?’ Ayda asked her.
‘Me, her, any Mage. Their aim is the extinction of Magic.’
‘So, we are not alone?’ Elle whispered, excited and scared at the same time.
‘No, little one, there are many, many more of us, they just don’t know it.’ Nhima smiled sadly.
‘What do you mean?’ Elle’s brows were furrowed, confused.
‘You have been to the Ritual, Princess, tell us what you saw.’ Byran asked her kindly. Brielle felt the gaze of the other’s lock onto her. She retold her story. She told them all the Elves that had joined her in the room, told them of the blue mark on their wrists, all with differing brightness, told them of the orbs of light she now knew to be magic, and of the crystals on the wall and the similarity with the ones in the basement training rooms. Relaying it all back to her companions, aloud, sparked answers inside her head.
‘The other Elves are Mages!’ Elle announced, shocked. Byran nodded.
‘Let me explain what I have only guessed at over the years,’ Byran began, ‘I have long suspected that Magic is still as abundant as before. First your Father came to me, then Nhima and now yourself, there are never three discrepancies. I then turned to the Ritual. The Chamber itself was a much-researched development. I have long suspected, following your Father’s descriptions, that this was a way of controlling magic. It was only then, with your description, Princess that I can confirm my suspicions.’
‘What – why?’ Elle stammered, perplexed.
‘You can see the flow of magic. You see it as a light, and you described seeing the light leaving the Elves aroun
d you and travelling together to the centre of the Chamber. I believe the Elders are channelling the magic to themselves.’
‘You mean the Elders are stealing magic?’ Ayda asked, trying to keep up.
‘How can they possibly do that?’ Niall asked.
