Just a little piece Ch. 3

The argument was wild, but short and Theor was smiling the whole time watching it. His wife stood her ground, never minding the fighter was probably twice her weight. Unfortunately, that left Ricio in a bloody mood, when he turned around, cursing Istarel and Pandora for stealing his blade under his breath. Not waiting for his companions, he strode across the large hall towards one of the exits, his steps echoing loudly, his armour clinking.

Theor slowly stood up as Istarel headed towards him. Smiling triumphantly, she petted her familiar’s head and gave her a proud look. It wasn’t a surprise for Theor. He knew Istarel and Pandora shared a bond that allowed them to understand each other without words.  

The doors Ricio had chosen led the adventurers into a wide corridor. It was empty, safe for braziers hanging from the walls every couple of steps and an occasional writing that Theor translated as prayers to a goddess named Sirrah.

“I know no such goddess,” Ricio muttered.

“Maybe you do, just not under this name,” Theor offered, glad Ricio’s mood had improved to the extend that he was talking again. “Daragon ruled thousands years ago. A lot has changed since his reign.”

“I don’t care,” Ricio growled and scowled at Istarel when she opened yet another door. If it was up to him, he would ignore everything unimportant. The palace was large enough, needless exploration of the place would slow them down.

Theor view his wife’s curiosity with greater leniency. He was glad she’d managed to find at least some part of their journey interesting. He’d never forget her initial protests about the adventure, comparing it with a grave robbery. So he let her indulge in looking behind all those doors.
Mostly they revealed just plain rooms. Often they had a lot of improvised bedrolls on the floor, creating narrow paths between. Almost all of them had been divided into two parts by a divider, and Istarel was sure it concealed a washtub.

The only one who didn’t seem to enjoy any part of the trip was Pandora. She followed her pack quietly, her tail hung down. She could smell the tension and anxiety in the air, together with all kinds other people’s smells. But what made her upset, this place had been marked by something else, something that made the fur on her spine raise. Her human pack members couldn’t smell it, but she could – death.

“Oh, look! What a dining hall!” Istarel exclaimed when she peeked in yet another door. She hurried inside and Theor followed her. Only Ricio stayed where he was with a heavy sigh. Pandora sat down next to him and whined softly.

“Forget it. I’m not petting you,” the large man snapped while adjusting the heavy shield on his back.

The wolf growled, a throaty sound she didn’t need to open her mouth for.

Ricio frowned and looked at the animal at his side. He thought she’d growled to protest against his harsh rejection, but she was staring into the corridor that had led them here.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as if she could answer him. The only one Pandora could “talk” to, whatever it meant, was Istarel and she wasn’t present at the moment. Pandora rose to her feet and her ears flattened to her head. Her lips curled back as she bared her teeth, using her whole body stance to threaten the woman.

Ricio looked at the wolf, then into the empty corridor.  A chill went down his spine as his eyes fixed on the canine again. He watched the muscles in her hind legs work as if she was preparing herself for jumping at her invisible enemy. He was taking his breath to call Istarel, but suddenly the wolf’s behaviour changed.

She relaxed and whined again, turning her head to one side, then the other. She made a step forward and sniffed the air in front of her. Then she sat down, looking up in the empty air as if she could actually see somebody standing there. She surprised Ricio when she lay down. From experience he knew the she-wolf never lay down unless completely safe and with Istarel at her side; only then the wolf could get relaxed enough.

“This is weird,” Theor murmured as he took in the whole hall.

“What is weird?” Istarel asked, admiring the closest candelabra. It was pure silver and the three candles smelled of cinnamon even now. The candlewicks were black and the wax had been burned to mere stumps. Istarel smiled softly as she reached out to touch the wax that had long ago been running down the beautiful candelabra. Her eyes widened and her heart skipped a few beats when the warm wax gave way, imprinting her fingertips into it like the candle had burned seconds ago.

Theor simply pointed to the head of the largest table. “See the large chair?”

Istarel’s head whipped to her husband. She blinked at him and quickly focused on the wax again. She took a step back, hand over her now racing heart when she regarded the wax – solid and unimpaired.

“Love?” Theor’s voice sounded right behind her. She startled at the unexpected sound, but leaned into him when he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answered with a forced smile. “I was seeing things...what did you say about the chair?” she asked and turned her attention to the wooden seat at the head of the largest table. “You mean the one with the highest backrest? It probably belonged to Daragon...and looks uncomfortable,” she added.

“It’s the only one pushed away from the table. As if someone’s just finished eating here,” Theor explained what had caught his attention.

Istarel laughed, and it came out as a mildly nervous sound, as she eyed the candelabra next to them. She raised her hand to cover his that still rested against her stomach. It was cold as her finger closed around it, but she just dismissed it as a remnant of the exhaustion the spell he’d cast caused. “As kind as Daragon was rumoured to be, I doubt he had habits of cleaning up after himself. He was a king. He just stood up and left,” she added in a whisper as if Daragon stood right next to them and could hear them. She shot another insecure glance towards the cinnamon candles. “Please, let us go on,” she chimed and slipped from his embrace. She captured his hand and pulled gently while heading to the door.

“I just still think it’s weird...”

“What?” Ricio asked as the stepped into the corridor.

“Nothing,” Theor waved his hand as Istarel knelt next to her wolf. Pandora’s eyes were fixed into the corridor and whatever had fascinated her so much it was so alluring that she ignored even her Mistress.  Until Istarel touched her. It caused Pandora to jerk as she got startled and she yipped, which made Istarel laugh gently. The wolf wagged her tail and her ears twitched closer to her head as she stuck her muzzle into her Mistress’ face and licked her cheek once.

“Finally, can we go now?” Ricio asked, glancing into the empty corridor once again. “This place...is boring.” The truth was, this place gave him creeps. Pandora had never before growled without a very good reason. She was a shadow of her Mistress, a silent follower unless her pack, as Ricio knew wolf viewed them, was in danger.

“Yes, let’s explore this place a little more. Everything’s so noble and beautiful here. It makes me wonder what horrors forced its residents to leave it behind,” Istarel mused, patting her thigh to call Pandora to her side. The wolf soundlessly obeyed.

“I wish I knew,” Theor shrugged after his wife gave him a meaningful look. “The last entries are somehow chaotic in comparison with older ones. Not to mention I haven’t been successful at translating the whole text,” he admitted reluctantly, touching the back of his neck.

“What? You, our omniscient mage Theor, didn’t understand something?” Ricio teased him. “I find it hard to believe.”

Istarel clicked her tongue, glaring daggers at Ricio. Her features softened when she turned her face to her husband. “But you understood the important parts, didn’t you? Otherwise you’d never find it here,” she remarked. She could remember the way Theor had spent eternity above ancient pages of the journal, studying it, making notes and marking places in their map.

The mage nodded. “Yes. I did. Well, as for the story, I understand the kingdom was attacked. The enemy was stronger and soon his – or her...I’m not sure I correctly understood the difference between these two – army stood in front of the capital. They sacked and destroyed the city, but somehow failed to do the same with the palace. I’m not sure what stopped them, but it had something to do with Daragon’s order and sealing the door. But like I said, I didn’t understand how that helped. However...”

“Dead end,” a voice cut him off. Ricio, who was leading the group, stopped as they arrived at the end of the corridor. There was a door in front of them, different from all other doors they had seen so far. They were massive and made of red wood decorated with regular patterns. He looked at his friends to get their approval before opening it. He was surprised at how easily the heavily-looking door opened, and how silently as well. Ricio walked inside the room it revealed, lifting his torch above his head.

The adventurers found themselves in a small round room with high ceiling. Walls were hidden behind heavy red draperies. Along them lined several statues made of white stone that depicted men wearing priest robes, holding a candelabra in their right hands. Opposite of the door stood a statue of a faceless woman dressed in long flowing dress. She was holding an opened book in her outstretched hands.

There was a small altar in front of her, covered with a fabric of the same bright crimson as the draperies. On it stood a crystal goblet covered with a transparent veil. Candelabras similar to those in hands of the statues stood around it, too.

Only a thin beam of light from a small window shaped into a star above the faceless woman’s head lit the room, falling exactly on the altar. The light refracted as it came through the goblet, casting colourful reflections all over the room.

“Breathtaking,” Istarel whispered with awe as she hesitantly stepped deeper into the room.

“Is that a shrine?” Ricio asked. A naive question, as he realized right after he asked it. “Never mind,” he shrugged and watched Istarel approach the altar. She took the veil off the goblin and studied the red liquid still remaining on the bottom of it. “Wine,” she reflected.

“Great. I’m thirsty,” Ricio said and walked in. He took the goblet off the altar, but before he could raise it to his lips, Istarel caught his hands. “What are you doing? I’ve got water in the backpack. Don’t drink this.”

“Why water when we have wine?”

“And hasn’t it occurred you how there can still be anything in the goblet after thousands of years?” she asked simply, countering Ricio’s thirst with logic. Even though Ricio visibly hesitated, his fingers, just as Istarel’s, remained firmly clasped around the goblet, not allowing the other to wriggle it. He just stared at Istarel with an expression in his eyes she simply could not decipher.  His resolve had melted away however, so she only waited until he’d finally let go.

Pandora watched the silent contest of wills, but then her eyes flicked to the person. She stood next to her friends, her eyes on the goblet. Her lips moved and Pandora’s ears twitched as she caught her words. And Ricio and Istarel both obeyed. Wide-eyed they watched in shocked surprise as they both let go of it at the same time. Instead of trying to catch it, they mutely watched the goblet fall, and only closed their eyes as it crashed loudly, spraying their feet and the floor with thousands shards and remains of the wine.

Pandora whined.

Theor sighed and approached the couple.

“Look what you’ve done!” Ricio growled, making a step back.

“What I’ve done? Who wanted to drink it?” Istarel snapped at him.

“That is enough,” Theor said calmly, catching Pandora as she wanted to have a closer look. “No, dear, there are shards,” he said, knowing the she-wolf would mysteriously understand his words. Her clever, amber eyes met his when Pandora made a few careful steps back. “You’re acting like two spoiled children,” he chided them. Istarel dropped her eyes, but Ricio shrugged.

Sighing inwardly, Theor looked at the large statue in front of them. “This must be their goddess,” he contemplated, hopeful to distract his friends from their childish argument.

“Why doesn’t she have a face?” Ricio asked immediately.

“Maybe that’s one of her features,” Theor shrugged, clueless.

“There is a door behind it,” Istarel noticed. To tell the truth, she had watched Pandora strolling behind the statue and only then she noticed the door. It was pitch black with white writing saying: Death is just a beginning.

“A crypt...” Ricio uttered dryly. “Not going there. I’m not thrilled to be attacked by undead. I hate them. They stink.”

“Undead? Here?” Istarel asked doubtfully and reached out to try the door. It opened slightly even before she touched it. All three of them froze at the moment, only Pandora was bold enough to bump the door with her head to open it completely.

“Pandora!” Istarel called her and the wolf paused at the threshold. A large sarcophagus stood right behind the door. It was positioned on a pedestal, decorated with carvings. Two names were on the front side of it. Raenah. Daragon.

“Let’s get out,” Theor said breathlessly.