Tomli and Garinor were led briskly to the northeastern cave. It wasn’t easy being shoved along with their hands tied. Garinor saw concern on Tomli’s face, but they said nothing. The ten guards surrounded them and allowed the prince to lead.
The two hours passed in silence. Even the guards were mute along the way and didn’t boast or jeer at each other as they went. The presence of their prince kept their tongues silent and the trip was punctuated only with the sounds of their footsteps on the rocky terrain.
At long last they reached the base of the mountain where the cave lay open at their feet. It was an unremarkable place and Garinor wondered if a bear or some other strange creature was living inside.
Torches were waiting in a basket near the entrance, complete with flint. One of the guards struck up the torch and handed it to the prince. “In you go,” said the prince to the two boys. Then, to the guards, he added, “You remain here.” He took out a dagger and held it in Garinor’s back and he pushed him forward next to Tomli.
If they had wanted to, they could have tripped the prince and tried to make an escape, but they realized the folly of such a plan. The guards, if they didn’t hear the scuffle, would claim them anyway when they tried to leave and if the prince was dead they would spend the rest of their days in prison for treason. The prince apparently reasoned all of this as well.
It wasn’t easy for Garinor to navigate the cave with a dagger in his back and a torch held behind him, but he pressed on. They pushed along up a sloped path inside the cave with sharp stalactites hanging from the ceiling. A strange coldness filled the air, something that felt out of place, as if the entire place were laced with snow. It was uncomfortable as they walked along the incline.
After another fraction of an hour, the torch started to dim. Garinor knew he shouldn’t, but he turned around to look. The prince prodded him firmly to keep his attention forward, but Garinor managed a glimpse at the torch anyway. It seemed to be burning as brightly as before. Yet, the area dimmed toward darkness.
Step by step, the prince propelled Garinor and Tomli until all the light was gone. “Keep moving,” the prince ordered, and so they did.
Several moments later, an eerie gray light appeared, illuminating a large circular room. The air was even colder in here. The cavernous ceiling curved in a perfect dome, as if they had walked under an upturned bowl. Centered on the floor a rectangular pedestal stood with intricate carvings all around the edges and up and down the sides.
While looking around the room, Garinor felt chills; not from the cold air, but from what littered the floor. Piled all around in a large heap that centered on the pedestal were dozens of human skeletons. Each of them seemed to be reaching toward the center of the pedestal. It took some time before Garinor could lift his gaze to see what stood there.
Standing in the center of the pedestal was the scepter.
The prince nudged Garinor and Tomli into the room. He set the torch into a sconce on the wall but it didn’t alter the gloomy gray light in the cavern. “It is time to meet your destinies,” the prince said, though in the strange air his voice sounded more like a whisper. He shoved Garinor down and then turned his dagger toward Tomli, who spun around in anger. “Be still, decoy.” He glared down at Garinor. “Here, boy. I will cut your bonds and then you will take the scepter.”
“Garinor, no!” Tomli called out. The prince backhanded him and sent him sprawling to the cavern floor.
“Tomli!”
“Step near him and I will kill him first. Now, get over here.”
Garinor hesitated but obeyed. He held out his arms and the prince severed the ropes binding them. He considered bending for Tomli, but the prince shook his head, anticipating the move. Resigned, Garinor turned toward the scepter.
“The prophecy,” said the prince in the still air, “speaks of three players. The prince, the heir, and the one who claims the scepter. You see along the ground those who came before you, seeking to prove themselves as the heir. I need not point out that they are all dead.”
Garinor stopped for a moment. “But if the heir and the scepter-holder are two different people, why are you having me take the scepter?”
“Because you are a fool,” the prince spat. “When you touch the scepter, you will perish, then your decoy here will take the scepter and it will reveal the truth. But sadly, it will be too late for you, sire,” he added scornfully.
Tomli had rolled over by then and he looked at Garinor with sheer panic on his face. He pulled his feet underneath him, ready to spring and take the scepter before Garinor could reach it in order to keep his friend safe. However, the prince knelt beside him and touched the tip of the dagger to Tomli’s throat. “Try it if you think you’re fast enough, decoy.”
Garinor’s determination held firm despite the dire consequences. He turned to face the scepter and worked his way toward it, regretfully scattering some of the bones in his wake. He wondered how many of those skeletons had belonged to others his age whom the prince had brought forth to slay in this manner. He swallowed hard and walked around the pedestal, keeping Tomli in sight the entire time to ensure the prince didn’t kill him.
At last Garinor stared at the scepter closely, paying attention to its detail.
It was a wrought-iron bar, woven around almost like three vines entwined. Numerous runes were carved all along the iron and it looked ancient. The head of the scepter was domed like the cavern roof and encased in a transparent crystal, and inside that crystal was a ring of gems. They spiraled around the inner wall just under the base of the crystal top. There were emeralds, rubies, topazes, sapphires, amethysts, moonstones, and several others Garinor didn’t recognize. The gems themselves were small but the crystal top magnified them greatly. He seemed to be staring into a whole other realm that was waiting to swallow him into it.
He realized dully that the gem-encrusted scepter emitted the dim grayish glow that lit the room, and yet the light was everywhere and not simply shining from the scepter. It was as if the air was coated in a soft, delicate mist which the scepter gently illuminated.
Garinor hesitated before he acted, taking in the last few things he would ever see. He raised his eyes from the skeletons strewn across the floor and looked over to his friend sitting on the ground. Tomli’s eyes were afraid but he kept his face stern and composed, honoring Garinor as he reached for his destiny.