“Bah!” Magnus muttered, but failed to add anything more.
They slogged through the water dodging stone spikes. Examining the walls, Hadrian noticed designs carved into them. Etchings of geometric shapes and patterns lined the corridor. Some of the more delicate lines were faded, missing, perhaps lost to the erosion of a billion water droplets. No words were visible and there were no recognizable symbols. The etching appeared to be nothing more than decorative. Above, almost lost in the growing stone, were brackets for what might have once been banner poles, and on the side walls he spotted mountings for lamps. Hadrian tried to imagine how the tunnel looked before the time of Novron, when multi-colored banners and rows of bright lamps might have illuminated the causeway. It was not long before the tunnel pitched upwards again and they could all see a faint light.
The tunnel ended at a stairway going up. The steps curved and were wide enough for them to take two strides before climbing the next step. When they reached the top, the star-filled sky was above them once more and before long, they stood above ground on the outcropping of rock that made up the base of the citadel. A strong wind met them. The gale was damp, filled with a wet mist. They stood at the end of a short stone bridge spanning a narrow crevasse, beyond which stood the spires of the monolithic tower. It loomed above them so high it was impossible to see the top.
More stairs awaited them on the far side and they moved at a slow but even pace, staying single file, even though the stairs were wide enough for two, or even three, to walk abreast. They climbed five sets of steps, zigzagging in a half-circle around the outside of the tower. As they started their sixth flight, Royce waited until they had moved to the lee of the citadel then called a halt for them to catch their breath. Below, the roar of the falls boomed, but from their perch, protected from the wind, the night seemed still. There were no sounds, no crickets or owls, just the deep voice of the river and the howl of the wind.
“This is ridiculous,” Royce shouted over the roar. “Where’s the damn door. I don’t like being so exposed.”
“It’s just up ahead, not too much farther,” Esrahaddon replied.
“How long do we have?” Hadrian asked, looking at the wizard who shrugged in reply.
The wizard shrugged.
“Does it return here directly after killing, or does it enjoy the night?” Royce inquired. “I should think having been locked up in this tower for nine hundred years, it would want to spend some time flying about.”
“It isn’t a person, or an animal. It’s a conjuration, a mystic embodiment of power. It mimics life and understands threats to its existence certainly, but I doubt it has any concept of pleasure or freedom. Like I said it’s not alive.”
“Then why does it eat?” Royce asked.
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why is it killing a person or two a night?”
“I’ve wondered that myself. It should attempt to fulfill its last instructions and that was clearly to kill the Emperor. It is possible that not finding its target, and not able to travel far from this tower—conjurations are often limited to a specific distance from their creator or point of origin—it might be trying to lure him here. It could have deduced that the Emperor would not tolerate the slaughter of his people and would come to aid the village.”
“Regardless, we’d better be quick,” Hadrian concluded and led them all in standing up.
The wind resumed as they circled around. It whistled in their ears and buffeted their steps. The damp clothes chilled them despite the hard work of the march. Above, the spires still rose far into the night sky and they all felt a grim sense of drudgery when they reached yet another short bridge, which ended abruptly at a solid wall.
Hadrian watched Royce sigh in disappointment as he looked at the dead end.
“I thought you said there was a door.” Royce addressed the wizard.
“There was, and is.”
Hadrian did not see a door. There was what appeared to be a faint outline of a door’s frame etched in the wall in front of them, but it was solid stone.
Royce grimaced. “Another invisible stone portal?”
“Don’t waste your time,” Magnus told him. “You’ll never open it. Trust me, I’m a dwarf. I spent hours trying to get in and nothing. That stone is enchanted and impenetrable. Crossing the river to get here was nothing compared to opening that door.”
Royce turned to the dwarf with a puzzled look in his eyes. “You’ve been here? You tried to enter the tower. Why?”
“I told you I was on a job for Lord Rufus.”
“You said you made him a sword.”
“I did, but he didn’t want just any sword. He wanted a replica of a sword, an elvish sword. He gave me a bunch of old drawings, which I used to make it. They were pretty good, with dimensions and material listed, but it’s not like being able to examine the real thing.” The dwarf’s stare lingered on Royce suggestively. “I was told others of the same type could be found inside this tower. I came out here and spent all day climbing around, but never found a way in. No doors or windows, just things like this.”
“This sword you made,” Esrahaddon said. “Did it have writing on the blade?”
“Yep,” Magnus replied. “They were real insistent that the inscription on the replica was exactly like that in the books.”
“That’s it,” Esrahaddon muttered. “The church isn’t here because of me, and they aren’t here to find the heir; they’re here to make an heir.”
“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.