The Silver Stair

18

It was the heart of Raging Fire.

There was little left of the tent community. Nearly everyone had moved into the Citadel of Light, even though the structure was not yet finished.

Redstone was hard at work on part of the complex. She sat in front of a block of crystal and was shaping it magically with her hands, as if the material were the softest clay, and in so doing showing everyone the reason why Jasper had coaxed her here from Thorbardin. An earth mystic, Redstone was largely responsible for the appearance of the citadel, and she proudly announced that it should take only another year to complete.

Nearby, Skydancer and his Que-Nal cleared the land to make room for the rest of the citadel.

Four domes were finished, several stories tall, huge and made of the crystal mined from the northern tip of Schallsea Island. There would be nine when the work was finished, all with a pale blue tint that seemingly reflected the sky of a bright summer day. The setting sun was hitting them now, however, making them glow like dying coals.

Altogether sparkling like a jeweled bracelet, they would ring a great garden that had started to take shape. Elves were hard at work on that, training hedges to form an elaborate maze that would lead people to the Silver Stair. Flowers were woven among the hedges, scenting the air with lilacs and honeysuckle and rose.

"I don't believe I've ever seen anything so beautiful," said Camilla. She was watching the crystal grow under Redstone's hands. "In all my travels, I can't say that anything exists to rival the Citadel of Light."

Goldmoon was at her shoulder, a wistful expression on her face. "It is beautiful," she admitted. "As in my vision. They look like gems, shining with hope."

Other earth mystics were working to form hallways connecting the domes. There was one dome larger than the others, what Goldmoon had dubbed the Grand Lyceum. There was a barracks inside for the Solamnic knights and for others who had become the grounds' guardians, though the guardians merely patrolled the land now. There had been no trouble since the night Gair was slain.

Children were playing outside the great dome, orphans from the port town and from elsewhere in Ansalon. Goldmoon sensed that several of them had mystical potential and readily took them all in.

The healer nodded to a young girl with night-black hair, then turned away and strolled toward the docks. A small ship was arriving from New Ports, bringing with it pilgrims and curiosity seekers. Goldmoon and Camilla stood at the top of the cliff, waiting to greet the newcomers. The sun had set by the time the entourage had made it up the long staircase from the bay, and twilight touched the island by the time they were all were settled in.

The healer and knight continued their rounds, their path taking them by a cemetery, where knights, soldiers, and Goldmoon's followers who had died in last winter's struggle were buried.

One grave sat apart from the others, and it was to this one that Camilla and Goldmoon were drawn. They were among the very few visitors to this stone, and when they came it was always after sunset. The carving was elaborate, courtesy of Redstone, and the words simple: Gair Graymist, who waits for us beyond the door. The healer knelt and touched the earth, a gesture that had become a ritual. No flowers or grass grew upon the ground here, as they grew in profusion on the other graves. The dirt was as cold as the breath of winter, and infertile. She shivered, despite the hot summer air that wrapped around her. Camilla helped her up, and then they headed toward the Grand Lyceum, where people were gathering for dinner and stories and songs.

The stars lazily winked into view in a purple-blue sky, reflecting brightly off the domes. The moon rose above the horizon and brought with it the Silver Stair. The steps shimmered invitingly.

The gnoll stood at the base of the steps, hackles raised, a growl playing softly in his throat. He had not come close to the construct since the night Gair had unleashed his undead forces. There was something about the stair's magic that intensely unnerved him.

Still…

He placed a clawed foot on the bottom step, cringing as he felt the energy of the Celestial Ladder tingle against his pad. He took another step, and then another. The breeze ruffled his fur as he climbed higher, and he dared to look down only once. Far beneath him the domes glimmered like wet pearls. Faintly he heard singing, dwarvish. His feet moved up the stairs now in time with the music.

The mist swirled around him, and he growled more loudly. Despite the fear that clawed at his belly, he continued higher and higher until the stars stretched out all around him. The gnoll scarcely breathed as he tried to take it all in, one paw reaching out as if he could catch a star between his fingers. The wind was colder here, nipping at his skin, the air filled with a myriad of scents that seemed achingly familiar, yet that he couldn't quite place.

A little higher.

The top step shimmered into view, and Orvago swallowed hard. The tingling beneath his feet was no longer pleasant. It seemed to challenge him. For the briefest of moments, the gnoll considered retreating.

He held his breath, squared his massive shoulders, and went all the way to the top… .