R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

Belexus and Andovar led the four men eastward along the cliff face overlooking the vale and Blackemara, crossing stony ground, cracked and uneven, that had them jumping small ravines and pulling each other up steep inclines. Every so often they passed a cairn of piled rocks, markers for those who knew how to read them, for the rangers’ secret trail and the paths to the house of Bellerian.

Andovar still did not like the idea of outlanders in the ranger camp, but he honored absolutely the requests of venerable Bellerian. For the last thirty years Bellerian had been his teacher and guardian. Indeed, the man was to Andovar as a father, as he was to all the Rangers of Avalon, for when they were but children, sons of the nobles of the court of Ben-galen, Overlord of Pallendara, the infamous Ungden seized the throne and murdered their parents. Ungden had planned to do slaughter to them as well, to extinguish the lines of noble blood completely, but Bellerian, with the help of Glendower, shuffled them away in the darkness of that bloody night to the outskirts of Avalon. There, under the watchful eyes of Bellerian and one other secret friend, the new rangers grew strong and true. Now, as adults, they had achieved a whispered reputation among the farmers of Calva’s northern fields as mighty warriors. This was a wild land, open to bands of marauding talons or to monsters that slithered out of Blackemara. Yet such intruders, no matter how many or how mighty, were always cut down before they could cause much mischief, and when the farmers found the slaughtered remains left along the roadsides for the carrion birds, they knew that the fierce rangers were watching over them.

The party came to a small cliff, a great block of stone rising up before them.

“Behold ye, we are to the door,” Belexus said, pointing to a dark crack at the base of the slab.

“That’s it?” Billy asked. “You want us to go in there?”

“This is your father’s house?” Del added incredulously. “I thought he was a lord.”

“Indeed, and that he is,” Belexus answered. “But a lord o’ rangers.”

“A ranger is a soldier o’ the spirit,” Andovar explained. “We are but a simple folk and huv no need or want for palaces to name as home. The meat of our table is not fineries, but honor and sense o’ purpose. We huv a duty, and the giving of self to that duty is comfort enough.”

“And just what might that duty be?” Reinheiser asked, curious to know more about this people, to understand completely their ways and motivations. For Reinheiser, knowledge was the greatest advantage over enemies or friends alike.

Andovar didn’t answer, wondering if he had said too much to the strangers already.

“Come, let us enter,” Belexus interceded. “Ye may find that we’re not as poor as ye believe.” With that, Belexus crawled into the crack and disappeared from sight. The others followed, Billy somewhat reluctantly, with Andovar taking up the rear. Belexus soon had some torches burning and the men found themselves in a wide chamber, with furs scattered about the floor and a firepot sitting under a natural chimney in one corner. A rack of weapons lined one wall, brimming with well-crafted spears and swords and fine chain-link armor. On pegs along the opposite wall hung cloaks and saddles.

“Looks pretty crude to me,” Mitchell snickered.

Belexus pulled a torch out of a holder. “Follow,” he said coldly, his eyes on the captain, a man the ranger obviously did not like.

That dislike only brought an inward smile to the belligerent Mitchell.

Belexus pushed hard on a rock, and a section of the wall slid away to reveal a short tunnel sloping down into blackness. He entered first with the torch, the intruding light showing an iron-banded wooden door at the tunnel’s other end. Belexus took out a key and opened the door and the men caught a shadowy glimpse of a room beyond. But then, with a look of contentment aimed at Mitchell, and much to the surprise of the men, Belexus put out his torch.

“What the hell are you doing?” the captain shouted above a chorus of wondering murmurs.

“Silence!” Belexus commanded abruptly, and the others, taken aback by the sudden power in the calm ranger’s voice, did indeed quiet. Reinheiser and especially Mitchell grew nervous, though, for they recognized that they were in a precarious situation, surrounded by two grim warriors, one of whom was angry at Mitchell, and they were helpless in the complete darkness. Only Del held calm in his trust of the rangers.

“Take hold o’ the hand o’ the man in front of ye and follow me lead,” Belexus instructed. He grabbed Del’s hand and, after Andovar called from the back that the chain was complete, led them into the room beyond. Andovar shut the door and they heard the dancing music of a swift-running stream. They stood silent in anticipation for several seconds, but neither Belexus nor Andovar made any move or offered any explanation.

“Well?” Mitchell snapped, strung out with anxiety.

“Behold ye the home o’ Bellerian,” Belexus answered flatly.

“It’s awfully dark,” Del said.

“Ye be wantin’ light?” Belexus chuckled. “Then ask for it.” Over by the door, Andovar began to laugh.

“Would you please light your torch?” Del asked, not quite understanding what the ranger might be hinting at.

“Do no’ ask me,” Belexus replied, straining to hold back his own laughter.” Tis the room ye should be asking.”

“What?”

“The room,” Belexus repeated calmly and in all apparent seriousness.

“But be asking it politely,” Andovar added. “Take care ye do’no’ offend it!”

“Okay, I’ll play your game,” Del said, his confusion turning to curiosity. Billy and Reinheiser, too, were no longer afraid, sensing that the rangers had something amazing in store for them, something of which Belexus was obviously very proud. Mitchell, though, fumed, having no patience for surprises or for jokes made at his expense, and he perceived these mysterious actions by the rangers as an attempt to pay him back for his earlier insults.

Del thought for a moment about what to say, deciding that if he was going to play along, he was going to do it in grand style. “O Great Room!” he began, but he was interrupted by the laughter of Andovar.

“Quiet!” Del shouted, a smile crossing his face.

“O Great Room!” he began again. “We humbly beseech you to shed your magnificent light upon us!” Instantly, the room lit up with blinding white light, its intensity stinging the eyes of the four ancients-Belexus and Andovar knew enough to close their eyes tightly when Del had said “magnificent.”

Mitchell yelled in anger, snapping his eyes shut. “Damn it!”

“Light!” Belexus commanded, and the brightness of the room immediately mellowed. Andovar opened his eyes and jumped in front of the men.

“Behold ye,” he cried, “the magical chamber of Bellerian, Ranger Lord o’ Avalon!”

As their eyes adjusted, the men were treated to a sight they would never forget, a vision so wondrous that even Mitchell lost his anger.

They stood in a domed chamber, its floor smooth white marble streaked with red-brown veins. A gully several feet across and running from wall to wall parallel to the door, divided the room, the water singing its melody from within. A marble bridge arched delicately over the midpoint of the gully and, therefore, over the exact center of the floor. Incredibly, the posts and handrails of the bridge, though also made of marble, were shaped into intricate twists and turns, and Del instinctively knew at once that only magic could have worked stone in that manner.

On the wall opposite the door, the men saw beautifully crafted furniture; a desk, chair, and bookcase, all adorned with bas reliefs of dragons and wizards and arcane runes, and overfilled with scrolls and parchments. Off to the side stood a small cabinet and Bellerian’s bed, many-pillowed and covered with purple satiny sheets.