Theft Of Swords: The Riyria Revelations (17 page)

“An invisible door sounds like a fairy tale to me,” Alric replied. “So it seems appropriate.”

“It’s not invisible. You can see the cliff, can’t you? It’s merely well hidden. Dwarves can cut stone with such precision you can’t see a gap.”

“You do have to admit, Royce,” Hadrian said, “what dwarves can do with stone is amazing.”

Royce glared over his shoulder at him. “Don’t talk to me.”

Hadrian smiled. “Royce doesn’t much care for the wee folk.”

“Open in the name of Novron!” Alric suddenly shouted with a commanding tone, his voice echoing between the stony slopes.

Royce spun around and fixed the prince with a withering stare. “Don’t do that again!”

“Well,
you
weren’t making any progress. I just thought perhaps since this was, or is, a church prison, maybe a religious command would unlock it. Myron, is there some standard religious saying to open a door? You should know about this. Is there such a thing?”

“I’m not a priest of Nyphron. The Winds Abbey was a monastery of Maribor.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Alric said, looking disappointed.

“I mean, I know
about
the Church of Nyphron,” Myron
clarified, “but since I’m not a member, I’m not privy to any secret codes or chants or such.”

“Really?” Hadrian said. “I thought you monks were just sort of like the poorer, younger brother of the Nyphron Church.”

Myron smiled. “If anything, we’d be the older but still the poorer brother. Worshiping Emperor Novron is a relatively recent event that began a few decades after the emperor’s death.”

“So you monks worship Maribor while the Nyphrons worship Novron?”

“Close,” the monk said, “the Nyphron Church also worships Maribor but they just put more emphasis on Novron. The main difference comes down to what you are looking for. We monks believe in a personal devotion to Maribor—seeking his will in quiet places. It’s through ancient rituals, and in this silence, that he speaks to us in our hearts. We’re striving to know Maribor better.

“The Church of Nyphron, on the other hand, focuses on trying to understand Maribor’s will. They believe the birth of Novron demonstrates Maribor’s desire to take a direct hand in controlling the fate of mankind. As such, they are very involved in politics. You’re familiar with the story of Novron, aren’t you?”

Hadrian pursed his lips. “Um … he was the first emperor and defeated the elves in some war a long time ago. I’m not sure why that makes him a god.”

“He’s not, actually.”

“Then why do so many people worship him?”

“Novron is believed to be the son of Maribor, sent to aid us in our darkest hour. There are six actual gods. Erebus is the father of all of the gods and he made the world of Elan. He brought forth three sons and a daughter. The eldest son,
Ferrol, is a master of magic and created the elves. His second son is Drome, the master craftsman who created the dwarves. The youngest is Maribor and he, of course, created man. It was Erebus’s daughter, Muriel, who created the animals, birds, and the fish in the sea.”

“That’s five.”

“Yes, there is also Uberlin, the son of Erebus and Muriel.”

“The god of darkness,” Alric put in.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him, but wait—are you saying the father had a child with his own daughter?”

“It was a terrible mistake,” Myron explained. “Erebus forced himself on Muriel while in a drunken rage. Their union resulted in the birth of Uberlin.”

“That must have been awkward at family gatherings—raping your own daughter and all,” Hadrian said.

“Quite. In fact, Erebus’s original sons, Ferrol, Drome, and Maribor, slew him because of the incident. When Uberlin tried to defend his father, all three turned on him and imprisoned their nephew, or would that be
brother
? I guess it’s really both, isn’t it? Well, anyway, they locked Uberlin in the depths of Elan. Even though he was born through a terrible violation, Muriel was heartbroken to lose her only son and refused to speak to her brothers again.”

“So now we’re back to five gods.”

“Not exactly. Many people believe that a god is immortal and cannot die. There are some cults that believe Erebus still lives and wanders Elan as a man searching for forgiveness for his crime.”

The day was growing dark and the wind picked up, heralding another possible storm. The horses started to become spooked, so Hadrian went to check on them. Alric got up and walked around, rubbing his legs and muttering about being saddle sore.

“Myron?” Hadrian called over. “Would you like to help me unsaddle them? I don’t think we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Of course,” the monk said eagerly. “Now, how do I do that?”

Together, Hadrian and Myron relieved the animals of their saddles and packs and stowed the gear under a small rock ledge. Myron summoned the courage every so often to stroke their necks. Once everything was put away, Hadrian suggested Myron gather some grass for the animals while he went to check on Royce.

His partner sat on the path, staring at the cliff. Occasionally, the thief would get up, examine a portion of the wall, and sit back down, grumbling.

“Well? How’s it going?”

“I hate dwarves,” Royce replied.

“Most people do.”

“Yes, but I have a reason. The bastards are the only ones that can make boxes I can’t open.”

“You’ll open it. It won’t be pretty, and it won’t be soon, but you’ll open it. What I don’t understand is why would Arista send us here knowing that we couldn’t get in?”

Royce sat on his haunches, his cloak draped out around him. His eyes remained focused but he was frustrated. “I can’t even see anything. If I could even find just a crack, then maybe … but how can I break a lock when I can’t even find the door?”

Hadrian gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before returning to Myron, who had finished feeding the horses and had joined Alric, sitting over by the cliff’s wall.

“How’s it coming?” Alric asked with a bit of annoyance in his voice.

“Nothing yet, just leave him be. Royce will figure it out. It just takes some time.” Hadrian turned his attention back to
Myron. “I was thinking about what you were saying before. If Uberlin is considered a god, why did you say Novron is not? After all, they’re both children of gods, right?”

“Well, no, technically he’s a demigod, part god, part human. You see, Maribor sent Novron to—well, let me jump back a bit. Okay, so Ferrol was the oldest and when he created the elves, they spread, albeit slowly, across all of Elan. When Drome came along, he granted his children control of the underground world. This left no place for Maribor’s children. So mankind was forced to struggle in the most wretched corners left to us.”

“So the elves got all the good places, and we got stuck with the dregs? That doesn’t sound very fair,” Hadrian said.

“Well, our ancestors weren’t happy about that either. Not to mention humans reproduce much more quickly than elves, who have a much longer life span. This made conditions rather crowded and it only got worse when the dwarves were driven to the surface.”

“Driven? By who?”

“You remember what I said about the gods locking Uberlin in the underworld? Well, he created his own race, just like Drome, Maribor, and Ferrol.”

“Ah … the goblins. I can see how they would make things less
homey
down there.”

“Exactly. Between mankind’s growing numbers and the emergence of the dwarves, our ancestors were being crushed. So they begged Maribor for help. He heard their pleas and tricked his brother Drome into forging the great sword Rhelacan. Then he convinced his other brother Ferrol to enchant the weapon. All he needed was a warrior to wield it, so he came to Elan in disguise and slept with a mortal woman. Their union produced Novron the Great. He united all the tribes of mankind and led them in a war against the elves.
Armed with the Rhelacan, Novron was victorious and so began mankind’s dominance, led by Novron, who had united all of humanity.”

“Okay, that makes sense, but when did we start worshiping Novron as a god?”

“That occurred after his death. The Church of Nyphron was established to pay homage to Novron as the savior of mankind. The newly formed church became the official religion of the empire, but farther away from the imperial capital of Percepliquis, people remembered the old ways and continued to worship Maribor as they always had.”

“And that would be you, the Monks of Maribor, I mean?”

Myron nodded.

During their discussion, storm clouds continued to form, filling the sky and darkening the ravine. What light remained was an odd hue, adding a sense of the surreal to the landscape. Soon the wind began gusting through the pass, blowing dirt into the air. In the distance echoed the low rumble of thunder.

“Any luck with the door, Royce?” Hadrian called over. He sat resting with his back against the cliff, his legs outstretched, and he tapped the tips of his boots together. “Because it looks like we’re in for another cold, wet night, only this time we won’t have any shelter.”

Royce muttered something indiscernible.

Down below, framed by the walls of the ravine, the surface of the lake shone like a mirror facing the sky. Every now and then it would flash brilliantly as lightning flickered in the distance.

Royce grumbled again.

“What’s that?” Hadrian asked.

“I was just thinking about what you said earlier. Why
would
Arista send us here if she knew we couldn’t get in? She must have thought we could; maybe to her it was obvious.”

“Maybe it’s magic,” Alric said, pulling his cloak tighter.

“Enough with the enchanted words,” Royce told him. “Locks are mechanical. Believe me. I know a thing or two on the subject. Dwarves are very clever and very skilled, but they don’t make doors that unlock because of a sound.”

“I just brought it up because Arista could do some, so maybe getting in was easy for her.”

“Do some what?” Hadrian asked.

“Magic.”

“Your sister is a witch?” Myron asked, disturbed.

Alric laughed. “You could certainly say that, yes, but it has little to do with her magical prowess. She went to Sheridan University for a few years and learned magical theory. It never amounted to much, but she was able to do a few things. For instance, she magically locks the door to her room, and I think she made the countess Amril sick over some dispute about a boy. Poor Amril was covered in boils for a week.”

Royce looked over at Alric. “What do you mean, magically locks her door?”

“There’s never been a lock on it, but no one can open it but her.”

“Did you ever see your sister unlock her door?”

Alric shook his head. “I wish I had.”

“Myron,” Royce said, “did you ever read anything about unusual locks or keys? Maybe something associated with dwarves?”

“There’s the tale of
Iberius and the Giant
, where Iberius uses a key forged by dwarves to open the giant’s treasure box, but it wasn’t magical—just big. There’s also the Collar of Liem, from the
Myth of the Forgotten
, which refused to unlock until the wearer was dead—I guess that doesn’t help much, does it? Hmm … let me think … perhaps it has something to do with gemlocks.”

“Gemlocks?”

“They’re not magical either but they were invented by dwarves. They’re gems that interact with other stones to create subtle vibrations. Gemlocks are generally used when several people need to open the same locked container. All they need is a matching gem. For particularly valuable containers, the lock might require a specific cut, which modifies the resonance. Truly gifted gemsmiths could make a lock that actually changed with the seasons, allowing different gems to unlock it at different times of the year. This is what gave rise to the idea of birthstones, because certain stones have more strength at certain times. I’ve—”

“That’s it,” Royce interrupted.

“What’s it?” Alric asked. Royce reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dark blue ring. Alric jumped to his feet. “That’s my father’s ring. Give it to me!”

“Fine,” Royce said, tossing it toward the prince. “Your sister told us to return it to you when we got to the prison.”

“She did?” Alric looked surprised. He slipped the ring on his finger, and like his sword, it did not quite fit and spun around from the weight of the gem. “I thought she took it. It has the royal seal. She could have used it to muster the nobles, to make laws, or to announce herself as steward. With it, she could have taken control of everything.”

“Maybe she
was
telling the truth,” Hadrian suggested.

“Let’s not make snap judgments,” Royce cautioned. “First, let’s see if this works. Your sister said you would need the ring to get into the prison. I thought she meant to identify you as the king, but I think she meant it a bit more literally. If I’m correct, touching the stone with the ring will cause giant doors to open.”

They all gathered at the cliff face close to Alric in anticipation of the dramatic event.

“Go ahead, Alric—do it.”

He turned the ring so the gem was on top, made a fist, and attempted to touch it to the cliff. As he did, his hand disappeared into the rock. Alric recoiled, wheeling backward with a cry.