Chapter 3

"So you have some notion that this thing is responding to sound?" Hjalti said incredulously, while he was putting the fire out that the ward had ignited after another failed attempt to break it.

"Not sound, music. Didn't you notice the brighter light from the night symbol on the floor?" Gjorn said, ordering one of his soldiers to bring in the fan to vent the smoke out of the chamber. 

"How could I have possibly missed that? I was only busy trying not to smoke us out while you sat and played that damned thing."  Hjalti hissed at his King. Sitting heavily back down with a humph, returning to the wards and their wording. 

Gjorn disregarded the disrespectful tone, the old man was indeed frustrated. He had never come into such an obstacle before, no cypher he was unable to break, no challenge too great for him to crack. The king understood the effort the Stjerkaler was putting into this, he even insisted on moving his cot down to chamber so he could study it day and night.

Much of the chaos of the hauntings the fortress had endured and abated in the last few days. The shadows now under control as the fortress was once again well lit. His engineers had strung a temporary lighting system throughout the whole thing, not a shadow to be seen inside the dearly dark stone buildings. 

His men finally able to sleep easy, it would appear that the shadows themselves were the problem. The nightmares had stopped when the lights came on, seems that the vile phantoms were not partial to it. That ghastly drug fueled concoction no longer necessary, though a few of his men had succumbed to the addictive qualities of it. They being interned to the medics until they were finally not displaying withdrawal symptoms any longer. 

It had certainly taken a load off Gjorns mind, the hauntings had been an issue that he had no idea how to deal with. Until they noticed they had an aversion to light, hence the need for the nearly ninety miles of cable needed. His troops now busy with fortifying the base, repairing the damage they caused the structure while they took it. The Gnomes were still unaware the Dwarves now had a launching point to retake the Ilse. Though that was a still a far off move, they needed more than just the Rhojic Clan to launch a full scale invasion. Second King Halgier and First King Gherdal would be needed with their legions as well to do so.

  Gjorn Idly stummed his lute while he thought. Watching with curiosity as the symbols on the floor relit and extinguished themselves in waves to the changing chords. He wondered what he would have to play to keep them lit, increasing the complexity of his stumming. Though it only had the same effect, he didn't notice the runes on bookshelf acting differently. Glowing brighter and dimming with a different synchronicity.

***

"You said one of the symbols was a title. Fae something. The only thing we know about them is from the Namoux down in Galus. So why would a Fae reference be all the way up here near the polar circle? I thought they were forest people that built the city of Glaion and the surrounding towns" Gjorn asked, having figured out how to keep more than one rune structure lit at once. Though he was only to light up the scales and night. 

He began humming while strumming the instrument a few days ago. Delighted that the additional sound caused a different reaction, though immediately disappointed by the fact that a second bard didn't light the entire thing up. Thinking that it was strictly a numbers game, that four unique sounds would be needed, though this turned out to not be the case. He was missing something.  

"Common misconception. The Namoux were related to the Fae, but not exactly them from what the scholars to the south have been able to dig up. And Skjalich, good luck getting those fanatics to talk about what they see in that ruin." Hjalti said, transcribing the runes into modern words. Though it was slow going, it was beginning to make more sense, picking apart the internal rhyming scheme. 

"What does Skjalich have to do with the Namoux?" Gjorn asked, "The place has been nothing but a home to some Azu cult for generations now." 

"An old historical report I came acro... hold on. When we were stationed outside Glaion awaiting the treaties to be signed to pass further to the south, I had a long discussion with the Head Librarian in the Palatial archives. That report held some rather disturbingly similar events to what happened here." The Wise Man rose and rummaged through his bag for a tattered old journal.

The leather bound book practically falling apart, the pages yellowed and moth eaten. A mild moldy smell filled the room as he paged through it, running his finger along the words. Mouthing silently as he flipped through page after page. "Ah, Year 721. Apparently only a single man came back from a failed expedition with a disturbing report of the ruin. General Baptiste returned rambling about shadows and lost empires. He spoke extensively about the Namoux and how they had built the ruin, apparently there is an extensive necropolis somewhere in there housing many thousands of bodies of species unknown to modern science."

"According to Baptiste there was an immense continent wide people under that same name, who called the Galus Peninsula region home, referring to a massive Citadel and Cathedral that perhaps sat where Glaion and Willowbrook now sit. Now the similar thing here is this, young Gjorn." Hjalti said as he snapped the book shut. 

Intrigued, Gjorn set his lute down, wanting to hear his every word. "The entire expedition was plagued with shadows, silhouettes and shades the entire time. While they couldn't do anything about it, they wrote about a four symbolled door that sealed away this necropolis, they also spoke about a constant 'song' that rang through it's halls."

Gjorn scratched his chin. "So you're admitting that I might be right about song and sound being the key here?" He grinned at the ball busting, the Old man shooting him a withering glare. 

"I said it has merit, though we do seem to have something here that seems to be related to what they found. So this constant reference to song, a quartet of people, and dark hauntings..." The old man flicked his eyes to the King, a strange light in his eyes. "Gjorn."

"I'm listening, haven't moved have I?" Gjorn said shrugging. 

"Do you have any Talents all?" Hjalti asked. 

"Never tried to use magic before, then again, you nor anyone else has tested to if I do. Why?"

"Because, sometimes personalities and ability stem from a connection to a plane of magic. I wonder, though it would be awfully coinvent, since you are one of the few prodigies in regards to music in the clan. If you don't have some tenuous connection to a Domain of Air." Hjalti said slowly. 

"Why is that important to this? If I have a Talent, then I don't know about it." He responded crossing his arms.

"I want you to pick that lute back up. Play a song that you don't have to think about at all, something second nature. Then I want you to focus your mind on your breathing, feel it ebb and flow out of your lungs." Hjalti said, walking back over to the runes in the middle of the floor. 

"Fine, might be interesting to be the first Dwarf in history to knock down some walls with my lute." He chuckled, picking the instrument back up.

"Lets not rule that out one day. Who knows, but magic takes concentration and many years of practice. I'm not asking you to use magic, just to see if you have any connection to it at all. Though it would be odd if you didn't have any, the vast majority of people have at least something." Hjalti said, his staff glowing brightly. With the growing light in the room, the air felt calmer. 

Gjorn leaned against the wall getting comfortable. He plucked away at a sultry tune he had learned when he was just a boy. A song about spider warning a moth heading toward a flame. It warned the moth that it would be heading to it's doom if it couldn't resist. The moth told the spider that if it turned around now, it would only be caught in it's web. The spider told it again that the flame would kill it too, if it went toward it. The moth thought, and listened to the spider, turning away to see the spider was gone. Leaving it wondered why the spider had helped it.

It was meant to be a story that even though something is a threat, it doesn't always mean harm. That one should always listen to those around them, and assess what is greater risk. "Concentrate Gjorn." His mind drifted off while he remembered the story. His fingers moving on their own, the muscle memory taking control of the song. 

He focused on breathing, tuning everything else out. In, out. Inhale, hold, exhale. He felt the blood running through his hands, he felt the cool air rush in his lungs. How it warmed in his chest, and the air rushing out his nose. Strangely meditative, the song not even registering in his ears any longer. He began to feel something else, a slight swirl to the air around him. "I'll be damned."

Hjalti's words broke his concentration. Opening his eyes he saw three of the four runes on the floor lit with a fierce light. Grinning like a boy who had just been given a sword for his birthday, the two men locked eyes. An understanding that music was the magic needed here. Hjalti quickly looking over to the bookcase to see a layer of wards had fallen.

Open mouthed, he walked over. Though the other layer of wards stopped his hand from actually touching them. "Gjorn, keep that prideful smirk off your face. You were right, we need to know what the song is for these wards. I'll begin teaching you magic, if you begin teaching me music."

***

The air swirled around the room as Gjorn strummed on the lute, channeling the meager amount of magic he could summon into his finger tips. Trying to do the exercise Hjalti had given him as he sat and watched which runes on the bookshelf lit up with which note. After Gjorn had lit the three runes in the center of the room, they remained permanently lit. The only one that was extinguished now was the one of the scales. Despite it being one of the first ones to lit up when the they had first discovered it. 

He was told magic was based on intent by the Wise Man. If you could touch magic, you could control it with the intent in your mind. Though he was also warned that the intent you had consciously was not always your subconscious intent, so one must focus to a greater degree to align the two. The example he gave was the wind as they had found that Gjorn did in fact have a connection to the plane of air. To what degree remained to be seen, Hjalti had said it was more than a Lesser Talent, but less than a Greater Talent. Somewhere in between, though still able to command a sizable amount of power. 

The exercise was meant to keep the air swirling at a moderate pace, enough for a pleasant breeze, but not enough to have loose paper flying. While in his mind we knew what speed that was, he was told due to the subconscious not knowing what that was only knew 'move air'. He already head to dial it back many times, as it sent books flying at one point. Hjalti was working on chords with the guitar he had in his hands. 

"I don't like the double chords, my fingers don't move like that." He complained as he sat and watched the runes.

"Like you told me, it takes practice. What do those runes say? You said when we started all this that they were similar to our language." Gjorn asked, the task of keeping the air moving was getting easier.

"I said it was the root of our language, our tongue is similar to theirs. Either way, the runes read almost like this; To protect the setting sun, darkness shall fall, a new moon to bring us light in her gracious splendor. The Mother of sky, the Mother of sun, the Father of seas, the scales of fate weighed." Haljti said, missing the chord in a discordant motion. 

"Hmm, it does sound cryptic. Who are those Mothers and Father?" He asked, though the wind picked up, setting loose a gust of wind that ruined his concentration. 

Setting the guitar down, he sighed. Cracking his back, knees popping he got up. Motioning for Gjorn to stop with the exercise. "I don't know, but they seem as if they are family. I wonder if that isn't meant to be the whole unity bit for the symbol. They are names and a title. A family, unity."

Setting his own lute down, he wandered over to the rune circle. He had been slowly learning the runes along with Hjalti, watching as the lights changed color as he neared. The night symbol turning purple, the fire orange, the seas green, while the scales remained extinguished. "Vil, vilor, valor? I though this little dot here was supposed to mean "or" but that curved line over the top means something else."

"It does, I just don't know if it's a literal pronunciation or not. It's supposed to be like "ith" as in our own language. Like the word "with" where it has that same swirl at the end." Hjalti said, joining him. 

"Valorith. No, that's not right... It sounds like I have a lisp while saying it. Vilorlith." The rune lit brightly at the sound of the name. The symbol appearing to jump off the stone surface in an echo of the night sky. 

"Well." Hjalti said with a hand on his chin. "I think you just accidentally figured out the name of a forgotten god, son. Vilorlith." The rune acted the same again.

"I wonder who she is?" Idle words fell out of Gjorn's lips as an idea came to mind. "Hey, why didn't the other names do that when you said them on day one?"

"Good point, Syn." The flame symbol lifted off the stone work as well, an image of a beautiful sunrise clung to their minds. The excitement was palpable in the air as they looked at each other. Their hard work here finally bearing some fruit. The two Dwarves just on the edge of some apparent epiphany. 

"Did we only need to be standing in the circle?" Hjalti laughed, "My my this magic is strange to me. Think about that kind of symbolism, to say the names of these gods while embraced in their arms. At least that's what it seems to me, they only react this way when you are with them."

"Kyln," Gjorn muttered, the sea rune also lifting off the stone, a fierce storm and calm seas entering their minds. Grinning wildly, he walked back to grab his lute. Sitting back down he strummed a pleasant tune in the center of the circle, enjoying the symbols light reacting to the sound. A wonderful kaleidoscope of colors shining off the walls of the chamber. "I just wish I knew what your name was, Scales." He said to the rune.

"Maybe we'll be able to figure that out when we break the ward on the bookshelf." The Wise Man said, his own grin never having left his face. Returning to his own work at the bookshelf, while Gjorn played music for the gods. 

***

Hjalti had fallen asleep, his soft snoring filling the chamber as he slept peacefully on his cot. Gjorn sat in the circle again, a plate of half finished food sitting by his side. "I wonder what happened to you four. Somehow, I feel at peace here. I can't explain it, just when I say your names, it conjures and image I wish to see myself in life." He spoke low as to not wake Hjalti.

Strumming his lute softly, he sang to them. "The colliding of golden souls, stay and bloom with me. Of colorful barren places, I see the shores of home." He thought back to his father, the strong stature and imposing figure he made. He remembered having many talks with him in life on the northern shore of the coast, looking out at the mountains of Mhuzelt. Their tall spires and snowcapped peaks, the way the clouds broke as they reached the sides of them, for the mountains bowed to no gale. 

"To see their moonlit lakes, a haunting sound with the cool wind. A maiden in which we haven't forgotten, our home calls to us. The echoes of our home sing to our spirits, beckoning us forward, we howl to the moon in fervor for what was lost." He thought back to the legends he was told as a child. Not noticing he was suffusing his song with magic, the scales symbol behind him glowing slightly. He missed the feeling of his father teaching him the history of his people. 

In his mind he wandered down the halls of his conversations he had with Hjalti. Branches of the Great Tree were realities that were close but separate. He wondered if desires and wishes were the same thing as dreams. The dreams they had in life, the desire to keep on going, the dream of their people living once more on the Isle. "I want to see the sunrise over the mountains again. I want to see what my forbearers saw, the peace felt when we knew what it was to have a home again."

The Scales rune lit brightly behind him, as he saw something in his mind. The branches Hjalti had talked of filling his mind, he felt as if he could simply walk from them to the next. If these branches were his dreams, then couldn't he just make his own reality? With a loud snap he disappeared, waking Hjalti with a start. Looking around wildly, he was alone in the the chamber, all four runes of the central circle glowing brightly, the room filled with the smell of a fresh spring day.

"Gjorn. Gjorn!" He yelled, the guards outside the crevice running in to see that Hjalti was truly alone in the chamber, their King gone. Looking over to the wide eyed Wise Man to see that he was flicking his eyes between the bookcase's wards broken and the glowing runes of the gods. .