“Are you sure you want to look, Phynis? Sistina’s kept it sealed this entire time, so…” Desa asked softly, following Phynis’ gaze to where the door was open, where the fallen branch had knocked it ajar.
“I’m sure, Desa. We almost lost Sistina, and… well, we’re down here, and the door’s open. Sure, there might not be anything interesting inside, but part of me has wondered about the tomb since the first time we came here. If not now, then when?” Phynis asked, looking at her guard curiously, trying not to focus on the fear of what had almost happened.
“I suppose you’re right. Just let me go first? I don’t think any of the intruders got inside there, but I’d rather not take the risk,” Desa replied, and smiled as Phynis nodded at her guardian’s demand.
They approached the tomb together, only for Phynis to pause about ten paces away when Desa indicated for her to stop. The other woman approached the door and slowly pushed it farther open, poking her head inside. Phynis tensed for a moment when Desa didn’t move, only to slowly relax as the other woman eased her way inside after a few seconds.
A minute later, Desa poked her head out and gestured Phynis over, shock obvious on her face. “It… it’s safe, Phynis. Come on. You’re going to want to see this.”
“Alright,” Phynis murmured, and quickly walked over, curiosity growing more potent as she did so. What in the world would surprise Desa that much? Moments later she stepped inside the tomb and paused, her eyes going wide as she looked on the interior lit by Desa’s magic.
A thin layer of soot was dusted over the room, obviously the result of the fire, but the interior of the tomb was otherwise perfectly clean, almost as polished as a temple. Murals covered the walls as well, each among the most detailed paintings Phynis had ever seen, and her eyes went wide as she looked at them, a strange sense of familiarity washing over her.
Seemingly looking through crimson facets was the face of an elf, her features eerily similar to Phynis’ own, though her hair was jet black and combed behind her ears, a smile on her face. There was the young woman traveling through a series of lush gardens and some of the plants and arrangements… they reminded Phynis of the gardens outside the tomb, recreated with faithful detail either on the walls or outside, and Phynis wasn’t certain which mimicked which. A few other elves were in the pictures, but one of the murals showed the young woman entering an immense forest, meeting a green-skinned nymph in a dress of leaves who gave her a golden seed, as well as meeting and kissing a handsome male fey that caused her to reel for a moment. A name bubbled in her memory for an instant, only to vanish a moment later.
More murals covered the walls, seeming to cover the length of a long, fruitful life with many children. This was the original Sistina, Phynis knew, but somehow the events felt so familiar. She tore her eyes from the pictures, focusing on the sarcophagus in the center of the tomb. The top of the sarcophagus was crystal or glass, and hesitantly, Phynis stepped toward it. It felt like it took much longer than a few steps, but finally Phynis looked down into the sarcophagus, and let out a gasp.
Inside was a woman who looked almost perfectly like Phynis, if she had black hair and a milky white complexion. She was beautiful, looking as though she were sleeping with a smile on her face, her hands cradling an elegant sandalwood keepsake box and dressed in a simple green gown. The resemblance was more than eerie, as the pictures had been, and Phynis staggered backward a step, putting her hands over her mouth as she stared at the tomb.
“That… that…” Phynis murmured, stunned.
“I think it’s little wonder she identified who you were, Phynis… or at least who you were descended from,” Desa said softly, shaking her head. “The resemblance is uncanny.”
“I… you might say that,” Phynis replied, shaking her head, and looking around. After a moment she felt uncomfortable, and she quickly spoke again. “I think we should leave and close the door. This feels like it isn’t right. Like we’re intruding somewhere we shouldn’t.”
“As you say, Phynis. I can’t say that I disagree.” Desa nodded, and escorted Phynis out before slowly pulling the door shut, shrouding Phynis’ ancestor in darkness again.
It seemed to take an age before the storm in the aether passed, and when it did, Sistina swiftly spread her awareness out once more, enveloping every nook and cranny of her domain. Phynis and the others had returned to the palace, but a large number of guards surrounded the stairwell that led down to Sistina’s cavern. The creatures and guardians of her dungeon were waking once again, shaking off their unwilling torpor. While the damage that had been dealt to the garden around her tree was significant, that much could be repaired, and Phynis’ hidden refuge nearby had remained untouched, Sistina realized with some relief.
Sistina’s tree had regrown anew, but without the metal reinforcing her trunk and branches this time. Sistina considered that for a moment before deciding not to bother doing so again, at least not yet. The metal had only slowed the attackers down, not stopped them. Besides, she didn’t have much mana that she dared to spend on something that had given so little benefit.
Thinking about her mana, the dryad turned her attention to the body lying on a bed. Her body had been moved to the palace, which had kept it from deteriorating too much. She thought that she could animate the body once again with only a tithe of mana, so she gently reached out, ever so hesitantly sliding her mana and awareness into the body.
“The residents don’t seem to be too upset about what’s occurred, mostly confused by the sudden disappearance of their brands. Most of those affected seem elated, but there’s a large portion that’s worried about what might occur if Sistina had actually perished.” Desa was speaking as Sistina settled into the body, her voice as calm as it could be. “That being said, there’s no sign of any other attackers yet. The adventurers have identified the attackers as a group of four who arrived a few weeks back and made a number of delves into the dungeon. We’re still waiting for them to give us more information as well.”
“I see. Well, we’ll just have to see how much he—” Phynis began from her chair next to the bed. She was holding Sistina’s hand, and when Sistina stirred, her words cut off as she focused on the dryad, a smile blooming on her face. “Sistina! You’re alright!”
“Yes. Thanks to you,” Sistina replied softly, sitting up slowly and smiling at Desa, as well as Farris and Sapphire. The dryad gently embraced Phynis, giving her a squeeze as she continued, nodding to the others. “Thanks to all of you.”
Phynis hugged Sistina much more tightly in return, tears trickling down her cheeks as she murmured, “Perhaps, but… it was close. Too close. Are you alright?”
“Is…” Sistina paused, and carefully corrected her speech. “That is debatable. Lost much. People freed, you are freed, which is good. Mana reserves… you drew on them. Much was used saving me. I am weaker, regain mana more slowly. It is a setback.”
“I… I see,” Phynis replied, looking both happy, worried, and startled at Sistina’s explanation. “Your speech is different, Sistina. I don’t care if you’re weaker, as long as you’re going to be well.”
“Can blame Jewels for that,” Sistina murmured, smirking as Sapphire jumped at the statement.
“What? Why would your speech be our fault?” Sapphire protested, brushing back her shimmering hair. “All we did was hold your soul together!”
“Yes. Compressed, condensed it to avoid dispersal,” Sistina explained, pausing a moment before continuing. “It forced fragments together. Sped up recollection. Still not done, but I am… better. Remember more.”
“As good as that is, there’s something else we need to address,” Desa interrupted, looking worried as she met the dryad’s eyes. “Sistina, is there anything you can do to prevent an attack like that happening again? Without you, Beacon may be strong, but our chances of survival are nowhere near as good.”
“Maybe. Have… I have hints of what was done.” Sistina spoke carefully, frowning. “I can close the staircase, o
pen it when needed. Need to research.”
“Does that mean you’re going to be spending lots of time in the Academy again?” Phynis asked, frowning slightly. “I don’t want you that far away.”
Sistina frowned, considering before offering, “Could bring the codices back to the palace? Those help the most. They jog memories.”
“Do that, then. I want you nearby,” Phynis ordered.
“Yes,” Sistina murmured, but couldn’t suppress a smile as the Queen gently hit her in the shoulder.
“You can say more than that!” Phynis scolded gently, unable to hold back her own smile.
Even Desa giggled as Sistina smiled more and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Albert paced as he waited, the communication crystals mostly lit up. They were just waiting for Guildmaster Kettle, his own mentor, which made the artificer nervous. This entire situation was ridiculous and frightening, which was why he was convening the other nearby Guildmasters for advice.
“Alright, I’m here.” The aged voice of Kettle suddenly spoke, his crystal lighting up as he did. “What’s this all about, Albert? I haven’t had an emergency summons in ages.”
“Let him talk, Kettle,” Guildmaster Ironguard’s voice broke in, adding quickly, “That goes for all of us. Guildmaster Windgale?”
“We’ve got a problem of epic proportions out here, and I need help,” Albert spoke flatly. “Somehow a group of assassins got their hands on a full set of dungeon slayer gear. They had distortion cloaks, heart-finders, and a damned aetheric disrupter. I checked, it’s all Guild issue, not copies or similar items. They actually succeeded in killing my dungeon, only to have the locals somehow manage to bring it back to life.”
“What?!” Guildmaster Pot exclaimed, and Albert heard the faint sound of shattering glass in the distance. “How in the blazes could that happen?”
There was a furor of murmurs from the others, but Guildmaster Windspeaker’s calm, pointed tone cut through the others. “Windgale, did you acquire any of these items, or did you just see them?”
“I have everything except two of the cloaks. We took one of the assassins alive, if only just, but haven’t been able to interrogate her yet,” Albert answered quickly, resisting the urge to start pacing again.
“Excellent. Please pry open the bottom of the aetheric disrupter. There should be three or four letters and numbers inscribed as part of the engravings. It might take some work to find them, but they’ll be there if it’s made by the Guild,” Windspeaker explained.
“Alright, give me a minute,” Albert agreed, pulling out a few tools, as well as the disrupter. It took a little work to pry off the bottom of the device, and he winced at the complexity of the engravings that were carefully carved along the interior. A spider web of gold, platinum, and adamantine created intricate runes, and he had no idea how the spellwork would function. He spoke after a moment. “This is… more complex than I thought. Just a bit…”
The letters and numbers were hidden in the web, almost looking like happenstance, but finally he found them, speaking aloud. “We’ve got A, E, and 5. What do those mean?”
“Those help us determine who made the disrupter, and which one it was,” Ironguard interjected, his voice serious. “I’ll pass it along to headquarters so we can find out how this happened, Albert. If someone stole what you’re talking about, it’d be an absolute disaster.”
“Agreed. I have to add that the local Queen is angry as hell,” Albert admitted, swallowing as he continued. “She said that if there’s any sign that the Guild was behind it, she would do everything she could to expel us from the region. I really don’t want that to happen. There’s such a wealth of knowledge here that it’d be an enormous loss for us.”
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about that, Albert. We’ll see what we can do, but…” Kettle paused, then asked, “Guildmasters? If it’s proven that a Guild member has gone rogue, shall we authorize Guildmaster Windgale to do whatever is needed to deal with the problem?”
“Agreed. Any bastard who would kill a dungeon that’s interesting and useful should get what’s coming to them,” Pot snarled, prompting a chuckle from Ironguard.
“Anyone who can make you two agree that quickly has to be a fool,” the dwarf chuckled, but his voice went grim as he added, “Agreed, though. This can’t be allowed.”
“Do what needs to be done, Windgale,” Windspeaker spoke firmly, adding, “Also, try to maintain good relations with the dungeon. I’ve found your reports on your interactions with it to be absolutely fascinating.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Albert promised, and one by one the crystals went dark.
Chapter 21
In the privacy of his room, Farren Galthor paced back and forth impatiently, scowling as he waited. While he’d had a few second thoughts about what was happening, the young man didn’t see any point to changing what he was doing, murmuring under his breath, “It isn’t like one new city and a handful of golems are going to make a real difference. Kelvanis will grind us into dust sooner or later anyway.”
The siege of Galthor had begun only two days before, and Farren’s father had led an attempt to break through Kelvanis’ lines yesterday, only to be driven back to the walls. Losses hadn’t been too high, but Farren could see the writing on the wall. Galthor was going to fall, and then all of Sifaren. He wasn’t going to let this war take away his eventual inheritance.
Now he was just waiting for Kelvanis to signal him that they were ready. The escape route to the city was heavily warded by his father’s magi, with only a handful of people able to open the wards and allow the passage to be used without causing it to self-destruct. Fortunately Farren was one of them, or this would all be in vain.
“Sir Galthor, we are ready for you to open the way.” The mental message came all at once, and for an instant Farren stiffened, then relaxed and smiled as it completed. “May our alliance bear the fruit that we both desire.”
“Indeed, I certainly hope that it will,” Farren murmured, his smile growing wider as he belted on his sword and started for the door.
“Milord? Farren is heading toward the basement.” Captain Ansov spoke grimly, the stocky, dark-skinned dusk elf looking extremely unhappy. He was exceptionally muscular for one of their species, and his silver hair was cropped short. Not that Baron Thomas Galthor could blame him for being unhappy.
“He is, is he? Well, that’s the worst news I’ve heard this spring,” Thomas replied, straightening up from where he’d been examining the dispatches from the Queen. “I’d dearly hoped that Ms. Ennarra was lying through her teeth.”
“You aren’t the only one, Milord,” Ansov replied unhappily. “I knew that we’d been under some suspicion after what happened to the Princess, but I never thought that Farren could be behind it. If she’s telling the truth, at least.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Thomas said grimly, nodding to his personal guard, who immediately began preparing his armor as he continued. “You know the plan. Get everyone together, let’s find out how deep this cesspool goes.”
“As you wish, Milord,” Ansov replied with a salute, turning to go. Before he reached the door, the man paused. “Would you like me to dispatch a squad to take Arise into protective custody?”
“Please do. If this is what she claims, I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to eliminate her.” The Baron let out a soft sigh. “As much as I despise her for betraying us, she has too much valuable information to throw away.”
“Of course, Milord.” Ansov saluted again, and continued out the door.
“Come on, let’s get moving ourselves. We’ve got a traitor, or traitors, to unmask,” Thomas told his guards, stepping forward as they helped him get into his armor.
Justicar Hall frowned as he looked over the hillside. His strike team was behind him, arrayed for the intense, sudden attack on Galthor’s castle. It’d be a hard fight, even if they had the element of surprise, but he was confident they could manage it. Hall was also
assuming that Farren Galthor was going to do his part, but there didn’t seem to be good odds of the young man changing his mind at this point. The man had too much to lose, and the reports of his personality from their spy had been quite detailed.
His current unease had more to do with the lack of any sign of the escape tunnel. Supposedly it was at their location, but neither Hall nor any of their magi had seen the slightest sign of an exit. If he hadn’t been so confident that Farren was going to cooperate, Hall might actually expect a trap at this point, even if they were in a remote location. Since Galthor’s forces were nowhere near them, an attack was rather unlikely.
Abruptly, the side of the hill flickered with green light no more than twenty paces from where he stood, causing Hall to tense. He slowly relaxed as he saw that the green light was outlining what almost looked like a doorway set into the hillside with a sizzling sound. A few seconds later, the light died away, revealing that two rectangles had been etched into the grass and earth.
With a creak, something pushed the two doors open from below, revealing a single young elf on the other side. The man was almost six feet in height, which was unusually tall for a dusk elf, and his hair was white and almost artfully arranged to cover one blue eye. He had skin that was a lighter shade than normal for his people, and he wore fine linen clothing, his tunic a deep red. It matched the descriptions that Justicar Hall had read of Farren Galthor, at least, even if the young man was looking at them warily.
“Farren Galthor, I presume?” Hall asked, stepping forward.
The young man flinched, then replied quickly. “Of course I am! Who in the hells are you?”
“I’m Justicar Ivan Hall. I’m the one you were negotiating with, even if through an intermediary,” Hall replied, suppressing his distaste of the young noble. Giving him authority over this region would be a disaster, most likely. Still, that just meant he’d be removed within a decade or so. “I’m also the person who’ll ensure you get what you bargained for. If you’ve followed through, that is.”
Halls of Power (Ancient Dreams Book 3) Page 14
