Wielder's Fate (32 page)

He gave the inside of the cave a more studied look.  The faint light from outside lit the entrance but faded to almost nothing further back.  In the dim light, he could see that the source of the stream was a hole on the right side of the cave not far from the entrance.  The ceiling of the cave was less than a head above him when he stood up straight, and the width of the cave was about two arm spans.  The strange rock formations at the entrance, that so resembled teeth, were absent from the rest of the cave.

Traven took several paces forward, wondering how deep the cave went.  With his heightened sense of sight, he could see clearly enough to go forward for a ways, but he wasn’t sure how far he could go without it becoming completely dark.  He wished he could make a flame with the ambience or even a torch through normal means.  Unfortunately, fire was forbidden on Mount Morian, and he wouldn’t violate the elves’ wishes.

He continued forward as the cave began to descend slightly.  The dirt floor of the entrance gave way to the solid stone underneath.  The air in the cave also became warmer and more humid.  The cave began to narrow, and at places, Traven had to walk slightly slouched.  By the time it had narrowed to just less than an arm span, he found himself wondering if he should turn around.  He could hardly see anything anymore and began feeling incredibly claustrophobic as the stone walls closed in on him.  His strength had been depleted on the climb, and his motivations to find the secrets of the cave were slowly giving way to exhaustion and fear.

Traven stopped contemplating turning around when he noticed that the light making his path visible was no longer coming from behind him but from in front.  Intrigued by the new light, he continued forward a little further.  The ceiling progressively became lower, and he was soon forced to drop to his hands and knees in order to keep exploring the cave.  As he crawled along, the dim light slowly grew brighter.  He realized with surprise that the light had a greenish hue to it.

The warmth in the cave continued increasing to a level where it was almost uncomfortable.  Traven wriggled out of his fur coat with some difficulty in the narrow confines of the tunnel and breathed a sigh of relief.  Without the thick coat enveloping him, the narrow tunnel felt less restrictive.  He set the coat off to one side and continued forward.

The unnatural green light grew in intensity as he crawled.  In the distance, he could see that the light was emanating from a circular opening.  As he moved forward, his back scraped against the top of the tunnel.  His shirt caught on something sharp and ripped noisily.  He grimaced as he dropped to his stomach and inspected the top of the narrow cave.  The ceiling was still dropping lower, and its smooth surface was broken regularly by sharp minerals that jutted downwards.  He realized that in order to continue, he would be reduced to slithering forward on his stomach like a snake.

The thought brought with it other uncomfortable possibilities as he wondered for the first time if there might be certain types of creatures inhabiting the cave.  He quickly shook the thought away.  He hadn’t seen any sign of life in the cave except for the red flowers.  Why should he run into anything else now?

He gritted his teeth and continued forward, pulling himself along the base of the cave.  The ground soon became moist and somewhat slimy.  It was disgusting, but it did make it easier for him to slide forward.  It wasn’t long before he was only a couple of arm spans from the roundish opening he had seen.  The green light was certainly brighter, and he had hope that whatever he was looking for was directly past the small opening.

Traven pulled himself forward excitedly but stopped almost instantly as the back of his shirt caught on several shards of the sharp mineral.  The ceiling had dropped so low that it was difficult to move forward even while lying flat against his stomach.  A feeling of panic coursed through him at the thought of becoming stuck in the confines of the cave.  He took several measured breaths and pushed the feelings away.  If it got too narrow for him to proceed, he could always back out the same way he had come.

He turned his head sideways and slithered forward.  He was almost there and couldn’t stop now.  He made it half the distance to the small, round opening before his clothes caught on another shard and began to tear.  No doubt his clothes would be in tatters by the time he made it out of the cave.  He tried to shift slightly but realized that no matter what direction he moved, the tear would continue to grow.  With determination, he carefully slithered forward, receiving several more tears and even a few scrapes along the skin of his back.

He finally reached the circular opening and peered through it.  A large cavern full of the sharp, teeth like rock formations opened up before him.  The source of the strange greenish light did appear to be emanating from the large cavern, but the rock formations descending from the ceiling and rising from the floor blocked him from seeing the actual source that appeared to be on the far side of the cavern.

Traven inspected the small opening with concern.  It seemed like he should be able to squeeze through it, but the thought of getting stuck once again made him pause.  He knew others had undoubtedly passed into the large cavern, but they had all been elves.  His build wasn’t as lithe as the elves, but he decided to give it a try.  He stretched his arms carefully out in front of him and through the hole.  He then slowly wriggled his way forward.  There were a couple of times were he became momentarily wedged, but by exhaling and rotating slightly to one side or the other he was able to make it through the small opening.

He let out a sigh of relief as his hips passed through the hole.  He quickly pulled his legs through and stood up.  Traven looked back down at the small opening at the floor of the cavern and shook his head.  He could hardly believe he had managed to pass through it.  In relation to the large cavern he found himself in, the opening looked even smaller.  He turned from the hole and gazed around the cavern.

It was four or five arm spans high and around ten wide.  The length of the cavern was hidden from view by the maze of stone formations that blocked his path.  He took several deep breaths of the warm, humid air of the cavern before beginning to weave his way through the stone formations that resembled teeth.  He walked through the maze of stone teeth for longer than he had expected to before finally emerging from a particularly dense group of them and finding himself at the end of his search.

He stared with awe at the sight before him and fell to his knees, overcome by exhaustion and emotion at finally reaching his ultimate destination.  Floating in the air, in the center of a circular area devoid of the rock teeth, was the eternal flame.  It was the size of a boulder, a bright green color, and flickered ever so slightly.  The color was so unnatural yet somehow so pure.  It was the source of the light, illuminating everything in the deep recesses of the cave.  Traven wondered how long it had burned, untouched, somehow suspended in midair.  The flame was surrounded by several natural looking stone arches.  If this chamber held the namesake of the cave, he assumed it also held all of the cave’s secrets.

He tore his gaze away from the mesmerizing flame and inspected the rest of the open space in the cavern.  Directly below the flame was a raised circular pool of water.  The sides of the pool were made of rounded stones that were stacked about waist high.  There were symbols of the ancient tongue written along the outsides of the stones surrounding the raised pool.

Several arm spans of open space radiated out in all directions from the stone gazebo that surrounded the flame and pool.  The open space was surrounded on three sides by the fanglike formations of stone.  The far wall of the cavern stood on the opposite side of the gazebo.  It was smooth and covered in what appeared to be paintings.

Traven slowly got back to his feet and walked to the pool of water.  Its surface was as smooth as glass and reflected the flame above it perfectly.  He could feel heat emanating from the pool and carefully touched the water with his finger.  Ripples spread across its surface as he yanked back his hand.  The water was so hot that he was surprised it wasn’t boiling.  Evidently, it was the main source of the heat and humidity in the cavern, though, he could also feel heat emanating from the greenish flame above.

He walked around the hot spring and began studying the wall behind it.  The entire wall was completely covered in murals depicting hundreds of different scenes.  The colors of the paintings seemed as bright and crisp as if they had just recently been applied to the stone, but it was apparent from the dust and certain mosses growing along small cracks in the wall that the paintings were ancient.

As he studied them, he realized that ten different stories were being told through the medium of pictures.  Each story ran the entire width of the wall.  The stories were stacked one on top of another until they reached the ceiling of the cavern.  From the slight differences in coloring and style, it appeared that each story had been painted by a different person at a different time.

Traven began with the story at the base of the wall and proceeded to try and discern the meaning of each successive tale.  The first seemed to relate the love of two elven youths who were later married, had a child, and grew old together.  Another told the story of a ruler who commanded his people to constantly serve him.  Another depicted some tremendous war.

Each tale was distinct but all had several things in common.  All of the stories were about elves.  Whether it be about two elves falling in love or a ruler making certain decrees, the majority of the figures were clearly elves as they had pointed ears.  There was also always at least one wielder depicted in the story.  The wielder was a figure without pointed ears with a halo of light painted around him.  In every single tale, the last scene included an elf or multiple elves kneeling at the feet of the wielder.

He was sure that many of the subtleties of the stories were lost on him, but it was apparent to him that all showed the elves respecting a wielder.  He found it strange that such stories would be the secret that the kings of the elves were sent to learn.  He wondered if they were actual histories of the elves or if they were merely stories depicting different challenges in life.  Either way, the stories seemed to say the elves should always respect and serve a wielder.

The thought was as uncomfortable to Traven as he supposed it was to the future elven kings who viewed the mural.  He wondered why it was so important that those specific stories be told.  All of the stories also included writing in the ancient tongue.  He imagined that if he could decipher the symbols, he would be able to better understand the meanings of each tale.

After looking over the stories, Traven turned from the wall of murals and looked back towards the eternal flame.  Darian had said in the cave he would learn who he truly was.  From the murals, he could say that as a wielder he was meant to rule over the elves, but he was sure that wasn’t the meaning behind the paintings.  It also didn’t enlighten him personally as to who he truly was.  He glanced back at the mural and around the cavern, wondering if he had somehow missed something.

There didn’t appear to be anything else besides the murals, the green flame, and the pool of water.  He shrugged his shoulders and slumped down to the ground.  It was still the middle of the night, and he was tired.  He would look around again in the morning before descending the mountain.  The ground was hard and there was an acrid smell in the air, but at least it was warm.  He stretched out at the base of the wall of murals and instantly drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

He was awakened by a strange gurgling sound.  He pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes.  The acrid smell in the chamber had increased tenfold.  It didn’t take long for him to locate the source of the noise or the smell.  The surface of the pool of water that had been so serene earlier was now boiling violently.

Traven got to his feet and walked over to the edge of the cistern.  With the bursting of each bubble, a noxious smelling gas entered the chamber.  Traven put his hand over his nose in an effort to block out the worst of the smell and took a step back from the pool.  He wondered how deep the pool was and where the heat and gas came from.  He had never seen anything like it before.

As he studied the pool, he noticed once again that there were symbols of the ancient language carved into the stones surrounding the pool.  He wished he had been able to study more of the ancient tongue while he was at Faldor’s Keep.  No doubt a knowledge of the language would help him understand what he was supposed to learn in the chamber.

He stared at the ancient symbols as he slowly made his way around the bubbling pool of water.  Suddenly, he realized there was a symbol he did recognize.  It was the symbol for truth.  He continued around the cistern and located the symbol two more times.  He began to wonder if it was the pool that somehow held the secret of who he truly was.

While he had been walking around it, the bubbling of the pool had lessened and the expulsion of gas into the air had ceased.  Traven stepped back up next to the pool, rested his hands on its sides, and stared down at the disturbed surface.  What truths could the bubbling pool of water teach him?  He stared at its surface as it continued to calm.  Perhaps some secret lay in its depths that he would be able to see once the surface returned to tranquility.

He waited patiently for the bubbling to stop.  His stomach growled with pain, reminding him of how hungry he was.  It was a shame there was nothing to eat in the cavern.  He would have to bear the pain of hunger until he reached the lower part of the mountain.  Maybe it was time for breakfast?  He stopped thinking of food and returned his attention to the pool.  The bubbles had ceased to break the surface.

As the water became completely still, Traven gazed down into the depths of the cistern.  The water was clear, but he couldn’t make anything out but eventual blackness.  The pool was evidently very deep.  There also didn’t appear to be any inscriptions around the inside of the stone wall.  His gaze slowly transitioned from under the water to his reflection on the surface.