of his face, barely able to see where to go. The directions were simple, but he was taking no chances. There was no sign of the other three that had gone on before him. He hoped that there wouldn’t be a need to clear a path. He followed the map until he came to the first right turn and further on to the next right turn. One more turn, he thought. He kept walking and walking. After a few minutes he decided to pick up the pace. A sense of apprehension began to fill him as the stone path stretched out longer that he had expected. Did the map indicate the next turn would be so far? His brisk walk turned into a run. The dim blue light could not be explained, but his path was still eerily illuminated. There was no sign of any Anwyns. This was a relief, but he had been on this path so long that he was beginning to think that he had missed the last turn.
Minutes passed.
What if he hadn’t seen the turn? Was he running right into an ambush? What would they do if they caught him? The map never suggested that the path was so long. He must have missed it. After long minutes of running, he stopped abruptly and fell to his knees, breathless. How could I have missed the last turn? Panic was beginning to set in. If he could not find the next turn there would be no getting the staff, thus no finding his grandfather. Alric said everything had to be done within fifteen minutes. It had been at least eight minutes already. Silas wasn’t sure what had to be done to get the staff anyway. Was it sealed? Would it be protected? There was no way of knowing. The questions he never thought to ask before now flooded his mind.
He looked behind him, wondering if he should go back to look for the left turn. Having missed it would ruin the whole operation. He weighed the options in his mind and finally decided to keep moving forward. He knew he didn’t miss it. He couldn’t have. He moved quicker and gradually began to pick up the pace until he was running again. It was almost a full minute later when he saw it. The path he ran went straight, but another cut to the left. He hadn’t missed it! According to the map this would be the path that led directly to the staff.
Going at a jogger’s pace he found that the map was true, however off-scale it was. The footpath led to a large open room. It looked to be perfectly square and the smooth stone walls were covered with many types of markings and pictures. If Silas were to guess, he would say that it was a pictorial history of the Anwyn people, with colorful carvings depicting times of peace and war.
The ceiling was high, at least fifty feet. It too bore the history of the Anwyn people. In what order the history began or ended, Silas could not determine. It was a spectacular sight. Much like the path had glowed, so too did the rock walls within this room, but much more vibrantly. If Silas had not been frightened for his life he would have taken the time to admire such beauty and craftsmanship. On the other side of the room was a large wooden double door, and according to the map, this was Silas’ exit.
And in the center of the room was the prize, the item that would lead him ultimately to his grandfather. The staff was not as wondrous as Silas would have expected. It stood upright in the middle of the room above a short stone pedestal, magically floating inches off the surface. The staff was straight except for the top, which was crooked and gnarled. It was not tall and would probably only reach to Silas’ neck while standing, and the surface had a finished smoothness to it. It was certainly a nice staff, but surely this wasn’t all they had come for. Silas wondered what the others were going after. What could be so special about this staff? In Marenon, anything could be special about it, Silas thought. For all he knew it carried brilliant magical powers or perhaps it was a key to some hidden treasure. Either way, it did not matter to Silas. Once he grabbed it, he would not have much time to get to the