This was shaping up to be a long night, and a noisy one. The mood in the common room had gone from curiosity to expectation to festival. Celebration was in the air, and the wine casks were worked hard, as were the serving girls, almost run off their feet. Tatha’an beamed from ear to ear. He would take a months earnings this one night. Broken glass and all. He was also the only one who noticed the man sitting alone in the corner of the room. An untouched mug of ale in front of him. Dressed in drab grey, a darker riding cape over his shoulders, he had eyes only for Antonin. However, before the innkeeper could bring him to the attention of those two warrior girls who guarded the Dragon Lord, he had disappeared. Tatha’an looked closely about the room. There seemed no one else out of place, but the lone stranger had disappeared. He caught the eye of Catharina, who glanced at the empty seat then back at the innkeeper. She gave a slight nod. Tatha’an sucked in a breath. He need not have worried. It seemed those girls missed nothing at all. They were as guarded as sleepy cats, and no doubt just as dangerous as the big ones.
The Lord of the Dragon Hosts had returned. He had come out of the frozen waste just as foretold in the ancient stories. He had appeared here in this village first, and declared himself. This news must have reached the ears of the cities leaders by now. They would surely be interested in meeting this supposed farm boy. Was he a threat to their rule? The prophesies told of the almost complete destruction of all existing structures of government in the process of the great battle with the dark forces. It was difficult to tell, as the innkeeper knew, who secretly served the Lord of Lies and who did not. Those in power in the village lived by their own rules, and Tatha’an stayed as far away from them as possible. Even to raise one's head to look at them in passing could bring a beating from their guards.
How would they take to the Dragon Lord returning amongst them? ‘Well.’ Thought the innkeeper, ‘If I am any judge, we will soon find out.’
Antonin and his two warrior maidens were busy with the plates of food that filled their table. Catharina and Elsa both would not relax though. They ate on their feet, using one hand. The other held the wicked looking short spears , which were used as a warning to those who came too close. Everyone wanted a look at the Dragon Lord. A mixture of fear and expectation on their faces. Antonin ate and drank in silence, his thoughts tumbling. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Like everyone else, he had heard the stories, but they gave no indication of his personal conduct.
Antonin knew he had to buy some time so he could sort out a plan. Perhaps find a library? Perhaps a Wind Reader? Now there was an idea. Mei’An seemed to know a great deal, but that was no good if he could not get back to her. He knew he had to do something though. The local leaders would be upon him soon, and really all he had was this strange golden crown, and powers that came and went unbidden. Little more really than a travelling mage. Antonin chuckled to himself at the thought. Tong Hui glanced across the table at him.
“My Lord?” He asked.
“Nothing Tong Hui. I was merely reflecting that I have shown little more than a good travelling mage so far. Perhaps your Dragon Lord is not your Dragon Lord after all?”
Tong Hui made no reply. He had seen what he had seen, and his own squad of soldiers waited on his command in the next lane way should his eyes prove him wrong. Tong Hui kept his eyes on the crowd in the common room. If this boy was the Lord of the Dragon Armies returned, then Tong Hui would follow him into the coming battle. As a defender of the Light, an oath he had taken on his father's sword, he was honour bound. If he was not? Well, he had done little wrong except break a few glasses, and besides – Tong Hui liked him and his companions. If needs be, he would spirit him out of the city into the deep woods.
They needed a Wind Reader. These women were very mysterious. Some even said they were the servants of the Dark One. Some said the opposite. Tong Hui doubted both extremes, but they certainly possessed strange powers and the stone faced companions they travelled with were every bit as deadly as a snake.
Tong Hui had only met two in his long career, but that was enough. One he knew was still within the city as Antonin insisted on calling this village. Well, if he was the Dragon Lord, city it was. Legend had it that the Dragon Lord had made this city his home in times past. Perhaps it was to be again.
Rousing himself from his thoughts, Tong Hui stood. He was about to turn from the table when he felt a cold breeze blow around him. His skin prickled with goose bumps. That wind was straight off the ice waste. He looked around in surprise for an open window. There were none close by. Only Antonin sat looking calmly at him. Tong Hui hesitated, one foot half raised to step clear of the stool he had been sitting on.
“You are truly an honourable man Tong Hui.” Antonin began. “I like caution in one who commands. If you decide to command for me, I will welcome you as a friend. If you decide to bring your guard from the next street to escort us to the deep woods, we will go in peace from your domain.” Antonin waited calmly. Tong Hui was not a man easily shocked. This man had read his very thoughts. As well he was sworn to the light. A Dark Companion would be exposed instantly. Tong Hui’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find the right words. This was no travelling mage, nor a Dark Companion. Such would have destroyed Tong Hui on the spot. With such power at his command, Antonin could have made short work of Tong Hui.
He gave a nod to Antonin and said. “My Lord.” Then he stepped outside.
Antonin heard him blowing those strange sounds on his whistle, followed soon enough by the steady tramp of soldiers feet. Shouts and grumbles from the street told of their arrival. Antonin waited. The crowd in the common room held their breath, some shuffling nervously. Perhaps the Last Battle was going to start right here in the common room. Catharina and Elsa were now flanking Antonin, all three on their feet. The crowd outside now went silent. The swinging doors banged open with a crash and a gust of wind swept the rubbish in from the street in a swirling cloud that had everyone choking and wiping their eyes. Not a single mote of dust stirred around the table occupied by Antonin and the girls though. There seemed to be a thick wall of air around them and their table. The dust settled as a tall woman in flowing blue robes strode into the centre of the room. She faced Antonin. At her back, about two pace behind her stood the deadliest looking individual Antonin thought he had ever seen.
Both Catharina and Elsa drew a breath and let it out with an audible hiss. the certainly knew danger when they saw it. The woman was tall. Easily a head taller than Antonin. She had just cleared the door as she came in. Her skin was as black as the night, almost purple in its blackness. Her hair was done into a thousand rope like strands that hung to her waist. Her face was narrow, with an aquiline nose, much like the people of the Star Field Plain. Brilliant white teeth showed in the ghost of a smile that she directed at the girls. She was built, Antonin noticed, with some grace. Her blue silk dress was cut low enough to show her build to advantage, yet remain modest. The blue of the silk was almost hard on the eyes, and contrasted alarmingly with the woman’s midnight dark skin. The sleeves came down to mid forearm, and were stitched with minute flowers up the seams and onto the shoulders. A similar line of flowers ran down and across the cut of the bodice, further emphasising the amount of skin she actually showed. The folds of the dress reached the floor, and darker blue slippers peeped from under the hem of the dress. She held it up slightly with one hand. A silver ring flashed on the middle finger of that hand.
Catharina whispered to Antonin. “A Wind Reader, my Lord.” The Woman’s dark eyes never left Antonin’s face. In her left hand she held a small roll of cloth. Brilliant green silk. The crowd pressed back away from her and her companion. They didn’t want to be within arm's reach – or sword reach of that one. He was a dark skinned as the woman, and appeared to be somewhat older. His close cropped black hair was showing grey streaks. His arms were not huge, but rather finely muscled from long hours of exercise. His sleeveless vest was tied with leather thong across a broad well proportioned chest. His lean waist and trim lower body spoke of a man who could move like lightning. His soft hide boots laced almost to the knee were those of a swordsman, and a hunter. There was no excess about him at all. His face was set like stone, only his eyes watching all about him.
Tong Hui stood in the doorway. Undecided as to whether to enter or not. Even he did not wish to surprise such a one.
The new arrival stared long at Antonin. Not a word was spoken. There was hardly a breath drawn in the crowd. Catharina and Elsa watched the woman’s companion, themselves within a hairs breadth of action.
“Soooo,” said the woman finally, softly. “You know of Wind Readers.” She spoke in Antonin’s own language. Her eyes opened a little in surprise. “And it is Mei’An whom you know!”
It was Antonin’s turn to be surprised.
“How do you know of Mei’An?” He said, before he could stop himself.
“That is easy.” She hesitated slightly, then added. “My Lord Dragon.”
Catharina and Elsa relaxed visibly.
“All Wind Readers are in touch all the time. Mei’An asked that we all watch for you. Your companion here,” she pointed casually at Elsa. “Has the spark in her also, so she stands out like a beacon to us. All we had to do was watch for that beacon light to arrive somewhere. If the hue and cry of your own arrival alone was not sufficient to rouse the Dark One himself.”
Elsa’s eyes were huge. “Me?” She squeaked.
“I will speak more of this later,” said the woman to Elsa. “I am Sarweio, my companion, my Guard Companion is M'belie. We are here to ensure your survival.”
“I do not need your help Wind Reader.” Said Antonin, with more heat than he intended. No matter. He was fed up.
“I will not be pushed around by your kind any longer. Mei’An got me into this. Can you do else but get me in deeper. You can pass that on to her as well if you like.” Antonin sat down again and took up a mug of ale.
“You are welcome to join us at table.” He said, and lounged back in his chair, a chicken wing in one hand and a mug of frothy ale in the other. Catharina and Elsa stayed alert and standing. At the tone in Antonin’s voice, M'belie had taken a step forward, hand on his sword hilt. Sarweio didn't frown, but the thin line of her lips, just for an instant, gave a clue to her displeasure. Mei’An had warned her the boy was headstrong, and if pushed as stubborn as a mule. She could afford to wait. He was as yet untrained, and indeed she could sense that he had recently brushed very close to death. Now that needed further investigation. All of this in the space of a heart beat she passed on to Mei’An. Including the absence of a woman ‘Nareena’, whose involvement she had heard about on her way to the inn.
To Antonin’s surprise the Wind Reader slid out a wooden straight backed chair from a nearby table and sat opposite Antonin. She helped herself to wine as the room slowly relaxed. Her Guard Companion was standing against the wall near the end of the table, and although Tong Hui still hesitated at the door, he too was relaxing. He turned back to his troops.
Antonin watched warily over the rim of his mug of ale.
Mei’An stood in the centre of the room, for once in her life speechless. Firstly Antonin had hurled himself through a portal to who knew where, then some time later had momentarily opened a portal again, giving his two Spear Maidens the chance they had been poised for.
In the blink of an eye they had leapt into the barely formed portal, Antonin just visible on the other side, still in whatever that frozen place was. The portal had winked out almost before it was fully formed. Mei’An had made no move to enter the portal, and neither had Luan. It had only been because the two Spear Maidens had been ready for just such an event that they had been quick enough to seize the opportunity. The portal had only been open for an instant.
Mei’An blinked and turned to Luan and the others and said. “I wish that farm boy would learn to control his powers.” There was more than a hint of exasperation in her voice. Rees sat without a word and rolled his dice through his fingers. He too wondered when his friend would learn some control. If indeed their very futures depended on it, then control had better come soon. Tallbar the innkeeper wrung his hands and fussed. He was almost as round as he was tall, and his shiny bald head glistened with sweat that he constantly wiped away with a large floral handkerchief. His large white apron strained across his girth. He came and went as serving girls called him away for some urgent task. He returned to fuss as soon as he could. Important events were taking place. He would have his name recorded in the tales if he was lucky. Such events as these would draw custom from far and wide, if only that people could sit and sup ale in a famous inn.
The innkeeper was worried for more reasons than his possible fame though. It was he who had held the golden crown all these years. It had been passed down through his family for generation upon generation. Thousands of years since the last age had closed with the defeat and imprisonment of the Dark Lord and his servants. Tallbar himself had tried on the crown of course. Once in his youth he had crept into his father’s room and dragged the ancient heavily crafted chest from under the bed. He knew the chest contained treasure, and knew the stories surrounding the golden circlet. All the family were sworn to secrecy at the earliest age. The casket and its contents were never mentioned. Tallbar in his youth though had thought to see if the crown was indeed magic. Perhaps he could become the Lord of the Dragon Armies? Why else had the crown been left in their care so long. He never considered for a moment that his father had also tried the same thing in his youth and very likely his father before him back into the mists of time. Tallbar had opened the lid to the box, revealing the crown in its velvet rest, glinting in the bright lamplight. Picking up the thin gold band, ‘how heavy it is’ he remembered thinking, he had slipped it on his head, but not tight. It seemed almost made to fit him.
Tallbar began to sweat, as he now stood in the room with Mei’An and the others. The memory of that time long ago coming back to him.
No sooner had he placed the golden circlet on his head than his ears had filled with a roaring sound, like the sound of a thousand waterfalls in full flood. Then he heard behind that the noise of battle. Men screaming and dying. The clash of swords on armour. Horses screaming as they were cut down to unseat their riders. The visions of this flashed in his eyes as though played out in the room in front of him. Men in shining silver armour mounted on tall black horses. Their sigil was a crimson slash across a white background. Like a sword cut across bare skin. Tallbar had never been in battle, and the sounds and sights that filled his head now had him on his toes. His back arched as the outpouring from the golden band sought to overwhelm him, and he lurched around the room like a puppet on a string. His mouth was open as he tried to scream at the horror of it all.
Huge green scaled monstrous beasts rushed straight at him, axes with half moon blades swinging at him. Long shiny lances pinning them to the ground. As Tallbar had flailed about the room desperately trying to avoid the battle he felt himself a part of, he knocked the lamp flying from the stand. The glass smashed and the oil quickly caught fire. The room filled with smoke, and the noise Tallbar was making as he crashed about the room brought people running from all directions. Smoke billowed from the windows and doors as the fire took hold. Tallbar's father had been first into the room. He found his son on all fours in the middle of the room. His head was hanging down, and he was moaning with a long drawn out sound as though trapped in a grove of horrors. His father saw the crown on his sons head and snatched it off. Tallbar collapsed on the floor as though hit with a quarter staff. The crown was returned to the chest, and with the help of servants the fire was quickly extinguished. The room was a mess.
It had taken Tallbar days to come around to his senses again. He had lain in his bed sweating, and alternately crying out as though in pain, and calling warnings. He had finally woken on the morning of the third day after the event, his mother wiping his brow. His father came in and stood at the end of the bed looking at him silently for a long time. Finally he had said. “We are the keepers of the crown my son. We are not the wearers. We guard it for he who is yet to come. You have been punished by the power of the crown itself – as I was – for daring to think you could be who you are not. A valuable lesson, hard learnt. Be up now and about your duties. Remember your lesson.” To Tallbar’s surprise, his father had never spoken of the matter again. The box that had contained the crown remained beneath his bed to this day. The crown itself was now on the brow of the true owner.
“Tallbar,” Said Mei’An. “Something is on your mind.” She said it as a statement of fact. Tallbar started out of his reflections.
“Yes my lady. The box that held the crown all this time contains other treasures. It holds things of mystery that seem to have no purpose, except for the heavy book that is bound in leather. The chest, itself all worked with strange carvings, and bound about in silver. I have been thinking of this box and its contents. I was remembering when, as a foolish youth, I tried on the crown. It very nearly killed me.”
Mei’An asked Tallbar to sit, and had him repeat his story to her, leaving out no detail of what he had experienced and seen. As Tallbar described the banner that had flown over the hill top fortress, Mei’An herself felt goose bumps on her arms. The innkeeper described a very large, long white pennant that curled out in the wind, tapering to a point that flicked about in the wind like a living thing. Worked into its entire length was a blue and gold dragon, five claws on each foot. The dragon had seemed alive as the wind rippled the banner out over the battlements of the fortress. The fighting on the field surrounded the fort. Tallbar began to shake as he was urged on by Mei’An to describe in detail what he had seen. Luan placed his hand on Tallbar’s shoulder in a steadying gesture. He knew of the horror of battle.
Mei’An stopped him talking with a gentle hand on his forearm.
“Master innkeeper, perhaps it might be a good idea if we investigate the contents of this chest of which you speak. Perhaps the book can give us some clue to what is happening. Perhaps the other objects are things that our friend needs.”
Rees looked at Mei’An as she said the last words. He added.
“Yes Mei’An. He may be all that your say, but firstly he is my friend. If he needs help, then I would be there if he does. If I can’t be with him, perhaps I can be of help elsewhere. He will return, and the two girls with him.”
Tallbar left to bring the chest of the crown to the room. Mei’An seated herself opposite Rees, and a chair was left for the innkeeper. Luan shook his head slightly and stayed where he was. Back against the wall opposite the door, even in this small space, eyes constantly on the move for the slightest sign of danger.
It was obvious that Antonin could appear and disappear at will. Well, without will actually, but at least unexpectedly. More worrying was the ability of Cinnabar to step in and out through some fold in time. It was not known if he could bring others with him. It was certain though that Cinnabar was working to some plan of his own. He was bound to the Dark One, as surely as night followed day, but he had indicated that he had plans that did not include the freedom of his master.
Tallbar came back, two of his burly guards from the common room carrying the chest between them. No one called the men guards. They were assistants. They assisted in the common room. Mostly to keep order. Each carried a solid black wooden cudgel, tucked into a broad leather belt at the waist. Both were tall and as solid as granite. They carried scars like other carried medals. These two men ensured that the patron of the Inn of the Blind Man could relax in peace. If by chance a fight started, or a man became the worse for drink, they were as often as not simply picked up and dumped in the street. Where with any sense they stayed. Those foolish enough to draw weapons simply had them taken away. They could collect them when the next day dawned. Wagon drivers or Lords alike, it didn’t matter to these two men. All were given the same treatment. As a result, The Inn of the Blind Man was favoured by many throughout the city.
The inn itself stood on a low rise, a small hill within the city that in turn was surrounded by a high stone wall. There was not much of the inner wall left now. In time past it was said to have encircled the hill entirely, and the hill had been crowned by a fortress. Tallbar had of course heard this, and there were even old books with elaborate drawings and painting of the area. The inn had always stood where it was, some way down from the peak of the hill. That the inn stood in the area that had once been within the walls of the fortress of the golden crown had not escaped his notice. The entire city was built on legend it seemed. The old city, especially the area where Antonin and the girls had recently had their adventure, had existed for a very long time. Even the legends spoke of a city having once existed here that had all but vanished in one huge blast unleashed by the gods, angry at the mere mortals who strove to usurp them. Legends within legends spoke of ages so long gone that men could not comprehend the years.
The two assistants dumped the chest with a bang onto the table. They had never been gentle men. Mei’An looked at Tallbar. He knew she wanted him to open the chest, but his reluctance was obvious. He had no idea as to the purpose of the remaining contents and had no desire to find out. His experience as a youth with the crown had cured him of all curiosity regarding that chest. With a click of her tongue, Mei’An reached for the clasp of the chest lid. Her fingers had almost reached the worked silver fitting when she stopped, eyes wide in surprise. Luan came away from the wall. He was finely tuned to Mei’An’s reactions. She raised her other hand to wave him back. “Do not come closer Luan. This ... chest ... is reacting to me.” Mei’An concentrated on the chest. Her hand flowed around it, inches from its surfaces she tried to sense what this contact was. The senses of a Wind Reader were many and marked their difference from all others. Mei’An’s senses told her of enormous power emanating from this chest.
“There is something within that reaches out to me. No. It reaches out to ...” Her voice trailed away. Her eyes became unfocused. Rees and Tallbar both moved uneasily. They both felt too close for comfort. Mei’An spoke again. “It reaches out to Antonin. Perhaps. I will see.” With no further hesitation she flipped back the hasp and opened the lid. A low hum filled the room. It seemed to come from within the very woodwork of the walls, dying away after a moment.
“It’s not done that before.” Whispered Tallbar.
Mei’An had sucked in a sharp breath at her first touch of the hasp, the metal catch on the box, and now stood rubbing the tips of her fingers.
“This is strange Tallbar. I wish you had brought this down, instead of just the crown, while Antonin was still here. I get the feeling,” She rubbed her fingers as she spoke. “That whatever this power is, it has just tested me. I do not like to think what would happen to one of the servants of the Dark One should they try to open this chest.”
“arrrh.” Tallbar said, his eyes showing recognition of something in his memory. He shook his head at Mei’An’s questioning look. He would tell her later.
In the top of the chest was the velvet lined tray that had held the golden crown. This Mei’An lifted out and placed on the table. Beneath that, and filling the width and length of the chest was a book. The leather of its cover and binding was black with great age. There were symbols and a script on the cover, but all were meaningless to those in the room. Even to Mei’An.
She lifted the book, almost a hand span thick, out onto the table. Opening the pages revealed a script that could not be read. At least not by anyone but Rees. He suddenly felt dizzy. The room was unsteady before his eyes, as though he were looking at the world through a rain streaked window. He shook his head to clear it, but only succeeded in nearly falling off the chair.
“The Book of Kings, wherein the path of The Dragon is set forth for all to follow.” He said. His vision cleared, and he continued. “What is that supposed to mean?” With some impatience in his voice.
“You tell us,” Mei’An said. “Do you know what your said? It sounded to me like the ancient language of Hua Guo, but I’m not sure.”
“I can’t speak any language but the one I use now.” Snapped Rees.
Luan turned cold hard eyes on Rees. “Watch how you speak to a Wind Reader, puppy.” He said.
“Stop – both.” Mei’An said with ice in her voice. Rees, half risen in his chair sat back down again.
“Rees, you just read the inscription on this book, and you read it aloud in the ancient language of Hua Guo. Whether you realize it or not. I also noticed that you seemed affected in some way moments ago.” Mei’An closed the book.
“Perhaps you can help your friend more than you thought possible. For now, please be calm.” She turned back to the chest.
Beneath where the book had rested were three compartments, all velvet lined, and the edges trimmed in gold stitching. One compartment was half the width of the chest, and the length. It contained a figurine of a woman, vaguely naked to the waist. Flowing robes swirled about her, and bare feet could be seen, the toes peeping from beneath the hem. Her hair was bound and flowed down over one shoulder to cover one breast. Her left arm was down, her forearm across her body just beneath her breasts, the hand holding her side. Her right arm was stretched above her head, and in the grip of the hand was a glittering sword seemingly made of crystal. The figurine itself seemed to be carved entirely of some smooth creamy material. It seemed somehow alive, the lustre of the material had a natural warmth to it, not unlike pale skin. The second compartment contained a ball made of a blood red stone, with green veins writhing through it. It was about the size of a child's throwing ball, and would rest neatly in the hand of a man such was its size. It was highly polished. There seemed to be no indication of its purpose. The little name plate next to it was written in the same ancient script. The script resembled grass that bent and flowed in the wind, but for all that, it was still recognisable to Mei’An as the ancient script of that most ancient land of Hua Guo.
The land beyond the Dark Forests of the Eastern Lands. Beyond the wasted lands and further to the east yet. No one travelled there. It was said Traders sometimes undertook the journey. Even they told of a strange land with strange people. Customs that forbade outlanders access past a few well defined trading cities and ports. Anyone going further simply disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. In the third compartment, next to the orb, lay a flat disk. It was the same material as the carved statue, and about as thick as a man's finger, and almost a large hand span across. It was in an octagonal shape, and the carvings were in the shape of the strange writing of Hua Guo around the edges. Entwined dragons filled a smaller octagon in the centre of the disc. The carving went all the way through, giving the disc a three dimensional aspect not unlike lacework. The creamy white material was strangely warm to Mei’An’s touch as she drifted her fingers across its surface.
“Rees,” said Tallbar. “Can you read the inscriptions on the nameplates?”
Rees looked closely at the nameplates on each of the compartments. Nothing. He may as well have been looking at the stars.
“I cannot, Tallbar.” He sat back down in his chair. “I don’t know what happened before, but the script now remains a mystery to me also.”
Mei’An asked him. “Rees, do you remember what the words meant, that you read from the book a moment ago?”
“Yes,” replied Rees. “The Book of Kings, wherein the Path of the Dragon is set forth for all to follow.”
“So, you spoke the language Rees, but you understood the words still in your own language. You are bound into the web a lot closer than you, or any of us thought. I wish the talent was with you now, that you might read those name plates. I think it is very important. I think the contents of this chest are important.” Mei’An mused in a barely audible voice. Her finger tips gently tapping her lips in a now familiar gesture.
“Luan. Be on guard. Check the halls and adjoining rooms. Quickly please. Return here and be attendant to this chest.” Before Mei’An had drawn breath Luan was moving. With deadly grace he circled the small room once, his eyes glittering like black diamonds and focused on the very dust particles floating in the air. He traversed the hallways, and entered and circled every room. No more than moments in each. Startled yells, and a few embarrassed screams followed him but he never paused for a moment. Mei’An waited, and before the last yell had died away, he was back beside her. His sword in hand, and cradled across his broad chest. His dark cloak hung still and straight from his shoulders.
“The floor is clear my lady.” He said formally.
Rees thought it very likely that it was. He could hear people clattering down the stairs and calling to the innkeeper about bandits wielding swords in the night. Tallbar sighed. His two huge assistants stood by the door still. Tallbar flicked his fingers to them in dismissal. They would go and ease the fears of the fleeing guests. Plying them with food and drink in the common room until all would laugh at their fearful flight.
“What was all that about?” Rees offered. “There is no sign of danger.”
Mei’An clicked her tongue. What would it take to impress on this fellow, this village boy, that the world for him was changing. For them all indeed. A new age was dawning, and it would bring with it a battle with the Dark Lord that had been foretold for thousands of years in story, song and prophesy alike.
“Because Cinnabar is real Rees.” She said patiently. “Because your friend can travel. Because it seems he is the Dragon, the Malachite King returned. Because you did read the script on the book in its own tongue. Because there is very real danger Rees, that the Dark Lord will try to take what is not his.” She pointed to the chest. “Place your hand on the book,” she said to Rees. “And read the inscriptions.” Her tone of voice was just short of being a direct command. Rees looked at her. He was a village boy after all, and this was a Wind Reader. His mother had put him to bed with stories of the exploits of Wind Readers and their Companions. The eternal battle they fought, seemingly alone against the forces of darkness in the world.
With a slight shrug, he felt a little like a boy who has just been lectured by an elder, he placed his hand palm down on the still open leather bound book. The room swam before his eyes again. It was almost sick making. The power stored in the pages of this ancient text flowed into him. He blinked and focused on the name tags.
“The Keeper of the Blue Tower.” He read, and spoke aloud in his own language. He was pointing to the statue of the woman. He picked up the smooth red and green sphere. “The Key to the Moon Gate.” He read. The sphere seemed to know him. A strange sensation of familiarity with it. This was crazy. He almost dropped it in shock, but managed to put it back in its velvet lining . Rees picked up the intricately carved disc. “The Gateway.” Was all he said. He looked at Mei’An. “The Gateway?” He said questioningly. They all looked about as the low hum again filled the room. There to one side the air was starting to glitter like the air on a frozen night in the light of bright lanterns. The crystalline particles swirled and shifted, slowly forming a doorway just like the one Antonin had used.
“Quickly, put the disc down.” Mei’An cried. Rees obeyed without question, his spell bound gaze broken. He almost threw the disc back into its place in the chest. The faint outline of the forming doorway drifted away in the eddying air currents.
Luan was trying to look everywhere at once, sword in hand, in case the doorway was Cinnabar trying to enter the room again. Rees let out a breath with a rush of air. He didn’t realize he had forgotten to breathe.
“I think we know what that one does.” He chuckled self consciously.
“The red orb seemed to recognise me in some way. I don’t know how else to put it. But it did. I could feel it. I could sense that it felt it.” He reached into the chest and lifted out the statuette, cradling it in his hands.” He blushed to the roots of his hair.
“It feels…,” he whispered. “So alive. It looks...” He was silent, looking at the statue. The figure was carved in exquisite detail. Even the eyelids were there. Eyes that looked directly at him with a knowing look. Not the blind eyes of a statue. There was real detail there. The smooth skin and perfectly formed figure of the woman seemed to settle into his palms. She was in perfect proportion, and her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. He had never seen a grown woman unclothed before in his life, but ... With a yell of dismay he dropped the figure back in the box and jumped back so far he crashed into the wall. Mei’An looked at him in alarm, as everybody was.