Teelahn's Journey

Teelahn unconsciously checked his sword. Ten years of war, of killing, had brought him to this point. Now it was time for the final test. Three days and three nights of mind-filling, heart-stopping fear, and he would be King. Able to do all the good things he wanted for his people. Able to bring justice to this battered land. Three days and three nights.

All he had to do was survive.

He turned to dismiss his companions. A small army was useful, but there were some things that had to be done alone. And visiting the Oracular Palace was one of them. By law and tradition, only one man could enter the Palace of Lingoviaral at a time. He must enter the Palace in his skin, and if he came out still breathing, he was King of the Caledons. If not, well... better not to think of that.

The walk to the Palace was short, but Teelahn felt as if he was being watched the wholetime. Without weapons, he was defenceless. Yet he knew that his death would not come on this path. If it came, it would be from nothing as merciful as a crossbow bolt. Death in Lingoviaral would be a long and painful affair. The Gods wanted to be sure that those who came for the honour were serious about it, and anyone who entered lightly regretted their mistake for a long time.

He reached the doors. As Teelahn lifted his hand to knock, they... they disappeared. Where the doors had been was now an empty space. The light from outdoors that should have illuminated the entrance hall faded away in a matter of a few feet, and only inky blackness lay beyond. Steeling himself, Teelahn stepped over the threshold.