Indrid traced his steps back through eight doors and returned to the start. The stairway was his only other option. But there was another choice: up or down.
He went up first and the room looked exactly the same this time. It wasn’t smaller or larger. It was the same size.
The deer reminded Indrid of the Graleon shield and his lessons with Montague. Montague had urged him to learn the histories of Grale and the symbolism. He would hold a stitching of the shield up to Indrid and trace his finger from the outer edge to the center and say; in a room, within a room, within a room, there is a deer with thirty-six points guarding the castle. Indrid felt that he might have jumped to conclusions with his decision to publicly accuse Montague of being a mage. Maybe he was, Indrid thought. But considering that his constant lectures could help Indrid get into the Graleon castle, Indrid didn’t care. He realized now that Montague was only trying to help him.
“That’s it,” Indrid said.
Indrid again tracked all the way back to the beginning. “Now,” he said, “a room within a room, within a room.” He opened the first door and walked into a smaller room. Then he opened the next door and walked through. Next, Indrid counted the points on the antlers of the deer. There was only thirty. He climbed up one floor and counted again, thirty-one. So he walked up five more floors to the level that would have the thirty-six-pointed deer.
The hall led to a closed door with a stone pedestal standing in front of it. It had the outline of a hand at the top of the stone. Indrid placed his inside the imprint and felt a slight tingling in the tips of his fingers. Then, watching the pedestal glow, an intense aura surrounded his body as if some force was analyzing his soul.
Suddenly, the jewel-framed door opened.
When Indrid walked in, the room connected to the glorious Graleon castle. It was just like he’d remembered. Diamond chandeliers hung high from the vaulted ceiling. The massive antlers of a giant thirty-six-pointed deer remained secured to the count’s throne where he saw the dark knight, Sir Simon Atikan standing beside it. A handful of other people were there dressed in high-born cassocks looking on with joyful faces. They must be the council members, he thought.
The dark knight was like a myth to Indrid. He had heard stories about Sir Simon traveling to the edges of the world.
“Welcome, Lord Cole. I knew your father. He was a great man,” the knight said, bowing his head. “I am Simon Atikan. We have been awaiting your return.”
“As have I,” Indrid said.
“We are aware that Ikarus has been attacked. You must need rest.”
“No. There is no time.”
“Then what is first at hand, my lord?” Simon asked.
Indrid thought about this on the ship. He couldn’t ignore his heart. “We must find Anna Lott,” Indrid said.
“My whisperers have told me that Anna Lott is to become Von Cobb’s wife,” Simon said.
“The hell she is!” Indrid couldn’t contain his anger. His love for her was real, but he’d never had the courage to tell her.
“There is a letter from Ikarus for you, my count,” Simon said, bowing as he handed it to him.
The sender’s signature read King Demitri Von Cobb, lord of Men. The letter stated: If you bring Burton Lang to me from the oubliette of Illyrium, I will grant you the Kingdom of Ikarus. You can become the king of the world.
The words king of the world echoed in his mind, exciting Indrid’s deepest desire. He had always thought that if he were the king of Men he would make everything better. “We travel to the ruins of Illyrium first,” Indrid said. “There is someone there whom we need to bring with us to Ikarus.” Finally, Indrid would come face to face with the wizard who he had suspected was manipulating Montague; the infamous Burton Lang. “Ready the ships, we’re leaving at dawn.”
A STORM raged along the eastern shore of Illyrium Island, where the Graleon ship, captained by Count Indrid Cole, would dock, and from where he would cross the Great Flats and across the Origon River to Illyrium. But the winds pushed the vessel far south of where they intended to dock. They crashed into the frosted rocks lining the spillway of the mud lands of Ghord.
“No man has gone through these mud lands for at least a hundred years,” Sir Simon said. “It’s alive.”
“Does anyone have a better idea?” Indrid asked, hoping this path was avoidable.
“The storm is blocking us from the north, and if we go south to the edge of the mountain, we will be sacked by mages in the canyon hills before we could step foot on the ground. There is no other way unless we wait the night for the storm to pass,” Simon said, “It’s your call, my lord.”
Indrid heard the words, king of the world, again in his mind. He didn’t want to wait. Who knows how many people Demitri had offered the kingdom to? Indrid thought. What if someone else brings Burton to Demitri before he could?
The mud lands didn’t look terrifying. He wasn’t afraid of the moving trees and living-mud he’d heard about in stories. He had a Graleon army and Ikarus soldiers with him. “I am confident that men of our ability can make it through the mud,” Indrid said.
Sir Simon Atikan led the way. It was driest near the trees. They had lively roots that scavenged through the mud for recently deceased rodents or amphibians, and they sucked up hundreds of gallons of water
