Page 115 of Minor Works of Meda

We walked closer. Suddenly what we were looking at changed. The landscape melted to a different form right before my eyes.

A great pair of silver doors three times my height appeared. Their metal surface was sculpted in high relief. A carved figure knelt on each side of the grand double-doors, heads bowed with mourning shrouds covering their faces. Behind them a carving of a barren tree twisted up past the edges of the door, sprawling branches intertwined with stars. A crescent moon framed either side of the tree.

And out of the ground on either side of the door, made of wood and not worked metal, grew two large, barren trees, their branches silver-gray and knotted.

Bird whistled low.

Oraik stared with his mouth open. I didn’t think the front door was a good place to linger. I grabbed his arm and dragged him quickly to the side, behind one of the big trees.

“I’m going to cast a concealment,” I whispered.

“It’ll keep people from seeing us?”

“We won’t be invisible,” I cautioned. I didn’t even begin to know how to accomplish that feat. “But if nobody looks for us, and we don’t draw attention, we’ll be… looked over, you could say. So be careful. And don’t be loud.”

“Alright. So we find Kalcedon, grab Kalcedon, and leave with Kalcedon. Easy enough.”

If only, I thought with a shake of my head. I wished I could share Oraik’s optimism instead of only my grim-won determination to see this through. I figured it was a good idea to give the concealment a little something extra; certainly, there was enough power to spare. I added a basic shield to protect us from attacks, and then a phrase to heighten our senses ever so slightly. The problem was it was a lot to hold onto at once.

“Lead the way. Keep a sharp eye,” I told Oraik.

We started to walk. I tried to keep count of my paces, though we’d already stepped to the side to get away from the front door. At ninety-four, which should have been about right, a smaller door appeared. It was an arch of wood a few inches shorter than Oraik. Nothing like the splendor of the silver entry.

He looked at me to confirm, one hand reaching towards the knob. The other still held Bird. I nodded, and Oraik ducked inside. I stepped in behind him.

In front of us lay a long, thin hallway. The silver gleam of the walls was broken by thin living beams of wood that arched up to a pointed ceiling, which was half obscured by dying leaves. To the left was a narrow spiral staircase, its ceiling low, that went both up and down.

The stairs weren’t pretty like the hall in front of us. I could only presume it was meant for servants, like the door we’d entered through.

“Sounds like a kick,” Oraik breathed. Music drifted towards us down the long hallway, harps and bells and pipes. Every quiet beat between notes was full of laughter.

“Maybe he’d be in a dungeon?” I whispered back, eying the stairwell. Oraik nodded. We both stepped towards it.

Bird whistled loudly and snapped opened its wings. I froze in terror.

“Shh,” Oraik whispered, cupping his other hand over it. “No screaming, little thing.” The bird squirmed under his hand and shoved its head free.

The concealment spell was far from perfect, and the whistle had sounded so loud to my ears. But then, my senses were amplified, and the music was blaring. I heard no pause in its tune, saw no movement down the hall.

“If you must warn us,” Oraik whispered quietly, “warn us softly. Alright?”

“Not downstairs, then?” I whispered. My voice trembled. “Down the hall?”

Bird’s head bobbed. If I ever cast an animation spell like that again, I would have to remember to give the poor thing common sense.

“Well?” Oraik asked softly.

“On we go,” I whispered. In my head I reviewed fighting spells, thinking about which would be fastest, which could harm a whole crowd, which could be done stealthily. I’d have to drop the concealment to do it, so I wouldn’t have time to think then.

“I wonder what a faerie kick is like,” Oraik murmured. We stepped into the hall as softly as we could.

“Hush,” I told him. The noise of the music grew as we went. Here and there sudden doors appeared in the hall, ones I was sure had not been there before. At the side of each one we paused, waited for a breath, and slipped swiftly past.

Then suddenly we reached a juncture in the hall. It appeared just like the doors, an arched opening to the right that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The music was louder now, so loud I could barely think. We pressed ourselves against the wall beside the archway.

Suddenly the music stopped. Certain we’d been noticed, I dropped the concealment spell and sketched sigils that would bring destruction. I didn’t let them go yet. We didn’t know what was coming.

But no horde of faeries erupted from the wall’s opening. Instead, the music merely picked up again, to loud cheering and a tumbling cackle of laughter. I drew a shaky breath, dropped the weapon, and sketched out the concealment again.

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