“Explain now,” Royce told him. “I have other appointments to consider.”
“You can’t help Hadrian,” the wizard said. “The Gilarabrywn is already at the village by now. Hadrian is either dead or safe. Nothing you can do will change that. You can’t help him, but you can help me. I spent the better part of two days trying to access the Valentryne Layartren, but without your hands, Royce, I can’t reach it, and it would take days, perhaps weeks, for me to operate alone, but with Arista here, we can do it all tonight. Maribor has seen fit to deliver both of you to me at the precise moment I need you most.”
“Valentryne Layartren,” Royce muttered, “that’s elvish for artistic vision, isn’t it?”
“You know some elvish, good for you, Royce,” Esrahaddon said. “You should pursue your roots more.”
“Your roots?” Arista said, confused.
They both ignored her.
“You can’t help the people back at the village, but you can help me do what I came here to do. What I brought you here to help me with.”
“You need us to help you find the true Heir of the Empire?”
“You’re normally quicker than this, Royce. I’m disappointed.”
“I thought you were keeping it a secret.”
“I was, but circumstances have forced me to reconsider. Now quit being so stubborn and come with me. You might look back on this moment one day and reflect on how you changed the course of the world by simply walking down these steps.”
Royce continued to hesitate.
“Think,” Esrahaddon said. “What can you do for Hadrian?”
Royce didn’t answer.
“If you run down the steps, race through the tunnel, swim out to the woods, and kill yourself running to the village, what will that accomplish? Even if you miraculously manage to reach the town before Hadrian is killed, how will that help? You will be standing there exhausted and dripping wet. You don’t have the sword. You can’t harm it. You can’t scare it. I doubt you can even distract it, and if you do, it will only be for a moment. If you go, it will only be to your own death, and for no reason at all. Hadrian’s fate does not lie in your hands. You know I’m right, or you wouldn’t still be listening to me. Now stop being stubborn.”
Royce sighed.
“Thank the gods,” the wizard said. “Let’s get moving.”
“Wait a minute.” Arista stopped them. “Don’t I get a say in this too?”
The wizard looked back at her. “Do you know the way out?”
“No,” she replied.
“Then no, you don’t get a say,” the wizard told her. “Now, please, we’ve wasted enough time. Follow me.”
“I remember you being nicer,” Arista shouted at the wizard.
“And I remember both of you being faster.”
They were off again, heading deeper into the center of the tower. As they did, Esrahaddon spoke again. “Most people believe this tower was built by the elves as a defensive fortress for the wars against Novron. As both of you most likely have guessed, that’s not true. This tower predates Novron by many millennia. Others think it was built as a fortress against the sea goblins, the infamous Ba Ran Ghazel, only that’s also not true, since the tower predates their appearance as well. The common mistake here is that this is a fortress at all—that’s the result of human thinking. The fact is, the elves lived for eons before man or goblin, and perhaps even before dwarves entered the world. In those days they had no need for fortresses. They didn’t even have a word for war, as the Horn of Gylindora controlled all of their internal strife. No, this wasn’t some defensive bulwark guarding the only crossing point on the Nidwalden River, although that certainly became its use many eons later. Originally, this tower was designed as a center for the Art.”
“He means magic,” Arista clarified.
“I know what he means.”
“Elven masters would travel here from the world over to study and practice advanced Art. Still, this wasn’t just a school. The building itself is an enormous tool, like a giant furnace for a blacksmith, only in this case, the building works as a focusing element. The falls function as a source of power and the tower’s numerous spires are like the antennae on a grasshopper or the whiskers of a cat. They reach out into the world, sensing, feeling, drawing into this place the very essence of existence. It is like a giant lever and fulcrum, allowing a single artist to magnify their power almost beyond reason.”
“Artistic vision …” Royce said. “It’s a device that will allow you to use magic to find the heir?”