Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The palace

Lingonberry emerged with a bloody scar on his face. He managed a smile and painfully , “I overheard the talk with you and the lady.”

Queen Draco laughed, “That’s your highness to you!”

I was going to start as a bookkeeper in the afternoon, so I decided that I would explore the vast palace with Lingon. Everywhere I walked, there was gold and silver on the wall. Beautiful green jade and red ruby glowed extravagantly. It seemed the further you went, the more it gleamed. Down a quartz stair, there was what appeared to be a colossal armoury. All the weapons were intricately placed on stands or slotted into the prepossessing amethyst wall, crystals glistening eternally. I almost felt dazed at the immense size and beauty of it. Further on, there was the forge room, filled to the brim by an incandescent blast furnace (I was trying to stifle the blisteringly hot temperatures) The fire was white hot, either that or they were making pewter. We were greeted by Queen Draco. She guided me to a stone tower. Compared to the rest of the palace, it looked old, sprawling with ivy. She led me up a series of steep spiral stairs

“This was the first part of the palace, built before the realm of Lodrian and the wareful woods were as affluent as now; during the time of King Ethyl II of the Aragorn dynasty. We rebuilt it into the library, housing all ancient knowledge of the Silvertongues from King Ethyl the Great to Queen Availe III.” We came to the very top as she used a rusty key to unlock a rickety door. I waved to Queen Draco. I was now into the unknown.

I glanced at the book. It pulsated out blue light and somehow I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It smelled of old parchment and ink. I stepped forward, flooded with worry and excitement. What if the queen had been wrong and I would be corrupted and turn insane. On the other hand, I couldn’t believe I was the saviour, just because of me being different. My heart skipped a beat as I lifted my hand and opened the book. In an indescribable way, I simply couldn’t read the book. Suddenly a voice whispered in my ear. I darted around, expecting to see anything, but there was no one there. The candles flickered eerily as I listened. “Æthyl withyth aïrcus vöɒ. Vil-Aua” I recognised the phrase, Vil-Aua from a tale Mama Rosanna told me. It was an old elvish term for Darius. I whispered, “Darius?”

“Dariusa Elvesard at your service.”