Shroud of Eternity

CHAPTER 77

Wizard Renn was astonished when the optimistic Captain Trevor proved himself right—that they would indeed find Cliffwall. Despite his proclaimed confidence, though, the guard captain seemed just as surprised to stumble upon their destination.

Weary, footsore, and hungry, having lost three men along the way, the group plodded along the rocky bottom of a high-walled canyon until they reached a dead end. Ignoring the groans of disappointment from the men behind him, the captain went to the stone wall and leaned against the cool slickrock. “At least there’s shade.” He shook his head. “We’ll rest before we retrace our steps.”

He accidentally discovered a crack that led through the towering wall and into another network of canyons beyond. Renn followed. As the sky opened up above them, they heard running water, saw green meadows, terraced gardens—and buildings erected inside cliff alcoves high above … an actual city hidden here. Farther down the canyon, he saw horses, groups of men, lines of tents, a large encampment of some sort.

“This is Cliffwall,” Trevor said. “It has to be.”

Renn discovered energy again, and he suddenly realized he wasn’t ready for such an important meeting. Self-consciously, he brushed down his ragged and stained robes and released his gift, drawing on magic to freshen up the cloth, brighten the maroon dye, neaten the tattered hems. “We must look presentable when we reclaim Cliffwall in the name of Ildakar.” With a gesture, he released the magic into Captain Trevor and the other guards, polishing their armor, removing the dust from their faces, cleaning their hair.

“There,” he said, satisfied, “you look fresh and intimidating now.”

“Why couldn’t you have done that days ago?” complained one of the guards. “We’ve been miserable.”

“Because it wasn’t necessary,” Renn said. “Come, if this is Cliffwall, we have our orders.”

Renn, Trevor, and the guards hurried into the canyon, where they were soon discovered. When natives came up to greet them, Renn took charge, resplendent in his clean maroon robes. He placed himself in front of Captain Trevor so the others would know who was in charge. “I am the wizard Renn, and this is my escort. We journeyed long and hard to find Cliffwall. I would speak with your leaders. It is an urgent matter.”

“We’ll take you there,” said one of the farmers. “Now that the archives have been opened again, we were told to expect many gifted visitors.”

Renn was unhappy that after the toll of the arduous journey, their arrival wasn’t treated as something more significant. “You haven’t been expecting any visitors like me,” he said.

They stared up at the huge alcove that held towering stone-fronted structures. Renn nodded and said to Trevor, “It’s not like Ildakar, but at least it’s civilization, and there’s plenty of water and food. It will do.”

The relieved guards muttered their agreement. “Take us up there,” Renn instructed.

The farmers guided the group to the base of a narrow trail that wound precariously up to the sheer wall, but none of the locals showed any interest in following them up there. “The path is clear. At the main entrance of the largest tower, you’ll find scholars who can help you.”

Captain Trevor thanked the man. Pulling his maroon robes close so he wouldn’t trip on them, Renn set his gaze forward and trudged up the steep path, showing no nervousness about the sheer drop-off. After climbing high above the canyon floor, they reached the immense alcove filled with buildings. Trevor and his weary men gawked at the stone façades, the tall windows of colored glass, the perfect arch over the main entryway.

Gathering his courage, Renn pushed his way to the tall arch. Thick, dark-stained wooden doors stood open on massive hinges, welcoming visitors inside. Wrapping his grandeur around him like a cloak, reminding himself that he was a respected member of the wizards’ duma of Ildakar, Renn strode into the huge echoing foyer of the outermost archive building. Captain Trevor and his nine men followed close at his heels.

Inside, Renn looked at the polished marble pillars veined with brown and gold, which held up the arched ceiling. Bright magical lights glowed from sconces and alcoves in the walls. People in scholars’ robes moved about, often reading books as they walked. They looked up at the unexpected visitors.

Standing in the open hall, Renn summoned a bright flame in his hand to demonstrate his gift and announced himself in a loud voice. “I am the wizard Renn, a member of the ruling council of Ildakar. I have come here on a mission, escorted by these brave men, to reclaim what is ours.”

“And what is yours?” asked an older, distinguished woman. Her dark curly hair was shot through with strands of gray. She glided out of a side passage. “I am Prelate Verna of the Sisters of the Light.”

She was accompanied by a man wearing military armor and an insignia of a stylized “R” that Renn did not recognize—probably some pompous minor dictator, like Emperor Kurgan had been. The military man looked at them with his dark eyes, his expression shadowed with suspicion.

Renn stated his business. “We demand that you turn over all the knowledge in this archive to its rightful owners—the city of Ildakar.”

Prelate Verna looked more surprised than terrified. She placed her hands on her hips. Flushing a deep bronze, the military man beside her raised his voice and called for his own soldiers.

Verna faced Renn and said, “Then I am afraid we have a problem.”