Chapter 3 The Relic
Ancient Tunnel Entrance
The Dissolver assembled a torch from rubble, sparking it to life with a dying ember, while Rowena caught her breath at the chamber entrance.
As she steadied herself, she cut a piece of her shirt to use as a bandage around her torso.
Blood oozed through the fabric. She grimaced in pain but quickly swallowed it down, knowing they couldn't linger much longer.
More soldiers might not be far behind.
By now, the sun had vanished, and they moved cautiously to avoid slipping in the gloom. One after the other, they descended the shaft, Rowena first, The Dissolver following with the torch.
They descended a staggering depth, nearly fifty feet straight down.
Upon reaching the bottom, the narrow shaft opened into a cavernous passageway, which vanished into darkness so dense it nearly consumed the torchlight.
The air was cool and heavy with the scent of earth and ancient dust, and the silence pressed in on them, broken only by the ragged sound of their breathing.
"I feel a breeze," The Dissolver whispered, watching the flame flicker.
"There must be another entrance ahead," Rowena said.
They walked for what felt like miles, the corridor never changing. The silence was only broken by the distant, ghostly echo of their own passage.
Suddenly, they came to a barrier. Thick iron bars extended from the ceiling to the floor, blocking off the entire corridor.
The Dissolver yanked at them. "Is this it? There's nothing down here, just a dead end."
Rowena peered through the bars into the endless darkness beyond.
"Maybe this was a cistern," she said, but then considered the key's engravings.
Why were they the same as the seal above?
"Dissolver, may I have the torch?" she asked. He shrugged and handed it over.
She brought it close to the floor, searching, inspecting the walls and the floor for signs of water erosion.
Nothing.
But then,
A shadow caught her eye. It was a tiny, nearly invisible keyhole inches above the ground. She drew the mysterious key from her pocket, slid it in, and turned.
Click.
Underfoot and overhead, mechanisms creaked and shifted. The iron bars dropped away with a thunderous bang that rattled the stones.
Torches sprang to life in the next chamber, lighting a tall, vaulted room.
At its center stood a life-size angelic statue clad in metal armor. It had four feathered wings outstretched, and its hands and gaze were fixed on a marble altar where a great, ornate metal chest rested atop it.
The statue's eyes glowed violet-blue, pulsing with eerie energy. A plaque was attached to the front of the altar.
"Incredible," The Dissolver breathed, racing forward without a second thought.
"Wait!" Rowena called, but he was already reaching for the chest.
As his fingers brushed cold metal, a bolt of lightning shot from the statue's eyes, blasting him across the room. He crashed into the wall and collapsed.
Rowena rushed to his side, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Are you okay?" She shook his shoulder frantically.
His eyes were glazed, and his words jumbled. She waited, worried, as he slowly sat up.
"Are you okay? How's your head?" She asked again.
He rubbed the back of his skull. "It's okay, but why does my chest hurt?"
"You were electrocuted. You're lucky to be alive," she said, scolding. "You mustn't touch everything you see."
He nodded sheepishly.
Lesson learned.
Rowena helped him up, then approached the altar cautiously.
She marveled at the statue's power and examined the plaque. "Strange," she muttered. "This creed is for Etheria, but I don't recognize it."
"What does it say?" the boy asked, hanging back, wary.
Rowena read aloud:
"I, servant of Etheria, hold fast to the ancient power bestowed upon our land since time immemorial.
It is the source of our unity, our wisdom, and our strength.
I believe that this sacred force—unseen yet ever-present—flows through our veins and binds us to our homeland, to one another, and to the destiny that awaits us.
By the will of the Ancient Power, we are chosen.
From its light, we draw strength. It is my duty to uphold the virtues of courage, justice, and honor, defending our realm against all forms of darkness and corruption.
Let none doubt the strength of Etheria, for as long as we honor the ancient power, we stand unbroken and unconquered. "
The boy blinked. "I don't get it. The Ancient Power—what is that?"
Rowena shook her head. "Legend says Etheria's founder, King Osias, had a connection to that power. It gave him magic, and made Etheria wealthy, and its lands fertile and prosperous."
"Magic? Real magic?" The boy was excited at the idea.
"Yes, but it's just a story." Rowena reminded him, sternly, "My father said only the last line of the original creed survived in the new version—but that line's missing here."
"What was the last line?"
"In unity, we rise; by faith, we prevail."
As soon as she spoke, a mechanism whirred. The statue's eyes went dark.
Rowena stared. "Unbelievable. The statue reacts to the creed..."
She reached for the chest, fingers slow.
"Be careful," the boy warned.
Afraid, she quickly graced the lid with her fingertip.
No shock.
She sighed, relieved.
She unlocked it with the key and lifted the lid.
Inside was a longsword in a brown leather sheath, resting on a white silk pillow. The sheath was tooled with patterns and strapped with golden buckles. Its hilt was hidden beneath a flap fastened by a gold button.
It was magnificent.
Rowena gently lifted the sword. It was heavy
far too heavy for practical use.
"Wow, a sword!" the boy exclaimed, leaning close.
"A lot of trouble to hide one sword," Rowena muttered, feeling more confused than ever.
Why would the enemy be looking for an old, Etherian sword?
And why was it hidden underground?
She unclasped the button and peeled back the flap, revealing a pitch-black handle.
Rowena gasped, dropping the sword onto the pillow. She staggered back into the boy, who caught her.
"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, sudden fear in his voice.
Rowena's own voice trembled in fear and shock. "I—I think... but it can't be..."