Arriving at the edge of the enormous pit, the companions peered over the edge. Kassian examined the wooden walkways and bridges before looking back at Sir Borin.
“Is it going to take his weight?” he questioned.
Gideon stepped onto the first boards that curved round the outer wall. “It’s dwarven engineering,” he remarked, as if that was answer enough.
“Let’s not take the chance,” Vighon replied, before turning to his bodyguard. “Sir Borin, you will remain up here.”
The Golem groaned from within its iron helmet.
“The battle is over,” Vighon told him. “I will be safe down there. You will remain here.”
The king didn’t wait. He stepped onto the wooden boards and strode down the ramp until his head disappeared below the lip of the pit.
As was his humour, Kassian had a sharp quip for the Golem but, upon meeting his unnatural eyes - seen through narrow slits - the Keeper held on to his words and trailed after his companions.
Down into the pit they descended. After the fight between Inara and Alijah, there were few lifts still in service and those that had remained intact looked too precarious. Following the walkway around the wall, they continued until the dirt became stone.
Adan’Karth slowly wrapped his fingers around one of the bars to a cell and opened it wide. The Drake scrutinised the disgusting dungeon Alijah had forced his kin to endure. If the numbers Galanör and Aenwyn had reported were accurate, these cells were far too cramped.
The king stopped beside the Drake. “I understand that your people abhor violence, Adan, but there must be a limit. Any one of them could have broken free.”
“My people remember little to none of our existence as orcs, your Grace. But what we do remember is their hunger for violence and death. It’s naught but a leaf carried in the wind for us now, a thought whispered in the back of our minds. But it lingers. And so we walk a different path, one that will never breed violence.”
“And a noble path it is,” Gideon encouraged. “Orcs believe that everything can be solved with violence, and if violence isn’t solving the problem, you’re not using enough of it.”
“Quite,” Adan’Karth agreed.
“Well,” Vighon said, “I am thankful we can count you as our friend, Adan.
As the Drake tilted his head in thanks, Kassian’s gaze wandered up to the glyphs etched into the stone around the pit.
“I know pieces of this spell,” he announced, a little dumbfounded by the intricacy of the extensive glyphs. “I can slow a person down, for a short while at least. But this… This magic would have been beyond even the masters of Valatos.”
“As is that.” Gideon looked down at the pit floor, directing the Keeper to the doorway.
Kassian pressed himself up to the railing, his eyes wide in fascination. Without waiting for the others, he rushed down the remaining steps to better see it. The mage in him wanted to investigate every facet of the gateway, but the sands of time were pouring inside the hourglass and, with every grain, they lost more magic.
“Will it hurt?” Vighon asked, eyeing the ragged edges of the doorway.
“No,” Gideon reassured. “Just be sure to duck your head. I can’t say for certain what would happen if you touched the edges.”
“Let’s go,” Kassian said, eagerly.
He was the first to pass from one realm to the other. His eyes naturally tracked up the mountainous tree, its branches extending to a sky of glimmering stalactites. It would all have been so much more beautiful if it wasn’t for the black smoke and ash billowing into the air. There was still a considerable amount of the tree’s white bark left, and thousands of red leaves, but the flames that fought for domination were enough to engulf several towns if not a city.
“I would get closer,” Adan told them, breaking the daze that held Kassian.
“We will have to climb the roots,” Gideon said. “This way.”
Kassian was happy to be led, allowing him more opportunity to take in the foreign land. Climbing over one of the snake-like roots, the Keeper noted its warmth and smoothness. It was almost comforting, as if he had known its touch all his life.
They journeyed to the base of the trunk in silent awe, though a glimpse at Adan showed the Drake to be in pain. Kassian was often envious of his connection to magic, but, right now, he was thankful to be no more than an ordinary mage.
“Can you hear it?” the king enquired of the Drake.
Adan’Karth pulled back his hood to fully reveal his pained expression and shaven horns. “It is deafening,” he informed them, his voice a little louder than necessary. “But it cannot hear me,” he added.
The Drake moved to the trunk, its bark a glorious white that even snow could not boast. Dropping to his knees, Adan placed the flat of one hand to the tree and bowed his head. A moment later, his muscles stiffened and he gasped.
“Adan?” Gideon stepped forward.
The Drake could not answer and, it seemed, he could not remove his hand from the trunk. His free hand, resting by his side, began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Adan!” Gideon’s alarm was shared by them all.
“Help him!” Vighon shouted.
Kassian dashed, as they all did, and gripped some part of the Drake’s body. The Keeper paused, astonished and utterly perplexed by the phenomenon taking place before his eyes.
“What is that?” he uttered.
Gideon and Vighon hesitated. They watched as Adan’s hand began to blend into the tree, his skin transforming into bark. Without words, they all agreed the Drake needed to be ripped from the tree. It took the combined weight of three men, but they managed to yank Adan away, his hand included. He screamed in agony as flakes of bark broke away from the
