But what lock did it fit? The question struck me so forcefully that I sank down on a bench to consider it. Had anyone in my hearing ever named the purpose of the elder’s key? I knew that the breeding females of our Line prized it, but my dam had certainly never told me what chest or door it was meant to unlock. If a key no longer functioned as such, why should it be handed down through generations? There had to be a matching lock . . . but where?
I shook my aching head. Why should the elder’s key suddenly be so important to me? Where was its lock? Because the key was likely as old as our castle, I reasoned that it must be associated with an equally old lock. I swiftly surveyed all of our treasure chests, but none of them bore locks of the proper size or metal. Doors—there must be dozens of doors in the oldest parts of the castle. Before I could pursue my thoughts any further, I was called to attend to baronial duties. I tucked the key inside my belt wallet until I could snatch the time to continue my investigations.
No opportunity occurred that day, and I was required to attend more Assembly functions that evening. By the time I retired to bed, I had temporarily forgotten the elder’s key, but it was not finished with me.
I awoke as if a sword blade had been pressed against my cheek. I was seized by a conviction: the key did belong to a lock made of the same metal, a lock in a very particular door. My visual impression of the door was so strong that I put out my hand to touch its rough wooden surface, only to clutch empty air. My vision had been another dream. I sat up, frustrated and angry at first, then intrigued. I could not have imagined a door in such detail—I must have seen it at some time, in some place. Here, in this castle—the words echoed in my mind.
I pulled on my boots and lit a small hand lantern. What better time to search unnoticed than in these hours when few eyes were likely to be open? I extracted the key from my wallet, and as I held it in my hand, I vow I sensed a tenuous directional pull leading downward.
With the key in one hand and the lantern in the other, I descended the remoter back staircases. One dusty passageway to the left beckoned, then I sought more stairs, always going down. The cellars deep beneath the castle had once provided dungeons, but nowadays were used for storage or abandoned to the silent darkness. Never before had I ventured so far below. The tugging sensation in my mind seemed to be growing more pronounced. I hurried through another passageway, descended a flight of stairs whose gritty steps had not been disturbed for years. My lantern light awoke an answering flash of bronze-silver across the antechamber. I had found the door of my dream vision.
I raised the elder’s key and inserted it in the massive lock. When I turned the key, the door opened soundlessly, as if both lock and hinges had been freshly oiled. The space beyond was dark, but the air wafting out was sweet. I had heard of locked rooms full of poisonous vapors sealed to snare the unwary, so I thrust my lantern inside, pushing it along the paving stones. I watched the flame closely, but it burned bright and unaffected. Extracting the key from the lock, I crossed the threshold.
The stonewalled chamber within was bare—no furnishings, no wall hangings, no rugs. I hesitated, disappointed, then a movement among the shadows caught my eye, and I whirled around. The door was closing behind me. Before I could reach back to halt it, the door closed and I heard the lock engage.
Such untoward actions raised the dreaded possibility of magic. The very Betrayal that founded Alizon a thousand years before had been plotted by mages. Since that time, no Alizonder baron of any wit had trusted any magic-wielder. Alizon had always suffered at the hands of images and Witches.
Still, I was of the Line Sired by Krevonel. This was Alizon City, not Estcarp, and I was properly armed. How could magic possibly infiltrate into the roots of Krevonel Castle? Besides, I held the elder’s key in my hand; it had opened the door to this room once. Why should it not function so again?
As I turned toward the door, I think it was the distinct change in the quality of the light that diverted my attention from the lock. The yellow light cast by my lantern from the floor was fast being overwhelmed by a white glare starkly outlining my shadow against the bare wall fitted with the door.
I spun around immediately, crouching as I drew my belt dagger in my left hand. To my amazement, the white light was emanating from a hand-sized spot glowing in mid air at the center of the room. Even as I watched, transfixed, the spot expanded, stretching into an oval tall and wide enough to encompass a man’s body. The area within this peculiar space was opaque, but tremulous, like a bank of curdled clouds suffused by moonlight. Simultaneously repelled and attracted by it, I neared it cautiously, circling all the way around it. It continued to hang motionless, its lower rim a step above the floor level.
I thrust my dagger blade warily into its center. The point penetrated unimpeded, vanishing from sight as if it were plunging into a milky liquid. I snatched back my blade. It appeared unaffected, being neither hotter, colder, nor wetter than before.
I suddenly realized that I was still gripping the elder’s key in my right hand. That strange drawing sensation I had felt earlier resumed with even stronger intensity. Whatever lay within or beyond that oval of light was attracting the key toward it. Driven to investigate this potential breach of security that could threaten not only Krevonel Castle but Alizon City itself, I clasped my dagger firmly in my left hand, raised my boot, and stepped into the oval.
Instantly, I was blinded, deafened, and stricken as if by winter’s iciest blasts. I was not physically touched, yet my body seemed somehow twisted. Before I could cry out, my foot completed its step back onto a level stone surface, and my other senses returned.
But I was no longer in Krevonel’s lower chamber—this space was vast, the walls extending out of sight into dense shadows. To my dismay, there were other people in this chamber. Two of them held lanterns, and by that yellow light and the white glare from the oval portal now behind me, I recognized Alizon’s direst enemies: gray robes, gray eyes, black hair—male and female Estcarpians! Numbed and shaken by my passage through the light portal, I was afflicted by a roaring in my ears and dimming sight. I tried to speak, to raise my dagger to defend myself, but smothering darkness enveloped me and I felt myself falling.
5
Mereth—beginning her account requested for Lormt’s archives: events at Lormt (early 7th Day, Month of the Ice Dragon)
Morfew himself has asked me to record my experiences, commencing with the extraordinary occurrence in one of Lormt’s cellars disclosed by the earthquake. I have thus set aside my private journal to compose this report for the archives. In view of the cascading events that overwhelmed my personal quest, all of our collective energies have become engaged in a more urgent search, upon whose outcome the present fates of whole lands may depend.
But my mind outraces my quill, and fingers stiffened by age require frequent warming at Morfew’s brazier. As any good trader strives to preserve his accounts in order, so shall I begin properly at the beginning of this remarkable tale.
It was near the second week of the Month of the Ice Dragon, and I had resided at Lormt for only two days when I was abruptly jarred from sleep as if by a battle shout. I kindled a night lantern, wrapped myself in my warmest robe, and secured the padded felt slippers that Ouen had given me. The corridor outside my guest chamber appeared deserted. I heard no stirrings or sounds of distress . . . yet I felt irresistibly drawn to descend the staircase and continue to seek more stairs leading farther downward. I had no clear notion of the object of this singular late-night excursion, but I pressed forward through the empty passageways until I simultaneously spied the flicker of other lamps down an adjoining corridor, and heard the muffled rasp of leather and fabric against stone.