Silver Cathedral Saga (22 page)

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Authors: Marcus Riddle

Tags: #fantasy, #magick, #silver cathedral

BOOK: Silver Cathedral Saga
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They were
all near the stairs waiting for Ematay in the Madam Mansion, in the
hallway; the two sets of stairs on opposite sides that took them up
to the nine doors seemed to have not aged or decayed in any way.
They both appeared the same, with no unique individual traits, as
if they were cloned. They looked too new for a place as old as it
was. It made little sense, but then the power of the gods rarely
did to folk. Eleanor figured the place was protected in this realm,
which made it not age whatsoever. Like the realms of

Ether’ in the legends her mother would read to her.
Only that was a guess.

“Don’t
worry,” said Christian. “You didn’t have me last time. I love
riddles.”

“I have no
idea how Ematay has managed without you two so far,” said the
Beast-caster Adea.

“I just
hope you can solve it in time,” said Lauretta.

“Will you
shut up,” blurted out Eleanor. “Christian is extremely smart, and
Ematay is a brave man. A one who put his life on the line for two
insignificant children. I would like to see you do better.”

“Almost as
insignificant as my spot problem in this crisis,” said Christian,
adding to the odd emphasis of their unimportant lives in this big
world.

Eleanor was
fed up with the rudeness of these Spell-casters in her presence,
and the attitude they had towards Star-casters in general.
Especially towards her new found friend.

On

Ematay
returned to his fellow group with a whistling sound you would hear
from a kettle being ready on a stove.

A blue blur
swooped in through the portal to the Madam Mansion, before he
returned to his former human body with a white flash that was quite
hot if you stood near, like Eleanor.

“I have to
admit that I love doing that. Such a rush. Pun intended,” said
Ematay.

Eleanor and
Christian laughed where none of the others did, clearly he had used
this before, maybe too many times.

“Time to go
get our swans then carry on to the Heart of the Mountain,” said the
Star-caster; they all went behind single file whilst going through
the portal to the outside where their War Swans laid. They then all
split and were in a row, walking towards the stable.

There was a
weary presence now inside the children. It gave them time to think
of everything happening. In much more detail. Which anyone would
know is not always a good thing.

This lull
of worrying about everything became all the more real, but they
knew they all had to go; press on into the Heart of the Mountain.
No matter what.

They each
sat upon their swan. And took off. On this side, Eleanor and
Christian noticed that the portal to this secret place on the
inside was a dark, big rock that looked as if it belonged here
underground.

Their
numbers all sank through the portal with a sound of a single
splashing wave ascending upon the rock itself.

Ematay’s
group flew through the air with a fast grace, War Swans being one
of the few creatures that can do such a thing.

The
hours seemed to merge together the farther they got to the Heart of
the Mountain.

Ematay flew
in front as he had the map, and led them all the right way. He had
the map strapped to the swans neck with a thick rope. It wasn’t
hurting the swan, but held the map curved around its neck near the
spot the destination was at. He was more used to travelling by swan
back than walking, like he done three days ago with Eleanor and
Christian, and the children could see this by just observing his
movement at this time: Ematay seemed more comfortable, keen and
confident about this situation.

Maybe the
riddle didn’t help, but his geographical intelligence was not very
good on land either. From a bird’s eye view things would look so
much different, thought Eleanor, I think I understand why he was a
little lost on foot. From using the swans so much it would have
become a part of him—more than walking to his location over far
distances anyway.

Ematay
screamed through the air when he turned around and stood up a bit
to gain height. “We will be there in twenty minutes.”

It was
several seconds until Eleanor saw the landscape she saw just three
days ago with Christian, yet this time there was no sun to help as
it was night. It had went past four o‘clock already in the
afternoon, and that is when night takes hold over this world.

“Look,
there’s Silvarian,” said Eleanor to Christian. Only when the time
came to getting closer, Eleanor felt uncomfortable pointing it out
because it was crumbled, darkened and clearly not where life lived
anymore, or at least not the life Astorians had come to know and
were fond of.

There was a
foul stench of a fire, though they couldn’t see any smoke from the
city, only the dark night that it affected. All of the
Spell-casters and children just tried to keep their eyes open,
remembering the place; the people it housed for many years, not to
mention the big businesses of trading there.

They all
bowed their heads remembering those that lost their true homes. It
spiralled into those that also lost their lives as they knew it in
Sunndira and Hiva Aura: Eleanor. Christian. Ematay.

The once
proud silver walls lost their gloss when some of the Spell-casters
star-metal bracelets lit part of it up with a saddened blue—they
could see the walls lost their life. As if it told them something
from afar, even without them knowing what happened on such a day
not that long ago; it would be quite clear now.

All the War
Swans with themselves upon soon enough passed the Silver Haven,
much to its ironic name it still seemed to have clicked for many
people to think of it as that.

The
children never could have predicted that flying would shave off so
many hours. It was at times like these that they appreciated their
planet for being as small as it was.

“We will be
lowering in about another sixty seconds,” said Ematay.

“Sixty
seconds,” repeated Christian behind him. “Why didn’t he just say a
minute?”

“How am I
supposed to know?” said Eleanor.

Though it
seemed Ematay had decided to lie, or had misjudged the time a
little.

It was now
that they noticed all life was gone, swept away or killed. They
couldn’t even see wildlife around this area. It became a
troublesome thought to keep thinking on so they tried to focus on
getting to their destination yet again.

Ematay
started lowering his swan ten minutes later instead of sixty
seconds, the mountain very clear to Eleanor, and clear enough to
the rest to see what it was too. The grey tower was still blurred
to the others, but Eleanor could see the lines and detail of it
easy from here. There was some white, the cold from the clouds
didn’t cause the snow because they were never near it, but it
seemed to still remain somewhat icy and snowy on top the Mistless
Mountain.

The
children continued to lower, but didn’t do so as fast as Ematay, he
was quite a lot lower than them as he flew through the thick clogs.
Christian made sure he knew exactly where to go before lowering too
far down. In case he got an earlier landing than intended.

Ematay
finally landed with a thud, the swan running a little whilst
flapping, until the momentum had eventually stopped. The others
landed all before the amateur rider prepared to do so.

Christian
and Eleanor landed next, but ended up landing a little earlier than
intended; Christian pushed the swan too fast to the land, and
because of this the swan ran faster than usual whilst trying to
slow down upon it. Its momentum made the swan tip itself over, not
finding its usual balance from an experienced rider. The children
ended being about 300 yards away from the other Spell-casters
somehow still. They continued to get off and lead their War Swan
nearer to Ematay, but to the side.

The others
landed much like Ematay, with skill, letting the swan slow itself
down after a careful landing.

The rest
all got off and tied the swans to the only thing they could trust,
a thick trunk, of which there was an odd number of: Fifteen, just a
little in front of the mountain entrance. The children remembered
these trees well last time.

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.

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