Beware the guiles of highlander lasses, all you well-meaning men who would try to keep your hearts pure and your possessions safe. For such wenches have dark eyes that mystify, ways to make a good man abandon home and hearth, and enchantments galore to make a bad man fall prey to their seductive ways even quicker.
“OVER HERE!” EINAR SHOUTED. “I SEE SOMETHING! GIVE me the torch!”
Reznik eagerly caught up to Serena’s lead consul. He handed Einar the torch. Raising the flame high, Einar looked around.
For the last two days Serena’s mystics had been exploring Failee’s labyrinthine research chambers, deep below the Recluse. Unknown to them, they had traveled much farther than Tristan and Wigg had done when they rescued Jessamay from Failee’s sorceress’s cone. Sometimes radiance stones were in evidence as they went along. In other places they were not, and torchlight was needed.
The underground chambers were far vaster than Einar had anticipated. The farther he went, the more he understood why the Coven had chosen this area over which to build the Recluse. Formed partly by nature and partly by the Coven’s handiwork, the lower regions were fascinating.
When Einar realized that exploring this place would take days rather than hours, he had ordered some consuls to accompany him and Reznik. Walking in single file, seven consuls carrying food, water, and torches followed behind.
When they had started this journey there had been eight of them. One consul had already plunged to his death while trying to traverse a rocky stone ledge. The others never heard him hit bottom as he tumbled end over end into the murky depths. His torch still in one hand, his screams had simply faded away into the darkness. Knowing that there was nothing more to be done, Einar had carried on. Not one of the survivors had seen sunlight for the last two days.
Stopping for a moment, Einar stared into the gloom. Like many chambers, this one was a revelation. The cavern was huge. The mystics were standing atop a natural stone bridge. Arching its way over a deep cavern and stretching from one stone sidewall to another, it was a good thirty meters long but less than two meters wide. Formed of crystalline rose quartz, it twinkled beautifully in the flickering torchlight. The chamber’s curved sidewalls gracefully arched upward to form a domed ceiling. Multicolored stalactites hung from the ceiling like probing fingers, reaching for the cavern floor. The cool air smelled moist and mildewed. Behind the explorers lay the dark tunnel through which they had just come.
Hearing rushing water, Einar looked down. Given the impenetrable darkness, it was impossible to tell how far the cavern walls descended. Curious, he summoned the craft. After pointing to the torch, he separated part of its flame to form a bright fireball. The torch flickered weakly for a moment, then regained its previous strength. Einar caused the fireball to grow in size and brightness until it was about one meter in diameter. Looking down, he cast it into the depths.
On and on the fireball plunged until Einar saw a subterranean river rushing across the cavern floor. Wide and strong, the river flowed along a smooth trough it had long ago carved into the rock floor. He soon realized that it was probably part of the water table feeding the lake surrounding the Recluse. He also guessed how the amazing quartz bridge had been formed. Its curved underside had been carved out by centuries’-worth of rushing water. Interestingly, a crude wooden boat with two oars lay on the stone floor bordering the river.
Suddenly understanding, Einar smiled. How clever you were, First Mistress, he thought. After extinguishing the fireball he again started leading his group across the stone bridge.
Einar knew what he was looking for, but the others did not, for Serena had entrusted only him with the secret. He was searching for one of Failee’s untried spells, written just before she had been killed by theJin’Sai. Serena had been told about the spell by the Heretics during one of their sacred communions. The spell was nearly perfect for their needs, provided it could be found. Serena had also given Einar the description of the chamber in which the spell was hidden, and the incantation needed to reveal its secrets. All of this information had come to Serena by way of the Heretics.
Although the spell represented one of Failee’s crowning achievements, it had never been tested. Because of this, Einar and Serena doubted that the spell would work the first time it was tried. That was rare among new spell formulations, even when its author was as brilliant as the First Mistress. Testing and refining the calculations would take time, Einar knew. The spell’s unproven nature was also why his forces had been ordered to conquer the Ghetto of the Shunned.
Coming to the bridge’s end, Einar saw a door in the facing rock wall. Unlike most in these lower regions, it was constructed of iron. Just above it, an Old Eutracian inscription lay carved into the rock. Deep wall crevices lined either side of the intriguing portal. A circular staircase carved into the rock wall led down into the darkness from the bridge’s end.
After brushing aside the mildew and cobwebs, Einar read the inscription. Smiling, he turned to face the others.
“We’ve found it!” he exclaimed.
Everyone let go a cheer, but Einar knew that his work had just begun. A chamber this important would be protected by the craft. Unless he could avoid Failee’s traps, everyone would be killed.
Einar looked at the door again. It seemed simple enough. An iron slide bolt across its middle lay waiting to be shoved to one side. But Einar remained wary.
Looking back, he saw Reznik and the consuls standing in single file, awaiting his orders. He beckoned Reznik closer. Holding his torch higher, the Valrenkian examined the mysterious entryway.
“What do you make of it?” Einar asked. “Our prize lies on the other side.”
Reznik rubbed his chin. “That’s difficult to say,” he answered. “If I wanted to safeguard something behind that door, I would set my trap here. But that isn’t the question, is it? The real riddle is the trap’s nature, and how it can be overcome.”
“Precisely,” Einar answered. “Look back and tell me what you see.”
Puzzled by Einar’s demand, Reznik did as he was asked. “I see what I expected,” he answered. “There are seven consuls, some holding food, water, and torches.”
“And what else?” Einar asked.
“The stone bridge, of course,” he said.
Einar nodded. “Yes-the stone bridge-the only way to approach the door.”
“Do you believe that the bridge is enchanted?” Reznik asked. “That seems so obvious.”
“Obvious perhaps, but highly effective,” Einar said. “I would wager that this seemingly innocent slide bolt is the key that starts the process working. After that, there’s no telling what might happen.”
Standing back from the door, Einar considered his options. Finally he looked back at Reznik and his consuls.
“I want you to hover in the air!” he ordered. Guessing that this might be beyond the partial adept’s gifts, Einar cast Reznik a questioning glance. The Valrenkian shook his head.
“Climb onto my back,” Einar said. He didn’t have to ask Reznik twice.
One by one the consuls hovered above the bridge. Einar did the same, taking Reznik with him. Pointing to the slide bolt, he called the craft. Grinding loudly against the door, the bolt started moving. Then it unexpectedly stopped before finishing its length of travel.
Surprised by the bolt’s stubbornness, Einar raised his power. With a loud bang the bolt finally shot the remaining way across the door face, the sound reverberating through the cavern.
At first nothing happened. Then there came a strange scratching sound. As it became louder, Einar and his consuls hovered in space, awaiting their fates.
Screeching madly, hundreds of vicious bats suddenly swarmed from the wall’s crevices. Glowing eyes and furious wings careened in the darkness; yellow teeth snapped and tore at the consuls’ hands and faces. Two consuls accidentally dropped their supplies as they tried to wave the bats away.
“Stay calm!” Einar shouted. “It will be over soon!”
Almost as quickly as they had come, the bats disappeared. Then a rumbling noise started. Just as he had feared, Einar looked down to see the bridge cracking apart.
Traveling the bridge’s length, a dark crevasse split the stone formation in two. Then the fingerlike cracks clawed at each of the chamber’s sidewalls, separating them from the bridge. With a mighty groan the entire structure crumbled away to plummet into the darkness.
Still hovering in place, Reznik and the stunned consuls looked down. After what seemed an eternity they heard the bridge pieces crash against the cavern floor. Wasting no time, Einar pulled on the iron door handle. Its hinges protesting loudly, the door slowly gave way. Beyond the entryway, only darkness loomed.
Einar looked back at his consuls. “Follow me!” he said.
He glided inside. Using his feet to find the floor, he landed gingerly. Reznik left Einar’s back to stand beside him. The consuls entered next, feeling their way along in the darkness. Glad for the respite, they placed their remaining provisions on the floor. As they all stood waiting for Einar’s next order, an eerie silence flooded over everything.
Knowing that Failee would have provided radiance stones for such an important chamber, Einar waved one hand. As his suspicions came true, he smiled. The radiance stones embedded in the room’s ceiling soon cast their sage-colored glow over everything. Looking to his consuls, Einar saw that most were bleeding from having been bitten. They started tending one another’s wounds.
As the room came alight, Reznik scowled. Have we come this far only to be tricked? he wondered. Worse yet, how are we going to go back? He glanced over at Einar. Oddly, the lead consul seemed unperturbed.
The room they had risked their lives to enter was small and unimpressive. About five meters square, it held no books, scrolls, or furnishings of any kind. The walls were constructed of rough fieldstones, held in place with common builder’s mortar. Each stone had writing on it. There was no apparent exit except the door they had just used.
Reznik turned to Einar. “Whatever you are searching for isn’t here,” he said. “We’ve been tricked! Worse, how are we supposed to return to the Recluse?”
Einar smiled. “Do not worry about that,” he answered. “If I’m right, there is at least one way back. The First Mistress’s traps were clever, weren’t they? As I suspected, the slide bolt was what activated them. The bats’ purpose was to force intruders to fall to their deaths. If the bats failed, the collapsing bridge would finish the job.
“Anyway,” Einar added, “not only is there a way back, but what we seek is indeed here. We search for a craft formula, written by the First Mistress. The formula was never recorded in the Vagaries scroll because it remains unproven. The burden falls to us to refine it. Because of its importance, Failee chose to record the spell on a far more permanent medium than fragile parchment.”
Reznik looked around. “Do you mean to say that-”
“Yes,” Einar interjected. “The formula we seek is hiding in plain sight, recorded on these wall stones.”
“But there are so many!” Reznik protested.
Einar smiled. “Not really,” he answered cryptically.
Einar recited the needed incantation. As he finished, some wall stones started moving. Grinding against one another, randomly selected stones started sliding forward from the walls. When the process was finished, more than two hundred had come forward. Calling the craft again, Einar concentrated harder. As he did, each selected stone’s engravings glowed with azure. Fascinated, Reznik walked closer to examine one.
There was a number written in Old Eutracian at the stone’s top edge. It showed the stone’s particular order in the formula, he guessed. Below that was a glowing symbol that would be one part of the overall calculation. Backing away, he saw that each stone had been marked with a different number at its top, and either another number or craft symbol below it.
Einar walked to join him. “It is well conceived, is it not?” the consul asked. “Even if an intruder should survive the traps, all he would find is this empty room. Even then, should he read one stone it would be useless without the others. And for that, one needs the incantation. The incantation brings forth only those needed for the spell. All of the other engraved stones are meaningless. It truly is the essence of the phrase ‘hiding in plain sight.’”
Einar turned to look at his consuls. It was clear that they were as intrigued as Reznik.
“Start recording the formula,” he ordered. “Produce nine copies. When we leave, I want each of us to carry one. Should we lose more people on the way back, the formula will survive. The symbols’ placements in the formula can be found at each stone’s top. When you have finished, check your work, then check it again. I have no wish to return.”
Producing parchment and quills, the consuls started working. As one pointed at the stones’ proper order, others dutifully recorded the numbers and symbols. While the consuls worked, Einar and Reznik walked to the door.
“I’m still at a loss to see how we’re supposed to get back,” Reznik said.
“Did you not see the circular staircase carved into the wall on this side?” Einar asked. “It leads all the way to the cavern floor.”
“And then?” Reznik asked.
“We walk to the river,” the consul answered. “A boat lies there. We will let it take us downstream. If Failee was as clever as I believe, the first thing she did after hiding the spell was to produce that staircase and boat. I have no doubt that the river will take us to a safe place.”
Looking at the cavern sidewalls, Einar saw something interesting. Smiling, he shook his head. “Wigg’s wife was indeed a clever woman,” he said.
“What have you found?” Reznik asked.
Without answering, Einar turned back to the consuls. “Someone please give me some water,” he ordered. Coming quickly, an eager consul offered up his canteen. Einar opened it. “Watch,” he said.
Calling the craft, Einar caused the water to leave the canteen and float in the air. Waving one hand, he poured the water across the expanse left by the destroyed stone bridge. The results were unexpected.
As the water fell it seemed to land in midair, forming a link between the iron door and the tunnel entrance in the far wall. Soon they could see that the bridge had somehow returned. But this time it was largely invisible, its outline revealed only here and there by the water pooled on its surface. At first Reznik didn’t understand. Then the partial adept smiled.
“The bridge never collapsed, did it?” he asked. “What we saw and heard was an enchantment designed to fool us into thinking that it had been destroyed.”
“Not exactly,” Einar answered. “The first bridge did collapse. Then it reconstituted itself in an invisible form. That was the next part of the enchantment that started when I slid aside the iron bolt.”
“But why not make the bridge invisible in the first place?” Reznik asked. “That way, only Failee would dare cross the cavern.”
“Because if that were the case, a would-be intruder would come no farther than the tunnel exit and then go back,” Einar answered. “The First Mistress wanted trespassers killed, not saved.”
“How did you know?” Reznik asked.
Einar pointed to the cavern sidewalls. “When the bridge collapsed, both sidewalls cracked. Look again.”
Reznik examined the cavern sidewalls. To his surprise, the cracks were gone. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“No?” Einar asked. “What other reason could there be for the cracks to mysteriously heal, except for the bridge returning and securing itself to the walls, eh?”
Rubbing his chin, Einar thought for a moment. He smiled. “Failee’s traps were even cleverer than I believed,” he mused.
“How so?” Reznik asked.
“That staircase is a lure, and that boat down below is another trap,” Einar answered. “Seeing that the bridge has supposedly been destroyed, an intruder’s only remaining option would be to climb down the staircase, put the boat into the river, and happily be on his way-all the time thinking that he or she had cleverly escaped. We nearly did the same thing! But I doubt that the boat ride would be a pleasant one. I now believe that the boat is enchanted to deliver would-be thieves to their deaths. They might successfully steal the formula hidden in this room, but they would never live to use it. There is no telling how they would die, but I doubt that it would be pleasant.”
“So we will return by way of the invisible bridge, rather than by the boat,” Reznik offered. Einar nodded.
“How can we be sure that the bridge is truly the safe way out, and that the boat is not?” Reznik asked.
As he placed one hand atop Reznik’s shoulder, Einar gave the partial adept a wink. “The answer is simple,” he said. “Failee wanted us to see the staircase. She never suspected anyone would discover the invisible bridge. The bridge is what she would have used.”
Just then a consul walked up. “Forgive the intrusion, master,” he said. “The formula has been successfully recorded.”
“Give me a copy,” Einar said. The consul handed him a scroll. As Einar unrolled it, he and Reznik read the formula. Reznik’s eyes went wide.
“But this looks like…Can it be true?” he breathed.
“It is,” Einar answered. “Now you better understand why we were ordered to take the Ghetto from the Minions.” Eagerly rubbing his hands together, Reznik could hardly contain his glee. At long last this great venture would truly need his services.
Einar handed the scroll to the consul. “How many copies do we have?” he asked.
“Nine, master,” the consul answered.
“Good,” Einar said. “We’re leaving. Pack everything up. Each consul is to carry a parchment.”
“As you wish,” the consul said.
A quarter hour later, they were ready to go. Einar decided he should be first to test the invisible bridge.
As everyone watched, he took a deep breath, then boldly stepped out into thin air. The bridge held. Waving the others forward, Einar started leading them across. On reaching the other side, everyone let go a sigh of relief. Wasting no time, Einar led them back through the dark tunnel.
The return journey to the Recluse would be long and dangerous. But in just two days’ time, Serena’s servants would eagerly start their experiments.