Chapter Sixty-five
Together, they walked to the throne room, hand in hand. The King and Gregron were alone, standing near a narrow window. They were embraced in a tight hug as the couple entered. “See, I’m not the only one worried.” She elbowed Damion in the side, with a tinkling laugh.
Shaking his head, Damion watched as the two jumped, parting. The King’s visage was unreadable. After all his years of not being able to have emotion, he was a natural at keeping it hidden. Gregron however, had a small blossom of red high on his cheeks and his boots had suddenly become way too interesting.
“It’s time then, huh?” Gregron asked, touching the sword at his side.
“It is.” Damion nodded. He’d only been in the throne room once before, and that had been an accident. The entire room glowed with the light from the stained-glass windows. Each one a compliment to the Goddess Ephira. From her walking amoung war riddled lands and healing her folk, to resting in her beloved’s arms. A tree that looked much like his chartis tree at home graced the only round window in the room, sitting massively above the two thrones. He swallowed hard, one day he would be expected to sit in that throne. Trees and flowers bloomed across the edges of the room, filling it with warmth. Yet, above them, weapons of all kind graced the walls, bring a cold hard declaration of the world they lived in now.
Damion unbuckled his belt, slipping off the coursebine sword he carried almost everywhere. “Keep it safe until I return.” He gave Volencia a half-cocked smile.
It took two hands for her to hold it. It was heavier than he made it look. “I will.” She stood on her toes, kissing him. “Just make sure you come back for it.”
Hating that he felt like they were saying good-bye. “The sword in hardly the most important thing I’m coming back for.”
“All right,” Gregron announced, his stoic manner back full force. “If we’re going to do this, now’s the time.”
Venron lead the way to the door in the back corner of the throne room. It was large, three folk could step though it at once. A number of large bolts and locks and three massive bars kept it sealed from this side. Usually, when no one was planning on using the door one lone guard stood at attention. Just in case someone, like Cala the night before, came for entrance to the kingdom. None stood there now, which meant Venron had sent him away.
“I’ve been dying to see one of the towers from Toran’s Chronicles.” Damion said, excitement hitching in his voice.
“I don’t blame you, my boy. They are the greatest creations ever made by mortals. I can’t imagine the time and effort that went into creating them.” Venron agreed, his keys jingling as he worked the locks.
Damion helped pull down the large bars, as Venron made quick work of the locks and bolts. To see this room had Damion’s hairs standing on end. Toran, the creator of the towers, had been one of Damion’s favorite heros. A common boy, who loved a common girl, had created the mirrors. The story was tragic and they were traditional star-crossed lovers. Damion knew the story well, even better than the creation story.
As the un-oiled hinges creaked, however, he was taken aback. The overwhelming stench of death and decay left his mind reeling. He took a number of steps back. Covering his nose and mouth. The stern and formidable look on Volencia’s face told him she smelled it too. Though Gregron and Venron looked unaffected. At least until Gregron spoke. “This place does crazy things to my magic.” He looked pointedly at Damion. “Either it boils, or it freezes. Todays a good day. It’s freezing.” His eyes locked on Damion’s. He shrugged, “Which is better than the boiling.”
The tower was the tallest building in all of Thambair. It stood tall against even the palace by a number of stories. A spiral staircase rounded the cylendrical walls and with each level, three mirrors glowed, silver swirling in all different directions. Each mirror was flanked by large intricately etched pillars, an arching frieze told a story about the land the mirror would bring them to. Damion knew from reading the stories, that the pillars were mined from the local areas too. Thambair for instance was known for its marble mines up north, and the pillars and frieze were carved from the marble there. Damion felt his body heave, but he held back what was in his stomach.
“I hate this place.” Volencia scowled around the room.
“Why does it smell like blood?” Damion asked, looking at the others.
“It always smells like this.” Volencia’s face paled a little, and she scurried out of the room. He could hear her vomiting. His immediate response was to follow, but Venron grabbed his arm.
“She’ll be fine. This room has always bothered her. She also says she smells blood. Has since she was a child. We always thought it was her imagination running wild.” Venron interceded.
Damion glared at the room, it was almost dizzying to look up at how tall the place was, the stairwell running all the way up the 24 levels, 3 mirrors to each portion. “Your eyes are going black. Are you okay?” Volencia said, having come to stand beside him.
“This is the only way we’re getting to that meeting today.” Gregron said, watching him. “Trust me, it’s not going to break my heart if you decide that you want to back out now.”
“They’re just mirrors.” Venron said, shrugging. “I’m not sure what everyone is so up in arms for. This will be the least of your worries today.”
Damion’s eyes caught the King’s. The fear she saw there was real and true. But he was right. This would be the first of many obsticals he would have to shuffle thorugh today. Venron lead the way, coaxing first Gregron, then her, into the tower. “Don’t be afraid of mirrors, child.” Venron announced. “They won’t show you anything a regular mirror will show you. It’s quick and easy passage. It will get you where you need to be.”
As he stepped into the tower, Damion’s senses ran wild. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to leave this place. The darkness in him was scratching at his insides, also wanting to come out. When Volencia reached out to touch his arm, he jumped. “Are you okay?”