Part VI

When they made their way through the palace halls the next morning, it was Yluna who led them.
“My Father is a Steward of the King.” She explained quietly to them as they walked, “I have often been here to assist him.”
Spire nodding, glancing around the halls. Into the walls, intricate runes were carved in twisting patterns. As they came to doors, Yluna touched them lightly to gain entrance and the runes lit lowly for a few moments before they allowed the door to open. Aside from their steps and the occasional groan or grind of a door, the entire palace was as silent as the rest of the city. The Ildoans themselves moved almost as if they were floating. Spire stepped up beside Yluna.
“Do you…’hear’ a lot of noise when we’re talking here?” He asked very softly.
She glanced over to him, “I do. But it is not unusual that you would not. I was born here, it is quicker for me.”
“Oh…I see.” He nodded slightly.
“It must feel strange.” She ventured softly.
“It does.”
She nodded just slightly, pressing her fingers into the set of runes on the last door. They lit lightly, the door creaking just slightly as it drew back into the small cove carved into the frame for it. Behind it lay the throne room of the King, the runes running more densely over the walls than in the halls through which they had previous come.
The King himself sat solemnly upon a smooth carved throne, not angular but worked into gentle curves. He was tall, even for an Ildoan, his many-pronged horns rising well about the throne’s back. As the rest of the race, his hair was a mist-like white, drifting down in a thin cascade between his shoulders. Overall he seemed to be meant for the throne and the crown, stately and as majestic as the grand stag his horns and ears gave homage to.
“Welcome.” Even the deep feelings of his eyes seemed to ring throughout the hall, as would the deep voice of any other ruler.
Yluna bowed her head, and Spire and Courmier followed suit.
“What has drawn you here to Ciryl?” The King asked. Spire glanced helplessly at Courmier and the King smiled faintly, “An interesting pair, one who cannot hear and one who knows not what to say.” He glanced at Courmier, beckoning him forward.
Courmier, sensing the motion, obeyed and stepped away from the others. The King waited until he was within arms length, and then reached out, setting the heel of his hand against the blonde’s forehead. Courmier’s eyes, seemingly blue until then, paled rapidly into the white outline of sun-blindness.
“An illusion…” Yluna mused very softly, “He is blind, that is why he could not hear…”
Spire nodded slightly, not looking away from the motions of the King. His hand had lighted just slightly, a cool blue glow shimmering beneath his palm. To Spire’s surprise, he let his deep blue eyes slide shut, his head bowing just slightly. For a few moments he remained that way, and then he drew back.
“Your companion says that you are here to ask for the last of our mineral quarzine.” He said, “Is this so?”
Spire nodded just a bit, still amazed by the strange exchange.
“And it is the reason that you are here as well?” The King asked quietly, curiosity evident in his voice.
“It… it is.” Spire lied, remembering Yluna’s previous warning and trying his best to do anything that would ‘close off his eyes’.
The King half-smiled knowingly, “I see. Then so be it.” He motioned for Courmier to step back, and when the other obeyed he went on, “Then if it is truly to be fate that you have it, it will be no trouble for you to attain it.” He set two fingers into the runes covering the throne and it ground against the floor, drawing back slowly to reveal even more dense runes in intricate patterns behind it, “There are chambers beyond these markings. As you must have seen, they are the keys to all our doors. If it is within destiny that you will have the quarzine, you will find it inside the halls and chambers through this passage.”
Spire hesitated lightly, looking over the twisted maze of runic carvings on the pale wall. There were so many… and if there were more chambers beyond the first pattern it could take them forever to find all of the perfect spots to unlock them all.
“What does he want us to do?” Courmier hissed softly into his ear.
“The mineral… quarzine? It is somewhere beyond that panel.” Spire told him, “He wants us to find it on our own. To prove that it is truly ‘destiny; for us to have it.”
Courmier blinked, “Oh…”
“Come along.” The King told them softly, “There is no need to draw anything out. Unless of course you believe that there will be time to spare.” He smiled, close to wryly.
Giving each other a single, silent glance the pair stepped forward. Spire cautiously set a hand against the carvings. The stone was cold against his fingertips, and he drew them helplessly over the marks. So very, very many… it couldn’t even be possible to get through more than one chamber without knowing how to open the doors.
He was just about to draw back, to turn to the King once more in despair, when a firm hand gripped his wrist. Surprised, he looked over the find that the hand in question belonged to Courmier.
“What are you doing?” The halfbreed asked confusedly.
He had barely finished the sentence when the other blonde began to pull his hand just slightly. Within moments, a sudden glow lit up from within one of the runes, flickering its way throughout the pattern. Spire withdrew his hand as the panel slowly groaned, rising up into its alcove. He turned to Courmier, shocked.
“How did you do that?” He asked, “How did you know?”
Courmier glanced at him, “It… It was near the same thing as sensing where the people are around me. The spot is just…different.”
The shock of the easy finding slowly wearing off, Spire nodded and stepped forward into the open chamber. It was as densely marked in runes as the previous panel had been.
“Can… can you do it again?” Spire questioned softly.
Courmier did not respond, but instead stepped further into the chamber. His hands brushed over one wall, and then the next. He made a sudden stop and reached just slightly above himself. As it had done before, the marking immediately began to shimmer. The light wound its way like a ribbon into the rest of the markings, and the door drew itself back for them once again. However, as it did so, the first slid shut, leaving the room bathed only in the glow of runes left emanating from the door’s small slot. Spire blinked, then bit his lip slightly. He set a hand worriedly against the opposite wall to right himself. It did not bode well, and the room felt somehow more close in the darkness.
“Go on to the next one.” He hissed softly to Courmier.
The other nodded, moving swiftly into the next chamber. Spire followed closely behind him, but as Courmier began to shift around the room, the halfbreed stayed close to one wall. Nervously, he leaned against it. He had lied to the King about his reasons for being in Ildoa. He had not, after all, desired to come. If not for the circumstances, he wouldn’t have. Perhaps he was not “truly” meant to have the mineral after all. Perhaps it was not in his “fate”, and they would not be able to find it.
He sighed softly to himself, shutting his eyes lightly. It had not been but a few moments when suddenly he felt a deep cold in his chest. His eyes snapped open, and at the sight he gasped sharply. One of the runes had lit once again and seemingly peeled itself spectrally off the wall. The light, like a snake, had slid its way through his chest. To his horror, he noticed that several of the other runes had somehow pulled their way off of the wall behind him as well. Their glimmering tendrils wrapped around him, twisting and pulling at his arms and legs. The first one was still slithering its way inside his chest.
“Courmier!” The cry was hushed, more a sharp and startled whisper than an exclamation, “Courmier, help me!”
The other turned quickly away from the opposite wall, then blinked.
“…Help you?” He asked, “What are you talking about? Help you with what?”
Spire stared at him, wide-eyed, “W-with these!” He stammered.
“These what? Spire, there’s nothing there.” Said Courmier.
“Can’t you see- Can’t you feel them!?” Spire gasped as the runic tendrils drew him to the wall more tightly.
“There is nothing there, Spire.” Courmier insisted, “Stop panicking over the dark and let me find the spot” He turned his back on the halfbreed to continue searching.
The lined man let out a soft, horrified breath. If Courmier could not feel them, then what were they? They were touching him, he could feel their pulling and twisting. They had to be there! They could not just simply not exist, they were holding him back!
“Courmier, please…” He whispered pleadingly.
The other whirled, glancing at him irritably, “Spire, your mind is playing-”
Not truly here…
“-tricks on you.”
Spire’s eyes widened. He was sure, absolutely sure that he had just heard someone or something speaking to him. Was he mad?
Lied… no reason to be here…
“That’s strange…where is it?” Courmier muttered softly to himself from across the chamber, “I can’t seem to find the spot…”
“No no no!” Spire thought weakly, “Get off of me!”
No reason to go on, either…
It was the runes, he was sure of it. Somehow, they were actually speaking. But he did have a reason to be there. He did have a reason to go on!
“No!” He cried sharply, “Gods, I just want to live!”
With a small hiss, the runes untwisted themselves from around him. The first one slipped swiftly back through his chest and reapplied itself to the wall. Spire fell to his knees, panting heavily.
Courmier turned, frowning, “You’re raving, Spire.” He said, gripping one of his arms and then pausing, “Gods, you’re warm…”
“You didn’t…you didn’t feel anything?” Spire asked weakly.
“No…nothing.” Courmier told him skeptically, then set a hand on the wall to which Spire had previously been attached. He yelped slightly, drawing it back, “The spot…it’s there, but it’s so hot…”
“There was something there, Courmier. I’m telling you, it’s true.” Spire said softly, “It was like the runes just peeled away from the walls and took a hold of me.”
Courmier watched him for just a moment, then turned away and pressed two fingers swiftly and gingerly into the correct spot. The runes lit once more, but before they did, it was as if the wall itself let out a low breath. Small swirls of red twisted and vanished immediately from off of it. Shocked, Courmier glanced back at Spire as the door ground its way open.
“You… you were not lying.” He stammered, eyes wide with surprise.
Spire growled softly, long canines well pronounced as he did so, “No, I was not lying, Courmier. I am not like you.” He spat.
The other scowled, looking away from Spire and into the third chamber. Unlike the previous two, torches along the walls lit it well. In the center of the room upon a simply wooden pedestal lay the last remaining deposit of the mineral quarzine. Courmier smiled faintly to himself, stepping into the chamber. Spire slipped in silently after him. The sun-blind man strode up to the pedestal and removed the small slab of stone from it. Carefully, he deposited it in a pouch at his back.
“Now all we have to do is go back throu-” His sentiment was cut off sharply by a dull thud from behind him. He turned quickly.
Sprawled out across the chamber floor lay Spire, his breath coming to him in short, shallow pants. He had fallen unconscious. Courmier’s eyes widened.
“The antidote… I have not given him the first dose of the antidote yet.” He gasped, kneeling quickly beside the fallen halfbreed.
Although tall, Spire’s build was exceedingly slim, and the Duralian had no trouble lifting him from the floor. He held him carefully like a sleeping child. As he turned, he expected to have to work his way out of the runic maze, but the doors had slid open, and there was even light visible from the throne room. Swiftly, he made his way back through the chambers, stepping out into the great hall. The small doses of antidote he had carefully hidden within his traveling pack, he had left them at the Steward’s home and could get there quickly enough to spare the halfbreed any permanent damage.
The King, seated once again at his throne, glanced up at Courmier questioningly as he stepped from the passages. Yluna had not stayed, or perhaps had been told to leave. Whatever the case, the Ildoan ruler was the only other left in the room. Courmier nodded to him slightly, trying to indicate the pair’s success in attaining the quarzine. He turned to leave, but as his did so the King rose, setting a hand on the Duralian’s shoulder. Through the contact, Courmier could hear his message very clearly within his mind. It was a soft but firm warning.
“Your course of action is not heroic. Not righteous.”
***