An entire castle hung weightlessly in the air. Thousands of gray stone slabs, each as tall and wide as a man, built imposing walls topped with battlements atop of nothingness. Few windows provided any inward view of the structure. No decorations or grand banners adorned its walls. Built for utility and protection, it floated above the vast pit into an unknown darkness to guard the many secrets within its chambers. In the front, a vast gate provided the only point of entry. Its position made a straightforward attack impossible, and its self-contained microcosm of abyssal life proved siege senseless. Intekon ensured Its kingdom lay beyond the grasp of war the other Abyssal Monarchs seemed to enjoy.
Surrounding the strange castle, a mass of winged creatures swarmed. Initially believing them bats, the notes Mirus brought ensured him nothing so pedestrian could thrive within the dark caverns of terra abyssa. On the contrary, these winged beasts were likely daegon under Intekon’s control who took the form of living gargoyles composed of flesh and bone instead of stone. They flew in wild patterns, circling their master’s kingdom in maddening devotion. Amazingly, they never struck one another in their seemingly random flight patterns, always managing to avoid a collision at the last moment.
“We must cross,” the court mage spoke simply.
“Can’t we rest?” his apprentice argued. “It’s been nearly day since we last slept. Besides, I’m sure the fight with daegon left you exhausted. I know I am.”
“It isn’t safe,” he replied with a bit of irritation. “This area offers no natural refuge and apparently daegon can burst from the ground at any moment and find us by scent. Once we cross and gain entry to Intekon’s castle, we may find a spot to rest.”
“Is the castle any less dangerous? I’m sure there are plenty of daegon who may attack us there.”
“According to my research, the castle is a labyrinth of halls and rooms which even its inhabitants can’t fully navigate without Intekon’s direct aid. Constructed to fool any invaders, it also offers us security through its obscurity. We can find an empty room or hall and make camp.”
“Alright, I suppose that’s fair.”
“Now the matter of crossing into Its kingdom eludes me. The castle appears nearly a mile away above the inky black of this chasm. Whatever spell we use, we must be able to cast constantly for as long as it takes us to walk that distance. I’m afraid this will be a test of endurance.”
“I can do it. This is the same as my entrance exam at the university. I can create a shifting bridge that will cross the pit.”
“Are you confident you can support both of our weights?”
“Yes, of course.”
“For about a mile? The journey may take some time, which would strain even the most ardent of spellcasters.”
“I can do it.”
“Very well. While you construct the bridge, I can veil us with an invisibility spell to prevent the daegon from seeing our advance.”
“But how do we get through them? I hope you’re not planning on fighting.”
“No. That is a battle that neither of us, even with our combined efforts, could win. From my notes, these particular daegon perceive the world chiefly through sound. In addition to bending the light around us, I’ll need to shift the air to make us silent.”
“That works until one of them flies into us.”
“True. I’ll need to draw their attention elsewhere. Once they hear something, they’ll swarm the source of the sound with teeth and talons until their pray falls sufficiently silent.”
“How encouraging.”
“These are the perils I did not want you to face. Regardless, the matter is a trifle. I can summon some distraction on the other side the castle. The daegon will swarm, leaving a gap in their defense we may cross in secret.”
“It sounds logical enough.”
“Then you understand the plan and your part in it?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s begin. You’ll need rubble for your bridge, won’t you?”
“I will,” answered the apprentice. Syma walked away from the ledge and found a secure tract of stable land. She tied her spell book to her waist and placed both hands on the ground. An incantation escaped her lips and an aurora of blue light shone through her fingertips. The magical energy attempted to pierce the eerily black stone. Unlike the boulder she broke apart in the entrance exam, however, the stone of the ground proved surprising impenetrable. Consequently, even with her best attempt, her spell only produced a few shards of rock.
“Er,” she stuttered. “This may take a while.”
“No need,” Mirus replied. “Abyssal stone possesses strange properties which make traditional alteration difficult. You’re trying to exploit the underlying structure of its geology so that you can produce the greatest effect with the least amount of effort. This approach permits you a lot of flexibility and power, even if you lack strength, but the stone is so dense and uniformly packed, this trick doesn’t work well. Sometimes, you simply need raw power.”
With his grimoire already tied to his hip, he leaned downwards next to Syma and placed his hands on the ground. Using a different incantation, an arcane energy traveled through the stone beneath his feet. The court mage’s experience and mental strength produced a shockwave powerful enough to cut through the rock uniformly. As a result, when the pulse of glowing magic pierced the ground, it neatly cut it into manageable stone blocks.
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Syma forgot her annoyance with the elf to show her appreciate for his craft. Using the same telekinetic spell, she permitted a blue field of magic to emanate from her hands and grasp the bricks her master so easily created. Unlike her previous attempt at bridge building, the occasion demanded a stronger, more organized, and wider structure to accommodate the pair. The blocks briefly danced in the air, each enclosed in a case of light before she bid them to the edge of the chasm. With the convenience of standard size stones, she easily constructed a basic brick bridge which extended two or three strides.
“Is it ready?” Mirus asked.
“I think so.”
“I would prefer something more definitive, but I trust you.”
As he spoke, he placed a testing foot on the bridge. The bricks felt like lily pads atop a placid pond. As he transferred his weight, the bricks only sunk slightly, but they retained their structure. With his full weight on his foot, he lifted his other foot and found himself completely on the bridge. He gestured towards his apprentice who carefully repeated the process. She found the combine efforts of retaining the shape of bridge under the weight of two individuals challenging, but she maintained her composure.
They stood together on the floating pile of rocks above a bottomless chasm. Unlike her entrance exam, no promise of safety laid beneath feet. No guarantee of success motivated their actions. Instead, they planned their best approach and hoped it would achieve the result they wanted instead of plunging them deep into the pit. As before, the apprentice motioned bricks from behind her to the front of the structure, allowing Mirus to make the next step. She followed closely behind and so they carried forward. In the meantime, the court mage cast a spell which ushered them invisible and another to dampen the sound of the stones constantly rearranging.
The journey proved slow, but in time they reached the outer edge of the flying daegon. Syma appeared mentally fatigued as she maintained a constant concentration which slowly eroded her will. Regardless at the cusp of their goal, she refused to surrender to exhaustion. She kept the bricks afloat and ensured neither would fall to an unknown destiny. With some sense of urgency, however, she gestured to Mirus to carry out the distraction, because he paused to observe the strange, winged beasts.
His source described them as living gargoyles, which he supposed provided the nearest approximation for their figure, but he found the word inadequate. While gargoyles are generally depicted hairless, every inch of these daegon wore a thick coat of fur, even on the wings, which he found more unsettling than he expected. Large muscles bulged beneath their wolfish bodies as eagle-like talons sprouted from the end of their paws. Their faces lacked any trace of familiarity. They took on grimacing smiles and furious eyes contorted in a strange mix of teeth and cheeks. He couldn’t deduce the exact shape of their skulls and perhaps, he admitted, it varied from specimen to specimen. Although he wished to study them further, Syma’s gesticulations made their point.
Marking the sky above him, he raised the fingertips of one hand to the sky, relinquishing the spell of silence. An incantation escaped his lips, which turned the heads of several daegon. They changed their course and dove towards the pair. A flash of lightning, however, poured from the court mage’s fingers and a bolt of electricity rose straight above them. The few creates who heard his words corrected their trajectory and chased the path of the lightning as its crackling pierced the air. In a flash, it disappeared, but only a moment later, a drum of thunder resounded through the atmosphere.
The sound even surprised Syma who expected it. For the rest of the daegon, they redirected their flight above the castle. Like ants swarming an expected intruder, they formed a violent mass of bites and snarls. As they bunched above them, only a few stragglers patrolled their side of the castle, providing them ample room to make their advance. Recasting a spell of silence and invisibility still in effect, the apprentice quickly moved the bridge, permitting them to walk to castle unimpeded. Despite all the strength she showed, however, she quickly fell fatigued.
“I’m not sure that I can make it,” she uttered. Her voiced sounded strained and faint.
“Of course, you can,” Mirus reassured her. “We’re not far. You can endure.”
“I’ll try,” came her reply, even more faint than the previous time.
Near the edge of the castle, however, the bricks beneath their feet began to buckle. The court mage turned to his apprentice. Beads of sweat poured down her face as a prominent vein pulsed in her forehead. Her hands trembled and spell began to dissipate. Her legs collapsed beneath her and the bricks fell away. As she fell unconscious, Mirus felt the pull of gravity seize him.
Banishing his spells of silence and invisibility, he took control of the floating stones himself. They caught both him and Syma with a loud thud along with a pained exclamation from his own lips. Turning his head upwards, he saw how the mass of daegon suddenly pivoted in their direction. They poured like a stream of water marred by violence. The court mage took his apprentice in his arms and arranged the bricks in a series of short steps to the edge of the castle. Not particularly gifted in the form of physicality, his approach was awkward, and the shifting weight of another person nearly knocked him off balanced several times, but with the head start, he found solid ground immediately in front of the grand gates that sealed Intekon’s kingdom.
He casted a ward which surrounded them as a bubble right against the gates. As he turned his attention to passing through them, he heard the undeniable sound of thousands of daegons testing the hard light construct. He looked behind him and saw open jaws and talons attempt to pierce the ward. In every direction, they blotted out any meager sense of light the realm offered. Like one continuous piece of flesh and fur, they moved in rapid and agitated fury. They never remained still enough to observe individually, but constantly shifted in an angry mass. Any lapse in concentration would disrupt the ward and would ultimately tear the pair apart.
Turning his attention to the gate, he worked quickly. Using his freehand, he attempted to feel the iron door which resolutely refused any entry. An alteration spell attempted to change the shape of the metal, but an unknown mystical force prevented his intervention. Mirus swore under his breath. The door must maintain an enchantment to prevent any direction magical intervention. As the daegons rapidly tested his mental endurance, the ward shrunk to retain its strength.
Instead of outmaneuvering the gate, he needed to force himself through it. A bright, intense flame lit at his fingertips. He placed them on the iron and watched it melt. In the space of a few minutes, he fastened a hole in the door just large enough for him and Syma to squeeze through. He cooled the hot metal with a stream of conjured water and began to enter the Abyssal Monarch’s kingdom. His apprentice, however, remained unconscious. He paused, took her by the waist and roughly forced her through the opening he made. Following her, he stepped into the other side. He quickly took the piece of iron which fell to the floor when he made the hole and haphazardly welded it back to the door. His ward failed and he heard the infestation of daegon fiercely strike the weakened metal.
Without a plan, he took Syma in his arms and quickly retreated deeply into the kingdom of Intekon, unsure of their safety or what the future would hold. True to his word, he found a vacant corridor to make camp. He placed his apprentice in the blanket he prepared for himself. He simply laid on the floor and immediately fell to sleep.