Silver cathedral saga, p.17
Silver Cathedral Saga, page 17
Everything felt too real suddenly.
Eleanor, Christian and Ematay saw the entrance that reminded them when they were here just three days before. They all had mixed feelings about it. Glad they escaped to their home alive, of course, but sad to have seen the things they had done too. The children felt so very different since Hiva Aura. What they had seen and experienced was a telling of their souls, their inner secrets and sources of depth that was upon the deepest depth that could have ever existed. And wavered above this, they felt as if they were just waiting to be dropped in, left to eternally fall, to stay in darkness with the grimness of guilt, of life—to be there forever and ever, seeping within their souls. To torment and pluck away what happiness could be taken away in the future.
It should have been a sign of importance and goodness, this was the entrance to where they found their new home and place in the world.
They all headed through after pausing momentarily, following the Star-caster.
“The Heart of the Mountain is on a much different path to the one we took last time,” said Ematay to the children. There is a series of hidden passengers that take us to our destination.”
“Do you know how to get there?” asked Eleanor.
“In a way,” replied Ematay. “I know the way to get there, but the challenges what lie ahead are left up to those who are worthy of completing. So I am going to need both your help on this one. It is a good job you are both here. I believe fate has brought us together again, to give us the best chance today.”
“You really believe two kids will help with this?” said Adea. “You must be pretty desperate, and stupid. Only the gods will know why the king has chosen you to lead this quest.”
“You have not endured their talents in motion yet, have you. Trust me, you will be amazed—just like I was.”
They passed the same path at first; it was wide, and as they travelled through the dark brown colours of the earth, they remembered the horse they let go here last time. But it was not by chance they remembered. There was a sign, a sign that struck them upon the floor, appearing as several bones, mostly that of ribs by the looks of it, and a skull. Ematay noticed this straight away, and tried not to show the others he had done. Yet Eleanor and Ematay gulped as they walked over it, knowing almost immediately it was the horse.
“Well this is a cheery situation,” said Lauretta the Fire-caster. “You do know that if the Shadows are down here then we have already lost.”
They carried on for another minute ignoring the words of Lauretta, hearing drips coming from somewhere, until they stopped before the next part, a big archway, as if the mountain housed rooms one by one, growing and shrinking in size. Ematay and the other seven stood to the left of the archway, staring at the way that led up to it; this entrance to the next part of the path.
Ematay was now feeling for something on the dark brown sharp wall he cut his palm on. He jerked his hand back in shock. When he looked at his palm, little blood escaped from his body; there was a shape that formed upon his very hand, a symbol of old magick. None of the others saw it. He smiled, and the rest weren’t sure why. They were waiting, hoping he would soon get on with whatever it was he was doing.
The Star-caster pressed his hand on this wall, the symbol of blood stamping its pattern upon the rock. They all noticed it resembled a star, like it was showing he was a Star-caster to the world somehow. Only the blood faded after three measly seconds.
There was no sound or sight of movement, no different smell other than the not so potent aroma of cedar and lemon.
Ematay lingered, looking at where his blood print disappeared. He was right in front of the wall, as close as he could probably get without touching it now. Then he took one large step forward, a step that seemed to have pushed aside the laws of physics, making him look as if he was about to go through the wall yet never did, and could still also be seen.
It looked as if he stood in front, but the large step should have taken him beyond where he stood now. “Come on,” he said to the others.” They all stood in the same spot, and took a step exactly like he did, and when they did—their eyes could now see a completely different path. A one made of stairs spiralling down.
“Wow, that was amazing,” said Eleanor. “How did you know it even existed here.”
“Like I said before with the Madam Mansion, I can feel it out. I felt it on our last journey here, but then I didn’t need to go to the Heart of the Mountain then, did I.”
They went down the stairs. The space echoed, hearing their own voices and footsteps carry on after they would stop.
“That’s one passage down,” said Selphira. “Only the gods know how many more is left.”
“Hmm,” said Eleanor, feeling somewhat shocked that one of the Edeolon Warriors had spoken.
“There is clearly magick at work here, or I would not be able to feel it out like the other places on Astora that possess it. Though there is a chance it is purely the kind that affects and opens paths to those knowledgeable of them. I am not sure, as I knew this was here a long time ago, and came with somebody else.”
The stairs still continued to go down, down, down. The repetitiveness was annoying, which made them all grow bothersome and tired in temper. Not to mention the circular motion the stairs gave them, causing a few to get dizzy not long after.
“Some path,” said the Fire-caster. “We will more than likely be a hundred before we reach the end.”
“You’re sarcasm doesn’t help or suit the situation,” bellowed Ematay, angry.
“Neither does this stairway,” said Adea the Beast-caster.
“Look,” said Ematay stopping on the stairway in the middle of the group. They all stopped, as they noticed the echoes of less feet stepping. The ones in front turned back to look at what was happening. “This kind of attitude is helping nobody. Stop, and I mean right now.” They all pressed on with no response, but went on to be very quiet now.
The stairs continued to go down even after another ten minutes, and there was a little panting from most of them at this time. With all of their joints taking the deep stairs for so long now, it troubled them, causing some ache to kick in. Each step drew on more and more force, or so it seemed and felt.
Eleanor and Christian showed more than the others that the impact bothered them. They grabbed their ankles and rubbed them every now and then, hoping this would somehow help, but it didn’t, for healing magick was a potent and powerful magick. Most believe it is a myth, which is probably the sensible thing to do, because with there being so few real magick healers in the universe—they might as well remain that way—until we are seen and can truly help!
“We must be nearly there now?” said Christian, whining. Everybody else was thinking about doing it as well, just the boy got there first.
“No,” replied Ematay. “We are going to the core of the earth dear boy. This is no light taking, as much. None of us are loving such a journey right now.”
God knows my aching feet are not,” replied Dak the Battle-caster. “Though I am obliged to go as deep as it takes us, as we all should.”
“What is at the centre of the world?” asked Eleanor as they continued to shift consistently down the spiralling, deep stone, stairs.
“A great deal many things,” replied Ematay. “Things which were meant to remain hidden, things which are meant to be found. And some things that are needing to find a place.”
Eleanor and Christian responded to the last sentence by looking at the dark mountain walls that went down with them for a while, until it started to change to earth and rock, not rock and earth. It seemed their surroundings were changing now, and they were all glad of it.
“Since when do you talk in riddles,” said Eleanor.
“Since a certain oath has permitted me to not give away dangers of our secrecy, of our life and the way it is lived.”
“Are their enemies at the core?” asked Christian.
“Oh, yes,” replied Adea. The most fierce live in the deep core of the world, and that is where they must remain, as the energy and heat down here is the only thing that keeps them well. There was a time one of these creatures tried to surface, only he fell ill to the air and atmosphere around him several weeks after. Left to his fate, he climbed and clawed back into the core of the world, of Astora.”
“How interesting,” replied Eleanor. “What are they called?”
“Called,” said Ematay. He seemed a bit uncomfortable about it all.
“There is no use fooling this lot,” said Lauretta. “They will catch on all too well. They seem to be a bunch that senses the truth, which is a strange trait for children who live within lies to comfort their younger selves.”
Ematay stopped, again, and so did the rest. “It would do us well to stop for a little while. I feel my feet are about to blister till they explode now.” He grabbed his thick brown boots and then hit them, as if that would make it all better. He pulled an angry expression after, and yelled, as if to let out a rage he was angry with for some time. “My feet are not as young as they used to be last time I was down here,” he complained.
“Oh right, yeah,” said the Fire-caster. “The creatures at the Heart of the Mountain are a dangerous bunch. They are emotionless, hard as stone and very slow at moving. They are everything we are not, and as such, we were made from them. They have been written on the walls of the Heart of the Mountain to be known simply as the…” the two children were the ones closest, as the Spell-casters already knew the story and were not bothered about hearing it again.
“Well…?” said Christian, impatiently.
“They are Astorians, Christian. They are us. They are our fathers and mothers, our makers of old.”
“But how is that possible,” said Eleanor. “The Edeolon book says that we weren’t made by them.”
“And in a way that is still true. The gods created the Astorians, and then made a deal with them to create the humanoids, because the original creation was incredibly flawed. Much like the gods themselves, they only cared mostly of… well… themselves, as they were made from the gods. So these Astorians made a deal with the gods and goddesses. To create several humans, to be frail, filled with emotion and to have a chance to be good and live with morals. And thus, we were born from them thousands of years ago. There is some details that have never been certain. Like how they made them. All we Spell-casters know from the book of creation, is that these Astorians can create and mould anything from the core. They are crafters from the dark, old order; malevolent, dangerous. They are probably the toughest creation in existence. But few know about them. They are what the definition of evil is. Think nothing about trying to save them, for they have made their own home in the core; a pack of what the gods promised if they created these humanoid Astorians. Us. They were hidden deep inside, where they eventually became dependent on the energy there, and would become ill and weak if they left their place. A thing the gods decided to do later on, in case they challenged the new ways. Trust was never a defining trait of the gods—or of the Original Astorians.”
Eleanor cleared her throat, causing attention to herself.
“Woah,” said Christian, beating her to it.
“Yes, woah,” said Eleanor, finishing what she was about to do. “I can’t believe we were created from the very depths of evil. The creation of blackness.”
“Believe it,” said Oddius the Edeolon Warrior. “Because I was surprised to find this out with my friend here Selphira only fifty years ago. Eleanor and Christian forgot that the Edeolon Warriors were there. They were a very quiet lot within the group. The quietest, which worried the children. Their thoughts of betrayal still rummaged around them; they believed these could be them, or maybe not. They could never be sure until they make their move.
“There is hope in us,” said Ematay, “Because we were made to be the opposite of such beasts. “We were created to be given a chance to care, to care about everything, unlike the Originals.”
They pushed on after their little breather of a break, it seemed to do their feet good. But it was only about several minutes more that their feet began feeling somewhat sore again.
“So you are saying because we are fragile in the mind, body and spirit, is the very reason we work on a much grander scale than the first Astorians did?” said Christian.
“You got it in one. Smart boy,” said Ematay, pleased, as pleased as Christian was his own.
The walls changed even more so now. They turned into pure grey rock, and Ematay knew what this meant to him.
“I have a very interesting question still,” said Eleanor as they continued moving.
“Well out with it then,” said her older friend.
“How can we get to the core of the world when the sea encompasses all of the ground. Won’t we drowned?”
“Good question,” said the Fire-caster. “I wondered when you would ask that.”
“It is called the Heart of the Mountain for a very good reason. Where we are going is at the exact middle of our world underground, precisely. The exact numbers are unmatched upon much else in Astora; and this leads to a mystical gateway that was built when the world was created and formed itself. The gods made it this way as a fail safe. If ever they would need the new Astorians, us, to travel there. And it is a good job too, because it has been recorded over the ages that they have… three times, including this attempt.”
“But beware, the Astorians live at the gates of where we need to use this portal as old as our world,” said the Beast-caster Adea.
“Then how will we get past them?” said Christian, sounding frightfully worried.
“Ah,” said Adea. “That is where I come in most useful on this quest. I will take the form of one of them, and safeguard us through. The Originals know nothing of our detailed magicks yet, and only wonder at what we have done above. So we have the element of surprise.”
“Me and this Beast-caster here will both change into one of them,” replied Selphira, confirming she was helping also. “We will move like them, speak like them, have their strength, power, but we will never become them in mind. It is a tricky and messy business with the minds of beasts. Some are all rage, and some are everything but. So us Beast-casters have been trained to focus on our inner self, to remain the person we are inside. It is probably the easiest thing to do once you are taught it. It just requires a little bit of squint work on occasions, if the process is kept on too long that is.”
They all soon paid attention to the stairs getting smaller in depth and were pleased something different was happening, hoping it was a sign.
“So there isn’t much to worry about,” said Ematay. “The king chose our team because we would need the talents of all types of Spell-casters on a quest such as this. You never know what will be swept up in our faces at any second.”
Deepened
A light shone, not the kind of light that was natural and beautiful, the kind that was artificial and disappointing to gaze upon. It came from a candle that was a blur at first, then it became clear, but not fast. At a steady pace that didn’t shock this onlooker once his eyes focused in.
“Dad?” he asked.
“Yes, son.” There was a brief pause before the king continued. “I am afraid you have a problem. A one I did not see, even with all the signs upon you, me and your mother.
“Is it night?” he asked not sure where he was or what time or day it was, with an expression that made his father feel guilty, as well as himself.
“No,” answered his father. “Far from it. It is the same day.” He looked behind his father, and saw the dreaded item he had been hiding all this time. Not so much an item really, though it felt like one to him. The way he treat it might as well have made it that way; the creature was asleep, and glowed in its little cage with a dull blue and grey. The rays from its colour seemed so dim in the light of the day coming from the large open doors from the kings balcony.
“No, father. You can’t have it. I need it.” Prince Etch rose from his seat, looking beyond worried, and it seemed to take action as if it was the last living thing he wanted to do with his life.
Two men came between the prince and his prize his eyes feasted upon. He looked back to his father, as if to call them off, to get them out of his way.
“They will not move, son. I cannot allow you to throw your life away like this.” He sat on a chair beside the bed Etch was sleeping on just a few minutes ago. He seemed so calm, yet his face looked weary and cautious.
“Ruining my life? What—by getting what I want out of it,” answered prince Etch.
“I know living in reality is hard. God, I know what you are going through. It took me a long time to accept I was going to be king some day too, son. But trying to escape the truth in this way is destructive—it is lethal. You have to let it go. Do it, do it for me, for your mother. Please.” He had his head tilted towards his son before he got up now, staring, begging for him to see some reason in his plea.
“You don’t understand dad. I can’t let it go. I could never let her ago, not again, not this time. Please don’t ask me to. Please.” It had all turned around, he was answering a plea with a plea, and his father didn’t know how to respond at first, because he knew what his son was talking about.
“You have to let her go. Now. She is gone. Using Silver Dust is not going to change that, no matter if you see or hear her, she is gone, you are getting your own perception of her, not the real her.”
“I wish it was that easy, dad,” he said before he leapt towards the small cage standing on the long table of oak. It had a paint of smooth and shiny white silver enveloping it, with curls of the swans wings that extended into the feet of the table that made it stand.
The two guards, who Etch noticed were Swan Knights, grabbed him before he could even get within two steps of the cage; the Pixie, which now had awoken, and began rattling the cage in fear, thinking it was going to be robbed of its magick, of its dust. Again.
“No. No. Nooo,” he screamed on the last of his words. “Don’t. Don’t take it away;” there was a servant who took the cage away whilst the knights held him in place. Etch struggled as hard as he could, but he was weaker than normal because of the Silver Dust substance, even though he would have normally stood a chance against such masters of battle.
