Chapter 14 Beneath The Keep
BENEATH THE KEEP
The Vermillion Keep reflected deep shades of red in the setting sunlight, the massive structure dominating Astral City’s skyline like a mountain of carved stone and soaring spires.
The festival had drawn enormous crowds, with nobles and commoners alike filling the main thoroughfares that led to the Keep’s grand courtyard.
Street performers entertained the masses while vendors hawked commemorative trinkets bearing the King’s likeness.
Lark adjusted the fine merchant’s coat Cheyanne had provided, feeling the weight of Nightfang concealed beneath its folds.
The brismil sword was masked by a clever enchantment Yarla had managed, making it appear as an ordinary blade to casual observers.
The magic wouldn’t fool a Paragon up close, but it would serve for their approach.
“You’re fidgeting again,” Venrick murmured, his hand light on her arm as they merged with the stream of festivalgoers moving toward the Keep. “Merchants from the east are supposed to be poised.”
“I spent more time than you realize planning how I would escape that Keep if I were ever caught,” Lark replied under her breath. “Now, I’m walking in willingly, and under false pretenses. The wards would kill us if it weren’t for Hardin being here.”
“It’s like walking into your own execution,” Venrick supplied with a grim smile. “I’ve done this once before.”
“And look how that turned out,” Lark quipped.
“All things considered, I’d say pretty good since it led me to you.”
“Now’s not the time for dewy eyes and bright smiles,” Lark said, playfully nudging him with her elbow.
The pendant against her chest pulsed with heat. Nix remained hidden, her connection holding to the necklace as she conserved her energy for when they would truly need it.
They passed through the first security checkpoint with the forged invitations created by members of Cheyanne’s organization who were embedded in Astral City.
The guards barely glanced at the documents, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of visitors entering the Keep’s outer courtyards for the evening’s spectacle.
“Can you hear me?” Yarla’s voice whispered directly into Lark’s mind, channeled through the enchanted communication stone tucked into her ear.
Lark gave a subtle nod, knowing the elf would sense her response through the stone’s magic.
“I got you loud and clear,” Cheyanne’s voice came through.
“What’s your progress, Cheyanne?” Yarla asked.
“We’re in the Keep, planting distractions for those still working.
I think they’re having a hard time keeping ahead of trying to stop the spread of our propaganda.
I know most of these knuckleheads won’t see these pamphlets and copied documents as anything but fake news, but maybe someone will stop to think. ”
“It sounds like they’re doing their job, keeping those still working in the Keep distracted,” Yarla said.
“I’ll keep the line open for you and Lark. Unless something else comes up, we’ll speak through another stone,” Cheyanne said.
“Got it. Lark and Venrick, know that Hardin is in position at the eastern service entrance. He says the patrols are exactly as expected. You have a window of approximately seven minutes between guard rotations.”
Venrick squeezed her elbow gently, signaling he’d received the same message.
They continued with the crowd into the main courtyard, where hundreds of lanterns floated in intricate patterns above.
On a raised dais, court magi performed elaborate illusions that drew gasps from the assembled guests.
Perfect cover for what they were about to attempt.
“Now,” Venrick whispered as a particularly spectacular burst of illusory dragons drew all eyes skyward.
They slipped away from the main gathering, moving casually toward a less populated section of the outer courtyard.
A narrow passage between two guard barracks led to a small service yard where provisions were delivered to the Keep’s kitchens.
As they’d hoped, the area was nearly deserted, with most of the staff either serving at the festival or enjoying their own celebrations in the lower town.
“Thirty seconds until the next patrol,” Yarla warned.
They pressed themselves into the shadows beside a stack of empty barrels. Heavy footsteps approached, then passed as two guards made their rounds, their conversation focused on the celebrations they were missing.
Once the guards had turned the corner, Lark and Venrick moved swiftly to the small gate that separated the service yard from the wilder terrain of the Keep’s eastern slope. There, partially concealed by ornamental shrubs, Hardin waited.
“There you are,” he said in a shaky voice. He cleared his throat, and said with more gusto, “Here it is, the intentional weakness in the wards to trap people doing exactly what we’re about to do.” His attention was focused on the stone wall before him.
To Lark’s eyes, there was nothing remarkable about this section of the wall, but she knew better than to trust appearances in a place as ancient and magically fortified as the Vermillion Keep.
“How does it look?” Venrick asked, scanning their surroundings while Hardin worked.
“Complicated,” Hardin replied, running his hand through his thick brown hair.
“The wards here are layered, newer ones over the old. The newer spells I can manage easily enough, but beneath them,” he frowned.
“There’s a set of more complex weaving.” Hardin paused, a sign he was communicating with his dragon.
Then said, “Quin thinks they must be coming from a type of rune we’ve never encountered before. ”
“You can still pass through them, though?” Venrick asked.
“Yes, I can walk right through them. Maybe even pull one of you through at a time but based on what happened in Red Lodge with Joc’s wards…
Even if I get you through, there will be a trace.
Ash, they might even trigger outright if I bring you through without manipulating them.
I’ll need to make a hole in them, but there’s magic that not even Quin recognizes built into these wards. Definitely not a draconic spell.”
“What kind of magic would a bonded dragon be unfamiliar with?” Venrick asked.
“I think I’ve encountered it before,” Lark said.
“The magic is likely from the original dragonriders; the wards are probably just like those we encountered in the Northern Sanctuary and the vault inside the archive. The power stored in the runes Hardin isn’t familiar with is more than likely a combination of dragonrider and fae magic. ”
Hardin pointed at the wall, and said, “They responded when you spoke just now. It’s like they recognized you.”
“Or, they recognize my bond with Nix,” Lark suggested.
“Either way, if you’re right, I think you can help guide me here. If we work together, we might be able to shape a gap in them without anyone noticing,” Hardin said.
“Okay, how do we do this?” Lark asked.
Hardin shrugged, “I find that following my instincts works best.”
Lark clenched her jaw, “Hardin, are you telling me that this entire plan hinges on following your instincts?”
Hardin smiled a playful grin, “It’s hard to explain, moving the wards is kind of like playing the right notes in a song.”
Lark took a deep breath, calming herself.
“And, hey, my instincts have not led me astray so far.”
“Oh, gods,” she groaned. “What do you need me to do?”
Hardin placed his hand on the wall. Lark sensed a shimmer pass through his aura as he pulled on magic from Quin. A breathless moment passed, and he said through clenched teeth, “Lark, put your hand on mine. Feel the channel of power and help me control it.”
Lark placed her hand over Hardin’s on the wall. Immediately she felt an enormous amount of magic held back in him, a dam that was leaking a stream from their bond.
Why did he summon so much energy only to use a trickle? she wondered.
Lark instantly tapped into her bond with Nix, letting her steady stream of fae power flow through her fingers into Hardin’s.
They mixed, just as she’d done with both White Eye and Nix’s bond before, but this time, she only needed to focus on controlling one bond.
There was an immediate response resonating through her in the ward’s melody.
Hardin relaxed, the amount of magic pent up behind his dam receding to a tolerable amount. “The newer wards are open. But can you feel that?” Hardin asked. “There’s a second flow mixed in with older wards.”
Watching in fascination, Lark suddenly began to see faint lines of green and silver light tracing between the blue web of the wards. Is this what Hardin sees? she wondered, concluding that tapping into the wards with him somehow allowed her to see them as well.
The green and silver lines in the stones formed patterns similar to those Lark had seen in the Northern Sanctuary, runes hidden within the bedrock of the Keep’s foundation. Dragonrider runes and fae runes.
“I can see them,” Lark said.
“You can?” Hardin asked.
“You can’t?” Lark questioned.
“No, I can only feel them,” he said.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Guide my channel toward whatever’s connected to this servant’s entrance. Tell me when I’m on one, and I’ll shift it, like moving the lines of a spiderweb to make a gap.”
“And they’ll stay like that?” Lark asked.
“If these are like Cheyanne’s wards, then yes, they should hold like that until they’re broken, or triggered, or moved back into place,” Hardin said.
Working in tandem, Lark guided their flow of magic.
The fae and dragonrider channels of power intertwined seamlessly.
When she had them on a line of energy passing out from the runes, she told Hardin.
He pushed on them with his mental link, and they shifted, the lines of magic continuing to remain in a harmonious flow.
They repeated this until the gap in the green and silver wards matched the one in the blue wards Hardin had made around the entrance.