Slats and Sviska stood with unsteady feet as the winds died down. The four of them came to stand at Brethor's side.
The Annuals of Eclipses, like a falling feather, floated down into Brethor's hand. He took it, exhaling as he nodded his head.
The block had now halted its rise from the snow. It was just over the height of a man and was engraved with symbols and effigies of mountains and trees. There was an obvious doorway at the center of the block. Sviska had never seen such a sight as was before him in all his travels. Sitting just before the doorway was a small altar and circular platforms.
"The Temple of Trials. You four must go." He pointed toward the door and the raised set of five platforms.
"Why?" asked Slats.
Brethor was quiet for a moment, as if in sudden thought. He walked to the temple and then turned to them. "Magic! To release the magic of the city and save everything! You must get what is held in the final room of the temple. Then we shall unleash the magic."
Berie did not seem convinced. Her lips remained flat with lack of belief, but Slats nodded in understanding.
"Perhaps then we can defend the city?" Garoa said.
Brethor said nothing. Ignoring Garoa, he motioned for them to walk forward. "On the platforms."
Each took their own places at the platforms, and Sviska looked at Brethor. "There is a fifth platform. Are you not to come?"
"It is not my place. I am lord of the Estate and the city. I will help prepare the defenses as well as give the gift to the people that I have prepared for them behind the dwarven doors."
"What gift?"
He smiled and looked at the four. Ignoring Sviska this time, he shook his head.
"It is time."
He clapped his hands, and the door to the temple slammed down. The icy ground before the door cracked. Looking in, the path before them was gold and bright. One by one they descended, the door slowly shutting behind the last one—Sviska.
He turned to see Brethor bowing with his eyes closed as the night sky disappeared from his view.
Chapter 25 Four Trials
They peered around but saw nothing except polished stone floors, walls, and entire ceiling; however, the walls were bare. A single torch lit a long hallway, and there was a door at the far end with five symbols. One was already alight, as was one of the five doors opened and a torch lit at the far end.
Garoa shrugged and then clapped his hands. "I'm not great at guessing, but I would assume considering there are four of us and four doors that we each have to go into a door."
Sviska looked into the open door. "Who went into this one?"
"Brethor," said Berie. "It was a condition of his rule of the city that he complete it. He told me the story long ago, but I only remember that much. I did not know the place where it happened was within the mountain."
"Well, who is first?" asked Garoa.
No one said anything. Berie stepped forward, shaking her head. "I will go."
*******
She looked around at the four rooms. There were no distinguishing marks or etchings. No symbols or difference at all that could be discerned.
"I think they’re all the same," said Slats. "You just pick one."
"Okay," she said to herself, approaching one of the doors.
"Careful, elf," Garoa cautioned, sarcastic yet serious at the same time.
The symbols of the door came alight when she touched it, and the stone door split in the center, disappearing to either side of the entryway. With a long breath, she stepped in. The door closed behind her.
The room was long and narrow. As she walked from under the shadow of the passage, she emerged in an open space lit on the ceiling by three torch baskets. Across the room was another room that poured light into the dark main chamber. A black and white basin with unlit tinder in it sat just in view.
Berie began to step forward when the entire room started to move. The blocks that made up the floor shifted and flipped and began to rise to the ceiling. She sprinted forward. Leaping up the rising stones and then jumping down to lower levels, she ran, finally forced to roll off her landing as a large tree branch shot out from the wall. She was resting on a rocky platform when a cage dropped from the ceiling with glowing white bats contained within. At the same time, across the room, a fairy appeared.
A voice echoed from a mouth unseen that sent chills across her body.
"Protect your friend."
In a mass of flapping wings, the bats swarmed toward the fairy. The elf drew her bow. Thinking of the incantation of flames, the tip of the arrow began to glow red. She released and the bolt flew forward, striking within the mass of the creatures. She partly silenced the squeals of the chattering creatures as some fell dead, charred by the flames.
The fairy was flying around the room, dropping altitude to stay away from its pursuers as Berie ran, springing from block to block, trying to get to the floor. As the fairy made it to the edge of the room, fire spewed from the wall, forcing it back toward the bats.
The elf had gained on them, and as the fairy was overwhelmed, Berie jumped into the mass of wings, catching it in her arms. In a rolling landing, she turned and let fly two more arrows, each with a fiery tip. Another group of bats fell, dead.
Above her now, in a dance of flapping wings and screeches, they circled. From a corner of the room, a being emerged, stepping into just enough light to where she could make out its form. It flapped its wings, causing the elf's nose to twinge and forcing her to hold her breath as the stench choked her.
"Give me the fairy!" it hissed.
She held the fairy in her hand and let it go just behind her as she fixed an arrow in her bow. This time thinking of the incantation of light, she drew the arrow and the light grew, forcing the shadows back.
The creature looked as if it had climbed out of a bog from the far south. Moss and swamp slime dripped off its wings.
"I like fairies." The creature licked his hand, and with the other, picked up a covered cage that sat next to his clawed feet. "I keep them with me at all times."
Removing the covering, Berie saw that the creature held many other fairies captive. He reached in with his scaly hand and grasped one of the cowering fairies. The fairy squirmed and flapped its wings as the creature placed its head into his drooling mouth. The elf released the arrow, but it flew right through the creature, unstopped by its form.
"I know you," she said. "Your kind were enemies of the elves. But we destroyed you long ago."
"It is true, but it was not my race alone that was destroyed since then, elf!"
She drew another arrow for the light and watched as the creature bit down on the neck of the being. A bluish trickle ran down the side of its mouth as the fairy's light faded, and it chewed, crunching the fairy down into more easily swallowed chunks.
"All my fairies for your one."
The being was real enough for her, but without hesitation, she refused. She knew her arrows had no effect, but she took a step forward.
"You will have to destroy me to take this fairy. It is not yours, and I am here to protect it."
The creature smiled a crooked grin, its teeth rotted and broken, dripping with drool.
"Very well," it said.
The creature's wings began to shrink, and its clawed feet and hands became smaller and less like a beast. The being itself got taller, and pointed ears appeared where before there were scales. In a whitish glow that painted the entire being, a face emerged. Berie did not know whom this was who stood before her.
The being, who appeared to be an elf, looked down at her. A small smile escaped him as he reached out his hand, touching the bow. Berie at first wanted to step back, but she felt an intense calmness and peace.
"Child of the woods, you keep my bow well," he said.
"You are Truesong? The elf of old?"
"Yes, and I am here in spirit to entrust you with your task. You have passed the test of guarding this friend of mind."
The fairy flew over to him and
landed on his finger.
"Such care will be needed to safeguard greater things."
She affixed the bow to her back and looked around. "Is there more that I need to do here?" she asked.
"Honor your people and the memory of them. In time, your deeds shall lead you to a greater singing of songs and embracing of our kind."
Truesong and the room began to fade, as did the fairy. There was a flash, and the unlit white torch sprang to life, its fire lighting the room.
Berie headed back to the door, which was open now. The others watched from the hallway as she rejoined them.
"Who is next?" she asked.
******
Garoa stepped to one of the doors. "I can't let the pointed-ear woman have all the fun here."
Sviska looked at Berie, who raised her head. "It is a test of will," she said. "It tests your power of mind, not just of physical ability."
"Garoa, did you hear that?" asked Sviska.
"Yes, yes. A test of will," he answered nonchalantly.
******
He bounced in place as the door opened, and then he ran in. The door slammed shut behind him, and he stopped. The blank room became a forest with a lone house in the center.
The Rusis turned and looked back at the door and then hid beside a tree, crouching. He peered around.
A voice echoed above him.
"Do nothing and make your way to the platform at the far side of the chamber."
A single raised stone platform emerged from the floor of the room, only just visible through the trees past the cottage.
Simple enough.
Garoa began to slip in between the trees, carefully looking around as he did for any sign of danger. Soft candles lit the cottage-style house of simple design with stone walls and a thatch roof. From a stacked brick chimney, smoked puffed up into the top of the room, dissipating as it did.
He was just on the border of the clearing of the house when a girl emerged from behind a tree. She jumped around the edge of the yard, picking flowers and singing as she went. He knelt down beside the tree as the girl stopped and picked some of the mushrooms growing in a rotted part of the trunk. She looked up, directly at him.
"Sir, did you come for dinner? My mommy is making a good stew and fresh bread. She said you were coming. She said my daddy was coming home to eat."
Garoa shook his head quickly no. "I'm afraid I am not your father, child."
The girl frowned and looked down at the ground, rubbing her foot in the grass. "Oh, that's sad. I was sure you were."
He looked up, as the creaking of the door of the cottage opening caused him to jump. A woman emerged. She was very tall, blonde, and slender. She looked at Garoa just as the child did, and smiled.
"I was hoping you would be here!" she gleefully yelled, running to him. She leaped into his arms, hugging him. "I have missed you, Garoa! It has been many years since our time together. We have been blessed with a child!" She turned, pointing to the girl.
The little girl smiled. "Daddy!"
In mere moments, she was at his side as well, jumping up and down for him to hold her.
"Come on, dear. Let us let Daddy catch his breath and chop some wood for the stove."
She pointed to the side of the house and then turned with the girl, going back into the cottage. He went to the side of the house. Sure enough, he found a hand axe and some logs near the edge of the yard on the far west side of the dwelling.
Garoa stood frozen in place.
"You said we needed extra wood and you were going to cut it," she told him.
None of this made sense to him. His mind raced through his memories of times long ago. He thought of who this could be, losing track of his purpose of where he was. His emotions were getting the best of his normal mental state.
Lucia. This woman is Lucia.
He remembered a vague memory filled with merriment and drinking, where a few nights of conversation climaxed to a bit more, and in particular, it seemed, a child. He knew of no child, but Lucia was a memory keen to his mind. But that was long ago. There was no way they could be here now, and a daughter, if he had one, would have to be much older.
Garoa went over to the axe and picked it up. It felt real enough. He went over to the house and peeked into the window. Lucia was setting the table, his supposed daughter sitting and waiting as three sets of dishes were set out.
This cannot be. This is not real.
Suddenly, there was a howl in the distance. Garoa jumped from the window, dropping the axe. He ran to the trees at the edge of the yard and looked into the woods where the sound had come from. He began to creep again, taking note of the platform as he carefully made his way past the house, using the trees for cover. From the far side of the yard in front of him, a form emerged.
It was like a dog, but larger. It had long rough hair that curled off its pointed ears. Its legs were massive, half the size of a man's body, and its eyes were as red as the coals of a hot fire.
It stepped into the clearing in the woods, snarling. Its teeth dripped with blood and the tissue of the recently deceased. The pungent odor rolled toward Garoa. It looked at him. Using the power of his people, he melted out of sight, becoming as still as the tree behind him.
The creature continued walking and then shifted into a blackish shroud to take the form of a hooded man. From the horror of a beast to that of a pale old man with a long gray beard and a walking cane. It was to deceive those in the house. It crept up to the door and knocked.
Don't open the door.
He could see a crack of light from the cottage, and then the man forced himself in. Garoa went to step forward but then looked at the platform and stopped, instead taking a step further away.
I am to do nothing.
The screams of the little girl and the woman filled the air as a vicious growl and sounds of the beast tearing apart the house began to drown them out. He watched as it crashed through the front of the house, dragging the woman, now not much more than a trail of blood and entrails, to the far side of the yard.
Garoa ran toward the platform, ready for this nightmare to end. Just as he got to the furthest edge of the clearing, a voice pierced his heart.
"Daddy! Daddy! Please don't let it hurt me!"
He turned to see the little girl running from the house, now engulfed in flames and black smoke. A roar sounded as the beast followed, bursting through the fires and landing just behind her.
Garoa cracked his knuckles and shook his hands. His magic was ready. He began to summon a fireball to cast at the beast, or even a simple freezing spell would do. Just something to stop the bloodshed and help the child.
I can't.
With his eyes closed, he turned, tears falling from his face as he heard the little girl scream and the sound of her body ripping asunder behind him. He leaped onto the platform and collapsed upon it.
The room became quiet, and as he wept, he looked around and noticed that the woods, the house, the beast, the woman, and the girl were gone.
As he turned toward the white torch, it burst into flames. A man appeared before him in a glowing light.
"I am Rungar, a Rusis that you have heard of without a doubt. Respect well my gauntlets. I commend you for being still when your heart wished for something else. A tough path lies before you, where such things may need to be decided that are against what you desire. I bid you do what you need to in those situations to avoid the snare of death and complete what is needed. Your purpose alone is of caliber beyond the others who are with you."
"I do not understand. How did they . . .”—he motioned to where the house had been—“How did those images have anything to do with that?"
"Your desire for love and a family is but one weakness the enemy may use against you. You must resist and fulfill the tasks given to you."
"What tasks? What do you mean? Do I have a daughter?"
Garoa looked around. The man had vanished, and the clank of the opening door of the room was of no relief on his now
burdened heart.
*******
He stormed across the room and to the others who waited for him.
"Garoa?" asked Sviska. "What happened?"
The Rusis said nothing. He pointed at Sviska and Slats, and then went to the wall and sat down, placing his face into his hands.
Berie looked at him and then to the other two.
"I'll go," said Slats.
Sviska nodded his head and patted his back. "Good luck," he said.
*******
The dwarf approached the door, and it opened. He stepped in and was instantly amazed as the room turned from a blank stone shell to that of a barren, dusty land. The skies were an orange-red. He turned to see that the door had shut, and then began forward.
As he began to walk, his foot crunched into something on the ground. He looked down jerkily and noticed his boot was in the skull of a creature. He gasped and then brought out his axe. The weight of it was heavy, but as he began forward, he held it high, afraid to lower it in case he was attacked.
He scaled a small hill and looked down to see the bodies of many warriors and beasts alike strewn about. They were dwarves. He looked around at the sight of the horrific battle.
Crushed helms leaking fluids, and bodies ripped open with maggots crawling about the open cavities and flies buzzing around. He could taste an iron flavor as he breathed in the bloody surroundings.
The voice of the room spoke.
"Dwarf, stand your ground!" The voice was deep and reminded him of the dwarf masters of his childhood back at his home.
Slats stood, unmoving. His legs quaked, and he swallowed his saliva as he began to breathe harder. His arms shook, and not used to the weight, he held the axe up, looking around as he did what he had to do to stand his ground.
From over the hill directly in front of him, two spikes emerged. As the heavy trudge grew louder, the spikes rose from the crest of the hill and he could see a helmet and shoulder spikes emerging. The silver armor and massive form was four times the size of a normal man. It had no face. Instead, where a face should be, it was fully plated with two rectangular slits for the eyes.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 23
