“The reason he didn’t suspect me, dear boy, was because it had been his idea to break all communication with the Order in the first place. You see, when I had learned about the death of your mother, I contacted him about my plans to take you in. We all knew that it would be of the utmost importance to watch over you as you grew up. To guide you. To provide you with the moral compass that would be essential as you grew up, and became subject to the tests all men face when their destiny knocks.
“For you, it was doubly important. We all knew what you would be capable of, and that without proper guidance, it was well understood, that you could be a threat to our world whether the Krampus sunk his claws into you or not.”
“But it was equally as important to keep as many people in the dark about you as possible,” Calibus added. “The Krampus wasn’t the only threat we were concerned about. Our own hubris could have been equally detrimental.
“It was too late to keep your existence from the Magi Order. They were already aware of you. But I wanted to minimize how much any of us learned about your gifts—the full extent of your talents. Much easier to suppress certain unhealthy temptations that might come to us in all our great wisdom and learning. Temptations to use you for the ‘good of mankind’, but that would ultimately lead to disaster. No, it was simply better not knowing of the progress you were making in nurturing your inherent gifts.”
They climbed up a few more steps in silence, before Nicholas began chuckling quietly again. “So, when the investigation into the Sair’n Kryl imposter arose, I was the natural choice,” he said. “Mighty suspicious of me, not talking to friends I’ve fostered for more than three centuries, eh? But Calibus here, had a plan.
“In order to conduct a proper investigation…a more thorough one...he knew that the real culprit had to think he was absolutely free of suspicion. So, he went along with the others to have me thrown in jail. The Council sent Finleara, via a Rifting Stone, to negotiate terms with Alexandrius. Calibus, on the other hand, secretly sent Garhetnor Bliix to warn me of the plan in advance. But he arrived too late. He barely had time to even say hello, before that pompous Roman blowhard burst into the church, and arrested me. As they hauled me out the door, I implored Bliix to find you, and to take you at once to Calibus.”
Finally, they reached the upper most tier of the tower, and were greeted by a two weary-looking sentries guarding a set of immense oak doors. The wood of each door was intricately carved with a series of symbols—runes, Krin thought they were called—and pictures of all sorts, ranging from peaceful pastoral scenes to bloody battlefields. In each of the scenes, strange monstrous creatures seemed to tower over the shorter, more human-like depictions. The monsters ranged in appearance, but all were equally gruesome, and seemed to be malevolent lords over the smaller folk.
Some sported long, sharp horns extending from their heads. Others were depicted with large gossamer wings, and wispy manes of hair. At least one group was covered in what looked like large, reptilian scales. The monsters were invariably surrounded by enormous lizard-looking creatures with large bat-like wings that appeared to be loyal, but vicious, watch dogs. Krin needn’t be an expert on the history of Thana Pel to recognize what the creatures were. He knew a dragon well enough, when he saw one.
Upon seeing the Magus Prime approach, the two guards bowed, then moved to release the locking mechanism to the doors before being stopped by Calibus’ raised hand. “Hold, gentlemen. We’re not quite ready to enter the Vault just yet,” he said, then turned to Krin. “Before we continue, I think there’s something you need to know…about your father.”
Krin’s heart leapt inside his chest. He knew so little about the man—or, he supposed, elf. But the tone in which Calibus spoke, elicited a wave of inexplicable chills. What if he didn’t like what he was about to hear? With the exception of maybe Finleara, the Magi didn’t seem very keen on any of the Fae. The carvings upon the Vault door—depictions of either the Dhunarolc or the Dhuna themselves—were horrid, grotesque monstrosities. Was his father counted among such abominations? Did he really want to know?
As if sensing his trepidation, Nicholas sidled over to Krin, and placed a supportive arm around his shoulders. Comforted by the gesture, Krin nodded for Calibus to continue.
“Kraen-Lil was an exceptional man.”
Krin let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding.
“You might be wondering how your father came to be in our world, given that the Divide blocks all save rifters from crossing over.”
“And, if elves can’t come into our world,” added Nicholas, “how could there be such thing as a half-breed capable of rifting.”
“Precisely. And the answer to this riddle is as much a mystery today as it was when Kraen-Lil first appeared at our doorsteps nearly thirty years ago.” Calibus gave Krin an apologetic shrug. “He refused to tell us how, but your father somehow developed the ability to rift himself. And not only could he rift between the worlds of earth and air, but like you, the worlds of water and fire, as well. It was an amazing accomplishment, but one, unfortunately, he took to his grave.”
“So you’re saying that most rifters can only go between Wyndter and our world?” Krin asked.
“I’m saying that everyone I’ve ever heard of—and I can count them on one hand—could only rift between the two primary worlds. And incidentally, you and Kraen-Lil are the only two I’ve ever heard of capable of doing so without aid of Rifting Stones.”
He savored what was being said. Turned it over in his mind. Although he wasn’t certain what it all meant, the news helped him feel that much closer to the father he had never known.
“So, you never learned how Kraen-Lil, a full-blooded elf, developed these skills?
“Never, my boy,” Nicholas said, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Your father refused to tell us. But somehow, not only did he manage to learn to rift, but to do so freely, without the aid of the Stones. You are…” The old man began to chuckle. “…apparently a chip off the old block.”
Rolling his eyes, Calibus continued. “However he managed it, his presence came at the most fortuitous time. We had only just learned that the real Sair’n Kryl had made a pact with the Krampus, and were planning their coup.
“You see, Sair’n Kryl at one time was known as Altemenes, one of the youngest of our Order, and a student of a zealous radical named Zelquith-Tor. Both Altemenes and his master dreamed of a restoration of Babylon to its glory days. After Zelquith-Tor passed, Altemenes took his master’s teachings to the extreme, and fancied himself the reincarnate Nebuchadnezzar. It was his dream to make Babylon in his own image, and once more a great world power.”
“The problem was,” Nicholas broke in, “the only way to accomplish that was to overthrow the Roman Empire. Without an army at his command, it would have been impossible.”
“Let me guess,” Krin said. “That’s where the Krampus comes in.”
“Exactly.” Calibus pointed to the great oak doors. “See those exceptionally large creatures carved in the wood? The ones with the bat-like wings. Do you know what they represent?”
Krin shrugged. “Dragons, right? Garhet has a medallion with one of them etched on it.”
Nicholas and Calibus turned to one another with suddenly grave faces.
“Saw that, did you, my boy?” Nicholas asked. The old man was suddenly so tense, he seemed made of stone.
Krin nodded. “It was a beautiful piece of jewelry.”
“Yes. Yes it is,” the Magus Prime said, before offering a weak smile. “And you are correct. The images here are, indeed, dragons.
“You see, the dragons were originally bred by the Nephilim. They were vicious creatures, with only one end—to do the will of their masters with brutal efficiency. They accomplished this in much the way you’re probably imagining, but the creatures had one weapon rarely spoken of in the old fables. They fed upon the heat of the land to sustain them. It was the source of the great bellows of fire they could spew, but also th
e very essence of their life force. Wherever they attacked, they left the landscape a frozen tundra; devoid of heat. What their hellfire didn’t destroy in an inferno, their voracious appetite would consume by stripping the land of essential heat.”
“And Sair’n Kryl wanted them for his army,” Nicholas said grimly. “That was the deal he had struck with the Krampus. In exchange for finding the means to open a stable rifting portal—an object, we believe, that was well known to the both of them, but that has remained a mystery to us—the Winterking would provide the means to resurrect the dragons long buried within Sair’n Nanlech, the Dragon’s Spine.”
“Sair’n Nanlech. Sair’n Kryl. I’m assuming ‘sair’n’ means something like ‘dragon’?” Krin asked.
Calibus nodded. “Altemenes became so captivated by the stories of these creatures, he started his own religious order that worshipped them. A cult that longed for their resurrection, and their subjugation, on earth again. Altemenes assumed the name of ‘Dragon Lord’ at that time.”
“But Sair’n Kryl is dead. His madness surely ended with him. Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because whoever has taken control of the dragon cult, and assumed the mantle of Sair’n Kryl appears to be after the exact same objective. And now we believe we know what it is,” Calibus said. “The dwarf lord you met in the council chamber yesterday? He came to report that the Dragon Lord and the Romans were attacking the mines near Sair’n Nanlech. Well, Sair’n Nanlech is an unnatural geological formation that exists because of the dragon burial ground located directly beneath it. Sair’n Kryl’s cult would need access to those mines to burrow close enough to the dragon burial grounds for any resurrection to work.”
“But there’s more to it than that,” Nicholas said, nodding to the sentries. “Which is why we’ve brought you to the Vault.”
Dutifully, the guards unlatched the doors, and heaved against them until they swung inward. Krin watched as the vast chamber beyond opened up to him—gleaming with artifacts, trinkets, and objects of gold, emerald, and an infinite assortment of metals and jewels he had no name for. But it was the object suspended mid-air, in the center of the chamber that knocked the wind from his lungs. It was the forty-foot tall, perfectly round marble slab, covered in glowing blue runes, and hovering ominously above all else that rendered him utterly speechless.
THIRTY-TWO
“That, my boy, is the Rifting Stone of Madagus Keep,” Nicholas said, with a twinge of pride. “Such stones are found throughout the world, however, this one seems to be the first and most magnificent of its kind. No one knows exactly who constructed it, or why, but all the other ones pale in comparison.”
“It is this stone which drew the Magi here nearly two and a half centuries ago when we were charged, by the Creator, to keep vigilance on the Great Divide, and to become the stone’s guardians,” Calibus added.
Krin stumbled forward in awe, glancing up slackjawed at the thing. He remembered seeing the Rifting Stone of Kair’n Del on his journey to the Keep, but it was a mere skipping stone compared to the size of this one. The Kair’n Del Stone had seemed so massive when he had first laid eyes upon it. The marble-like stone, perfectly round and etched with strange runic symbols around its edges, had looked to Krin like a wheel of some great pagan god’s chariot. The stone within the Vault, however, could have borne the full weight of Atlas himself. Where the first had been merely two stories tall, this one appeared the size of a small cathedral.
As he meandered slowly around the suspended stone, captivated by its splendor, his foot brushed against something small. A metallic jingle answered his kick. He looked down to see a peculiar spherical bell about half the length of his pinky in diameter. Unconsciously, he reached down, and pocketed the bell before turning his attention back to the tableau above him.
“H-how is it…, um, well…”
“Levitating?” Calibus chuckled. “A mixture of both elven and dwarf magicks. Actually, the dwarves build this entire chamber for the sole purpose of housing the Stone.”
Krin finally pulled his eyes away from the monolith to explore the rest of the room, and was instantly struck by a wave of disorienting nausea at the sight—as though the ground had suddenly given way to his whole world. Besides the hoard of treasure littering the room—casks of gold overflowing, mounds of diamonds, amethysts, and other jewels—the room itself was a marvel that transcended all rational thought. The tower in which they had climbed had been roughly fifty feet in diameter, but the chamber in which they now stood was…
“It’s not possible.” Krin spun around. The chamber stretched for what seemed like miles in all directions. He glanced back at the door, which now seemed much farther away than he remembered walking, but still close enough to see at a distance. And every square inch of the room was filled with more treasure and artifacts, than Krin could possibly imagine that existed in the whole world.
“How can this be?”
Both Nicholas and Calibus smiled, amused at Krin’s bewilderment.
“Once again, it’s partly the dwarves’ amazing gift of building things, but it is also the Stone itself,” Calibus explained. “You see, it is suspended in mid-air for the single purpose of rendering it useless. Rifting Stones must sit on solid ground in order to function, and this is by far the most powerful—most stable—of all of them. We felt it wise in the beginning to affectively negate its power within our sanctum lest it be used against us in some foul way. The dwarves, God bless them, developed a method for levitating the Stone for just that purpose.
“As for the immensity of the room itself, I’m afraid that even suspended as it is, the Stone still has great power. The moment you stepped through those doors, you stepped into another world. Not Wyndter, and none of the other three, I suppose. This place appears to be a sort of ‘Limbo’, if you will. An In-between. But it is uninhabited, and has been exceptionally useful in storing the odds-and-ends, and precious relics that have come into our possession over the centuries.”
Krin tore his eyes away from the chamber, and the Stone, and turned back to his companions. “Alright. So what does all this have to do with me? Why are you showing me all this?”
Calibus nodded, then gestured to his right. “Follow me, and I’ll show you.”
The trio walked on, weaving in and around the mountains of gold and silver dotting their path. After traveling for what Krin felt must have been a quarter of a mile, they came upon a fountain, cobbled in stone, with crystalline water flowing up from a spout. Next to the fountain, lay a worn, ancient rug that appeared Persian in origin. Its intricately woven geometric and floral patterns were faded, and parts of the edges were frayed. It was trimmed and fringed with fine golden threads that seemed to capture the light in a mesmerizing glimmer. The Magus Prime carefully stepped around the rug, and eased up next to the fountain before pointing down into the water.
“Take a look.”
Krin peered down into the clear liquid rippling inside the fountain’s base, and saw his own haggard expression looking back at him. His unnaturally white hair had grown considerably since leaving Myra, and now appeared wild, and unkempt. His goatee was longer, and ragged, and uneven tufts of facial hair had begun to sprout here and there beneath his high cheek bones. After peering into water for a moment, he saw nothing more than his own weary, skeptical face.
“Um, what exactly am I supposed to—” His voice caught mid-sentence when the pool began to swirl, slowly at first, and then gradually increased in speed until a miniature whirlpool whipped around the basin like a maelstrom. For a moment, Krin worried that the violent current would rip the fountain stones apart, but gradually, it subsided into a placid mirror once more. Only now the image was far different than what he saw just a moment before.
His own reflection had been replaced by a small island, nestled between two raging rivers. In the middle of the island, stood an ancient tower with a domed roof—Krin had seen similar buildings before. An astronomical observatory. A legion of
Romans marched, to the beat of war drums, toward its shores from the mainland. The cadre was led by a figure in flowing crimson robes riding on a large, scimitar-toothed cat.
The scene quickly shifted again into another whirlpool depicting a bitter wasteland of dirt and rock. Off in the distance, a forest of trees could just be made out. Seeming like little more than tumbleweeds in a desert of despair. Hundreds of dwarves, all chained together, worked furiously with shovels and pickaxes; chipping away at an immense stone structure jutting up from the soil. All in time to the beat of a slave driver’s whip. The structure itself appeared as a great pile of sun-bleached bones all piled high upon themselves, and caked with centuries-worth of mud and grime.
“WH-what am I looking at here? What is this?”
“This, Master Krin, is a scrying pool” Calibus explained. “The Rifting Stone touches all of the worlds simultaneously, giving us the ability to look into each of the four worlds at various points. Nevertheless, because of its suspension, it can only reveal what is happening in our own world presently.
“What you are seeing are two events happening simultaneously. The enslavement of Behk’n Lorent’s dwarf clan, where they are being forced to clear the rock and other debris away from the dragon graveyard; and Sair’n Kryl’s advance upon the Tower of Santhelion, the abode of the N’ahk.”
Nicholas cleared his throat. “The implications of the latter is rather obvious by now, I should think. However, the advance upon Santhelion is, by and large, the most distressing development we’ve witnessed in recent days.”
Krin turned back to the whirling pool, and the scene shifted back to the stark, domed tower he had seen before. It leaned slightly to the right, with a stone facade all cracked, and covered with tendrils of ivy snaking its way up, smothering strangle-hold. A chill swept over him as he stared at the place, and for the briefest moment, he felt as though he had been there before.
The Legend of the Winterking: The Crown of Nandur Page 24
