The Easel Chronicles

Chapter Fourteen

"It takes time to get used to the height, My Lord," said Cidarcorin, grabbing Aravoen before he toppled over. Together they walked and came to yet another staircase. This one did not wind or circle, but went straight up.

Aravoen, who had gained control over himself, waited for the wizard to start the climb. He did. Aravoen followed him. Walking ahead, he glanced around at the statues and armour. Had it not been for Cidarcorin's long arm sticking out, Aravoen would have crushed into the large black door that stood before them.

"Watch your step."

Aravoen stepped back as the wizard opened the door into a passageway long and brilliant. On the sides were great pillars of marble sprayed with paintings of the past. Aravoen followed Cidarcorin, looking at the pillars.

One of the pillars caught his eye more than the rest. It had a painting of the great west sea lined with many ships. Many men were upon the shore led by a tall handsome man in bright white armour and mail. The sword hilt protruding from the scarab at his belt was bright and wrought in a fashion not seen in Elasia. It was bright and long with gold and steel put together. The place the hand was placed was wrapped in leather, fine and inlaid with diamond dust.

Upon the man's brow was a thin silver filament that blinded all that beheld it in the sunlight. Behind him were three men high and stately who looked like him and held swords not as brilliant as the elder man. Aravoen recognized one of the swords. It was the very one held by a belt round his waist. At sea, the ships were unloaded. Many men in bright mail with green cloaks, some even with black cloaks, were assembling around him.

Aravoen looked at the next pillar and its painting. This time the man pointed at something unseen in the pillar. Behind the man and his three sons was a bright and beautiful standard. A tree with long roots and large broad branches lay on the banner. Above the tree were the sun on the right, the star in the middle and the moon on the left, all white and shining as if real diamonds had been put in their place. At the roots of the tree, was a golden threaded crown with wings of an eagle spreading out and forming an arch below the tree of golden light and as bright as the sun. Aravoen stared in awe at the standard on the pillar.

"These two pillars tell the landing of Eldon and the Easel from the flood of Ebill," Cidarcorin said behind him. "The banner you see is long lost, some say it lies with Eldon in his resting place. For they say Ebill died with Eldon."

"That is the banner of Ebill," said Aravoen softly.

"Come now, My Lord," he said. "You shall have time to see the full story on the pillars."

He entered through an archway that led into an open room high up in the skies. It was round and large. There were ten chairs around the walls. The light from the large torches set between the chairs bathed the large hall in dim soft colors. The most youthful and elderly collection of men and women Aravoen had ever seen, holding staffs and dressed in robes of varying colours, occupied nine seats.

"Aravoen," Cidarcorin introduced, "the council of wizards." They numbered ten in all. "Minarin the green, Corical the brown, Fendorin the blue, Stericalin the red, Mendrek the golden, I, Cidarcorin the white, Fedora of the earth, Akasha of the wood, Edelrich the seer and Eadella the silver. They are the council. Akasha you have met and Mendrek is your friend. Today even your mother joins the council. Sit by her, there." He pointed to one empty chair beside a woman who Aravoen had not recognised. But as he drew nearer, he saw it was his mother, Eleonor. He sat next to her.

Suddenly Eleonor grabbed his hand and held it in hers. "We should listen as mother and child would listen, not as strangers."

He nodded to her. A small stool was in the middle of the room. Upon it was a box wrought by the dwarves who now hid in the crater city of Dwarven. The silver curvings on the surface of the box shone in the soft light of the hall.