Thinblade (31 page)

Hanlon fished around in his shirt and withdrew a brass key on a chain around his neck. He handed Alexander the lantern, took the chain from around his neck, and slipped the key into the ancient lock.

“I have never opened this door and do not know what lies beyond. Each Keeper of the Royal Bloodline has been shown this place during his final initiation. The key to this door has been passed down through the generations since the first Keeper received it from Mage Cedric himself. Alexander, this is your door to open.” Hanlon stepped back and held out his hand toward the door, motioning for Alexander to step forward.

Without a word, Alexander stepped up and turned the key. To his surprise it turned easily and the door glided open noiselessly with just a gentle push. The room that lay beyond was circular and domed. He stepped across the threshold and raised his lantern to light the room. It was a half sphere. The high point of the ceiling was about twenty feet from the smooth stone floor and the room was about forty feet across. The entire room was completely empty with the sole exception of a polished white marble mausoleum in the exact center. There wasn’t even any dust.

The little marble building stood seven feet tall and seven feet on each side. It was a perfect cube with no adornment whatsoever, save for a band of writing delicately carved into the marble seven inches below the top edge and running the entire length of the side facing the door.

Alexander walked carefully around the little marble building, noting that the band of writing turned the corner and wrapped around the entire structure, starting and stopping above the outline of a doorway in the center of the far side. He looked closer at the symbol directly above the doorway and realized it was the mark that had been burned into the side of his neck. He felt a chill race up his spine. This vault had been placed here two thousand years ago expressly for him.

Centered in the outline of the door and about five feet up from the floor was the likeness of a man’s right hand carved into the marble. Alexander raised his lantern to look more closely at the band of writing and discovered that it was in a language he was unfamiliar with.

“Lucky, do you know what language that writing is?” he asked.

Lucky shook his head but Mason Kallentera answered, “It’s old Reishi.” Silence descended on the domed room. Everyone turned to the court wizard.

“I have a number of ancient books written in old Reishi. It’s the original language of the Reishi Wizards. Eventually it became a language taught only within the confines of the Reishi Wizards Guild. The last Reishi Sovereign made it a crime punishable by death to speak, read, or write it unless sanctioned by the Reishi.” Mason raised his lantern and examined the arcane writing more closely. “I recognize a few of the characters from the circles of protection that ward this valley.”

Alexander frowned, “Is that what that circular walk around the palace grounds is?”

Mason nodded, “This was Mage Cedric’s home. During the war he placed a series of protection circles around the valley to ward against creatures of the netherworld. Some of the symbols found within those circles can also be seen here.”

“Can you translate this?” Alexander asked in a whisper.

“Given enough time, I believe I can. I have exact translations of a number of the old Reishi volumes in my library. It will be a painstaking process but I agree that it may be useful.” He started fishing around in his robes. “I’ll need to make a rubbing so I can work on it in my library.” He produced a bone tube and tapped out a roll of parchment, then found a piece of charcoal in another pocket and set to work carefully reproducing the series of ancient characters.

“Hanlon, does anyone else know of this place?” Alexander asked.

“Some know rumors of its existence, but I’ve never shown anyone the way down here, let alone which sconce opens the secret door.”

“Good, I’d like to keep it that way,” Alexander said. “Until we know what that writing says, I don’t want to risk its message falling into the wrong hands.”

Mason finished his rubbing of the entire message, rolled up his parchment and put it away.

Alexander stepped up to the outline of the door and placed his right hand on the handprint. It was cool to the touch and fit his hand perfectly but nothing happened. He expected the door to open. He looked up to the symbol over the door to verify that it was indeed the symbol burned into the right side of his neck. He pressed with more force but still nothing happened.

He turned back to the others who were watching silently while holding their breath. “Any suggestions?” he asked. They all stared blankly in response.

Lucky asked, “Does this place have a name? Was there a title given to this room by the one who brought you here?”

Hanlon nodded slowly as if dredging his memory. He spoke softly in his deep voice, “It’s called a Bloodvault.”

It all fell into place at once. Alexander was the heir to the royal bloodline. The Rebel Mage had to make sure the contents of this place were only accessible to the right person. Blood was the only way to be absolutely certain. Alexander drew the knife from his belt and sliced across his hand deeply enough to draw a line of bright red blood.

He placed his hand on the handprint again. Again nothing happened. He was just about to take his hand away in frustration when the marble began to grow warmer. Then, quite suddenly, points of scintillating bright white light appeared where each line outlining the door met the floor. The points of light flared for half a heartbeat before moving rapidly up along the outline of the door until they met at the apex. The door abruptly became transparent and Alexander’s hand pushed through into the space beyond. With a sense of wonder, he walked through the now semi-visible door and stepped into a tiny room.

When he entered, the ceiling of the white marble room began to glow softly, filling the space with a warm, comfortable light. He looked back and saw his companions looking at the stone building with shocked disbelief. At once they rushed to the door and started feeling for a way to open it. He could see through the transparent door that they were yelling his name and becoming frantic in their efforts to gain access to the vault. He called out to them but they couldn’t hear him.

He looked around and saw three shelves. The one on the left held a finely crafted ancient book with a locked leather strap binding it closed. The shelf on the right held an ornate coffer carved from the bone of some ancient and long-dead creature. The shelf opposite the door held a heavy gold ring set with a single black stone. Rolled up and slipped through the ring was a piece of parchment that looked as fresh and new as if it had been placed there yesterday.

The others were starting to become more concerned about his sudden disappearance into the little building and it looked like Mason was getting ready to start casting a spell in an effort to get him out.

He picked up the ring with the little note and slipped it into a pocket, stacked the book on top of the bone coffer and tucked them both under his arm, then turned and pushed through the transparent door with his bloody hand. It offered just the slightest bit of resistance. Hanlon leapt forward, seized Alexander by the wrist and pulled him through the door as if he was trying to save his life. Alexander stumbled when he came free of the door’s slight resistance and would have fallen except Hanlon caught him and set him on his feet.

Everyone started talking at once. Alexander held up his bloody hand to quiet them so he could answer their questions.

“The door became transparent and insubstantial when I put my hand on it. I was able to push right through.”

Mason looked at the Bloodvault, then back to Alexander. “It didn’t become transparent to us. To all of us you simply fell through the stone wall and were gone. We tried to free you but couldn’t even scratch the marble. This is a constructed spell of great power. I doubt anyone alive today could breach it, except possibly Phane.”

Lucky was peering at the objects under Alexander’s arm, “What have you found?”

“I’m not sure. These were each on a shelf,” Alexander said as he set them down side by side.

Mason looked closely at the book and whistled, “This is a skillbook.” He caressed the cover with a sense of awe and wonder. “These were constructed by the most powerful of wizards to impart a high level of skill in a given field within a relatively short period of time. Looks like Mage Cedric was serious about helping you defeat Phane.”

Mason picked it up and examined it more closely. “It looks like a skillbook of the blade.” He pointed out several little images of various bladed weapons on the four corners of the cover.

Alexander looked closer at the locking mechanism on the band around the book and saw that there wasn’t a keyhole. “How do I open it? Is it a puzzle lock?”

Mason shook his head. “No, a skillbook can only impart the skill it contains to one person and it keys to that person by their blood. If you touch the lock right here with your bloody hand, it will open and key itself to you. I suggest you do so only when you’re ready to study the book. Some skillbooks were said to lose their magic soon after they’re opened.”

“How long does it take to study the book and gain the skill?” Alexander asked.

“That’s hard to say for certain,” Mason said. “From what I’ve learned about skillbooks in my studies, I believe that a period of several hours of uninterrupted study is all that is required. But I should caution you, Alexander, I’ve never actually seen a skillbook before or even heard of one being discovered for several centuries. They are exceedingly rare.”

“All right, I’ll save that for later. Let’s have a look in this box.” He unlatched the lid on the bone coffer and carefully opened the little white box.

The inside was lined with red velvet. There were seven recesses formed to fit around the seven sealed crystal vials resting within. Each vial contained a clear liquid that looked like water except the contents glowed softly with the purest white light that Alexander had ever seen. It was like looking into the sun without the pain. The clarity, richness, and brilliance of the light was breathtaking. Alexander imagined that this was what a good person saw when they died and passed into the realm of light.

Mason and Lucky both stood and took a step back. Alexander looked up at them and the wonder on their faces.

He whispered, “What is this?”

Lucky and Mason spoke in unison, “Wizard’s Dust.”

He looked back at the vials of liquid. “It looks like glowing water to me.”

Lucky tried to explain. “The wizards of old found that dissolving Wizard’s Dust in purified and specially prepared spring water improved the odds of an apprentice surviving the mana fast. The process for this preparation has been lost for centuries.”

Mason spoke next, “The contents of that case could buy a small kingdom. Wizard’s Dust is so rare that most Wizards Guilds cannot initiate more than a handful of wizards every generation. Mage Cedric has given you the best chance you could get for becoming a wizard wrapped up neatly in this case.”

Alexander looked again at the glowing vials of liquid magic and carefully closed the lid. “The only other thing in the room was this,” he said as he withdrew the ring with the note from his pocket. He slipped the note out and unrolled it. The parchment was supple and crisp. The writing was clear and unfaded. All it said was: “Blackstone Keep is yours. Signed, Barnabas Cedric.”

He read it and read it again, then handed the little note to Lucky. The moment the alchemist touched it, the paper faded, became brittle, and turned to dust.

“Huh, I guess it was meant for me,” Alexander shrugged.

He slipped the ring on his right ring finger. It was a little too big at first, then the stone glowed faintly and the ring resized itself to fit his finger perfectly. He slipped the ring off just to make sure he could then put it back on.

“What’s Blackstone Keep? The note said, ‘Blackstone Keep is yours’ and it was signed by Barnabas Cedric.”

Mason tilted his head with a quizzical look. “May I see the ring?”

Alexander pulled it off and handed it to Hanlon’s court wizard. Mason examined it carefully, then closed his eyes and spoke a few words in an arcane language. His eyes opened wide when the results of his simple divination spell flooded into his mind.

“This is the key ring for the ancient home of the Ruathan Wizards Guild at Blackstone Keep. It’s been inaccessible for millennia.” He handed Alexander the ancient ring. “Alexander, this is a treasure beyond imagining. Blackstone Keep is rumored to be a place of spectacular power. It has claimed the lives of countless wizards over the ages who attempted to gain access to its secrets.”

Alexander slipped the ring back on his finger. “Where is it?”

“North of New Ruatha, but I’ve never been there myself,” Mason replied.

Jack was standing quietly in the background as he usually did when his unique talents were not called for. He cleared his throat quietly before he spoke. “Alexander, I’ve seen Blackstone Keep from a distance. It is indeed a few days’ travel due north from New Ruatha and it is most imposing. The Keep is carved out of the top of a mountain of black granite that juts up from the grasslands. It can be seen from the high places in New Ruatha and is a place that inspires awe and dread amongst those who live there. If you could openly claim Blackstone Keep as your own, it would force the Regent of New Ruatha to bow to your authority without question.”