Michael Sullivan - Avempartha

“Make an heir? I don’t get it.” Hadrian said. “I thought you said they wanted the heir dead.”

“They do, but they are going to make a puppet. This Rufus has been picked to replace the true heir. There is a legend that only the bloodline of Novron can kill a Gilarabrywn. They will use this creature’s death as undisputed proof that their boy is the true heir. Not only will it provide them legitimate means to dictate laws to the kings, but it will also hinder my efforts to reinstate the real heir to power. Who will believe an old outlawed wizard when their boy slew a Gilarabrywn? They will let a few bumpkins try to fight only to die, in order to prove the invincibility of the beast. Then this Rufus will step up and with his sword etched with the name, he’ll slay it and become emperor. With Rufus as their figurehead, the church will return to power and reform the Empire. Excellent move, I must say. I’ll admit I hadn’t expected it.”

“A few moderate kings might have something to say about that,” Hadrian replied.

“And they know that as much as you do. They have a plan to deal with it, I’m sure.”

“So do we still need to get inside?” Hadrian asked.

“Oh yes,” the wizard told them, “Now more than ever.” He chuckled. “Just imagine if before their boy Rufus slays this beast another contestant slays it first.”

The dwarf snorted. “Bah! I told you, you aren’t getting through that door. It’s solid stone.”

The wizard considered the archway once more. “Open it, Royce.”

Royce looked skeptical. “Open what? That’s a wall. There’s no latch, no lock, not even a seam. Anyone have a gem we can try?”

“This isn’t a gemlock,” The wizard explained.

“I agree and I would know,” Magnus told them.

“Try opening it anyway,” the wizard insisted staring at Royce. “That’s why I brought you here, remember?”

Royce looked at the wall before him and scowled. “How?”

“Use your instincts. You opened the door to my prison and it had no latch either.”

“I was lucky.”

“You might be lucky again. Try.”

Royce shrugged. He stepped forward and placed his hands lightly on the stone letting his fingertips drift across the surface searching by feel for what his eyes might not be able to see.

“This is a waste of time,” Magnus said. “This is clearly a very powerful lock and without the key there is no way to open it. I know these things. I’ve made these things. They are designed to prevent thieves like him from entering.”

“Ah,” Esrahaddon said to the dwarf, “but you underestimate Royce. He is no ordinary lock-picker. I sensed it the moment I first saw him. I know he can open it.” The wizard turned to Royce who was quickly showing signs of exasperation. “Stop trying to open it and just open it. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

“Do what?” he asked, irritated. “If I knew how, don’t you think I would have opened it by now?”

“That’s just it, don’t think. Stop being a thief. Just open the door.”

Royce glared at the wizard. “Fine,” he said as he pushed his palm against the stone wall and pulled it back with a look of shock on his face.

Esrahaddon’s expression was one of sheer delight. “I knew it,” the wizard said.

“Knew what? What happened?” Hadrian asked.

“I just pushed,” Royce laughed at the absurdity.

“And?”

“What do you mean and?” Royce asked pointing at the solid wall.

“And what happened? Why are you smiling?” Hadrian studied the wall for something he missed, a tiny crack, a little latch, a key hole, but he saw nothing. It was the same as it had always been.

“It opened,” Royce said.

Hadrian and the dwarf looked at Royce puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

Royce looked back over his shoulder as if that would make everything clear. “Are you both blind? The door is standing wide open. You can see there’s a corridor that-”

“They can’t see it,” the wizard interrupted.

Royce looked from the wizard to Hadrian. “You can’t see that the door is standing open now? You can’t see this huge, three-story double door?”

Hadrian shook his head. “It looks just like it always has.”

Magnus nodded his agreement.

“They can’t see it because they can’t enter,” the wizard explained. Hadrian watched Royce look up, following the wizard’s glance and his eyes widened.

“What?” Hadrian asked.

“Elven magic. Designed to prevent enemies from passing through these walls. All they see, and all they will encounter is solid stone. The portal is closed to them.”

“You can see it?” Royce asked Esrahaddon.

“Oh yes, quite plainly.”

“So why is it we can see it and they can’t?”

“I already told you, it is magic to stop enemies from entering. As it happens, I was invited into this tower nine hundred years ago. It was abandoned immediately after my visit; so I am guessing there was no one to revoke that permission.” He looked back at what Hadrian still saw as solid stone. “I don’t think I could have opened it though, even if I had hands. That’s why I needed you.”

“Me?” Royce said, then a sudden shocking realization filled his expression and he glared at the wizard before him. “So you knew?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a wizard if I didn’t, now would I?”

Royce looked self-consciously at his own feet then slowly turned to look cautiously at Hadrian who only smiled. “You knew too?”

Hadrian frowned “Did you really think I could work with you all these years and not figure it out? It is a little obvious, you know.”

“You never said anything.”

“I figured you didn’t want to talk about it. You guard your past jealously, pal, and you have many doors on which I don’t knock. Honestly, there were times I wondered if you knew.”

“Knew what? What’s going on?” Magnus demanded.

“None of your business,” Hadrian told the dwarf, “but it does leave us with a parting of the ways, doesn’t it. We can’t come in, and I can tell you I am not fond of sitting here on the doorstep waiting for the flying lizard to come home.”

“You should go back,” Esrahaddon told them. “Royce and I can go on from here alone.”

“How long will this take?” Hadrian asked.

“Several hours, a day perhaps,” the wizard explained.

“I had hoped to be gone before it returned,” Royce said.

“Not possible, besides this shouldn’t be a problem for you of all people, I am certain you have stolen from occupied homes before.”

“Not ones where the owner can swallow me in a single bite.”

“So we’ll have to be extra quiet now, won’t we?”

"I thought last night went well,” Bishop Saldur stated, slicing himself a wedge of breakfast cheese. He sat at the banquet table in the great hall of the manor along with Archbishop Galien, Sentinel Luis Guy, and Lord Rufus. The lofty cathedral ceiling of bound logs did little to elevate the dark oppressive atmosphere caused by the lack of natural light. The entire manor had few windows and made Saldur feel as if he were crouching in an animal’s den, some woodchuck’s burrow, or beaver lodge. The thought that this miserable hovel would see the birth of the new empire was a disappointment, but he was a pragmatic man. The method was irrelevant. All that mattered was the final solution. Either it worked or it did not. This was the only measure of value-aesthetics could be added later.

Right now they needed to establish the Empire. Mankind had drifted too long without a rudder. A firm hand was what the world needed, a solid grip on the wheel with a keen set of eyes that could see into the future and direct the vessel into clear, tranquil waters. Saldur envisioned a world of peace through prosperity, and security through strength. The feudal system so prevalent across the four nations held them back, chaining the kingdoms to a poverty of weakness and divided interests. What they needed was a centralized government with an enlightened ruler and a talented, educated bureaucracy overseeing every aspect of life. With the entire strength of mankind under one yoke, it was impossible to imagine the many goals that could be accomplished. They could revolutionize farming, its fruits distributed evenly at a price that even the poorest could afford, vanquishing hunger. Laws could be standardized, eliminating arbitrary punishment by vindictive tyrants. Knowledge from the corners of the land could be gathered into a single repository where great minds could learn and develop new ideas, new techniques. They could improve transportation with standardized roads and they could clear the stench of cities with standardized sewage systems. If all this had to begin here in this little wood hut on the edge of the world, it was a small price to pay. “How many died?” he asked.