by B. A. Scott
The warriors did not move. It appeared to Gabrel that they would stay, though the disapproval on their faces did not diminish.
“Our time is precious,” Athiux said, “so we will not take any longer than is needed to complete our task. If you choose to stay, be prepared to travel upon our return.”
Gabrel eyed the Sage and the Enchantress while Kaven stepped close to a giant crystal that held a spear-wielding Aerolus. The magnificent creature had dark feathers with sun-lightened tips, intent eyes, and muscular legs that gave the Aerolus a daunting appearance. Its armor was dark as well, and its spear was longer than any Kaven had ever seen.
“The Aeroli were neutral when the war began,” Kade told him. “But they were charged with the protection of the chamber by Idonitus himself. When the Incinians and Marineans attacked, their neutrality became meaningless, so the Aeroli quickly chose their alliances to those who aided them. There were too many of their enemies though—not even their wings could save them from ruin. This magic—” Kade brushed her palm against the crystal that held the Aerolus, “sealed the fate of the Breyen. Most were killed. What few that survived fled to Valea.”
“So, the junakothari has been left unprotected since the War of Ages?” Kaven inquired.
“The Aeroli retreated, yes,” said Kade, “but they would not have done so without ensuring the protection of the furenti they guarded.”
“With what?” Gabrel asked. “With magic?”
“Such is how all the junakothari are protected,” said Kade. “Stories have been passed down through the generations of those who have entered the Breyen junakothari. But in the stories, the ending is always the same.”
“How do they end?” asked Kaven.
“Those who enter are never seen again.”
“Kade,” interjected Athiux, not wishing his granddaughter to say anything else on the matter. He led Gabrel, Kaven and Kade to the two great columns. The tall structures had been worn by more than just the passing years, Gabrel noticed. Gashes in the rock gave evidence of the battle that had been fought on the very ground beneath his feet.
“These mark the entrance,” Athiux said, moving his hand over the face of one of the columns. He filled himself with magic, then Gabrel followed suit.
When Gabrel looked once more at the columns, he couldn’t believe his eyes. They were entirely covered in symbols of light. Among the writings was a section of red symbols. Athiux put his fingertips to the characters as he read,
“Seekers of the relics lost,
Be still, and wisely weigh the cost,
Of everlasting doom untold,
That conquers kings and shames the bold.”
“Everlasting doom?” Kaven repeated what the Sage had read. “Everlasting?!”
“It is a warning,” said Athiux.
“One you plan to ignore?” Gabrel asked, releasing the magic within him.
“Yes,” Athiux agreed, “though I have a warning for you that should not be so lightly dismissed. This junakothari was initially constructed to house one of the most powerful furenti the land has ever known. Its devastation is unimaginable. And it is all but impossible to control. It is called the Amulet of Oblivion.”
“What does it do?” Gabrel asked.
“The Amulet generates the Oblivion Flame,” answered Athiux, “which is among the darkest of conjurings a wielder can summon. What makes the Amulet all the more terrible is that even one who is not capable of wielding magic—even the lowliest wretches of a man—can wear it and wield the horror it creates. The only fuel it requires is hatred.
Such is believed to be the magic that ended the War of Ages. After being forced to retreat from Avenalora, Idonitus returned alone, his heart filled with more hatred for his enemies than he ever thought possible. Most believe it was with such potent emotion that he was able to summon the Oblivion Flame.”
“Did he have the Amulet?” asked Gabrel.
“No,” said Athiux. “It was brought here during the first year of the War. But he wouldn’t have needed it anyway. Idonitus was powerful enough to conjure the Oblivion Flame without the aid of a furentus. The day the armies of Adoran were plunged into death is something rarely spoken of. It is the moment in our history most lamented and detested—the definitive reason for our hatred of one another—the final nail in the coffin of our dissent. It has been called, ‘The World’s Darkest Hour.’ And so my warning to you is this. Whatever treasures await us in the chamber, leave the Amulet to its peace.”
“What?” Gabrel asked. “You’re saying we shouldn’t take it?”
“No,” said the Sage, “I’m saying we aren’t going to take it.”
“I don’t understand,” Gabrel said, shaking his head. “This thing might be able to help us.”
“Not everything that’s hidden, Gabrel, is meant to be found,” said Athiux. “Please heed this warning. Disaster has always followed the Amulet. Leave it behind.”
Gabrel squirmed inside. “Well, let’s not waste any more time,” he said. “Caleton isn’t getting any closer with all our talking.” Athiux nodded, then looked to Kade, who found meaning in his eyes that neither Gabrel nor Kaven could see.
“Wait here,” said the Sage as he and the Enchantress started for the crescent-shaped wall.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Kade thought to Athiux when she reached the cliff side.
“Have faith, my child,” Athiux’s voice sounded in her mind.
“I’m trying,” she said aloud. Her hands glided over the rough cliff side, and her eyes searched the wall, like she was looking for a diamond among the rocks.
“I’ve found one,” she heard Athiux’s words in her head once more. And just as she did, her hands brushed over a small opening in the cliff side—a round hole, slightly larger than the head of a man—that bored deep into the mountain. A faint breeze came from the opening, and blew gently against her palm.
“I’ve found the other,” Kade thought.
“Then do it now.”
“What the hell are they doing?” Kaven asked as both Athiux and Kade simultaneously took several steps from the wall. They faced the cliff side, and their arms were at their sides, palms-forward.
Gabrel felt a breeze through his hair from behind. The wind came out of nowhere, and gathered speed.
Kade wielded the power of Gale. She knew the winds of the world like she was a part of them. She guided them toward the wall, and into the small, round opening before her, while Athiux did the same on the other side of the cliff.
Gabrel and Kaven darted behind the columns to escape the unrelenting wind. As the mighty gust approached the Sage and the Enchantress, dust and dirt in the air swirled into two great tentacles of wind—one winding toward Athiux, the other toward Kade.
As the two wielders directed the gusts into the holes, the mountain groaned. Beneath the roaring wind, Gabrel and Kaven heard a deep sound, like the grinding of huge boulders, as if the entire mountain was twisting against itself. Then, they heard a loud cracking sound that made them think the mountain had split in two. When they looked again to Athiux and Kade, the brothers could not believe their eyes.
Between the Sage and the Enchantress, in the very center of the curved cliff side, the rocks shifted like flower petals stirring on the surface of a pond. The brothers watched as a large, oddly shaped rock pierced the wall from within, and broke free of its prison into the cool mountain air. It looked like a giant hawk’s beak, taller than three men. The rocks that composed the cliff side formed the rest of the hawk’s head as it extended and crackled from within the mountain out toward the two columns. The mouth of the giant stone beast opened as if tasting air for the first time in centuries. Its great eyes glowed blue, and it cried a deep hawk’s call into the air.
Rocky steps rose from beneath the head, and led up to the hawk’s open mouth. When at last all was still, Athiux and Kade released their magic. The winds died, and Gabrel and Kaven took several steps forward, astounded at what they had just wi
tnessed.
“Are you ready?” Athiux asked the brothers as he approached them.
“A giant hawk’s head just came out of the mountain,” Kaven said. He still couldn’t believe what he had just seen.
“So it did,” said the Sage. “Come on then.”
“Wait, you want us to go with you?” Gabrel asked. “Can’t you go get whatever’s down there on your own?”
“I know only how to reveal the entrance to the junakothari,” Athiux told him. “I know nothing of what awaits inside. We may very well need your help, Gabrel.”
“Our help?” Gabrel asked, appalled that the Sage would make such a request. “Help the ones who plan to kill us?”
“We’re doing this for your people, not ours,” Athiux reminded him. “You’ve more reason to enter than we do.”
Gabrel and Kaven looked at each other.
“Have I mentioned how much our lives stink at the moment?” Gabrel groaned.
“Why not get your Erygian warriors to go with you?” Kaven asked the Sage.
“I’ve already asked too much of them,” said Athiux. He turned, and led them up the rocky steps. They peered down the hawk’s throat, and saw nothing more than a dark, earthen tunnel that delved deep into the mountain. The group proceeded into the head’s wide entrance. The Sage summoned a spark of Fury in the palm of his hand, and ignited the oil within culverts that ran along the walls, lighting the group’s passage down a series of stone steps.
The air in the mountain was cold and stale, and everything smelled of dirt. When the group reached the bottom step, a long, arched hallway lined on either side with Aeroli statues stretched out before them. Each stone figure poised stoically, extending a large taloned hand to halt any intruder from proceeding any further. At the end of the passage stood a large mirror, rounded at the top, and outlined with rows of black stones, bearing an inscription of glowing characters upon the innermost track. The stones increased in size the farther away from the mirror they lay, and two torches with white flames flanked it on either side. As the group neared the mirror, Gabrel noticed something peculiar about it. Its surface moved, distorting the world it reflected.
“This is curious,” Athiux said with a heavy brow, stepping forward to examine the strange phenomenon. The surface of the mirror undulated like thick, silvery waves. The Sage put one hand to the reflective surface, and it disappeared beneath the rippling silver. His eyes followed the glowing writing around the mirror, and when he had finished reading the characters, he quickly retracted his hand. “Very curious,” he added.
“What’s curious?” Kaven asked. “What does the inscription say?”
“Unending torment shall await, All those who pass through mirror’s gate,” said the Sage
“Mirror’s gate?” Gabrel asked.
“There are ways to travel the land faster than you can sheathe your sword, Gabrel,” said Athiux. “Through mirror, through fire, even rock. Though, all have their risks. This is a gateway—a portal,” he spoke assuredly, yet only a moment after, he surveyed the mirror once more, and uttered softly to himself, “I hope.” Then, Athiux took a step toward the waves of thick silver.
“Grandfather—” Kade said, the tone of her voice bleeding apprehension.
“I’ll see you on the other side, my dear,” the Sage told her. He entered the mirror, and the waves crashed around his body like an ocean consuming an island to its depths. After the Sage had completely disappeared within the mirror, Gabrel looked to Kade, and saw that her eyes were filled with concern.
“He’s okay, he’s okay,” Kade said, trying to convince herself of her own words. She stepped forward. “No turning back now,” she spoke softly, then glanced at Kaven quickly before walking through the mirror. Gabrel watched as her reflection became one with her flesh, and the silver engulfed her body. The moment she was gone from his sight, his heart raced.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gabrel asked.
“Turn and run?” Kaven said. “Yeah.”
“We wouldn’t make it past the warriors,” Gabrel concluded.
“And didn’t you say you wanted to travel with them? For protection?” Kaven added.
Gabrel paused. “Have I mentioned how much our lives stink at the moment?” he reiterated.
Kaven nodded. “I’ll go first,” he said, then stepped toward the mirror ahead of Gabrel. He reached out and touched its surface, feeling the waves upon his fingertips. They were as cool as ice.
“Everlasting doom, unending torment,” said Kaven. He closed his eyes, and stepped into the mirror. Then, Gabrel’s lone reflection was all that remained in the silvery glass.
He drew his sword, and twirled it a few times, attempting to muster enough bravery to enter as the others had done. Then, he raised his sword, and charged full speed into the mirror.
Table of Contents
Chapter 18: The Spawn of Mirrorblood
Gabrel felt like a wave of cold water had struck him. It coursed not only over his body, but through it as well. Everywhere he looked, all he could see was light. At last, he set foot on dark rock, and saw Kaven, Kade and Athiux before him, standing in a long, arched hallway similar to the one they had just been in. An undulating mirror, identical to the one he had just entered, stood behind him.
“You can lower your blade,” Athiux said. Gabrel eased his tension when he realized there was no immediate threat to his life.
“There it is,” Kaven said, noticing light coming from a large room at the end of the hallway.
“The junakothari,” said Kade.
They entered the chamber carefully, taking in every detail of their surroundings. It was domed, circular in shape, with stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Ten evenly spaced columns, connected to one another by arches, separated an outer corridor from a round central area. The columns were covered with scrapes and sword gashes, as if they had endured centuries of battle.
Just inside the perimeter of the central area were eight holes in the floor, each an arm’s length in diameter and filled with pools of thick, dark blue liquid. In the very center of the room rose a high stone pedestal with two wide, circular steps leading up to it. Yet nothing graced its summit. Nor did anything exist on the eight smaller pedestals that stood evenly spaced around it, though a vertical beam of light shone down upon each through holes in the ceiling above. Not a single furentus existed in the chamber. The room was empty.
“I think someone’s already been here,” Gabrel said.
“Where are all the furenti?” asked Kaven.
“Is there a veil to be lifted?” Kade asked Athiux.
“It’s a strong possibility,” the Sage answered.
Something caught Gabrel’s attention. Inside an indention along the outer wall, opposite from the hallway they entered the chamber through, stood a massive mirror. It was two paces wide, and taller than two full-grown men.
“Hey, look over here,” he called to the others. Athiux and Kade joined Gabrel in studying the grand mirror, but Kaven’s attention was still focused on the pools of dark liquid inside the inner-circle.
“It’s quite large,” Athiux said, then jolted at the sound of a frightened gasp from his granddaughter. She was observing the walls of the outer corridor. Between columns along the wall, a substance coated the underlying rock. Gabrel had never seen anything like it. It was as brilliant and reflective as a mirror, but of a blue so deep, it rivaled the depths of the Marinean Sea. Yet why would the Enchantress have had such a frightful reaction to the walls, he wondered.
Then, he saw them. Bodies. Dark blue figures tangled with one another, frozen within the walls, reaching out from beneath the surface. Gabrel walked over to one of the figures, and touched its forehead.
“As smooth as glass,” he said. “What is this?”
“Mirrorblood,” Athiux replied, touching the figures as Gabrel had done. “A rare thing to see.”
“Mirrorblood?” Gabrel asked. “I didn’t know mirrors could bleed.”
&nb
sp; “It is powerful magic,” Kade told him. “But this mirrorblood has been altered—changed by some spell—hence its color. Pure mirrorblood is silver—like this,” she brushed her fingers against the silver glass of the grand mirror. “Untainted mirrorblood is used as a purifying agent.” The Enchantress then walked over to the walls of blue mirrorblood, with their pained figures within them. “Whatever quality was given by this manipulation is clearly a thing of death.”
“It’s here too!” Kaven called from within the inner area. Athiux, Kade and Gabrel sped to where he knelt by one of the pools. Unlike the walls of the junakothari, the dark blue substance had not solidified. “Eight pools of it. What are they for?” Kaven asked, reaching his hand to touch the pool’s surface.
“Don’t touch it!” Athiux yelled, grasping Kaven’s hand. “It could be dangerous, Kaven.”
“Right,” Kaven said, shaking his hand loose of the Sage’s clutches. Athiux shook his head.
“We must be careful here,” he said. “One false move could spell certain death for us all.” Then, upon closer examination of the pools, Kade noticed something she had not seen before.
“Grandfather, look here!” she said, running her fingers along the hole’s edge. Athiux knelt lower, and strained his eyes.
“I must be blind!” he gasped. When the others looked closely at the stones laid around the perimeter of the pools, they saw a circle of golden writing upon them.
“Does it say anything about the furenti?” Kaven inquired.
“No,” Athiux said, his eyes revealing a sudden glint of fear. “It foretells the instrument of our doom here.”
Gabrel stood, and checked the other pools for the same new detail. Indeed, they each bore the same golden writing around them. “They all have it!” he shouted, then knelt next to one of the other pools, so that he could study one all to himself. The dark blue liquid was mesmerizing. He wanted nothing more than to dip his fingers into it, and feel the mirrorblood with his own hand.
