Mana Mutation Menace (Journey to Chaos Book 3) (48 page)

Anyone who wished to travel from Roalt to Dnnac Ledo or vice
versa had to pass through the Arch of Kresnik. It was a teleportation magi-tech
device that was installed during a period of better relationships between
Ataidar and Dnnac Ledo. It was located in a secluded area of the castle both
for the security of the Arch itself and also as a demonstration of trust
between the human country and the elven city-state: “We both have back doors
into each other’s homes.” Naturally, this door was locked from both sides.
After the Conversion War and other events soured their relationship, the Arch
fell into disuse.

The security and maintenance costs for the Arch had long
since felt the axe of budget cuts. It was too expensive for something that was
never used. Thus, it was sealed up and forgotten generations ago. No mortal in
the castle even knew where it was until yesterday.

The staff of the Department of International Relations
searched high and low but couldn't find it. Some of the newer ones started
panicking over disappointing the queen (and possibly incurring divine fury). Instead,
she merely assigned the castle's archivist to aid their investigation, and
Henry led them straight to it.

Being immortal, he not only remembered the last time it
was used, he was present when it was first constructed. Its architect, Kresnik,
was a friend of his. They still played mahjong over the internet. That was why
he was assigned to help them.

“Annala, don’t you know where it is?” Eric asked. “You
must have come through here a year ago to start the study abroad thing.”

“Actually, I didn’t. You see, the Arch had experienced
such a prolonged period of inactivity, that, when I stepped through...there was
no one to greet me.”

“Again, I must apologize for that incident,” Fairtheora
said. “As Royal Sentinel, I should have been aware of such a device and kept it
under surveillance.”

“Dad couldn’t convince the Knight of International
Relations at the time that such a room existed, so I went back through the Arch
and Mom sent me here the long way.”

“What about Quando?”

“He was walking the earth and ultimately settled here. My
aunt received letters from him from as far away as Najica and Omnicidstrila.”

“‘Omnicidstrila’?” Eric repeated.

“It’s an island where everything is trying to kill you.”

“Ahh.”

“Anyway, this will be the first time the portal has been
used from the human side since the Conversion War.”

“I will lead you to it,” Henry Pupil said, “and Sir Fairtheora
will turn off the security features as we go.”

The path to the Arch of Kresnik began with a toilet in an
out-of-the-way area of the castle. It hadn’t been cleaned in ages because
servants weren’t likely to stumble across the passageway. Henry pushed aside a
stone and inputted a runic code to reveal the entrance to the Path of Human-Elf
Friendship.

It was musty, dark, and cobwebbed. Something further down
the tunnel put Annala on edge and she grabbed Eric’s arm as they entered. Eric
sensed it too; a feeling that something dangerous was up ahead. Henry was
downright giddy as he led the way, chortling and talking to himself about the
"interesting times" sure to come. Suddenly, he stopped. Then he
gestured to Fairtheora. The orc nodded and set his hand against an invisible
something. With a flash of thaumaturgy, a barrier appeared. It was the same
non-light as Nulso’s Armor of Stability. Annala clutched tighter to Eric’s arm.

“This is a Lawful Security Shell,” Henry explained. “It
surrounds the Arch of Kresnik on all sides and was put in place as the last
line of defense against elven invaders. Not only would it be a bugger for elves
to pass through, it also radiates Universal Dread that only they can feel.
Thus, it can be used to ID them even if they shapeshift. Fascinating, no?”

“Blasphemous!” Annala declared.

“Reverent,” Fairtheora countered. Placing his second hand
upon it, he intoned, “This crossing has been sanctioned by Her Majesty. In her
name, I command you to disengage.”

At once, the Lawful Security Shell disappeared and the
hairs on the back of Annala’s neck lay down. She didn’t let go of Eric’s arm.

As they progressed, layers upon layers of wards enshrouded
the chamber designed to keep everything in as much as keep everything out. In
addition to solid gates, the other barriers ranged from a wall of Sacred Fire
(which Annala noted would be tremendously difficult for elves to cross) to
lines of salt that she laughed at. Henry explained that numerous superstitions
were prominent at the time of construction and so were incorporated into it. After
passing through the last of the human security features, they arrived at the
chamber.

It was solid orichalcum and reinforced with titanium and
other materials Eric didn’t recognize. Runes blinked in and out of its surface,
but their power could still be felt. He got the sense that the blinking had to
do with preventing a human from discovering precisely what they were and what
they did. The door was not guarded by a human or an elf, but a golem, and it
wasn’t like any golem Eric had ever seen. It looked truly
alive.

Annala had to provide several forms of identity to the
golem and get her dad on the phone to release a number of locks to access the
area. Until all these checkpoints were passed, no one was allowed near the Arch.
Hence why it lay untouched for centuries.

That book was right; elves really are paranoid.

During his last library stay, Eric researched the history
of his new species and a driving factor was their fear of his original species.
Despite all their power, elves were few in number and reproduced rarely, so
humans could overrun them by sheer force of numbers. Combine that with the
humans’ reputation for ordercraft, the only means of suppressing their powers,
and humans were the true elven boogeyman. They viewed Dengel with disgust, but
he was long gone and there were billions of humans all around them. While this
was not the only reason for their seclusion, it was the most driving and the
one most often cited.

Scientists of other species went to horrifying lengths to
find out how they lived so long. A slave who heals instantly and never grows
old was highly prized; a golden-brown wig was a status symbol. There were
points in Tariatla's history where entire economies were centered on the trade
of humanoids with pointed ears. Then there were those who hunted out of fear.

Nigh unkillable, ageless, and always on the cutting edge
of magical technology, elves struck fear into the hearts of mortals just as
they themselves struck fear into the hearts of elves. Their resemblance to The
Trickster and penchant for going insane (like Annala's grandfather) fanned the
fear into hysteria. Countries of the past demanded that elves come out into the
open, live in designated areas, and turn over whatever weapons they'd
developed. If they agreed, they were often enslaved. If they refused,
militaries tried to flush them out. One such incident was the first act of the
first stage of the Conversion War.

 Entire elven villages became war machines, and mortal
countries became more determined than ever to place the elusive elves under their
control. Hundreds of thousands of mortals died and whole cities were razed
before one elf village was found and destroyed. That one village was a higher
percentage of the total population than all the mortal deaths up to that point.

Centuries later, elf villages were more secluded and more
secured than ever before in the planet's history. They still didn't share their
technology freely, but there was a market for elf exports if you had
connections and were willing to use currencies other than money. Even then,
precautions were taken to ensure whatever they sold couldn't be
reverse-engineered. In the case of the Arch, only an elf on the other side
could activate it, and until one did, it was just a chunk of stone without as
much as a rune to reveal its functions.

The security golem, satisfied with Annala’s credentials,
stepped aside. Annala placed her hand on the door and spoke with her father. He
opened the door remotely. Beyond it stood a gleaming archway on a raised
pedestal. White and gold stone was inscribed with runes that baffled Eric. Not
even Grey Dengel could understand them; in the last two thousand years, elven
knowledge and science had advanced far beyond him. This was the Arch of Kresnik,
the link between Roalt and Dnnac Ledo.

“This is where we part ways,” Henry said. “I wish you
luck.”

“On behalf on Her Majesty,” Fairtheora said, “so do I.”

They did an about face and returned the way they came.
Eric and Annala entered the chamber and the door shut behind them.

“Okay, Dad, we’ve arrived at the Arch and we’re alone.
Password is ‘Meza pogos on the stick in his ass.’”

“Is that really the password?”

The Arch lit up as the machine activated. Runes came to
life one by one and twisted the space-time between themselves and their
counterparts on the other side. A screen of light fabricated in the space
between the arms of the device until it was solid and opaque.

“Dad doesn’t like Meza.”

Annala grabbed Eric’s hand and together they walked into
the light. The following sensations can be roughly described as squash, purple,
musical harmony, pongee cord, outer space, and square dance. When they came out
the other side, Eric threw up. Fortunately, Ponix was nearby with a bucket.

“Thanks for warning us,” Ponix said. “I’d hate to ask the
guards to clean that up.”

“Eeeeh…I’m a grendel now,” Eric said. “I have a….Why does
this still…bhleee!”

Annala held him steady, rubbed his back, and then wiped
his mouth after the third heave.

“I’ve never felt this bad after a teleport….How far did we
go?” Eric asked.

Annala winked and waggled her pointer finger. “Sora wa
himitsu desu.”

“I’m The Trickster’s Choice! Surely you can tell me.”

“Especially not you,” Ponix said. “We call him ‘Overturner
of Fortune’ too, you know.”

Eric looked around. It was a simple room with nothing in
it except the Arch, but that didn’t mean it was unadorned. The walls, ceiling,
and floor were covered in a vast array of complex and interconnected runes.
Grey Dengel’s knowledge informed him that their general purpose was to contain
anything that could enter or exit the room. As such, it was teleport proof,
blast proof, dig proof, etc. There was only one door and two more elves guarded
it.

“Okay, so where are we?”

“You’re in the Teleportation Room of the Universal Embassy
of Dnnac Ledo. My office is down the hall.”

At a gesture from him, the guards at the door returned to
a passive stance, but the door was still locked. Ponix had to perform many
tasks to unlock it and most required proof of his elven nature, such as his
hair color and ability to shapeshift, but some required obscure pieces of
knowledge. The last one was a puzzle. Then the door hissed as the pressurized
seal released and pulled away to reveal a magical membrane. Eric shivered when
he passed through it.

The outside was plush with rugs, tapestries, sculptures,
and amenities. It was only fitting to provide comfort for one's guests, but then
he noticed a recurring artistic theme: the glory of the elven race. Their
magical might and divine heritage was on full display; their technological
brilliance celebrated, their defiance of Order and his authority proudly displayed.
The elves Eric saw didn’t look glorious, brilliant, or proud.

They were napping on windowsills. They were playing games
by themselves on scries or with each other on boards and with dice. They were
engaged in pointless gossip. The presence of what he assumed to be their boss
did nothing to change this. Ponix answered his question before he asked.

“You’re the first person to exit that room in a long time.
Some of them have never seen anyone exit it. Even Kallen was flown by The Trickster
himself. This place has become a community center because no one uses it but
me.”

“What about the exports?”

“We have separate ‘non-living matter only’ teleports for
that. It has far less security.”

“This is part of why Mom wanted me to study abroad.”
Annala pointed to an elf throwing a ball against a wall while reciting synopses
of her favorite series. “She didn’t want me to turn into one of these
mushrooms. If she has her way, everyone in my generation will use this building
for the purpose it was made for.”

At the door to Ponix’s office, two more elves stood on
guard. Both of them were so engrossed in a storyteller-style game, they didn’t
notice their boss and his two guests approaching. When they did, they simply
moved away from the door.

The inside was clean. It was neat. It was not what Eric
was expecting of the elf whose every sentence was disorganized. Even the
machine Ponix used to create his visitor pass, which hadn’t been used in
centuries, gleamed with fresh polish.

“I can’t have a pan-elf hologram conference in a pigsty. I
take my diplomacy seriously.”

Around the Universal Embassy was a circle of trees. Their
roots entangled with others above and below ground, making the terrain uneven.
Branches twisted around each other and obstructed his view. Some held large
seeds that resembled maces. Others were tipped like spears. Eric expected them
to shout “none shall pass,” but instead, they waved or saluted Ponix.

“Are those there to keep visiting humans inside?”

“No,” Ponix said. “Their purpose is to keep hostile elves
outside. No one living here can die, but our guests can.”

Eric turned around and walked backwards to look at the
Embassy from the outside. It was a stone building three stories high. Each
floor had a ring of four windows with the first possessing a fifth on the door.
Gromece columns, shaped from the stone, framed the door and braced the roof.
Runes were carved into them, but Eric could only guess what they meant. Overall,
it looked like a fortress that was trying to look like a statehouse.