Chapter 24 #2
The men exchange glances, but none of them speaks.
That sick feeling in my gut intensifies.
But this is good, is it not? I don’t want him to be here, I don’t want him to come.
I don’t want him to face whatever it is that lies on the far side of those terrible doorways.
If he slipped away from Stromin Palace and out of my life, so much the better!
Only…he might have thought to say goodbye first…
And then, suddenly, there he is. Stepping out of the shadows, he takes up position on Lord Elis’s left hand. He’s wearing all black, nearly invisible even with the glow of the scintil he carries in his hand. He could almost be his own cast shadow, not solid flesh and blood at all.
“Ah! Welcome, Prince Valtar,” Alderin says, though with some coolness in his voice.
Then he raises both arms, the long sleeves of his robes wafting like feast-day banners.
“You four have already proven yourselves worthy champions,” he declares, his words booming deep against the stone walls.
“You have shown your strength, agility, and teamwork in the first trial. In the second, you proved your ability to think quickly in the face of sudden danger. Now, it is time to know how your mighty hearts will hold up under the most extreme pressure. Only a man with a will of iron is fit enough to guard the princess on her journey to the Dracor Flame.”
He swings his arms to indicate the four different openings in the walls of the pit below.
“See you there these entrances to the deeps of the world. Mineshafts from ages past, back when the dwarves who dwelt under this mountain still mined for meorise and made themselves rich beyond the dreams of men. These mines are since depleted, the dwarves who made them long gone. But at the end of each shaft, there remains a treasure still. A treasure which must be fetched back by he who is brave enough to venture in for it.”
The champions exchange glances again, all except Valtar. His face remains focused straight ahead, not even acknowledging the king. I can’t tell if he’s listening to a word being spoken.
“And what are these tokens, exactly?” Prince Warrick asks, while Taigan and Elis nod in mutual curiosity.
“It does not matter,” Alderin replies. “You will know it when you see it. That is, if you have the will to venture so far.” His eyes gleam with an eager, unsettling light.
“This is your task, brave champions: Descend into the heart of the mountain. Into the dark, into the heat. Into the pressure. Find the token and, if you are worthy, return with it here and lay it at the feet of your princess. Do you accept your challenge?”
Warrick and Taigan both clasp fists to their hearts and bow.
Elis does the same, but only after flashing another glance and a grin at me.
He looks quite chipper about things, as though he squeezes himself down dwarf mining tunnels every day of the week.
Taigan looks rather green by the glow of his scintil, and the lines of Warrick’s face are deeper than ever.
Valtar, by contrast, simply looks…absent. As though something in him has gone away, leaving behind a shuttered house. I wish I could catch his eye, but he will not look my way.
“May the gods shine their holy light upon your hearts,” Alderin cries, his sonorous voice filling that space with portent, “even as you venture into the depths of darkness. Carry with you my blessing and my love, brave men of Belanor.”
I wince. After all, Valtar is not of Belanor…does he not get to benefit from the king’s blessing as well? He doesn’t seem to care, however. As the other three champions fall into line to salute me, he moves to the back of them, his gaze still focused anywhere but on me.
Taigan approaches me first, raising my fingers to his lips.
I swear, his hand is trembling, but he plants a firm kiss on my knuckles and lifts his gaze to me.
There’s courage in his eye, underscored by no little fear.
For possibly the first time since I met him, my heart goes out to him, and I wish I could find the courage to urge him not to go down into that pit, not to risk his life.
But when I open my mouth, no words will come.
So he releases my hand and strides swiftly to the narrow staircase off to the right, which leads down into the pit below.
Warrick advances next. He kisses my hand as well, but when he straightens, his gaze is not on me but fixed over my shoulder at Philippa, standing behind me.
I give his hand an extra squeeze, and his eyes flash to meet mine.
I smile a little, knowingly, and murmur, “Come back to her in one piece, Prince Warrick.”
He swallows, nods. And moves away to follow Taigan.
Elis leaps forward, a spring in his step, a smile on his face.
“Who doesn’t enjoy a little game of fetch and carry?
” he asks brightly, just before kissing my hand like the others before him.
When he straightens, he draws a step closer, ducking his head a little to meet my eyes.
“Say a prayer for me, Princess. I hope to return promptly, and then perhaps we may renew our…conversation of yesterday?”
A blush stains my cheeks, but to my surprise, it’s accompanied by a prickling of tears.
I’m suddenly afraid. Much more afraid than I should be, considering I’m not the one who is venturing down one of those holes.
“Do please be quick about it, Lord Elis,” I manage, trying to match his brightness.
“Only, one doesn’t like to be kept waiting long when there are tokens to be laid at one’s feet. ”
He chuckles. “Your wish is my command, dear princess. One foot-token, coming right up!”
With that, he leaves me. And there is only Valtar left.
For a moment, he remains standing where he is, and I fear he will not come near me at all.
Then, as though suddenly galvanized to life, he strides forward a single long step, takes my hand in his, and lifts it to his mouth.
His fingers are cold as ice, not the scalding-hot touch I’ve come to associate with him. His lips never brush my skin.
I lean toward him nevertheless, and whisper so low only he will hear: “Luck, Prince Valtar.”
He freezes, his head still bent over my hand.
For a fraction of an instant, I think perhaps his grip tightens just a little.
But I might have imagined it, for the next thing I know, he’s turned away from me without a word or a glance, joining the other champions as they descend the narrow, dwarf-sized stairs to the pit.
When they reach the little space below, each man chooses an opening, seemingly at random.
There they stand, awaiting the king’s signal.
Warrick looks up at Philippa once more; Taigan looks at the king.
Elis casts a brilliant smile to me and waves his scintil overhead so that it glitters and shoots little sparks in an arc.
Valtar simply faces straight ahead into darkness.
“Brave champions,” Alderin says, lifting his hand above his head, “prove your will and worthiness for the honor set before you. Commence!”
His hand comes down in a sharp motion, and all four men spring forward into those black clefts. In a moment, they are gone. And we all remain standing at the rail, staring down at an empty pit.
“Now,” Alderin says softly, as though to himself, “we wait.”