Warden's Path

by Heath Pfaff

  A moment later I found myself frowning as I realized that there was a large fire burning in a hearth across the hall from us. Arthos was looking at it as well.

  “Does that start when you open the gates?” I asked, though I had a feeling I knew the answer already. It was possible it was a trick of Will, but Arthos’ expression told me otherwise.

  “It is usually dark in here when I open the gates. I wasn’t even going to suggest starting the fire here.” His eyes were scanning the room, and I began to do the same. A coating of dust lay across everything, and the place had a stillness to it that only comes with a long stretch of time lying uninhabited.

  “Smells old. Still.” Dreea said softly, her voice a low growl. “Nothing alive here.”

  “Then what lit the hearth?” I asked, though I really didn’t want an answer.

  “What indeed.” Arthos answered.

  We moved cautiously through the old fortress. Everything was still and dusty. There was no evidence that someone had been there since the last time the Wardens had come to check on the place. No evidence, except of course, for the fire burning in the hearth at the entrance. We walked from room to room, scouting every location with weapons drawn, or in Dreea’s case, claws ready.

  We walked the courtyard in the middle of the building, a beautiful if overgrown garden with statues and a comfortable, quiet feel to it. There wasn’t a single door we didn’t open, not a room we didn't walk. It took us hours and hours to make our rounds, even moving quickly.

  Finally, we made our way to a room on the fourth floor where a door sat against a wall that, to my understanding of the building, should have been against the exterior wall of the Watch. Opening it, were it any regular door, would have let us walk to our deaths from the fourth floor, but I knew this door wasn’t what it seemed. I could feel the power it held, something just inside the jam, or more precisely the stone beneath the frame, that held a promise of possibilities beyond imagining. The door we’d entered the room through was closed and Arthos dropped a thick bar down to secure our way.

  “Get a fire going.” Arthos said, nodding to a pile of wood near a hearth at one side of the room.

  I did as he asked, moving to the well dried stock. Dreea joined me, working quietly at my side to get things going. There was a bucket of kindling as well, all of it dusty from sitting for so long. Within minutes we had a fire crackling to life. Arthos had taken a seat near the closed magic door and was sitting, legs crossed, with his hand on his stone, sending something back to Black Mark. After a time he put it away and leaned back with a sigh.

  “I sent an update of all that we’ve seen on our way here, and asked for our next orders. I imagine we’re to be sent somewhere, or someone will come through the door to speak to us. Until then, we have to remain here.

  “You can use the doors?” I asked, quite curious about them, and not wanting to think about what might be waiting for us beyond this room, out in the Watch. This seemed like a good topic to get my mind off of the eeriness of this place. Every time I tried to relax, the sound of the crackling wood in the entry hall came back to me. There was nothing wrong with that fire aside from it’s unnatural existence, and yet that was enough to send the hairs on my arms standing straight up in place.

  Arthos gave a nod. “After a hundred years of service they teach you how to use them. It’s complicated. There is a great deal to remember, and working your Will in such a way that you can make them do exactly what you want is one of the most challenging things you will ever have to learn. The doors . . . “ He hesitated. “They are old power, something beyond Will, and when you use them you have to touch that power with yours. It’s unsettling and difficult, but fortunately the doors seem to have been made with our gifts in mind. They work together, though it’s difficult to imagine why or how.”

  “Doors are not Will?” Dreea asked, seemingly interested in this topic. “They let you go in one place, come out another? Magic. Will is magic.”

  I’d actually been under the same impression. Will was power. It was magic. For a long time I’d thought it was the only magic. “If it isn’t Will, is it the Way?” They were the only other power that I knew of, but I really didn’t know that much about them.

  “No, it’s not them either. They have some nasty tricks, mostly to do with their Archons, but this is something else. If I was inclined to believe in gods, I’d say they had made the doors before they made any of this world, but I don’t buy into that. I believe that long before Everburn touched this world, something else was here, and it was powerful. It made the doors for a purpose that is lost. We learned how to touch upon that power with the Will, but only just. We are children playing with our father’s sword, not realizing it’s a tool of purpose.” Arthos grinned and then laughed. “If that sounds a little dramatic I apologize. This place has sent my mind to dour places.”

  “Haunted.” Dreea put in. “This place is haunted, but not with people. Dark things.”

  “That’s not helping.” Arthos noted dryly.

  Dreea grinned her toothy, wild grin. “Fear is good. It reminds to be careful. Reminds caution. Caution is important.” Her speech was smoothing out more and more as she spoke to us, but it was still sometimes a bit stilted. She was quite good at getting her points across, though.

  “I’m terrified of this place.” I put in, deciding to be honest with the others. “It feels . . . “ I had to think about it for a moment. It did give off a feeling, a strangeness that was hard to place exactly. “It feels like it needs us, but not in a good way. Like it wants something.” That sounded like paranoia when I said it aloud. It wasn’t a well reasoned feeling to have, but one sprung from fear. This made me wish to explain myself.

  “When I was training, there would be times when we’d be tasked with something that was incredibly dangerous, and those giving us the directions knew we might well die when they did, and yet some of them found it amusing. You could tell. The Wardens were eager to get what they wanted, eager to send us to our deaths, to cut out those not worthy of their ranks. This feels like that. It’s like seeing one of those smiles on their faces and knowing they expect or want something, and you might not make it through.” I nodded to myself as I spoke. That was right. That was the feeling this place exuded, a dark, greedy want.

  “They were just shaping you to be strong.” Arthos said. “Some of them might have grim senses of humor, but they know what it takes to be a Warden.”

  I shrugged, but didn’t look back at Arthos. Defend them as I knew he would, I couldn’t help but see their actions as nefarious, their goals as vile. I wouldn’t forget those who’d died at my side, those friends I’d never see again. I couldn’t forget Zarkov, and I wouldn’t forget what had become of Ori either. She was forever trapped in an accursed golem, and she would never know peace again. Zarkov, at least, had the comfort of death. It was sad to take comfort in the fact that he was gone for good. The Wardens had created a situation in which death was preferable to the alternative.

  Wherever else that conversation may have gone, it ended there. The door, not the one we’d come through, but the one that should have opened out into nothingness, swung open. Arthos and I drew weapons at the same instant, and Dreea fell back behind us, her teeth barred and a low growl in her throat.

  “What is?” She snarled, snapping her teeth.

  I looked at Arthos. “The city?” I asked, thinking someone from Black Mark must be on their way.

  Arthos shook his head. “It shouldn’t be. They would have sent notice. I’ve gotten nothing through the stone.”

  My eyes locked on the door. It swung slightly, as though caught in a light wind, but if so then the wind was sweeping in and out. The doorway was breathing. The thought struck me and then wouldn’t let go. It was alive, an open and gaping mouth trying to swallow us up, and looking through it, all I could see was darkness. It was black out beyond the door.

  No, that wasn’t exactly right. There was something else through that open frame. If I
let my eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness inside I could just make out a faint red light that was blinking slowly. I squinted and took a step forward, an involuntary movement as my body tried to aid my brain in figuring out what I was seeing. “A hall?” I asked, trying to gauge if the others were seeing what I was.

  It was so dim it was almost impossible to tell, but I thought I could make out a hall, but not one like I’d seen before. It didn’t look made of stone or wood. The walls were smooth, slightly cylindrical in shape, and there were strange runes on them in places, writing in some language I didn’t know.

  “I don’t recognize that place.” Arthos said before adding, “Stay back from the door.”

  The door slammed shut then, so hard that it seemed to move all the air in the room. I felt drawn forward for a moment, but then everything was still again. The door was closed, and that passageway to somewhere else was sealed. I felt relief wash through me, though it was tempered by the fact that we were still locked in this room with that door, and it might open again of its own accord at any moment.

  “Perhaps we should leave.” My voice was quieter than I’d meant it to be, so quiet that Arthos either didn’t hear me, or chose to ignore me altogether.

  “It is clear we must remain vigilant while we’re here. I’ll send another message to Black Mark in a few hours if we haven’t heard back by then.” Arthos’s voice sounded uncertain in a way that did nothing to make me feel better about our situation. He had no idea what had happened.

  “Do those normally open without Will?” Dreea asked. “Felt wrong. Bad, like this place.”

  Arthos shook his head. “I’ve never seen one open without someone on one side or the other opening them intentionally. I’ve also never seen a place like that one before. There are a great many doors, though, and maybe that place is somewhere secret and whoever was there opened the door here by mistake. I guess that might happen.” The last part he said quietly, as if trying to convince himself more than us.

  “You should send that second message . . . “ I was going to tell Arthos to send it now, not to wait a few more hours, but I didn’t get the words out of my mouth before someone knocked on the door. It wasn’t the portal door, but the one that lead back into the Watch.

  The dull knock rang out three times and then was silent.

  Dreea dropped to all fours and growled. “No one, no smell. No one is there.” She said, long white teeth accompanying her threatening snarl.

  “I don’t think we should open it.” I said, and was ashamed to say I could hear fear in my voice. I was a trained fighter. Whatever was beyond the door I should have been prepared to face. With the force of my Will, and the potency of my fighting prowess, I should have been prepared enough to face anything. I should have been able to put on a brave front at the very least, but I couldn’t hide the fear this place inspired.

  “Who is there??” Arthos called. “This fortress is the property of the Wardens of Will, and you are trespassing.” He took a step forward, his staff separated into two parts, one in each hand. His grip was confident and steady. He didn’t sound weak or intimidated, but his stance was aggressive, his tone louder than it needed to be. He was falling back on bravado in the face of the unkown.

  The knock sounded again, three clear, deep raps against the outer side of the wooden portal. Arthos took one more step forward. “I give you this one chance to leave now. If I open that door, your life is forfeit.”

  Silence. There was no movement beyond the door. The quiet seemed to stretch on forever as we waited for something, anything at all, to happen.

  “Your . . . life . . . forfeit.” The voice crept through the wood, dark and menacing, a hushed whisper on the back of a rattling hiss. Every hair on my arms stood straight up and a chill washed down my spine.

  Arthos took another step towards the door, but I rushed forward and grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t.” I said, and I still sounded afraid.

  “There is nothing out there that we can’t defeat, Lillin. We are trained to fight.” He said calmly, though I thought for certain he was afraid as well.

  “No smell, nothing there!” Dreea said, clearly agitated. “No sounds to hear, just voice. No smell.”

  “Open.” A voice said, and it felt like it was directly next to me. I spun quickly, bringing my weapon up, but there was no threat to face.

  “Open it.” A whisper, floating through the room. “Open the door.”

  The others could hear it as well. Dreea whimpered, and Arthos was swinging around now, his weapons up in front of him, every bit as useless as mine were.

  “Will it open.” The whispers were rising in volume, becoming a cacophony of sound, an oppressive wall. “Open the door! Open it now!”

  “No!” Arthos yelled, clearly having changed his mind about the door. He no longer wanted any part of it. Neither did I. The voices went quiet, and the room was still again. The crackling of our fire seemed so loud in the aftermath of the wailing.

  I took a few deep, slow breaths and tried to calm myself. I’d faced many challenges during my training, some terrifying. There had always been a way through, but I’d known that because it was training. Even if it was dangerous, there was a solution. This wasn’t training. This was real, and that meant this problem might not have a solution for me to find.

  Arthos expression turned resolute. “We’re going back to Black Mark, now. We can explain things to the Wardens when we arrive.” He strode to the magic door and I felt his Will rush forward, an intricate surge of precise intent that held multitudes of refinement beyond what I could hope to achieve. I couldn’t even start to understand what he was doing. The surge stopped, and for a moment nothing happened.

  Arthos frowned at the door, and then turned and pulled the handle. It swung open, and for a brief instant I saw a hall that was clearly part of the academy. I let out a sigh of relief, and then the fire we’d lit in the room went out. It didn’t just fizzle to an end, fading from its last embers. It was as though darkness had fallen over it, a curtain dropping and blocking all the light from the world.

  “Through the door!” Arthos yelled, and we dove in the direction the door had been. Without the light of our fire showing us the way, the corridor beyond the doorway was dark as well. It was late. We jumped through, and then I felt another surge of will and the door slammed closed in our wake.

  I noticed immediately that the air felt strange. I took a deep breath, and it tasted off, though I couldn’t place why. I blinked, trying to get my bearings in the dark, and things were ever so hesitantly appearing, as if they were struggling to exist in the oily dark around us. My eyes adjusted in a painfully slow manner to the newfound dark. As my vision did slowly clear I soon began to realize that we hadn’t arrived at the school. This wasn’t the hall we’d seen when the fire was still burning.

  “Where are we?” I asked, looking at Arthos who I could barely make out. Dreea’s eyes glowed softly in the dark, which was just a bit frightening to see.

  “Not academy?” She asked.

  “No, this isn’t the school. I’m not sure where we are. This isn’t familiar at all. This isn’t where I opened the door.” Arthos spoke in hushed tones, sounding more afraid than he had in the room. His bravado had dwindled.

  “Is that possible? I saw the school when the door first opened. I recognized the hallway. I mean, I hadn’t seen that particular stretch of it before, but it was familiar.” I was trying to keep my fear in check, but it wasn’t an easy thing to do given the situation we were in.

  There was a pause before my teacher answered, and when he did it was clear he was making an effort to gain his calm back. “It’s nothing to worry about. I’ll just open the door again and we’ll go where we were meant to.” Arthos moved to the door and I felt his Will surge once more, that confusing rush of intricate manipulations slashing through the air. This time the door swung open as it was struck. I watched with hopeful anticipation, but as it continued on the path allowed by its hinges I could see the l
ook of distress on Arthos’ face that told me something was off.

  I got a bit closer to the door. “This . . . this isn’t one of the travel doors.” I said, putting a hand on it. It had opened on a room that was clearly part of the same structure we were already in. Beyond the door was a dining table that looked as though it hadn’t been used in some time. The room was quiet and abandoned. There were windows along the far wall, but only darkness lay beyond. The only light was cast from a single candelabra in the center of the table that was somehow still burning. Another fire in a place that looked like there should be none. It echoed the entry hall of the Watch.

  Arthos got closer to the door himself. He was shaking his head. “It has to be a door. You can’t travel to doors that aren’t connected. That’s impossible.”