Ikavi spat other passwords at the guards at the second doorway, then stood impatiently as the two huge bronze doors there remained closed a little longer. His eyes took in the white pillars, the nervous soldiers, the huge solemn statues to either side of the inner door, the curling paper on the wall with its brief regulations for guarding the vault.
One of the two massive doors creaked as it slowly opened inward. No one was visible on the other side. Ikavi waited, teeth grinding, as the door opened fully. Just beyond the doorway was a huge, squat, doglike statue sitting on its haunches, in a narrow hallway that curved off to the left and right away from Garkim. The stone dog was as thick as a bull and the height of a man, its expressionless eyes looking in Lord Garkim's direction.
The dog's stone lips abruptly moved as if they were flesh. 'You may pass,' it said, then returned to its state of immobility.
Garkim stepped through the door and heard it slowly shut behind him. He hurried on to the left, toward the final set of doors. 'The gate in the Stone Arch is opening!' he shouted.
'The arch gate is opening!' called an invisible guardsman somewhere above. Whispers and a metallic rustling echoed through the curved hall, then-nothing. Magical silence reigned.
Lord Garkim reached the far doors on the inner wall and pulled up short. 'Let me pass,' he said, panting from exertion.
The doors vanished. He went through the doorway, then heard a rush of air behind him. The hall through which he had passed was now sealed and trapped with magical stone and iron.
Garkim walked into a vast, bright hall, octagonal in shape, with thick, round pillars reaching along its walls to support the high dome above. Rippling colors reflected from the marble walls, nearly drowned in the sunlike brilliance of the magical light pouring down from the ceiling. Metal nails in Garkim's boot soles clacked and echoed until he came to a stop and eyed the great chamber. It appeared to be empty except for a lone object standing in the center of the room's colorful tile-mosaic floor.
Only forty feet away was a dirty gray arch carved from a single slab of rock, covered with glyphs and runes. Garkim had seen this chamber several times before on routine visits. The elaborately etched stone had not changed, nor had the 'door' of rainbow light that filled the space beneath the arch. Garkim glanced at the floor, noted his location on the complex mosaic, and stepped back a pace. He allowed himself a deep sigh. He'd apparently made it in time.
The flickering rainbow curtain inside the Stone Arch faded; a ripple of darkness filled the space instead. Lord Garkim flinched. He had never seen a gate in operation. The inside of the gate was now an opaque black surface. His right hand strayed to the hilt of the long sword strapped to is belt, but he forced his hand down to his side. It would be damaging to betray fear with guards watching him from above.
Someone stepped out of the gate into the great domed chamber. It was a man, as large and broad- shouldered as a soldier of the Ffolk, in bright silver plate mail and an open-faced helm that revealed a long mustache, long dark hair, and square face. He entered leading with his bright round shield in his left hand, head down, shoving forward hard as he did so in case anyone tried to block his way. A long-handled warhammer came up in his right hand, ready for an overhand strike. Garkim had never seen armor and weaponry so elaborately engraved and decorated. A great warrior, indeed. The shield, which seemed to glow, had a balance and scales engraved upon it.
Garkim put his right hand slightly out to his side and waved back, in a warding gesture. Do not attack, he telepathically told the guards above. Then he opened his mind to receive the stranger's alien thoughts.
'Identify yourself!' the warrior ordered Garkim. He spoke Faerunian Common, not the Thorass Garkim had expected, but Garkim had studied many languages. He nodded agreeably before answering. The fighter was a religious warrior and gave few second chances. The visitor stepped away from the gate, which was still black. More warriors were coming, Garkim understood.
'Be at peace!' Garkim called in Common, making no unnecessary movements. 'Do not approach me. Stay near the gate. You are in-' He hesitated. A second warrior, a young man in gold-scale armor, came through the arch. This one led with his long warhammer, punching it forward to clear his way. Finding no opposition, he spotted his fellow and took up a position on the other side of the arch, both warriors swiftly scanning the room for other threats.
Garkim stifled a gasp as he received their thoughts. They were holy warriors of Tyr, the ancient god of justice! Did they know of…? No-no, they were here seeking someone, a kidnapped woman…
'You are in no danger where you stand,' Garkim called out, putting strength in his voice. 'Stay close to the gate and do not approach me immediately. My name is Lord Ikavi Garkim.'
'Is this the Utter East?' shouted the golden warrior. Strands of carrot-red hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead.
Garkim noted the gate inside the arch was still black. 'It is,' he replied. 'From where do you hail?'
'We came from Undermountain,' the silver-armored warrior replied, turning his full attention to the councilor. His hammer was still ready to strike. 'It would be wise to answer us truthfully. Are there traps in this room, around us?'
He can tell if I am lying. He reads my voice as I read his mind. 'Yes, there are traps,' said the councilor. 'You are in no danger if you follow my instructions. Do not approach me.'
'You said that already,' said the golden warrior, looking up at the brightly lit dome far above. 'We-' He stopped and turned, hearing a footfall.
A third armored warrior came through, leading with a bright two-handed sword. He glanced left and right, saw his allies, and traded places with the first warrior at the latter's motion. Moments later, a fourth man walked out of the blackness beneath the stone arch. He was an older man in loose-fitting leather clothing, a long, thick staff held out in a defensive posture before him. His long, silver hair was tied back in a ponytail. He stayed behind the other three, but glanced back at the gate and moved aside.
A wizard, he is a wizard. Wait-the others don't know what he really is. He is a secret wizard, posing as a staff-armed warrior. He hopes he will not have to drop his disguise as a fighter. A youth and another wizard are behind him. Garkim nodded thoughtfully. 'Are more of your party coming through the gate?' he asked.
'Yes,' said the first warrior shortly. 'Now, tell us exactly where we are.'
'Certainly, certainly,' said Garkim slowly, gathering the last of their thoughts. The next man through would be a novice, a trouble-prone sort tolerated by the others despite his clumsiness. A wizard-woman, a noble, would be the last person to enter through the gate. This group was bent on finding someone here, a kidnapped woman with whom Garkim was unfamiliar. They had already fought many powerful monsters guarding the gate's other end in Undermountain, and they had expected to fight hundreds more monsters here. They were astonished but still relieved to find only a well-dressed man inside a marble rotunda full of light-but they expected their host to sprout fangs and wings at any second. Garkim carefully drew a breath.
'Well?' demanded the first warrior.
'You are in a building that is called the Vault of the Stone Arch,' Garkim began. 'We are in the city of Eldrinpar, in the Imperial Reaches of Doegan. Further greetings must wait, however. Follow my instructions if you would leave this area safely. Look down at the mosaic floor on which you are standing. You must not cross the great circle of flowers made from red and yellow tiles that you see. Ker-' He cut himself off; he had almost used the golden warrior's name. It wouldn't do to let them know he could read their minds. 'Keep inside that circle, and no harm will come to you. Sir-you with the golden armor, you are very close to the edge.'
The golden warrior did not back up. 'I dislike being fenced in, my good man. What will happen if I take another step?'
You will die, thought Garkim irritably. 'You will trigger a trap, and you will have little time in which to regret it,' he said loudly. 'You are safe there, where you are. Please lower your weapons and pay attention to my instructions.'
'Identify yourself more fully to us first,' said the silver warrior grimly. He stepped forward, his right armored foot coming to rest a fraction of an inch from the circle of inlaid flowers. 'You seem to have been expec-'
'Hey! Is this the Utter East?'
Startled, everyone looked back at the gate. A clean-shaven youth with short, sandy hair and well-tailored clothing had come through. He held a large fighting knife out as he turned around, staring at the chamber with huge eyes. He carried a large backpack with a bedroll on top, and a long coil of thin rope hung from his belt. 'Wow!' he gasped. 'What a place!'
