Kastali Dun

Claire was relieved with the king having gone away to Lincastle. His absence made everything feel more relaxed. Even the Great Keep seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. His presence no longer bothered her like it once did, but she wasn't yet at ease with him. Bumping into him accidentally made for awkward moments. The only thing she missed was her time with Reyr.

Desaree made things better, filling the gaps Reyr's company left behind. She was there for Claire's every need, not that Claire was needy. Desaree insisted on doing everything for her, even though Claire had managed okay before. Claire tried not to protest too much because she was happy to have a companion, and even happier that Desaree took such pride in her new position.

As her handmaiden, Desaree accompanied her everywhere with the exception of her magic lessons, which was a blessing for more than one reason. She wanted to keep her as far as possible from Miss Witch. She also wanted Desaree to have some time to herself.

On the fourth evening of the king's absence, a great storm struck Kastali Dun. Since Claire's arrival, it rained often to break the humidity, but never like this. After dinner, she and Desaree went out onto her balcony to enjoy the torrential sheets of rain and screaming wind, laughing and spinning with outstretched arms until they were drenched and dizzy. Despite the late summer's heat, they both required a hot bath afterwards.

Once Claire was comfortably settled in front of her fireplace, Des took her leave, mentioning something offhand about reading a new book Verath had lent her. With Desaree's departure, she sat alone, watching the fire crackle as she soaked up its warmth. It was a comfortable sort of night, with a glass of wine in hand, nestled within the protection of the castle.

The storm raged on throughout the evening.

Claire sat for a long time, lost in her thoughts, until something strange caught her attention—a brief movement next to the bookcase—yet nothing appeared to be there. After studying the wall for several minutes, slowly sipping her wine, she saw another movement. It was subtle; she would have missed it had she not been looking for it. On the second occurrence, her gaze narrowed; she was filled with suspicion. It appeared as if the wall had moved, but that was silly because the walls of the castle were made of rock. What she had actually seen was a ripple of fabric belonging to a giant wall-hanging that spanned the wall from the ceiling to the floor.

The walls of her living quarters were covered with these decorative hangings and tapestries. Most were landscapes. One in particular was of a prairie that stretched on to meet the sky, with khaki grasses and wispy clouds. It reminded her of home, and for that reason, she often found herself staring at it; sometimes she even got a little choked-up with her memories.

Her room wasn't the only one with wall hangings and tapestries. Most of the walls in the keep's nicer accommodations were outfitted the same way. It helped bring warmth to the appearance of the cold, ominous stone walls.

As the storm continued, Claire watched the strange effect of the fabric, subtle as it was. Every so often, just in one place between her bookcase and fireplace, the cloth fluttered. More than once she laughed inwardly at the thought of ghosts. Were there ghosts in Dragonwall? Probably not. Had the timing of the movements been any different, she might have explained it as something supernatural, but the timing was everything: Whenever a particularly fierce howl of wind slammed against the castle's walls outside, the fabric fluttered. It was then that a brilliant idea came to mind.

Claire got off the couch and set her goblet down, then she went to the wall and ran her hands along the fabric. Beneath it she felt the blocky stones that formed the foundations of the keep. She ran her hands along until she reached the edge of the wall hanging. Nothing felt amiss, but she wasn't convinced.

Taking hold of the fabric, she pulled it back. The stonework beneath looked normal enough. She studied it harder, looking at the seams where the mortar had been placed. Only then did she see what she expected to see: Near the area where she had first seen the disturbance, the pattern of stonework was different. The stones lined up perfectly without a staggered arrangement. There was a crack in the wall. This wasn't the kind of crack that comes with aging stone and mortar. This was a seam, even in width, traveling from the floor upwards.

Claire's breathing hitched. She put her ear up against the seam. Behind it she could hear a faint whistling sound and feel a slight draft on her cheek. Goosebumps appeared on her skin as a chill spread over her. There was an open space on the other side of the wall! How else could the wind whistle through? Moreover, this had to be a door! It had to be. A castle of this size was bound to have secret passageways. But then, where was the second seam that would confirm a door's outline? And what was the trick for opening it?

She ran her fingers further along the wall, pulling back the tapestry as far as possible. She nearly squealed in delight when she found a second seam matching the first. She explored these lines thoroughly until she was fully convinced of what she had found. The only thing she did not find was a latch to accompany her secret door.

She glanced around the room, excitement rolling off of her in waves. Her gaze landed on the bookcase near the secret door. Dropping the fabric of the wall hanging, she rushed to the bookcase and began pulling books away, gently tossing them into piles upon the floor. In stories about secret doors and hidden passageways, there was often a special latch in a nearby bookcase. Soon she lost her patience, and in her excitement, began pulling books faster and faster until every single one was removed. The only problem was, nothing happened.

Claire's shoulders fell and her excitement began to diminish. She glanced between the precious books now lying in a heap on the floor and the empty bookcase. There had to be another way. She was not ready to accept defeat. With intense scrutiny, she ran her fingers all along the shelves in hopes of finding what she sought. Unfortunately, she found nothing—not a single latch nor button.

With much less vigor, she plopped back onto the couch and sipped her wine until she caught her breath. Then she cleaned her mess, placing each book neatly back in place. After that, she went back and examined the stonework of the wall, hoping to find something she might have missed. Perhaps there was a specific stone that acted as a button. If that was the case, she would have to push each one to find the one that clicked.

She did exactly that. She began pushing every single stone in the wall. That's when she realized how silly she was acting. She must have looked like a crazy person, tapping and pressing everywhere. She dropped her arms, laughing at herself. How could it be so complicated?! There was no way it was. Perhaps there was a simple solution—a magic word of some sort. "Open Sesame," she said, lifting her arms like a magician in a magic show. She knew it would not work, but there was no harm in trying.

However, simplicity wasn't necessarily out of the question. In observing that, the real answer came to her. She simply needed to speak the magical command for open. "Hinga!" she cried. As she spoke, her energy fled with her breath. Her gaze darkened then cleared. Little pricks of light were left behind in her vision. She blinked several times and the world around her normalized—a sure sign that her magical abilities were improving.

A low groan met her ears. Seconds later a jubilant smile spread across her face. Dust spurted from the seams in the wall as the rectangle of stonework before her moved backwards, grinding and rumbling like an angry bear awakening from a long hibernation. As the wall retreated into the darkness, her heart raced faster than ever. She had done it!

The wall came to a grinding halt, hidden from view in shadow. She was presented with a doorway. The inside of this doorway was blacker than black. She took several steps backwards, exhaling her pent-up breath. What would she find within?

After gazing at the blackness for several minutes and contemplating what to do next, she worked up enough courage to confront the doorway. She walked forward and leaned into the blackness, straining to see. The space smelled damp and musky. She felt the draft that had initially gotten her attention, but she could see nothing. She would need a light. She grabbed one of the oil lamps from her chamber wall and moved towards the dark space. Before she could see anything, a ferocious howl of wind sounded outside followed moments later by a breeze, which whistled through the dark opening. It left her chilled and anxious.

The lamp flickered but it did not go out. Claire illuminated the inside of the doorway, her hand no longer steady as excitement coursed through her. Mere steps within the doorway, she found a staircase leading directly downward. Thank the gods she hadn't stepped in without a light, or else she would have tumbled straight in!

The walls on both sides of the staircase were narrow. She took several steps in and descended the stairs, moving slowly. Adventure gripped her. Her mind raced as she considered all the things she might find—all the ways this discovery might come in handy. The staircase continued downward for what seemed like an eternity. At last, she found herself on a flat landing in a tiny room. Holding her lamp forward, she was confronted with three pitch-black hallways. They presented a choice she was simultaneously nervous and eager to make. She chose the one in the middle, directly opposite of her.

Claire walked for several minutes in silence until the faint sound of voices could be heard. She came to an abrupt stop where she strained to listen. There were two of them—male—and they were growing louder. Perhaps there was a corridor spanning the secret passageway. When they were close enough, she could make out their words.

"...I tell ya now, she's a right good lass."

"Of course you'd say that, Murn," the other said. "Maybe if you weren't skipping guard duty so often, she would not be so kind to you."

"Bah!" the first said, raising his voice in defense. "Whot you talkin' about?"

"I see you leaving. Deny it all you like."

The voices continued like this, growing louder before growing quieter, and then disappearing altogether. When silence returned, Claire continued on her adventure. Every so often, the walls of the passageways opened wider or grew narrower, and she was presented the option of other hallways or stairways. Treating it as a game, she took which ever suited her fancy.

The longer she explored, the more she felt the magic of the Great Keep. It reminded her of the Gable Forest, the way the trees had felt when she touched them, as if alive and sentient. She felt the same here, stopping to catch her breath as she laid her palm upon the stonework of the castle. Despite the darkness, she closed her eyes. There! She felt something, perhaps magic, radiating beneath her palm, buzzing with something liken to awareness. Queen Isabella and King Eymar were responsible for building the Great Keep. Perhaps this magic was the same she felt in the Gable Forest.

She lifted her hand, smiling to herself. It felt as if she had just discovered one of the best kept secrets in all of Kastali Dun. That left her to wonder: who else knew about the keep's secrets? Did the passageways only navigate the keep? Might they traverse the city too? How extensive was this network she had found?

On she went, making more choices left and right, up and down...Sometimes it felt as if she went in circles; many passageways looked the same. This extensive network was an elaborate maze which could only be conquered by someone familiar with it.

As soon as the excitement wore off, she accepted that she was lost. Her hands turned clammy and her breathing increased. In a place like this, one could wander for days before finding a way out. What would such an escape look like? Another door with light streaming through? A dark and hidden latch to the outside world?

How long had she been wandering, anyway? It must have been hours; she could feel the ache of her tired feet in their slippers.

Shutting her eyes tightly, she placed her palm against the stone of the passageway. Calmness settled over her. Taking a deep breath in, then exhaling, she let the magic of the keep buzz against her palm. When she allowed herself a moment of thought, the answer became clear. Why hadn't she known all along? There was a way out, just ahead. The castle nudged her like Esterpine's trees had done. She allowed her fingers to trail along the stones, keeping her eyes closed as she moved forward. Yes, what she sought was here: a door to her freedom. She opened her eyes and lifted her lamp high, examining the walls before her. It took several intense minutes of scrutiny, but at last she saw the familiar seams that indicated a moving door. She put her ear against the seam, listening. There was no noise.

Placing her palm against the stone, she commanded the door to open, cringing as she said the word. It felt as if the stones around her trembled too, but that was merely the door responding to her. She stepped aside and waited for it to settle.

A faint orange light of dying embers met her eyes. She peeked around the wall to find herself in someone's living quarters. A spike of fear stabbed her. What if she was discovered?! She glanced about then heard a loud snore. Her eyes snapped in the direction of a closed door leading to a sleeping chamber. She was safe. After she stepped through the doorway, she placed her palm upon the wall and said, "Lagar," to close it. She flinched at the noise it created. A loud snort followed by more snoring met her ears.

As quickly and quietly as possible, she crept from the chamber. Her body sagged with exhaustion. She had performed enough magical commands to wear her out, plus, it was way past her bedtime. She did not breathe a sigh of relief until she found herself safely outside of Lord Glover's apartments. After cleaning many of the keep's accommodations, she knew them well. Lord Glover was one of the last people she wanted a run-in with; he was a Council member who was opposed to her.

When at last she returned to her own quarters, she threw herself into bed. What an adventure! What a discovery! Just thinking of how such a secret might benefit her left her giddy. But she couldn't think of it now, for even as she turned over to get comfortable, her heavy eyelids closed, and she dropped into a deep, exhausted sleep.

⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐