The walls that had once stood on the island had formed a substantial construction and, even in ruins, they still held evidence of past grandeur. Despite their size, they were of a surprisingly delicate build, the surfaces marked with elaborate relief artwork, in the form of abstract patterns and swirls, of columns and figures in among them, though wear and the years had degraded much of them. Large portions of it may have collapsed, but the size of it still remained evident, all of it encompassing but a single hall. There were no signs as to what it had been used for, whether feasting hall, throne room, temple or otherwise. Once a long row of columns had run down the centre of the hall, a score in number to each side Now though just the broken stumps of them remained; the rest had fallen when the roof had collapsed. It was at least a hundred metres in length, a building that would have impressed any that saw it when it stood full and majestic. Now it lay broken and tumbled, covered in moss and crawling vines.
Only towards where the tower stood did much of the wall remain standing, with arched and empty windows set in the wall above the height of his head. The tower itself rose much higher than the walls, three stories high at least, looking to be of a different design and style than the walls. It was less elegant, more sturdy in appearance. Which had come first, the tower or the walls Chance could not say, though if pressed he would have guessed the tower. His inner messages remained silent, giving no hints as to the buildings or who had raised them.
Chance walked slowly along the length of the broken walls and rubble surrounding them, coming to the far end where once an entrance had stood. From there he could look down the length of the hall; a path had been cleared of rubble between the columns, leading to the entrance into the tower. Birds could be spotted coming and going from the top of the tower where they had evidently established nests. A few lizards could be seen sunning themselves on fallen masonry from the wall.
There were no signs of Elder Maedryn being around, beyond the cleared path to the tower. Chance stared at the tower, then down to Yrip. “We had better knock on his door, and see if he is home.”
Yrip drew in close as they started to walk down the long length of the ruined hall. A peculiar feeling came over them as they walked, almost of a sadness that lingered in the place, sunken into the stones and the earth itself. Chance fancied that he could almost hear the faintest of murmurs, just on the very edge of his hearing, the barest whisper of voices sighing, of words unheard.
He kept looking around as they walked, half expecting to see people among the ruins, for it was almost as if he caught sight of things out of the corner of his eye, of flashes of movement, yet always they were gone when he turned towards them. His grip on his staff tightened and his short legs worked harder as he picked up his pace, between the columns, seeking to reach the tower sooner. Yrip scurried along as well, bumping into Chance so close did he get.
Then they were at the doors to the tower and the sounds faded away one more, leaving behind but the silence of the birds and insects and a slight breeze to be heard. Chance licked at his lips as he stood before the doors, glad to have escaped the whispers of the hall. Nerves remained though, for suddenly he realised he would be knocking on the door of a giant troll, one that had been friendly when first encountered and yet he knew little else about him. So much could go wrong. The doors were quite colossal, much taller than even Elder Maedryn, great things of dark wood bound in bands of iron, and too large for him to open.
Chance reached up with his staff and knocked upon the doors with it. The sound of it reverberated louder than he had expected, a deep booming like the beat of drums. They stood there, waiting, as the echoes of it faded away, and then waited some more. The minutes dragged on and they began to wonder if there was to be any answer. The whispers of the hall had left Chance a touch unnerved and the prospect of staying too long waiting did not appeal to him.
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“Maybe he is not here,” Chance said, speaking quietly.
“Or maybe he never was,” Yrip responded. The little kobold was wringing his hands together with a nervous energy.
That was not what Chance wanted to hear. He was certain the troll had come from the island, and he needed answers that perhaps only the troll could provide. Yet there had been no reply to the knock, and no means to open the door. Nor did he wish to pass down through the hall of whispers again. No, he would try and clamber out through one of the high windows in the walls nearby rather than brave the hall again.
He had started to consider just how best to accomplish that when the doors in the tower began to rumble and grind and slowly open. A large figure loomed in the doorway from out of the gloom of the tower and a deep voice spoke.
“Pon my word, visitors. Seldom do I get any who are brave enough to risk the path. And it is the dwarf and his kobold friend. Chance, was it not? You are most welcome, my dear fellow, most welcome indeed. Is your wolf friend not with you this day?”
“He was not able to come,” Chance replied.
“Ah, that is most unfortunate, but it can not be helped, can not be helped at all. Where are my manners, come in, come in. I invited you around for tea, and tea we shall have. Cake would not go amiss either. How did you find it getting here?”
“Not the easiest,” Chance replied dryly.
The troll laughed as he turned and stepped back inside the tower, allowing Chance and Yrip to follow after. “No, I would guess that it would not have been. I prefer not to be disturbed if at all possible, and the locale does its work to discourage the curious. Present company excepted of course.”
The interior of the tower was one large room at the base, with no light to be had in it except that which came in through the doors. The only thing that could be seen in the room was a set of stairs leading up, to the floor above, and below, under the ground. The giant troll walked over to the stairs and headed down. Chance also started down the stairs into the earth, to where another door stood, this one open, with warm light spilling out through it.
Elder Maedryn ducked under the door, into a room beyond. When Chance stepped inside it, he came to an abrupt stop, starting at amazement at the interior, for it was like an antique store. The room itself was rather large, almost to the size of the hall above ground, complete with columns running down the length of it. Soft golden light emanated from glowing orbs that hung aloft from the ceiling in webs of silver chains. The room itself was full, richly outfitted, with thick red carpets upon the floor, with wall hangings and banners on display, in a wide variety of sizes and shapes, colours and styles. Cabinets and bookshelves line the walls, containing within them an endless display of oddities and curios and artefacts, made of bone and wood, metal and china and crystal. The shelves were heavily laden with tomes and books, manuscripts and scrolls. The rest of the room was crammed with long tables, each almost overflowing with yet more items, some of which Chance could identify, such as pottery, broken or otherwise, small statues, candlesticks and bowls, but of others he had no idea the purpose of.
Elder Maderyn walked down among the tables without a look at them, headed for a number of comfortable chairs that were arranged in front of a fireplace set in the wall, though no fire burned in it. He sat down in the largest, a thing of red velvet, and beckoned Chance and Yrip over to join him. Besides his own large chair, there were some of a smaller size even if still large for a dwarf or kobold, but not so much that they would disappear while seated in them.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Maedryn said. “I shall see to the tea. Possibly cake too if it can be arranged, and then you can tell me what it is that brings you here. You have questions, I can tell, and I shall endeavour to do my best to assist you with them.”