A crash downstairs startled Harpyn out of his thoughts. He tilted his head to one side, listening closely for a cry for help. However, everything remained silent, and the hairs on the back of his neck started to prickle with fear.
Dropping the feather duster, he hurried out into the main room, scanning for any sign of Geor, although he knew he wouldn't find the Mage Consul there.
Mumbling a curse under his breath, he headed for the stairs, skipping down them two by two haphazardly until he rounded the spiral and nearly slammed directly into Geor on the steps.
Geor whirled around and glared at him, holding up a hand for silence.
"What are you doing? I told you to dust the library."
"I, I thought —" Harpyn squeaked, trying to keep his voice low.
"Shh. Silence," Geor ordered.
Harpyn waited anxiously, leaning to one side and attempting to peer past Geor to see what might have been the cause of the crash. If Geor was out here, then that meant something else had caused the clamor inside the room.
Fear and excitement battled in Harpyn’s mind. As he had been dusting, he’d let his mind return to the secret vault over and over, wishing he could have just one more chance to look inside. Now, he was within reach of the door, but for some reason, Geor remained outside.
Geor turned his back on Harpyn and inched closer to the door, moving with such sloth that Harpyn wished he could push past the old mage and tear the door open himself. The fact that Geor was so obviously nervous about entering the secret room told Harpyn that there was more to the story than a mere accident. And he supposed it had something to do with that magical creature that was fluttering about the room, shimmering in and out of existence.
Now, he was sure it had not just been his imagination. The creature had been real, and whatever it was, it was dangerous enough to make Geor hesitate.
Harpyn looked back up the stairs in the direction he had come, wondering if he should run up there to grab a weapon of some kind before they entered the vault. However, the idea of missing out on the action did not sit right with him, and he secretly hoped that he could play some instrumental role in winning the coming fight. Finally, he could earn Geor's approval. Then, he could tell everyone that he was a hero. The next time he was in the marketplace, he would be able to tell people about his battles and triumphs. That would be so much better than telling them about all the chores and errands that Geor sent him on.
His mind was made up. He had to stay. Nothing was going to come between him and his destiny.
Suddenly, Geor lunged for the door, moving more swiftly than Harpyn ever imagined possible for the aged mage. Harpyn hurried to follow, nearly bowling into Geor’s back when he halted just inside the doorway.
Harpyn scanned the room, dazzled once more by all of the glittering relics, before the harpy let out a horrible screeching sound and flew straight at his head. He ducked instinctively, and Geor threw up a hand, unleashing a well-aimed fireball that sent the ethereal creature shattering into a million glowing embers that seemed to disperse without so much as a trace of what it had once been.
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Dusting himself off, Harpyn was just about to thank Geor for saving him when his eyes landed on the woman standing in the corner of the room. Her eyes blazed defiantly, although she looked like she would run if given half a chance. Worse, Harpyn recognized her instantly as the woman who had followed him from Torg Uyen.
“Who are you and how did you get in here?” Geor asked, his voice overflowing with anger.
The woman’s eyes flicked to Harpyn, and he shook his head, willing her not to say what he already knew to be true.
“I followed him,” she announced smugly, pointing straight at Harpyn.
Geor turned in a slow circle, coming to stare down at Harpyn with displeasure.
“You led her here?” He hissed. “What have you done?”
“I didn’t lead her here!” Harpyn protested. “I thought I lost her at the edge of the forest. She couldn’t have followed me through the portal.”
Geor’s bushy gray eyebrows drew together in consternation as he looked down at the young mage. After a few long seconds, he seemed to accept Harpyn’s explanation, and Harpyn sighed with relief.
“Is it true?” Geor asked.
She shrugged. “I suppose. I tried to find the portal after he went through, but it wasn’t there, so I had to cross through the forest.”
At that, Geor scoffed, and Harpyn wasn’t sure whether the old mage believed the woman’s story or not. No one had ever crossed through the forest successfully. It was loaded with dangerous creatures and plants specifically to prevent anyone wandering too close to the Tower of Open Consciousness. It would take some serious magical ability to survive a walk through the forest’s dimly lit paths. And yet, the woman stood there in the corner, watching her captors with a bold Harpyn found deeply unsettling.
“Impossible,” Geor announced at last, seeming to have made up his mind, and being unwilling to hear any more nonsense from the woman. “Tell me then, how did you end up in this room?“
The woman smiled, and once again, Harpyn wished he could make himself invisible before she answered.
“That’s easy. The door was unlocked.”
This time, Geor sputtered and coughed, turning on Harpyn in a heartbeat.
“You left the door unlocked? How could you- What were you thinking? Anyone could have gotten in here! The artifacts… why, we’re lucky they didn’t get up and leave on their own! The whole world could have been brought to its knees by your foolishness!”
Harpyn shrank back from Geor’s rage, spittle flying left and right as he shouted angrily. But he did not hear anything else Geor was saying, because his mind had caught on one particular detail and would not let it go.
“It’s true, then,” he whispered, mostly to himself.
“What? What’s true? That you could have cost us everything!?”
Harpyn shook his head, ignoring Geor’s continuous stream of insults and accusations. Emboldened by his discovery, he walked away from Geor altogether, heading for the table where the sword still lay, glowing despite the lack of light in the room.
When he reached it, he placed a hand on the sword’s hilt, wrapping his fingers around it and marveling at the way it seemed to fit perfectly in his palm. He’d never held a sword before, but he was certain that if anyone tried to strike him just then, the sword would defend him all on its own.
“Get away from that!” Geor barked, rushing forward and hauling Harpyn away from the table with more force than seemed necessary. “And you!” Geor turned to face the woman in the corner. “Tell me why you came here, and I might let you go. But I’m warning you, I will not suffer any lies.”
The woman shrugged again, impervious to Geor’s threats. “I have no need of lies. I came to take back what is rightfully mine. Eliera’s divining rod belongs to the Makara people. It cannot stay locked in this room forever.”
At her words, Harpyn’s eyes slid to the red pillow at the end of the table. It was empty now, and his eyes went wide. She had the divining rod and she was hiding it. He wondered if it imbued her with such power as the sword had given him at the lightest touch. He was just about to ask when Geor made his move.