The Shattered Path

Epilogue

Garthenius walked along the smooth stone corridor, shifting his weight to his gnarled staff with each measured step. He knew the Circle of Magic did not like to be kept waiting, but he wouldn't hurry, not for them or anyone. He had managed to live far longer than he had ever anticipated, thus he was very old, even for a Raujornian wizard. He had rushed many places in his youth and so he would rush no more. He would get there when he got there, and no sooner.

His head and face were completely hairless, as was common of Raujornians. The traditional runes covered his wrinkled skin, but his had changed from blue to black over the years. He was one of few men living who truly understood the significance of those. He was, after all, the head of the society of Tor'Aljhe and knew many secrets. It was his high station which afforded him the luxury of not fearing the Circle of Magic, though even the heads of the other six societies often feared them.

Garthenius silently cursed his former apprentice Genbael for causing so much trouble. He didn't care that the man had broken traditions and rules, but he didn't like being summoned from his research to answer for someone else's misdeeds. Yet, he understood all too well that it was his duty to answer for it. That's why he was there and the only reason. He would promptly return to his research once they had asked their questions of him and then he could hopefully forget the matter altogether. He had never liked Genbael and he certainly didn't want to waste precious research time talking about the man, especially after he was of no use any longer.

Garthenius reached the great doors of the Grand Hall of Magery. No elaborate decorations adorned this entrance, but it was still quite a marvel. The doors were plated in sheets of lorrum. There were no seams visible between the sheets. The craftsmen had been wizards, using arts long since lost to time, lost to even him. Both doors appeared to be a solid mass of silvery metal, and when closed, they created a perfect seal.

Any other set of doors, Garthenius would have easily moved aside with his magic, but not these. They wouldn't respond to his commands and were immune to anything he might try, as near as he could tell. He knew the Circle of Magic would command the doors open when they were ready for him. The doors could have silently glided open at his approach, as they had in the past, but they did not. He waited calmly, staring at the smooth metal reflecting the burning sconces that lit the corridor. He didn't have to wait long before the doors opened, and it was fortunate because he wouldn't have waited very long.

The chamber beyond was enormous. On the outside, the entire structure appeared to be a great, opaque dome of cerulean blue crystal, dwarfing every structure in the city; except the Grand Library, comprised of the same crystal. On the inside of the dome, the walls, floor, and ceiling were plated in the same mysterious metal as the doors. The Citadel of Magic was impervious to all forms of magical attack and scrying. There was no other place in the known world as secure. There had once been many such structures, though they were all long since ground to dust and forgotten. Not forgotten by all, though.

The chamber appeared to be empty. Along the wall, burning sconces were set far enough apart that several paces of darkness separated each. Gloom shrouded the center of the chamber and blackness claimed the ceiling. In years past, this chamber had been full of sacred tomes and scrolls.

Garthenius didn't trouble himself with trying to determine if he was alone. He knew they were within the Veil. It was there, in the Veil, in its brilliant luminescence and endless expanse of white, that the Circle of Magic would conduct their inquiry. There they were safe from destructive energy magic and they could raise nearly impenetrable shields to spirit magic. It was said to be completely immune to saerh and nearly so to lhaeris. With the lorrum coating the walls of the chamber, the only possibility of magical attack or spying came from those already in the room.