Michael Manning - The God-Stone War

With that done, I went to the bedroom and changed into what I called my ‘traveling’ garb. I had been wearing more formal clothes, the sort I’d be expected to have on if I were on my way to an audience with the king. My traveling clothes, by contrast were simple and functional, pretty much the same sort of thing I wore when busy in my workshop; trousers, boots, and a heavy wool overtunic. The main difference was the inclusion of my staff, my belt of pouches and a cloak. I didn’t bother with the cloak since I was indoors.

The important distinction was the fact that I was ready for trouble.

Standing at the head of the stairs leading down into the bedrock beneath the house, I was filled with trepidation. My fear had become so strong it seemed almost a physical thing, palpable and unrelenting. To distract myself, I mentally reviewed my preparations.

I had called the dragon early that morning, commanding him to remain hidden somewhere within a few minutes flight of the capital. The figurine had provided no mental feedback though, so I couldn’t be sure he had heard my instructions. Calling on Gareth Gaelyn for backup had seemed like overkill, but my fear made me excessively cautious.

I had my staff and pouches, which provided easy access to a wide variety of magical aids, devices, and weapons; everything from my iron bombs to the new flying device I had created. With those things and my own experience and abilities, I could confidently handle anything up to and including one of the shining gods. What could I possibly have to fear?

The house was empty, so come what may, I shouldn’t be endangering any innocent lives, unless whatever was down there was so terrible that it drove me into the streets. What will she think when she finds that two thousand years have passed? The thought passed through my mind almost unnoticed. Mentally I grabbed at it and once again found myself empty handed. She… could it be the woman from my dream?

“If that’s the case my greatest danger might be Penny,” I muttered to myself with a half-smile. Gathering my courage, I descended the stairs until they reached the level space at the bottom, and there I faced the stone door.

The air was taut with tension, and the dissonance I had come to associate with death grew to the point that I found it difficult to concentrate. Interestingly it seemed to be strongest behind me, rather than before me, where the door lay. It was as if the grim reaper himself was looking over my shoulder.

“I’ve probably defied Lady Luck and pissed off Mother Nature so many times, that they’ve sent their boyfriend Death to collect me,” I said aloud, though there was no one to laugh at my joke.

Ignoring the distractions, I focused my magesight on the door, seeking any hint of patterns or runes. The last time I had examined it I had had no knowledge of concealing enchantments, so I now had a better idea why I had sensed nothing beyond the door. As before, I sensed nothing, nothing but stone and more stone. It went on for at least forty feet in every direction, featureless and unchanging, before I noticed a difference. At some point beyond forty feet the stone became less homogenous, more varied and flawed, with frequent cracks and occasional changes in its composition.

The conclusion was obvious. The area behind the door was entirely cloaked in an enchantment, making it appear to be solid stone, when in fact it probably contained a room. Why put a door here then? That’s a dead giveaway that something lies beyond, I thought to myself, unless the purpose was merely to conceal the room from some powerful outside observer. I shook my head, I really had no way to know at this point, and further speculation was pointless.

“Open!” I said loudly, wondering if it might be something so simple. Nothing happened.

Focusing my perception closely on the door immediately in front of me, I tried to find the runes that created the concealing enchantment. Generally such inscriptions would be small, and by their very nature hard to perceive unless you were looking for them. If anyone could find them though, it would be me. My family invented enchanting, after all.

I found nothing.

I was beginning to consider trying force, but a random thought stopped me. Why had no other Illeniel wizard opened the door? I couldn’t be the first to wonder at what lay behind it. Unless they already knew, I thought. It might have been the sort of thing taught to each generation, something I might have known if I had received the same instruction every other wizard in my family had been given. My gut told me it was more than that, however. They couldn’t open the door.

“ But you can,” said the voice of the earth, startling me. The words were a product of my own mind, but the meaning had come across clearly. While I heard the voice of the earth constantly, it was rare for it to direct anything resembling meaningful communication to me, unless I spoke to it first.

This door required an archmage to open. The conclusion was obvious, and I was surprised it had taken me so long to realize. Otherwise they would have taken her. Again I caught myself thinking strange thoughts, and I wished I could force the back of my mind to give me the knowledge I needed, but as soon as I focused upon it, my fear drove the secrets into darkness.

Ignoring my doubts and confusion, I opened my mind and began to listen, allowing myself to fall into a deeper rapport with the earth. What I discovered amazed me, for the stone behind and around the door seemed to have a separate identity. While it was still technically a part of the earth, it held a portion of itself apart, as if it had been given an ego or a ‘self’. Not only was it separate, but it was deceiving me, projecting an image of itself as solid and whole, obscuring the truth behind an illusion.

Show me the truth, I ordered.

The stone responded immediately, None but my master can command me.

He is gone. I am his descendant and inheritor of his will, I told it, and then I put my hand against the stone door, lowering my shield and allowing the stone to come into full contact with my flesh.

Suddenly the illusion vanished, and I could see the room within, while simultaneously the door itself slid aside so that I could enter.

The room was twenty feet in diameter, circular and empty, except for the object in its center, an open stone sarcophagus. The scene was intimately familiar, for I had known what I would find here, just as I knew that the object in the middle of the room was no sarcophagus, it held a living creature.

Stepping closer I looked down upon her, Lyralliantha, the last of her kind, trapped eternally within a stasis enchantment. The woman inside was the most beautiful I had ever beheld, barring my encounter with the goddess Millicenth, and I discounted that immediately. The gods cheated. Her hair was silver, not simply white, but possessing an almost metallic shimmer, and while her eyes were closed, I knew that if they had been open they would have been an icy blue, just like all the children of her grove.

She was clad in a soft white gown that reached past her knees before revealing the smooth skin of her lower legs. Her hands and feet were slender and graceful, with short well-kept nails. Other than her unusual hair color and exceptional beauty, there was nothing that might have indicated her alien nature, except for her delicately pointed ears. Her eye color was slightly unusual, but it fell within the normal range of human color, in fact it was similar in hue to my own eyes.

Illeniel’s promise rose up in my mind, the words of my long dead ancestor, “This is the only way I can save your people. Rest here and I will return to release you… once it is safe again. I give you my word, I will return for you.” Except that he hadn’t.