The Whispering Chamber

They made camp inside the monastery later that night. A howl had swept through the vale and made it nigh impossible to set up their tents. Inside the central hall, Lavenza and Richard moved three braziers together and lit them one by one. The flame competed with the winds outside.

Deme cooked their meals with what few rations they had left.

“We haven’t gone foraging in a while,” she noticed. “Are we not going to stock on food before we set out east?”

“There’s another granary beneath the kitchen,” Lavenza replied. “We’ll take whatever’s in there tomorrow and figure out the rest on the way.”

“Not much of a plan, Venz,” Deme muttered. “Well, this is what you get.”

Dinner that night featured a porridge concocted from loose grains and bits of Tamarin’s ground up mushrooms. The only one who seemed interested in it was Horse who, for whatever reason, now refused food that didn’t include mushrooms in it. Deme paid special attention after finding out to ration most of their mushroom stock for the beast.

Lavenza shoved a bite into her mouth. The taste was passable. The issue was mostly the texture, which reminded her of thick bile after an upset stomach. She watched Richard swallow every bite whole to avoid having to think about either taste or feel.

“Before we hit the granary, we’ll head up to the Whispering Chamber,” Lavenza said. “First thing tomorrow morning.”

“What’s that?” Deme asked. “Is that the big temple thing up there?”

“That’s correct,” Lavenza nodded. “There’s a spell I need to cast there. We can set out afterwards.”

“What kind of spell?”

“Interested in my magic again, Deme?”

“Well,” the child blushed. “This seems like the last few spells. They’re probably important.”

“They are important,” Lavenza nodded. “They aren’t ready yet, but I’ll tell you all about them tomorrow.”

Before Deme went to bed, she fetched her father’s cuirass and gave it a thorough polish. With a damp cloth, she scrubbed the leather and metal alike. Once clean, she rubbed the cloth with a drop of tallow and worked it into the leather behind the metal plate.

“Tell me something, Deme,” Richard asked. “I’ve seen you pull all sorts of things out of that knapsack of yours.”

“Yeah,” Deme grinned. “It’s got spatial magic. Lavenza made it for me.”

“That’s my question, actually,” he said. “You’re always polishing your father’s armor. Does it need it when it’s always inside the knapsack?”

“I’m not polishing the dust off of it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Deme laughed. “My father imbued the armor with a coat of magic before he died. Lavenza told me as long as I continued polishing it, the magic wouldn’t wear off.”

“I can barely sense any magic from the armor,” Richard frowned.

“That’s because you’re less sensitive than a newborn,” Lavenza sighed. “Deme? Can I show him?”

Deme nodded and brought the cuirass over to her. Lavenza held out her fingers and attempted to touch the armor. Mere inches away, a bright spark jumped from the metal plate to Lavenza’s fingers. Lavenza tried again, more forcefully this time, but an equivalent volume of energy repelled her once again.

“See?” Lavenza said. “It’s got a very strong essence.”

“I don’t get it,” Richard said. “If it’s that powerful, why do you need Rafta at all?”

“Because my father said so,” Deme replied.

“I suppose that is one reason,” he murmured.

“It’s the only reason that matters,” Deme frowned.

When finished with her routine, the child stored her father’s armor back in her knapsack and entered her tent.

“You cleaning?” Deme called from inside.

“I’ll clean,” Lavenza answered. “You wanna clean, Richard?”

“What?”

“You’re the new joiner in the party,” Lavenza dropped her empty bowl next to his. “Help clean.”

As usual, Lavenza spent that night fine tuning the magic of the captured ley lines along with the smooth heart of Demon King Antigonus. Richard scrubbed the bowls, including Horse’s, with water he fetched from a well outside the monastery. Much of the water starting to freeze. After he was finished, Lavenza stashed their accessories in her pocket realm.

“We’re not heading east, are we?” Richard asked. “This is where you’re staying.”

“Like I said, Richard. You’re free to east, or west, or anywhere really.”

After a pause, Richard replied.

“I think I’d like to stay here with you.”

“Is that so?” Lavenza smiled. “Okay then. Good.”

“The old headmistress had a point you know,” Richard retreated to his tent. “How are you going to convince her to walk into the chamber without Rafta?”

“She also said I would figure it out,” Lavenza said. “Thanks for cleaning. I appreciate it.”

When Lavenza and the others awoke the next morning, the sun had slept in. The water in the well had frozen over. Another hour passed before the sun began a limp, skyward crawl, and the group decided it was time to face the trek up the mountain.

“Let’s leave our things here,” Lavenza suggested. “We’ll pick it up once we get back.”

The path up the mountains was easy. Perhaps their extended trip in the Abyss had built up their stamina, but Lavenza recalled the winding staircase to be more of a challenge when she was younger.

The issue was the weather. The wind swept across their backs and faces. Its breath was sharp. Frigid streaks felt like silent cuts along their feet and cheeks. Only Horse seemed unbuffered by the cold, but Lavenza knew it was only a matter of time before even the beast discovered a cold more brutal than winter.

They all reached the top of the mountain before the sun crested into the afternoon, but given the Endire’s lethargy, it was hard to tell exactly how much time had passed. What little light dawned upon the earth was used to spotlight the temple occupying the plateau.

Verdigris dotted the bronze tiles, and the upper dome exuded a washed afterglow beneath the sun as if everything had rusted apart. The murals hadn’t been taken care of. Many of the colored pieces had faded away. All that remained were half stories of Menuan deed with missing characters and missing places.

But to Lavenza, the most important quality was that the structure in all its glory remained intact.

“Richard,” Lavenza said. “I’ll be back. Deme. Come along. I need your help.”

“My help?” Deme asked.

“Yeah,” Lavenza said. “You’re shorter and smaller. Richard’s too fat.”

“Thanks, Lavenza,” the hero murmured. “See you, Deme.”

The entranceway parted for Lavenza when she waved her hand for the doors to open and closed once they stepped inside. The temple interior fared better than the outside. Light fell in from wide windows above the temple. The antiques and inscriptions on the walls had been preserved from the elements. There was hardly any dust, even on the floor.

A long hallway stretched towards the inner temple. The passageway there began to narrow as they drew further in. Deme looked around at unfamiliar symbols, ancient reliquaries, statuettes posted on marble pedestals, and then a tall metal doorway stood opened into a peerless chamber.

“Wait,” Deme said. “I recognize this place. I’ve seen it before in a dream, I think. Venz?”

“Asta Kavan.”

“Lavenza?”

Deme turned around to see Lavenza reaching into her pocket dimension.

From there, the apostate produced in her hands a simple looking flower.

Its pink petals and white center blossomed with a fervent, radiant shade. The light of the Endire drifting down from the windows recoiled, as if walloped by its presence, and retreated to dimmer spaces.

The child’s eyes flared.

“What is this?” Deme demanded. Her next question came out as a scream. “What is this, Lavenza!”

“Why do you have Rafta in your hands?”