Chapter 15 #4
Text in a language Alsen didn’t recognize, if it even was a language to begin with.
Symbols were arranged in concentric circles radiating outward from a central point.
The central point itself was a spiral, the same spiral he’d seen on the temple ceiling, on the dungeon entrance, on the constructs’ chests.
But this one was detailed, intricate, each curve of the spiral containing smaller spirals that contained smaller spirals still.
And at the base of the gate, set into the floor in a semicircle, twelve stone tiles sat raised slightly above the surrounding surface. Each tile bore a single symbol, different from the others, matching symbols scattered throughout the text on the gate.
Alsen approached the gate. His exhaustion evaporated, or at least, he stopped noticing it.
He read the text. Or tried to. The symbols weren’t in any language he knew, not from this world or his old one.
But they weren’t random either. The arrangement followed patterns, repetitions, and variations that suggested grammar, syntax, and structure.
Some symbols appeared frequently, some rarely.
Clusters of symbols repeated in different positions throughout the text, like words in a paragraph.
This was a language. A real, structured language. And the gate was a page written in it.
“Can you read it?” Garrett asked.
“No.” Alsen touched the surface. The stone was warm, much warmer than the walls. “But I can recognize structure. This is a text, not a decoration. Someone wrote something here.”
“What about the tiles?” Theron pointed at the semicircle on the floor. “They look like they move.”
Alsen crouched by the tiles. Each one sat in a shallow groove, suggesting it could slide laterally or perhaps be pressed down. He reached for one, then stopped. In a dungeon full of traps, pressing mysterious tiles ranked among the dumber things a person could do. “Luna?”
She shook her head. “There’s no trap mechanism around. If I were to guess, the stones unlock the gate. Somehow. Probably.”
Obviously. A riddle, a password the temple priests knew, but no one else could figure out.
Garrett motioned with his hand. “Let’s break camp. We can get a good night’s sleep and figure it out in the meantime.”
Alsen looked at the gate. Twelve tiles. Dozens of symbols in the text. Concentric circles suggesting order, hierarchy, maybe a sequence. The tiles likely needed to be pressed in a specific order or arranged in a specific pattern, matching something in the text.
To solve it, he needed to decode the language. Or at least decode enough of it to identify the correct sequence.
He sat down in front of the gate, cross-legged, and pulled out his spellbook. He flipped to a blank page and started copying symbols.
Marena walked to his side. “Are you trying to decode the language?”
“Yes. At the end of the day, a language is just a pattern. Since this is a temple, the texts are likely religious in nature, which simplifies the potential patterns significantly.”
Marena smiled. “You really enjoy magic, don’t you?” She sat down next to him.
“I do.”
“I never did. But I enjoyed helping people. The old shaman taught me to help those who asked. Yet the village had too few people for us to both have something to do. He always told me the world was this large, wonderful place I had to go discover. I didn’t want to… until Theron showed up.”
Alsen nodded, focused more on the texts than on her.
“He came covered in blood, most of it his own. He fought a frenzied bear, or so he said, in the forest, and barely made it to our village. The old shaman didn’t have enough power to heal him.
I did. But it took days, and as I worked on his wounds, he told me stories of his travels.
I thought they were fairy tales, but he showed me the scars that he earned from them. ”
Earned. Alsen didn’t like that line of thought. Scars were the reminders of a nearly fatal failure. He wouldn’t ever keep any.
“And I caught… the taste for adventure from him. I wanted to see the world, and left with him. I already couldn’t fit into the house of my parents, as I am the eleventh of twelve children.
We barely had anywhere to be inside, even when I was little.
So, traveling felt so freeing, the world so large.
I never returned, only always sent back gold when I had the opportunity to. ”
“Don’t you miss your parents?” Alsen asked, leaving the text for later.
“It’s… complicated. I miss Mom and Dad sometimes, but I don’t miss working on the farm.
Nor do I miss the constant shouting and fighting of my siblings.
I always liked peace and silence, which I only got when traveling.
Anyway… sorry for taking up your time. This looks like it will be a long night for you. ”
Alsen nodded, pivoting his focus to the texts. Behind him, Sonja was trying to bargain for a kiss from Luna, arguing she already earned like four, so they could compromise on two.
He filtered that away as annoying noise. He had a puzzle to solve.