The Wizard And The Dragon (37 page)

Authors: Joseph Anderson

BOOK: The Wizard And The Dragon

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She pressed herself against the stone
wall in the bedroom and felt for any hidden switches or compartments. There
were no false stones or handles of any sort. She went to the hidden compartment
instead, taking out the armor carefully piece by piece and inspecting the knobs
and hooks it had been placed upon. None of them turned or could be manipulated
by her hands. She was getting frustrated now, so close to revealing a secret
and being stuck on what appeared to be the last part.

She went back into the study and stared
at the chandelier. She turned to where the swords were hung and looked over
them. Three swords but four places to put them on display. She put her hands on
the bottom hangars and tried to turn them. The left one twisted between her
forefinger and thumb, clicking after she rotated it a full circle. A creak
droned out from the bedroom and she peered in, seeing that the wall had opened
from the inside and parted to show the stairs. A hidden door.

She grabbed one of the swords and
unsheathed it without thinking. She held out the candle as she took the first
step. Half way down it was barely enough light to see the next step below her
feet. The stairs descended farther than she anticipated. She felt like she was
an invader when she reached the bottom. The room was completely dark, so much
so that she couldn’t see the walls around her. She stepped forward.

Something flashed above her head and she
stopped underneath it. It caught the candle’s light and she reached up to it.
There was something embedded in the stone ceiling, something resembling a metal
basket or framework. There were large objects inside, catching the light and
reflecting back at her like jewels. Each of them were larger than her fist. She
held up the candle for a closer look and the flames brushed against the
glittering objects. The flame was abruptly sucked up into the one it touched,
slurped up like the flame had been made of liquid. The flame appeared caught in
the middle of the jewel, an exact dancing replica caught inside of it before
the fire grew brighter. It spread to the rest of the jewels in the basket like
they were pieces of firewood. The first one grew so bright that it hurt her
eyes to look at but the light was soon leeched away by the jewels adjacent to
it, eventually settling to a calm, pleasant glow as the light moved gently
through all the gems in the basket.

It took effort for her to look away from
the display of magic. The light felt too warm when it came from such a cold
source. It filled the room easily and she continued to be amazed as she looked
around herself. She let her sword arm relax at her side. There were no monsters
around her, only a continuation of her home.

The walls were lined with shelves and
counter tops. There were hundreds of glass bottles and jars. They were filled
with strange liquids, some of which glistened back into the room when the light
hit them. Some of the jars were filled with blood, others with organs, pieces
of animals and monsters that she couldn’t identify. Although it was rare, some
jars had contents that were alive and moving, tiny squirming things that shifting
against the glass too small to shake their prisons off the shelves.

The counters had more gemstones and
other vials. There were open books that she looked over. One displayed the
method of preparing the poison she had drank, complete with an empty vial next
to it that she guessed she had drank the night before. There were bowls of
coarse powder and blunt instruments next to them. Mortar and pestle, she somehow
knew. There were varying shapes and sizes of glass bottles and flasks,
alembics, clamps, stands, and dishes. They were in immaculate condition,
cleaned immediately after they had been used. She thought of the mess she had
made in the kitchen upstairs and knew instantly where her priorities would lie.

There were stacks of books in each
corner and more on the shelves near the stairs. The ones on the shelves were
books on alchemy: ingredients, techniques, recipes, and ongoing research. There
were more detailed sketches of plants, animals, monsters, organs, and how to
prepare them. The stacked books, she discovered with a shock, were even older
journals that predated the ones upstairs. She left those alone, exploring the
rest of the room. Over eight hundred years was old enough for one night.

A strange object caught her eye on the
counter. It looked like a small wooden rod but it was as cool and smooth as
metal in her hands when she picked it up. There was a small gemstone lodged
into the base of the item and a darker square on top that seemed the perfect
shape for her thumb. When she pressed on it, the item grew warm in her hands
until, with a sudden pop, the gemstone was gone. A perfectly shaped green apple
appeared from the front end of the item and fell to the floor. She marveled at
the apparent transformation of the gem and could barely begin to comprehend how
the magic had worked. She looked back up at the glistening stones of light and
put the item back down.

There was a door in the corner to her
right, a meter or so away from the stairway. She opened it slowly, just enough
to see if it was dark inside. When it was, she went back upstairs to replace
the flame that the gemstones had stolen from the candle. There was a second
basket of similar stones in the new room. She watched as her surroundings
gradually became visible to her. She became more and more stunned as more of
the room was revealed to her.

There were no other doors. There were no
windows or other openings. It was the final room of her house. There were wide
shelves near the ceiling decorated with the preserved heads and skulls of
dozens of different monsters. There was a troll and an ogre among them. The
names of the others escaped her.

There were weapons displayed on the
walls. Swords and axes, sparkling with gemstones of their own. Decorative
weapons. Embroidered shields and armor. Trophies. Prizes. Rewards from rich and
powerful people. She gave each of them the briefest of glances. It was the
floor that held her attention. The light from above her glimmering back into
her eyes.

The floor was covered in gold and
silver. Piled up to her waist at the highest points. There were encrusted
goblets and crowns, stacks of exquisite jewelry clumped together as if they
were worthless. There were hundreds of gemstones amongst the gold and silver
pieces, some even larger than the ones clasped in the metal framework on the
ceiling. Money. Hundreds of years worth, perhaps even thousands. She felt no
joy at the sight of it, no anger nor wonder. Only confusion and the never ending
echo of an unanswered question.

“Who am I?”

Also by Joseph Anderson:

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