"We should go down," Selene said, bashing aside his doubts, "The way up seems riskier and prone to danger." She stepped forward over the rubble, running her hand along the underside of the upper staircase. The stone came off in chunks, as if to illustrate her point.
Marcius peered down. It was steep and his first steps were shaky and uncertain, but with Selene behind him and the light in front of him, he gained confidence as they went further down the winding stairway.
The drip-drop of water was steady as they made their way down. The only other noise was their nervous breathing and shuffling footsteps. Eventually the stairs rounded down into a long hallway. Dust and grime covered everything, and Marcius couldn't help but feel like an intruder, every step marring the landscape of this long untouched area.
The rooms, and Marcius wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved, held nothing of note. Little more than the remains of furniture and various other relics that had withstood the test of time. Out of curiosity, he pulled out a worn scroll case from a dilapidated shelf as Selene reluctantly held the amulet for him.
The paper dissolved in his hands, the crumbs mixing with the dust on the ground.
Selene scanned the light around the room. "If you were looking for something of note, I do not think this would be the place. We look to be in the living area."
He saw that she was right. Now that he gave a closer look at the pile of worm eaten wood in the corner, he could see what had at one been a bed. It was a letdown, but the inherent fact that the mysterious owners did mundane things such as have living areas, did much to relieve Marcius of the trepidation he had felt.
He laughed and Selene looked at him. "It's nothing," he said reassuringly, "Just me being silly."
Since it would have been pointless to loiter about, they continued on, stopping at each room along the way, just in case. They were all similar in make and Marcius wondered if perhaps this had been a barracks for soldiers or something similar.
At the end of the hallway was another set of spiral stairs that went straight down. Effigies lined coves along the wall as they made their way down; grinning fang faced figures that seemed, to Marcius, to be smiling at some secret knowledge.
As they went down, the throbbing in Marcius's head returned and the old fear of another attack was fresh on his mind. He glanced warily at the amulet in his hand, but besides the light, it gave no indication of anything amiss. So where was that feeling coming from?
"There is something here," Selene whispered, echoing his thoughts.
He nodded, but didn't say anything, trying to ignore the thumping in his head. They were committed now, and he had nowhere to go but down.
The stairs slinked down into a long hallway that was different from the rest of the tower, both in model and scope. The block and cement here were solid somehow, as if freshly laid, but it melded into the earth, so that the hallway looked like a tunnel carved deep into the ground with only a few parts of exposed layering.
How far had they come down?
The question was refreshed as the hallway opened up. The amulet's light didn't reach the entirety of the edges. He was just about to ask Selene's opinion when the room lit up, drawing a cry of surprise from both of them.
Squinting through the sudden intrusion of light, it took a few moments for his sight to return. The room was immense, easily the width of a large town square or a playwright auditorium. It was circular, gently sloping inwards towards the center. He blinked, not entirely believing the sight. Torches lined the walls and flame danced on all of them. What had lit them? He put the amulet back in his pouch as he looked around.
"Enchanted," Selene answered his unspoken question, sheathing the knife she had drawn. "Most likely to turn on when anyone enters."
Marcius nodded, though his attention was on the large stone slab that stood in the middle. An indomitable monolith that monopolized the room with a presence that Marcius couldn't place. The stone was as wide as the side of a modest stable and tall enough that he doubted he could touch the top without jumping. It was peculiar and he felt drawn to it, stepping forward.
He could see etchings along the surface, deep carvings that stood out from the stone. As he studied it, he began to realize that they were words, though he did not recognize the language.
Selene joined him, her fingertip tracing the words.
"Do you recognize the language?"
"I know a few pieces, though it is very old," Selene said, and then added, "Do you not know any of the languages on this stone?"
Marcius stared at her, not entirely understanding. The elf nodded, indicating the tablet. "There are several languages here. I recognize a few of them, though the arrangement of the words is not normal. They seem to say the same thing." Her lips pursed together as her brow furrowed, thinking, "It's as if the makers wanted to leave a message for anybody, regardless of race, to read."
He looked back at the tablet and saw what she said was true. Each segment of writing was different. Still, he did not recognize any of the languages. Marcius shook his head.
"This must have been made before Common," he said, disappointed. "Can you translate?"
"Perhaps. I don't recognize everything, but maybe if I mix that which I do recognize. . . " She bent over, looking closer at a segment. "Like this right here is an early form of Yaerish, an elven dialect from far north, while this part here," she pointed to another segment farther up on the rock, "is clearly Selenthian, though, like I said, the arrangement is not correct. The sentences make little sense." She looked up at him, wonder plain on her eyes. "The work spent on such a thing is unfathomable. I am curious as to what message is so important to go through such an effort to preserve. I will try."
Marcius, feeling useless, nodded and let the elf alone to try to translate. He wandered the length of the stone, taking a closer look at the etchings, looking for something he knew. He knew smatterings of a few languages, mostly from Antaigne's texts, and a few times he thought he identified various words, but it was as Selene said.
As always, the thought of the swarthy dwarven wizard caused a tightening in his chest and he was reminded again as to why he was here. Reflexively his hand went to his pouch. Had he made the right choice? He looked over at the elven woman engrossed with the stone, her hair falling prettily down over her face as her lips moved silently.
Despite his feelings and previous anger toward the elven woman, he would never have thought he'd be in the situation he was in now, exploring an ancient ruin side by side with her. Guilt chipped away at his thoughts. His confusion regarding the woman seemed petty when he thought about how she had given up something so very important to her to rescue him. Marcius groaned inwardly. He was always forcing people to save him.
She was just doing her duty. It didn't mean anything special.
Look at him! And he chuckled derisively at himself. More worried about double meanings and feeling sorry for himself than her thoughts on the subject. Why did it even matter, anyway? In a short time, he'd be at the Academy, and she'd prepare for possible war. They'd probably never see each other again.
He'd be a liar if he said his heart didn't fall a little at that prospect. When had she latched onto him so thoroughly?
And the attack, what had that been about? He had an inkling. The amulet, and Velynere by proxy, no doubt had an agenda and was willing to do whatever it took to get whatever was here in these ruins. The creature must be more desperate than he let on. Why were so many people interested in him? He doubted the elf would have offered to apprentice him on just a whim, and he was honest enough to recognize that he was tempted by the possibility of easy access to power.
Power to punish those who wronged him.
Again, the same question reared its head. Had he made the right choice? Would his father approve of him as of this moment? Or had he screwed up again, as with the oggron, as with getting drunk in that inn?
His eyes refocused on the stone in front of him. Well, he was here now, right? There was naught to do but move forward and let the decision of right and wrong fall to the misgivings of hindsight.
He was reaching the end of the tablet when a character caught his attention. Marcius stared at the engraving for a moment, and then it clicked. Dwarvish! A language he recognized, and unlike the other ones that Selene talked about, the dwarves were as timeless as stone and as frequent to change. The dialect was current and as he slowly translated the runes, his mouth ran dry.
"I've made a little progress," Selene announced. When Marcius didn't answer she looked over. "What is wrong?"
Marcius licked his lips, willing away the dryness. "I think I have the gist of it," he said, hoping that with Selene's help he might be able to disprove the meaning of the tablet.
She joined him, peering at the segment that had caught his interest. The runes were ordered, neat, precise. "Dwarvish?" she guessed.
"Aye."
"What does it say?" she prompted.
Marcius shook his head. "I have rough idea, but I'll need to compare it with whatever you can understand from the elven segments to be sure. There are a few words that I don't know."
She nodded, and so they began piecing it together. The elven woman was competent, showing the single-minded logic of a scholar. She was a pleasure to work with and he, despite the circumstances, found himself enjoying the entire process.