by Paul Sobol
“Looks like it’s up to me to find an exit strategy once again,” Archer said with a faint smile.
“If you are referring to that incident with the Nazi’s in France I had everything under control.”
“You were always a terrible liar Silver,” she teased.
“Well only one of us grew up in the Royal Court. I never had to become as familiar with it as you.”
Archer broke off what she was about to say. He was right. All those years of court intrigue learned on her mothers’ lap; the lies and deception, the falsity behind every smile, daggers in every furtive glance, it was like a drug, but taken too often it became a deadly poison. She was lucky to have left when she did.
Leaving the shelter of the cave their globes of light began to flicker and dim and eventually winked out. As their sight adjusted to the darkness the stairs before them slowly became illuminated by the brilliant display of stars above, and looking upwards towards their destination the stairs seemed to stretch on forever towards the jewel-studded heavens.
For hours the group made their way upwards, winding back and forth between the creases of the mountain. The steepness made the trek slow going as legs became fatigued with exertion, but as they climbed higher things got a lot more difficult as the steps became slick with ice and snow. Occasionally someone would lose their footing but miraculously managed to stay upright and not fall hundreds of feet to their death.
Winter attempted several times to erect a protective barrier against the cold and tried to melt the ice which threatened their every step up the mountainside. For brief periods of time the small group would be enveloped by warmth but slowly the shield would begin to falter and cold piercing winds would send flurries of snow dancing around their feet. Only Athenais seemed untroubled by the cold in his white owl feather cloak, and surprisingly kept pace with the others who relied on using small amounts of mana to sustain themselves.
Stars turned in their celestial orbit and the dark night sky gave way to the pre-dawn display of shifting colours from deep violet to light blue. Fractures of coloured light glinted off snow-peaked mountains and the occasional burst of sunshine would find its way down the mountain and shower the stairway with thousands of ice-glittering lights. By the time the sun had crested the highest peak the weary travellers had made their way to a small landing.
Due to the extreme climate this high up there was very little in the way of vegetation that could be sustained, but sheltering the landing was an ancient tree; gnarled and frozen into place like an outstretched hand holding aloft some giant ball. Icicles hung from its wooden fingers which rained patterns of light down on a solitary stone bench. It was on this snow-dusted bench the group managed to find a small modicum of comfort, mercifully sheltered from freezing winds and flakes of snow threatening to blind them.
Briefly sustained on hearty ration food and water the group soon set off again up the mountain. They were somewhat gladdened by Athenais’ confirmation that the end was near, and true to his word they shortly found themselves coming to another landing. Reaching the last step they could only marvel at the sight before them. The Temple of Air - towering spires and fortified buttresses of a massive castle, seemingly carved from a single piece of azure ice. A slightly opaque sheen gave the illusion of solidity although sky-bridges and walkways high above appeared to be made from spun glass which refracted the sun’s rays into a riot of colour.
The landing leading up to the Temple was devoid of snow and ice, and every step they took towards the towering edifice they got warmer. Nearing the front doors they could make out beautifully carved figures on the crystalline surface; men and women who seemed to flow out of clouds and wielded tridents of lightning. “Air Elementals,” Athenais confirmed for the group, “guardians of the Temple. Quite formidable opponents but very susceptible to water and earth magic. I once bound an air elemental to a rock; poor thing was devastated, so I let it go.”
“Was it grateful to be released?”
“Unfortunately no. It then proceeded to blow the roof off of my cottage.”
In good spirits the group finally came to the Temple’s entrance. Up close the doors were even more impressive, each standing over three dozen feet in height and easily a dozen wide. The carvings were life-size and appeared to lean out menacingly over the travellers. At head height were two half spheres supporting a pair of lizard-like dragons, mouths open as if roaring a silent challenge to those who would dare enter.
Seeing no other obvious entry the small group turned to the only one who had previously passed through this portal. Looking back, somewhat confused at the others, Athenais suddenly realised they were waiting on him to provide the solution to this unpassable obstacle. As if hit by an obvious answer he dug into his pocket and produced a small leather bound book.
“I believe this may prove useful. It is a journal I kept many years ago and I managed to write down many interesting facts about my first expedition to the Temple. Let me see,” Athenais said as he flicked through yellowed pages, “Ah! Here it is. From the Dragon’s Tongue you will gain entrance to the Temple.”
“But there is nothing in the dragon’s mouth.”
“True,” answered Athenais, “but like all riddles this one was easily solved. My companion at the time figured it out. He truly was a gifted magician.”
After several moments of silence, in which the aged magician seemed to be lost in thought, Silver noisily cleared his throat.
“What? Oh yes, the door,” said Athenais, and in a load voice bellowed “Sethranostros!”
For a brief moment nothing happened, and just when the others were about to doubt his sanity, the ponderous doors slowly began to open with a slight inrush of air as if the Temple had been sealed for a long time.
“You just had to speak the word Open in Draconic.”
While the doors continued to open there was already enough room for the small group to enter, and if the size of the doors weren’t impressive enough the interior of the Temple was even more awe-inspiring. A wide passageway stretched off into the distance, and on either side were rows upon rows of monolithic pillars of amber crystal. Each pillar was a dozen paces wide, the tops disappeared into the darkness high above, yet the Temple was lit from some unseen source.
“Athenais, can you tell us what happened the last time you came here?”
“Apart from being a very long time ago there isn’t much to tell. We started out as three young impetuous magicians barely out of the Academy and looking for adventure. In the Academy we had a teacher who filled our heads with various tales of wonder and glory found in ancient ruins and forgotten lairs. We spent a great deal of time searching the Temple of Air because we believed it contained some of the greatest artefacts known to magician-kind.
“Unfortunately our quest was a lot harder than we first believed it would be. Ahead of us lies a series of tunnels which snake through the mountain down to its very core. We were not the first, nor last, to venture through that labyrinth, and came upon several unexpected surprises. We also suspected Time might be altered in the tunnels because we found evidence of ancient creatures suspected of being extinct a very long time ago. As it turned out we were correct; there were things down there that had wandered aimlessly for decades, even centuries, searching for the way out. These hapless creatures over time became insane, twisted monsters bent on killing anything they came across. During one such battle with these mindless beasts my closest companion Arthos was killed. My other friend perished in a blizzard while trying to locate the Ice Keep.”
Something suddenly stirred within Silver. It was a small gnawing feeling that what his old mentor had just said wasn’t exactly true. It seemed out of character for Athenais to lie especially when the mission was so critical, but Silver kept these feelings to himself. Perhaps his Master was only telling half the truth and didn’t want to reveal something personal to a group of strangers.
For what seemed like hours the group continued on along the columned boulevard w
hich eventually gave way to an enormous open air courtyard surrounded on all sides by the same iridescent glowing pillars. Towards the rear of the courtyard rose a massive stone dais comprised of dozens of steps. At the top rested an ornately carved throne of purest alabaster shot through with veins of glittering gold. In the beam of light that shone from the roof’s opening high above the group could make out a single figure sitting cross-legged on the throne. Athenais motioned for them to move forwards and ascend the stone dais.
At the summit they briefly paused to take in the seemingly diminutive figure sitting before them. On the white and gold throne sat a wizened old man; his completely white hair and beard appeared uncut for a very long time, fingernails overgrown and curled in his lap. Yet despite his ancient appearance his heavily embroidered gown of costly silks seemed untouched by the ravages of time, and on his stooped head rested a horn-shaped mitre stitched with gold thread.
At first they believed the old man might be asleep, but as they neared they could make out his lips moving. Realising he was in deep meditation they silently waited, but after some time when the old monk didn’t stir or give any acknowledgment of their presence they decided to take a slightly more forward approach.
“Greetings,” Athenais began in what he believed was his best mandarin, “We are travellers who seek the Water of Life.”
“Your mandarin is terrible! If we must speak do it so we all understand,” the old monk said in perfectly clear English. He remained seated with his eyes closed and continued his meditative chanting.
“Wise One, grant us entrance to the catacombs so we may find that which we seek.” Athenais attempted once again.
“What you seek you shall gain, for you have come not for yourselves but for another, so has spoken the winds. You shall find the Water of Life in the Garden, but beware, stray not from the path into darkness, for you may lose your way.”
“Thank you, Wise One.” But the old monk had once again resumed his meditation and any further communication seemed to be a waste of time. “That was actually a lot easier second time around. Last time he set three air elementals on us as a test of our strength and resolve.”
Athenais led the group around the throne and down the back of the dais and past several rows of columns. They reached a blank stone wall which looked to be carved from the very mountain they had climbed. Set in the wall was a small wooden door which led down a flight of stairs. At the bottom they found themselves in a large circular chamber which, like the courtyard, had an opening in the roof high above which let in a brilliant beam of sunlight to fall on those below.
In the middle of the chamber stood a towering tree, its twisted roots running deep into the mountain, and branches that reached impossibly high towards the light. A crack in the side of the wall allowed a small stream of water to flow around the tree and into a pond which bisected a beautifully manicured garden studded with smooth polished river stones. An ornamental wooden bridge allowed passage over the pond which seemed to drain somewhere else, possibly another crack below.
Not wanting to waste too much time the group spent a short moment resting in the garden and filled their canteens for the journey ahead. Athenais consulted his little leather-bound journal and explained the route they would be taking, just in case they got separated in the tunnels unexpectedly. Finishing a quick meal of cheese and dried fruits they set off to find the only thing which would be able to save Alex.
Following the pathway of stones they came upon a small opening nestled between two giant tree roots; little more than a hole dug in the earth but it was too perfect to be a natural occurrence. A small glowing orb appeared before Athenais as he stepped into the dark crevice, and as he descended yet more winding stairs were revealed. Several other globes of light appeared around each magician as they began making their way down into the heart of the mountain.
Ahead, Athenais could be heard muttering to himself, as if counting, and after some time he called back to the others, “We’re almost to the first landing. We should be in the tunnels soon.”
“I don’t know about him, but this sure feels like a tunnel already,” Father Benedict muttered under his breath.
The others near him just smiled and continued on. Archer however was more preoccupied with how much time remained. She had managed to quietly ask Silver in the garden above how much time they had left and he assured her there was still plenty to go. She had even tried to gauge the time from the angle made by the sunlight but without any external reference her best guess could easily be wrong by several hours.
The stairway eventually opened up into a domed chamber and the five magicians stood staring at four identical tunnels branching off. With journal in hand Athenais led them to the third entranceway. While the first landing appeared to have been a natural formation the tunnel was clearly constructed. The walls were too smooth and ran perfectly parallel into the distant darkness. It was not long before they came upon another landing, and once again they were led unerringly through one of the several openings. The new tunnel sloped downwards and soon brought them to another cavern.
For hours the group travelled the labyrinthine maze of tunnels, sometimes on flat ground other times they were heading downwards. Only Athenais seemed to have some idea of where they were going as he consulted often with his journal; the others were completely lost having passed through dozens of domed landings and off-shooting tunnels. At one point they had come to a larger than usual cavern but the main thing which stood out was the fact it had no floor. The tunnel had turned into a smooth spiralling ramp which wound itself around the outside of an unfathomably deep hole.
Silver had sent his ball of light downward but soon it too disappeared into darkness. The only other thing going down with the group was a regularly occurring drop of water. Somewhere far above, possibly from the garden itself, a source of water had found release into this fissure and was periodically sending down a drop. Only Winter seemed fascinated by the natural occurrence but soon came to a startling conclusion: the time between drops of water was too precise. It was as if something above were deliberately releasing the drops at exactly the same intervals. For what purpose she could not fathom.
The ramp abruptly ended and they were once again forced to navigate through the seemingly unending tunnel system. All track of time had vanished and no one could remember how long they had been travelling for. When asked about the Time phenomena Athenais replied, “It is quite possible Time has slowed down for us. Down here in the lower catacombs you will see for yourself some strange things; skeletal remains of creatures long thought to have been extinct for ages. Some were even found wearing scraps and fragments of ancient clothing or armour.
“Now, I did warn you of the dangers possibly lurking down here. As we continue lower be alert, and if anything happens try to stay together.”
Athenais’ warning seemed to hang about the travellers like an in visible cloak, and while not often given to flights of the imagination the expectation of an imminent attack slowly ground away at their nerves. It didn’t take long before the younger magicians were nervous and jumping at every strange noise echoing throughout the tunnels. To calm them down Athenais suggested they take a short break at the next landing. The others welcomed this wholeheartedly as the constant strain of vigilance was exhausting.
Coming upon another cavern they made a small camp in the centre of the room. A small fire appeared, compliments of Winter, who also shared around generous portions of cheese and smoked ham. While the four relaxed around the makeshift camp Athenais slowly paced around the room and set protective wards. Not wanting to alarm his companions he craftily wove several strong wards together and laid them around the space. Only he knew of the true dangers lurking within these tunnels, and for quite some time he had felt a presence closing on their position. He didn’t know what was coming but thought it prudent to be prepared for the worst.
“If Time were slower here, how long would we have in twenty-four hours?”
“
My best guess would be somewhere between eight and ten days,” answered Athenais who had just finishing casting the wards of protection.
“That sounds promising,” said Winter, “we’ve only been here several hours and should be close to finding the Water of Life.”
By the look in Athenais’ eyes the group knew he was withholding something important.
“We are close to the Water?” Archer asked.
“The truth is,” he began hesitatingly, “we never found the Water of Life on our first expedition.”
“What!” The group exclaimed simultaneously.
“We had spent many months searching these tunnels and several more in the Wasteland beyond but made little progress overall in locating the source. Legends tell of a city built by the Ancients which, during a cataclysmic war, was magically transported to safety to protect its vast store of wealth and power. It was believed at the heart of this city was a magical fountain which produced the Water of Life.
“But we never found the city. And having wasted a year in fruitless searching I also lost two cherished companions. I returned home and tried to forget about finding lost treasures and hidden wonders. However, I will take you as far as I can, at least with my help you will save a lot of time.”
“Would the Oracle have sent us on this journey if we were destined to fail?” Archer asked, “Otherwise it would all be for naught and we might as well try something else to save Alex.”
“We were told to come here for a reason,” said Silver, “we must believe in that at least, and trust in the Oracle.”
From the darkness of a nearby tunnel something darker stirred. It sensed the presence of powerful magic, possibly more than enough to do it harm. So it waited in the darkness, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Chapter Nineteen
“How much further?”
“We’re almost there,” replied Athenais, “notice how the temperature has gotten colder? We are nearing the heart of the mountain, several thousand feet below where we began. Soon we will reach the Lake.”
