Chapter 17

Dust motes flitted through colored sunbeams that emanated from narrow stain glass windows high up on the walls of the ancient temple. Seleeku and Brynn sat in one of the pews, resting after hours of wandering through mazes of tunnels, corridors, and magical rooms.

Brynn stared up at the mural painted on the ceiling, depicting a giant of a man with swirling white hair and beard, wearing a white robe and majestically flying through the sky while surrounded by smaller winged spirits. One of his arms was outstretched towards another, smaller, naked man, who was laying on the ground, looking exhausted and ill. The naked man’s arm was raised up in a weak gesture towards the bearded man, and their fingers were almost touching.

Something felt familiar about the large bearded man’s face. Change the color of his hair and he almost … Brynn blinked and the sensation was gone. His imagination was running wild.

He turned to Seleeku. “You wouldn’t happen to have something to eat, would you? One of your biscuits, perhaps?” The fear and shock had worn off and the gnawing hunger had returned.

“Sorry, I ate the last one.” She pointed at the ceiling. “Do you think the Old Ones painted that?”

Brynn sighed with disappointment. He could really use something to eat. “I don’t know much about their art, but going by their writings, they had a much less romantic view of spirits than what’s depicted up there.”

“Maybe the ones who wrote those dusty tomes did, but maybe there were others among the Old Ones who felt differently.” Seleeku soberly fiddled with the lantern in her lap. She had snuffed out the candle to preserve it. She carried flint, a small piece of iron, and some tinder to restart it again, but the candle was almost gone. Soon they would have to try to find their way out of this otherworldly labyrinth while plunged into total Darkness.

“What did Kodroth say when you asked about your meeting with the king?” she suddenly inquired. Brynn had revealed to her his nightmares with Kodroth. Over the long hours of searching through the maze, he had told her as much detail as he could remember about their dialogues with each other. Finally telling someone about Kodroth had felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off his chest.

“He said the meeting was what was important. I thought the king was in danger, but he didn’t seem to care about him.”

Seleeku frowned. “I wonder if you’re involved in other prophecies, Brynn. Ones that only Kodroth knows.”

Brynn felt goosebumps form across his arms. Prophecies were cursed, but that wasn’t the only thing that bothered him.

“You told me that your prophecies always have a way of coming true,” he said. “If they do, then what’s the point of me doing anything? My fate is preordained. It’s useless for me to resist.”

“I think we still can make choices, but maybe somehow the prophecy knows what choices we will make. Or the consequences of the choices we make? I don’t understand it.”

“Preserve portent. That doesn’t seem like much of a prophecy. It’s more like an order. Just like your other one. Don’t,” Brynn said.

“It may be a command, but you don’t have to follow it. You have a choice.”

“What if I don’t do any preserving of portents? What happens then?”

Seleeku’s face became somber. “Nessana dies.”

He stood up and paced up and down the aisle. The light from the windows had moved perceptibly. The sun would be setting soon. “So that’s why you saved me from this dungeon? So the prophecy can come true?” he asked. Then he added, correcting himself, “That’s why you’re trying to save me from this dungeon. We’re not out yet.”

“I wish I could tell you more, Brynn. I just know those words are about you, and that Nessana is in trouble and that I need to be there to help him. I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you about the prophecy, or not, or if it doesn’t matter. I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to be here, trying to save you. Or not.”

Brynn was lost in thought as he walked up to the temple’s altar. He wondered what strange god had been worshipped here. He couldn’t find any writings at the altar or on the walls or elsewhere to give him a clue. There was just the white haired man painted on the ceiling. Brynn found his stern expression unsettling. If that picture represented the god of this place, he did not want to draw its attention.

“My prophecies … do you know where they come from? Are the spirits speaking to me?” Seleeku asked.

“I doubt I know any more about prophecies than you do. We weren’t allowed to study anything about them,” Brynn replied. “But that sounds right. A spirit, or spirits, are trying to speak to you. Spirits have trouble communicating with mortals though, just like we have trouble communicating with them. That may be why your prophecies seem like riddles. I doubt they’re trying to be obtuse. They just don’t how to get through to you.”

“Maybe you, with your sight, you could understand them better?”

Brynn stiffened at the altar. “I don’t have any special sight, Seleeku,” he snapped. “It’s everyone else who won’t see the world as it truly is.” He saw the nonplussed look on Seleeku’s face and immediately regretted his words. He wasn’t going to apologize, though. There was an element of truth to what he had just said.

“We need to find a way out of here,” Seleeku said after a moment’s pause. The sunbeams were taking on an orange tint and the room was beginning to fill with shadows. She put the lantern on the ground and began the process of lighting it.

She struck her piece of iron on the flint, sending sparks onto the tinder. “Modos … tednedge … how did that poem go again?” she asked idly.

“Modos tednuj meg …” Brynn stopped. That was the start of the first line of the poem, but it was missing its end. Themon hadn’t completed it. He had been trying to tell them something. Of course.

“Modos tednuj meg … amho gror,” he whispered, finishing the line. For a moment he felt like he was falling and then the world shifted.

Brynn and Seleeku walked up the stairs towards the upper levels of the dungeon. Their time in the maze felt dreamlike now, with some parts just fuzzy remembrances, while others—the cavern of salt, Themon’s death, and the temple—were crystal clear memories etched in their minds. Seleeku had asked Brynn about what had happened, but he couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t even sure how much time had really passed. His best guess was that in the distant past, the builders of the dungeon had convinced the spirits to put people in a magical maze unless they spoke the passphrase.

Gror. Brynn mulled over the last word of the passphrase. It was more than just a word, though, wasn’t it? It was a name. Modos tednuj meg amho Gror. There had been a statue in Brightmyst dedicated to Gror. He hadn’t thought about the connection with the poem at the time. It was obscure and seldom studied. He had only come across it by chance in the Library while searching for something else. Now he wished he could recall the rest of it.

They reached the door at the top of the stairs. “This section of the dungeon will be populated,” Seleeku said. She looked over his poorly fitting jailor’s uniform and grimaced. “Try to blend in.”

She raised the heavy iron bar on the door and pushed it open. They entered a corridor with barred cells on either side. Small sputtering torches were evenly spaced along the walls. This is where common criminals were kept. Some cells were empty, but others held sullen men who languished in their dimly lit, damp, and foul smelling confines. A few gave Brynn and Seleeku murderous leers as they passed by. Brynn wanted to hurry along to the other end of the corridor, but Seleeku kept an even pace, walking confidently through the hall, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Seleeku approached the door at the other end of the corridor, reaching out her hand to open it, but it burst open suddenly, and two jailors entered. They held trays carrying meager bowls of thin gruel that were meant for the inmates. Brynn recognized them immediately as the jailors who had brought the King of Galdir to his cell.

They stared at Seleeku and Brynn. Seleeku stared back at them. Brynn stood frozen, rooted to the ground.

“Excuse me,” said one of the jailors, looking at Brynn. Brynn suppressed a yelp and gaped at the man. Both jailors studied him, squinting at him curiously.

Finally, the other jailor motioned with his tray. “We need to get through,” he explained impatiently.

Brynn slowly let out his breath. Then he gave his best fake smile and stepped aside. The jailors ignored him as they brushed past and set about the task of delivering their meals.

Seleeku was already on the other side of the door, striding steadily into a larger room. Brynn swiftly followed her, closing the door behind him, endeavoring to get out of the jailors’ sight as quickly as possible.

The large room was a central location that led to the dungeon’s different cell blocks. A group of jailors to the left were herding manacled prisoners to their cells. Others were carrying trays of food, just like the previous jailors they had encountered. Brynn glanced at the gruel and felt a jealous pang of hunger.

Seleeku tapped him on the shoulder.

“Follow me,” she told him.

Brynn appraised the peasant clothing he was now wearing. Walking about in the city wearing jailor uniforms would have been too conspicuous, so Seleeku had stored extra clothes in the jailors’ changing room.

“Where did you get this?” Brynn asked, gesturing at his tunic. It was colored in an eye-watering pattern of green and yellow. Even though the colors were faded with time, it still gave him a headache.

“You had some coins in your room. I used them purchase the clothing at the market.”

“Do you have the rest of the coins with you?” Perhaps they could buy passage to somewhere near the Far Forest. Not Brightmyst. Mayor Rhoddri would have him executed. What other villages were nearby? First he needed to get some food. He could get something to eat! The thought made him drool.

“The rest?” Seleeku frowned. “I spent them all to buy this clothing.”

Brynn groaned inwardly but said nothing. How could she know how much Galdirian coin was worth? His life savings had been spent on some peasant clothes—used peasant clothes, from the look and smell of them. They had no money, no food, and no place to stay.

“Are you feeling alright?” Seleeku asked. “You look a little pale.”

“I-I’m fine,” Brynn responded. “We need to get back into the College. Hopefully the Codex is where you left it.”

“Why do you need it? Is there something in there about defeating the Darkness?”

“I don’t know,” he answered as he tied a rope belt around his waist. “The book was important to High Druid Themon, though. He was very agitated that it was missing. The Codex contains information on dealing with demons.”

Brynn hastily slipped on a pair of well worn shoes. “I’ve only ever seen versions that have been copied many times over by scribes” he continued. “They all contain errors. There’s no way to know which copy is correct. I doubt any of them are. Everything from the Old Ones is the same way. Copies of copies of copies. But the one you brought to my room was an original version of The Codex of Essus. Maybe the original version. From the Old Ones. Do you know what that means?” He could barely contain the excitement in his voice.

“Of course I don’t, Brynn,” sighed Seleeku while she adjusted her wimple. “What does it mean?”

“It means we’ll have access to scripture directly from the Old Ones, without those intervening poor transcriptions. Plus there are sections of the Codex that are only available to the High Druids. The ritual the High Druids attempted on me was from the Codex, for example. Maybe there’s a ritual in its pure form that we can use.”

Seleeku remained doubtful as they headed towards the exit of the dungeon. “We’ll be taking a lot of risks going back to the College. Are you sure about this?”

“We don’t have a way to get back to the Far Forest as of yet,” he replied. “And all I know about the Darkness is that Kodroth wants to use it to destroy the world. The Codex is the only thing I know of that might help us.”

They were near the exit now. A pair of guards stood sentry. Brynn dithered indecisively before them, until Seleeku gave him a subtle nudge from behind. She ignored the guards and marched out onto the city streets of Galdir. Brynn trailed after her.

They were out of the dungeon—for the moment, at least. Brynn was an escaped prisoner now, and the city wardens would soon be searching for him. The smartest thing to do would be to slip out of the city and hide in the mountains. Brynn choked down the urge to flee. If he was going to stop Kodroth, if he was going to help Seleeku in saving Nessana, he needed information. He was resting all his hopes that what he needed was in the Codex. He prayed that he was right.