Fortress of Radiance

by Marc Alan Edelheit

The pathway eventually led them to the far side of the tree, where a file of twenty guards waited before a pair of double doors that had been set into the bark of the trunk. The guards had been arranged on either side of the pathway.

  Additional lanterns, these giving off more light, had been set into the ground along the path leading up to the tree. Two lanterns hung just above the doors, shining their light downward upon the guards.

  Unlike the rangers, these elves wore chest and helmet armor that appeared to have been masterfully crafted, with intricate patterns and runes etched into the surface of their chest plates. Karus suspected the armor was more ceremonial than anything else, for it was very pretty, flashy, and clearly meant to impress. The armor looked like works of fancy rather than practical coverings to protect the body.

  The chest plates and helms appeared to be made out of burnished silver, but Karus knew that couldn’t be. Not only would it have been unsuitable to battle, as silver was nowhere near as strong as steel, but it would also have been cost prohibitive. He instead chalked the shine up to the armor having been polished to a nearly impossible luster that reflected the lantern light in brilliant flashes.

  The guards, Karus decided, looked too pretty, too perfect to be real warriors. Still, he reminded himself that looks could be deceiving. Even an untrained boy, given the opportunity, could still manage to stick a veteran with a sword. He studied them carefully as they came nearer. The guards wore no armor on their legs, instead wearing simple black pants and boots. Like Roman heavy infantry, there was not much protection from the waist down.

  Each of the guards was armed with a sword and spear. Long and straight, the sword reminded Karus of the Celtic spatha. These were sheathed and carried in ornate scabbards that hung from the left side.

  The spear was about six feet from butt to point. It looked heavier and thicker than a javelin. It was clearly not meant for throwing, but for jabbing and swinging. The guards also carried a medium oval shield, which they held to the front in their left hands and the spear in their right. They kept their gazes fixed to the front, faces impassive, unmoving as rock.

  The pathway led straight up to the double doors, which were so masterfully made they appeared as if they had always been part of the tree. Each door curved with the shape of the tree and matched the outer bark perfectly. The seams could hardly be seen. Had the path, guards, and magical lanterns not been there, Karus was certain he would not have spotted the double doors without closer study. He suspected he would have to know what to look for, just to find it.

  As they began passing through the line of guards, the last two standing next to the doors, who were the only ones without spears, stepped forward. Each pulled open a door. As they opened, bright light spilled out from the interior. The two guards returned to their original positions and stiffened their backs like the rest, once again becoming immobile as statues.

  The wizard never slowed, walking right inside. Karus and Amarra followed after him. The lamplight was so brilliant, it almost hurt. It was as if they had stepped from a dark cave into the light of day. Karus held up his hand to shield his eyes and blinked a few times until they’d adjusted.

  He glanced around. Hung from the ceiling above were dozens of the exquisitely crafted lanterns. Some were made of gold, others silver and bronze. They were delicate and ornate, almost fragile. These shed their eternal and steady magical light downward.

  Karus had not known exactly what to expect from a tree that had been carved out. This certainly wasn’t it. He found it was as if he had stepped into the foyer of some strange building where instead of stone or plaster, the walls had been paneled over with what appeared to be cherrywood. He found it both appealing and alien.

  Oddly, the foyer was oval. There was no furniture. Directly opposite the doors, a staircase, perhaps fifteen feet wide, climbed upward a dozen or so steps to a small landing. At that point, the staircase pulled apart, splitting in two and ascending in opposite directions. The steps traveled out of sight.

  “Come,” the wizard said simply. He started up the steps, his staff tapping steadily in solid-sounding thunks on the wood of each step. Karus and Amarra followed.

  Karus glanced around and found Si’Cara and the other ranger were still trailing after them. His eyes met Si’Cara’s. He found a grimness within her gaze that troubled him deeply. Behind them, the double doors closed with a deep thunk.

  The wizard reached the landing and took the left staircase. Karus and Amarra followed after him, climbing in silence at a slow yet steady pace, winding higher and higher into the tree. Lanterns mounted into mirrored wall recesses every five steps provided plenty of light. They passed no doors, just one monotonous step after another.

  Finally, after what seemed like hundreds of steps, when Karus’s legs had begun to burn from the exertion, they came to a landing with no more steps going upward. Another file of guards, identically armed and equipped as those they had left below, greeted them. These stood arranged strategically around the antechamber, their backs to the curved walls. Looking them over, Karus wondered if they were some sort of royal guard, their charge protecting the warden, just as the praetorians would the emperor.

  The landing was really a small antechamber. A second set of double doors waited a few feet ahead. These were opened by two of the guards. Beyond, Karus saw what appeared to be some sort of receiving hall.

  The wizard moved toward the entrance to the hall and was about to enter. He hesitated, stopped, and turned around. The schooled expression of equanimity was back. The wizard took a shallow breath as he regarded Karus and Amarra.

  “You are both about to meet the Elantric Warden,” the wizard said in a low tone. “You may speak in your own languages. I shall see to it she will understand you. It will be as if you spoke fluent Elven.”

  Karus gave a nod.

  “That is good,” Amarra said. “Thank you.”

  The wizard spared her a quick look and then continued.

  “The warden’s word is law. She rules my people, and has for over two thousand years. I give you fair warning, she has not set eyes on a human for hundreds of those years. My people do not—”

  “Two thousand years?” Karus exclaimed. He was not sure he had heard correctly. “Are you serious?”

  “My people are long-lived compared to yours,” the wizard said. “She has lived for more years than she’s ruled.”

  “How old are you?” Karus asked, finding it hard to believe what the wizard had just confirmed. It seemed impossible.

  “I was born over four thousand years past.”

  Karus and Amarra shared a look. Karus wondered what it would be like to live that long.

  “As I was saying, my people do not think favorably on yours,” the wizard said. “In point of fact, we hold serious animus toward you humans. We have our reasons, for there was a time when elves were persecuted by your kind and hunted almost to extinction. We are an old people, and there are those alive still who remember those dark and dreadful days, including the warden and several of her advisors. For us, it was the Time of Tears.”

  Karus sucked in a breath and shared another glance with Amarra.

  “I am sorry that my people hurt yours,” Amarra said with feeling.

  The wizard looked sharply at Amarra. His expression was hard to read.

  “We are not the people who hurt yours,” Karus said.

  “That matters little,” the wizard said. “As do words of apology.”

  “Still,” Amarra said. “I offer them nonetheless.”

  “The warden is also the spiritual leader of our people,” the wizard continued. “She is ancient and has been around since nearly the birth of our race. She commands powers far different than my own. I would recommend you take care when you speak with her. You may refer to her as simply ‘the warden.’ ” The wizard paused, hesitating a heartbeat. “No matter what I promised the dragons, this could end badly, very badly, for you. Do you understand?”

  “We come to seek your pe
ople’s aid,” Amarra said. “It is not our intention to offend or cause trouble.”

  “Offend?” the wizard said and his tone became hard. He used his staff to gesture around them. “This forest speaks to our people. We have bonded with it in a way you could never hope to comprehend. It listens to us and grows to our need, shaping not only the land, but our lives. In return, we care for the forest, and keep the Great Mother safe. Irin’Surall is sacred, hallowed ground. No human has ever been permitted to set foot in this tree, nor any other race. You two are the very first. Offend? By just coming here you have insulted us to our very core.”

  “Would your people have let us come and meet with your warden,” Karus asked, “had we done so another way?”

  “Doubtful,” the wizard said, somewhat grudgingly.

  “Then it is good that we came the way we did,” Karus said, “even if we unintentionally offended.”

  “We shall see.” The wizard glanced into the receiving hall. He looked back and spared both Amarra and Karus a look. “I warn you, tread carefully, especially if you desire to see the coming sunrise.”

  The wizard turned and started into the hall. Karus and Amarra followed, with the two rangers several steps behind. The hall was surprisingly large. The ceiling, with six wooden support columns, rose to a dizzying height that Karus estimated to be at least one hundred feet. Rounded, shaped, and smoothed, the columns were each easily the width of a hundred-year oak. They looked very much like the marble columns he had seen holding the temples up in Carthum, the only difference being these had been shaped out of wood. He suspected they had been left in place when the hall had been carved from the tree.

  Karus’s gaze swept around, taking in the details. The receiving hall was even grander than the throne room back in Carthum. Four large flameless chandeliers hung, suspended from the ceiling by thick chain ropes. These blazed with a brilliant white light that was too intense to keep your eyes upon for more than a heartbeat. The chandeliers drove back the darkness.

  The receiving hall stretched out for at least a hundred yards, which seemed impossible when Karus considered the width of the tree. Then he realized that the hall had been built out from the tree, most likely along one of the massive branches. And yet to Karus’s practiced eye, the construction method seemed somehow off, odd. There were no straight angles or seams. It was as if the hall had somehow been grown or shaped magically, instead of having the wood cut into boards and then nailed together.

  Oval-glassed windows, each twenty feet high and ten wide, ran the length of the hall on both sides. During daytime, Karus imagined that these would provide the hall with plenty of natural light. There was no furniture or any decorations anywhere in the hall.

  “Come,” the wizard said, turning back to them. “The warden waits.”

  Karus had not realized that he’d come to a stop. Amarra had also stopped. She, too, had been gazing around them with no little amount of amazement. He wanted to study his surroundings more, but the wizard’s words drew his attention to the far end of the hall, where four elves waited for them. One stood squarely apart. The other three stood to her right.

  Karus started forward again, Amarra walking at his side. He assumed that the woman standing apart from the others was the warden. She wore a long, delicate, almost lace-like dress. It was black as midnight and flowed gracefully down around her. The dress clashed with her pale skin and blonde hair, which was perfectly brushed and cascaded down over her shoulders. She wore a slender silver crown made into the shapes of tiny oak leaves.

  The warden appeared no older than a young woman in her twenties, but there was something about her grave and dignified manner that told him her age was far older and helped to reinforce the wizard’s assertion of her longevity. She looked remarkably similar to Si’Cara. Karus resisted the urge to turn and glance at the ranger following a few steps behind. The two could almost have been twin sisters. Were they? How old was Si’Cara?

  The wizard stopped some ten feet from the warden. He offered a respectful bow and then took two steps to the left and turned slightly so that he was still facing the warden, but also Karus and Amarra. The two rangers remained just behind them.

  “Camp Prefect Lucius Grackus Lisidius Karus, High Priestess Amarra of the High Father,” the wizard said, “may I present the most glorious ruler of the elven nations, spiritual leader to her people, divine light in the darkness, the Elantric Warden.”

  “It is an honor to meet you,” Karus said, as respectfully as he could.

  The wizard shot Karus a deeply unhappy scowl.

  “It is customary to offer a bow to show your respect to the warden,” the wizard said.

  “Romans bow to no one,” Karus said, his eyes upon the warden. He well remembered the time that now seemed like an age past, when, as a fresh centurion, he and the legate of his legion had met with a foreign prince. The legate had refused to bow. In fact, Karus had been surprised it had been the prince who had paid homage to the legate. That had always stuck with Karus. The message had been clear. Romans were superior to everyone else. It was that simple.

  “I am afraid that will be seen as another insult,” the wizard said. “I strongly suggest you reconsider your stance.”

  “It is customary amongst my people to bow to no one,” Karus said clearly, continuing to gaze steadfastly at the warden. “We are a free people. We don’t even bow to our emperor.”

  “We shall excuse you,” the warden said. Her voice held that same singsong lilt, but it was also cold as ice in the dead of winter. Devoid of any warmth, the sound of it almost sent shivers down his spine.

  “Thank you,” Karus said.

  “Your thanks are not needed, nor required,” the warden said. “Since Irin’Surall’s founding, this city has been a refuge and safe harbor for my people. We do occasionally allow outsiders in, but not very often. Entire centuries go by without visitors.” The warden paused several heartbeats before continuing. “I am certain the Master of Obsidian explained your coming here without permission or invitation is a serious transgression, a violation of our law and against the natural order of things.”

  “It was necessary,” Amarra said. “Had there been time, we would have sought the permission you require.”

  The warden’s eyes went from Karus to Amarra. They lingered momentarily on her staff.

  “I know why you have come,” the warden said. “You, like many others before you, seek Rarokan. You believe the sword can solve all of your problems, defeat your enemies … and you must have it immediately, or everything you hold dear will be lost. I have heard it all before, listened to desperate pleas, begging, and tortured explanations. Surely your excuse for violating our peace and tranquility will be nothing new to my ears. Rarokan is why you came, why you have brought the taltalum, an enemy, into my domain. Deny it not. Say what you must and be done with words that I doubt will persuade me to aid you in the slightest.”

  “We have come for the sword,” Karus said, with a glance to Amarra. “But I must confess we never thought the weapon could solve all of our problems. We were commanded to retrieve it.”

  “Commanded?” The warden’s tone was slightly mocking in its disbelief. “The Fortress of Radiance is sacrosanct to my people. A great sacrifice was asked and made … just to guard the sword.”

  Karus made to reply, but Amarra touched him on the forearm and shook her head.

  “Nevertheless, we must go there,” Amarra said. “As Karus said, we were commanded to go and retrieve the sword.”

  “Tell me why I should grant my permission for you to travel to the Fortress of Radiance,” the warden said. “Why are you worthy? High Priestess or no, who are you to ask such a favor of my people?”

  “I have given up all that I had, everything, who I once was, for the love of my god,” Amarra said. “I was rewarded for my faith and service. It is why—”

  “Of what god are you High Priestess?” the warden interrupted, her tone becoming sharp, colder, if that was possible. />
  “The High Father,” Amarra said, tilting her head back slightly.

  “The Master of Obsidian”—the warden gestured over at the wizard with a delicate hand—“said as much, but I wanted to hear it from your own lips.”

  “Does that make it any more true to your ears?” Amarra asked. “Perhaps believable?”

  “No, it does not,” the warden said. “The High Father has turned a blind eye to these lands, and my people. He has left this world to darkness, to wither on the vine, as have the other gods we once honored.”

  “He has not,” Amarra said. “He has always been here. It is the people who turned away.”

  “You lie,” the warden said. “They have abandoned us to our fate. It is why we now make our own.”

  “No,” Amarra said. “I bring truth, whether you desire to hear it or not.”

  “I wish to know how you came by that staff,” the warden said. “We have not seen its like in a very long time. Tell me, child, where did you find it? Or perhaps you took it from some ancient and forgotten ruin?”

  Karus felt Amarra stiffen at the words. He was growing angry himself.

  “Jupiter, whom you call the High Father, gave it to her,” Karus said. “I was there. It was he who commanded us to go to the Fortress of Radiance and retrieve Rarokan. The sword is meant for my keeping and mine alone.”

  The warden’s eyes shifted over to Karus. He found her gaze a truly cold one, filled with time beyond reckoning. Karus almost shuddered.

  “Your people,” the warden said, “I believe you call them Romans. Is that not correct?”

  “It is,” Karus said.

  “I know of all peoples that live or have lived upon this world,” the warden said. “I have never heard of you Romans.”

  “That is because I am not of this world,” Karus said.

  “So says the Master of Obsidian,” the warden said. “Again, I desired to hear it from your own lips. Thank you for confirming that.”

  “It was your people who came through the portal and into our lands,” one of the elves at the warden’s side hissed angrily. He looked directly at the warden. “I knew it. It took them an age, but they finally figured out how to operate the portal. They have followed us through, just as I said would happen. Not destroying the portal was a mistake. We should kill them both, immediately, and deal with the dragons, no matter the cost.”