Targon stopped their procession through the bustling corridor they had entered.
“There’s a text that mentions it in the Royal Library. It came from deep within the earth, and was given to Pratchert by the dwarves for some great act of wizardry that he supposedly performed for them.”
He paused and put his finger to his chin.
“There is a tapestry depicting the ceremony in which it was presented. The Shard was one of his most prized possessions, they say.”
“Can you show me this tapestry?”
Hope was beginning to rise in Hyden’s heart. Once he knew how big the crystal was, he could start forming an actual plan. Surely, the depiction showed the artifact’s size in relation to a man.
As they traversed the mile or so of stairways and passages that led to the hall where the old tapestries were stored, Hyden explained what his goddess had told him to do with the crystal. At one point, Hyden looked around and realized that they were outside under the stars, crossing an open-air courtyard that was big enough to contain his whole village.
Targon’s pace had quickened as they spoke of the crystal’s size and weight. If it was too large for Talon to carry, there were other ways that it might be transported to where it needed to be. If Talon could carry a small marker to the exact location, then Targon would easily be able to send the crystal there. Dissolving it, Targon said, was another matter altogether.
He lectured Hyden on crystalline structure, which Hyden barely grasped. Learning that salt was a crystal that dissolved in water, and that ice was actually crystallized water that thawed with heat only served to confuse Hyden. Some crystals dissolve with corrosives, some it just took time. There was no way to know what would dissolve the Night Shard, without testing samples of it. To sample it, Hyden would have to beat the tests set by Pratchert hundreds of years ago; tests that had caused every one of the hundreds of aspiring mages and fools that had entered the tower, never to be seen again.
With a flick of his wrist, Targon lit the torches that were ensconced along the walls of the old musty room they were entering. The big, open storage chamber was full of statues, armaments, paintings, and other relics from the history of Xwarda. There was so much stuff, that they had to squeeze between dusty piles and teetering stacks to get through the room.
“One of my students is supposed to have inventoried all of this recently, but by the dust and clutter, I think I might have been shammed.”
Targon eased away from Hyden, and cast a spell, while calling out the name of the student. A moment later, a sheepish looking boy, caught in the awkward stage in between youth and manhood, appeared in a blurry apparition before the master wizard.
“But I did!” Hyden heard the youth blurt out defensively.
“How did you inventory all of this, without so much as stirring up the dust in here, Phenilous?” Targon asked the boy, dubiously.
“Your instructions were for me to catalog the contents of the room without disturbing anything….Sir.” The last was added as an afterthought.
“But how, Phen? How did you –? No, never mind how, it’s not important. Do you remember a tapestry showing the presentation of the Night Shard to Dahg Mahn?”
The boy thought for a moment, and then a smile crept across his face.
“Who’s going into Pratchert’s Tower?” His eyes found Hyden, and flared hopefully.
“Phen, tell me where the tapestry is, or you’ll be scrubbing pots in the kitchen for a month,” Targon ordered.
The boy’s smile vanished.
“It’s in the third rack, along the display wall, but won’t you at least tell me…”
Targon, with a dismissive wave of his hand, made the apparition of the boy vanish.
While Targon went over to the rack that was holding the tapestries, Hyden studied the one nearest the door. There were dwarves and elves fighting desperately against a cloud of dragons, that were ridden, by what Hyden could only assume, were humans. Hyden noticed that the dragons, as well as the riders, all wore collars.
“My daughter used him to collar the dragon and then left him for me to sacrifice!” Pael’s cold words echoed in Hyden’s brain.
The vile demon-wizard had said it proudly, like a taunt or a brazen boast. Hyden, now angry again, and disgusted, walked away from the scene, trying to calm himself and keep his mind focused.
“Here,” Targon exclaimed after few moments.