Chapter 33

Kha'Tzeen'Azyr

Stefan felt squeamish as he stepped into the room. It was pitch black, and large enough so that Geraldros' globe could not illuminate the far side. Stefan asked Fineus for his torch and without a fuss the Gnome obliged. Stefan crept forward, with his back to the wall, searching for something, anything. It came in the form of a low outcrop filled with a dark, still liquid. He made up his mind and dipped the torch close to the surface of the fluid, and a moment later, the oil ignited. A stream of fire raced along the wall, twisting and turning to outline a room that was much bigger than he could have guessed. In the flame's wake, runes and symbols were lit up along the walls. Statues of ancient Nerubians, different from the evolved species known to Stefan and the others, caught the glow of the fire as it spread. Murals depicting Nerubian lore wrought in pure gold lined the walls.

As the fire's path finally ended, Stefan came to realize that the entire room was made of gold. The floor, the ceiling, and the walls were all forged in the precious metal. Taking another glance around, Stefan was satisfied to say there was no immediate threat.

"I think we're alright," said Stefan. Everyone let out a sigh, as if a curse had been lifted. With joyous nonchalance, they began to roam, exploring what appeared to be a treasure room. Iyana joined Lyra at one of the statues, while Fineus and Haydric argued over the familiarity of one of the runes. The Gnome swore it looked like two Human women intertwined, but Haydric was certain it was the better half of Fineus' mother's countenance. The Gnome snarled.

Stefan turned and joined Mae and Geraldros, who were admiring one of the murals. "What do we have here, Mae?"

"Well," began the Dwarven explorer. "It appears to be a chronological order of events, but of what, I'm not sure."

She pointed to a single Nerubian, who faced a row of shorter, unidentifiable figures. "This is obviously a Nerubian, but I can't tell what these other figures are..."

"Iron Dwarves."

Stefan and Mae turned to look at Geraldros with surprise. "Similar to Dark Iron, only we suspect they might not have turned out as wicked as their cousins."

"How did you know that, Geraldros?" asked Mae.

"I've done some studying on our past. The only bit of history I've chosen to encounter. I've read up that they may have had some dealings with the Nerubians, and this might prove it," replied the Engineer.

"I'm impressed," said Mae, causing Geraldros to blush. She pointed at an object one of the Dwarves was holding. "What's that?"

Stefan peered closer. "A ring? Halo? Not sure..."

"A crown? Did the Nerubians commission the Iron Dwarves to forge a crown?" wondered Geraldros.

Stefan and Mae looked at each other and spoke simultaneously. "Kha'Tzeen'Azyr."

They moved on. In each of the murals, the crown was present. Each depiction took it further into time until the last, where the halo was enlarged and situated in the center of the picture with four Nerubian figures standing around it.

"All has made sense, until this...What does it mean?"

Geraldros shook his head. Stefan looked from the crown to the figures, and back to the crown again. Then he turned and looked around the chamber.

Four statues of Nerubians stood poised at different corners of the room, all pointed toward the center, where a section of the floor was lowered. He looked back to the mural, his eyes running along the edges of the halo.

"The crown is here. Kha'Tzeen'Azyr is here," he whispered, pointing to the statues.

"By the Titans, he's right!" exclaimed Mae.

Everyone rushed over to Stefan, Mae, and Geraldros, who had gathered at the center of the chamber. They looked around, searching for the answer to the puzzle. The mural suggested the crown was here, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Might we be standing on it?" asked Guro'jintal.

"Possibly, but how will we know? There is nothing, not even a bloody booby trap!" stammered Fineus, stomping the golden floor, without effect.

Stefan shook his head. "No...it has to be here. There's nowhere else to go. The only door is the way we came. This is it."

His eyes darted around the room, looking for the answer. When he found none, he began pacing nervously, hands on his hips.

"It's the reason we came all this way. It has to be here."

Iyana put a hand on Stefan's shoulder. "Stefan, it's alright. Perhaps the Nerubians moved it."

Stefan placed his hands against the wall in front of him and leaned forward, staring at the floor in disbelief.

"No! It can't be! The story ends here! The crown is here! It's right--"

As he stared into the gaping circle of the mural's crown, it dawned upon him. "--here."

Everyone shuffled towards him, but he didn't wait. As they gathered, he already had the Nerubian artifact out of the pouch. Hesitant at first, he pressed the key to the circle in the mural. It fit perfectly. He pushed, and felt the slot give way beneath. The key snapped into place, and then Stefan's heart was beating faster. There was a groan of gears grinding upon gears, and then everyone turned back to the center of the room.

The lowered portion of the floor was swelling like a miniature volcano. The center of the rising lump sunk away, creating a hole. Stefan and the others moved forward with reluctance, unsure if the mechanism had revealed a secret or sealed their fate. The hill continued to rise until it was at chest height of a Human, then stopped. Still, the faint rumbling sound continued. A moment later, the center of the rise came into view, but something was resting atop it.

It was humble, to say the least. Stefan thought it was just a thin band of rusting iron. But the next moment, it looked as if it was glowing with an eerie, green light. And the next, it was no color at all, but transparent. Every moment he spent eyeing the band of metal, or so it appeared to be, the strange thing was changing color and texture. Others noticed this peculiar element as well, muttering and gasping with wonder. Realization washed over the group like a warm front.

"Kha'Tzeen'Azyr."

"We did it!" exlcaimed Fineus, unable to hold in his excitement. He jumped around Haydric, high-fiving the Human several times for assurance. Everyone began trading pleasantries and congratulations, sharing promises of fine drink and a good meal upon returning to the continents. Stefan released his embrace from Iyana, glancing over to Mae.

But she wasn't standing next to him. He looked over to the mural, where the inquisitive Dwarf had returned to eye the picture.

"Mae? Everything alright?"

The Dwarf was silent a moment before replying. "Stefan, the Nerubians..."

"Aye, just like the statues here," he said, looking at one. It seemed more menacing then before.

"The ones in the mural...they're glowing."

Stefan's sidestep almost saved him. The statue closest to him sprung into life, bringing the giant polearm down from its eternal position, and biting into the Human's shoulder. With a cry of pain Stefan faltered, shoving the weapon up and away. The statue fought to keep its balance on the pedestal, then swung again. Stefan ducked this time, rolling out of reach. In his moment of respite he glanced over to see the others scrambling out of the way as the other three statues took to the offensive, bringing to bear their own weaponry. Molgoby and Fineus were dodging a Nerubian statue wielding a giant warhammer, while Guro'jintal and Lyra traded blows with a statue wielding a pair of curved, wicked blades. Geraldros and Haydric were weaving around the wild swings of a morning star.

Stefan slid his maces out, misdirecting a powerful cut of the statue's vicious axe-polearm. Iyana flanked their distracted opponent, delivering both of her daggers into the statue's side. They bounced off, leaving only a visible blemish on the golden armor. The statue whipped around and drove the butt end of the polearm into Iyana's stomach, knocking the wind out of the Elf and sending her sprawling. It attempted to finish her off, but Stefan came from behind and tackled their assailant to the floor. He dropped his maces and began digging his fingers into the armored head, trying to gouge the Nerubian's eyes out. But it was no use; it was a statue. It didn't breath, and it certainly didn't see through a visible set of eyes. The statue planted its feet and launched Stefan from its back, sending the Human flying into a wall. It took a moment for him to recuperate, and by then the statue was charging him, polearm poised to come down on his head. He baited the automaton, moving past the blow and using the Nerubian's momentum to lift him over the wall, landing in the river of flaming oil. The statue ignited as it flailed about. Stefan and Iyana silently agreed their opponent was not a threat, and recovered their weapons to join the fray.

Things weren't looking good. Geraldros had a large dent in the metal box on his back from a direct blow of the statue's morning star. Guro'jintal and Lyra had several minor cuts from where the Nerubian's lightning fast hands had slipped past their guard. As he watched, Molgoby took a direct hit from the warhammer, fell to one knee, then continued the fight with a roar of anger.

They split up, Stefan joining Molgoby and Fineus while Iyana assisted Guro'jintal and Lyra. Try as they might, the statues weren't tiring, nor letting their guard down. Slowly and painfully, they were being wittled down to nothing.

"Someone take this b*****d down!" shouted Haydric.

"Gotcha, Hayd!" was Fineus' enthusiastic reply. The Gnome broke off, his dagger outstretched and aimed at the statue's jugular.

For Stefan, the next few moments ensued in slow motion. The statue winded up the morning star, spinning past Geraldros and Haydric in an outward arc. But the attack didn't stop as the spiked ball came around and caught Fineus on the right side of his jaw. The Gnome's head snapped to the side at an awkward angle as he toppled over, the grip on his dagger slack. Guro'jintal saw Fineus go down, crying out in rage. A sword slashed through his dropped guard, and then the Troll was on the ground, half of his right arm falling uselessly to the floor. Stefan heard Molgoby shout his name, turning back to their own melee. The hammer came without warning, landing dead center on his chest. The blow lifted him into the air, and with a hard impact, he slammed into the rise in the center of the room.

Things began to speed up. Lyra was viciously defending the fallen Guro'jintal, and Mae had rushed to Fineus' aid. Molgoby took a blow to the knee, and with a sickening crunch, had his kneecap shattered. Stefan attempted to move, but felt one hundred needles of pain sink into his ribs. He could only move his head. He saw Iyana pointed past him, and turned to see the statue they had dropped into the oil walking towards them, a blazing inferno. It looked like the end. Here, in a hidden treasure room, at the roof of the world. Alone and forgotten.

It was the only thing he could do. He didn't know the losses, and he didn't know the gains. It was worse than a game of cards. He looked up and behind him, where the crown sat idly on the rise. He glanced back at the bloody melee, and at that moment Stefan knew that there was no other option.

It felt as if his heart would explode when he lifted his arm. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to black out from the pain. When his fingers wrapped around the thin band of the crown, he noticed how warm it was. But it was a passing thought, as another desperate shout exuded from the swirling melee. He pulled the crown down from its seating, and dropped it over his brow.

Lyra was on the floor, dazed. The statue stood over her, ready to deliver the finishing blow. Molgoby was reduced to one leg. Haydric was gripping his side, fighting with a single hand. And the blazing inferno of a statue drew nearer, the polearm poised to strike once more. Stefan lifted his hand up to the fiery statue.

"Stop."

No one took a breath. Lyra waited for death, but it never came. The statues had frozen in place. Then, as one, they lowered their weapons. With an eerily smooth, automatic motion, they returned to the pedestals, and reverted to their original positions, as if nothing had happened.

"What..." trailed off Iyana. "Why did they listen?"

Stefan rose to his feet. The pain was gone from his mended ribs. The fatigue of battle had left his muscles. When he turned to face them, Iyana understood.

"But...how did you know they would listen?" said Mae.

Stefan turned to her. Without words, he gave her an answer. Their eyes held a silent, brief conversation, and after a moment, Mae knew what had happened. Everything had changed.

"What now? You're wearing the crown," winced Molgoby, limping over to the others.

"I do what I must, as the burden of my gift instructs," said Stefan. Iyana frowned. She walked up to Stefan, clutching his outstretched hands with tender care.

"Stefan," she began in a whisper. "You...you aren't the same...are you?"

"Iyana...the love we share, you know it's eternal," he replied. But she knew there was more.

"But--"

"But no matter what our future could have been, it can't be so. Not now," he finished.

"It all just doesn't make sense. A moment ago, we were on the brink of death. I was staring it in the eyes, Stefan. Everything was on the line. And now, I'm alive, but you're telling my I'm losing something that even the afterlife could not take from me. I love you," she stammered.

"Iyana, what transpires here is bigger than you and me. Bigger than life. Perhaps I'm asking for the impossible, but I know you are strong. And..."

"No more," she muttered, holding onto the tears. "I understand...just...no more. I can't...not now."

They parted with a hug. She felt his warmth, the way he gripped her firmly, making her feel secure. She remembered his scent, of sweat and blood. She remembered the rise and fall of his chest, and his careful, measured breathing. Then, they parted, and she returned to the others, her eyes lost in the floor. Haydric came up to Stefan.

"Well...I guess this is it, right? You've got your godly things to do, and we...well, we ain't got much to do."

Stefan chuckled. "You'll never change, Hayd. Good. I wish you the best of luck finding the mother load."

"Lucky for you, mate. I think you've already found it," replied Haydric.

Stefan smiled, embracing him and slapping him on the back. Guro'jintal came up, concealing his stump of an arm.

"Mon, I knew this day to be a'comin'. You always gettin' yourself into trouble. Today, more than you can chew!"

"You're probably right, Guro. You've been right about everything else."

"I be havin' a feelin' I ain't gonna' see you no more," said the Troll, his tone serious and certain.

"We must part ways today, Guro'jintal. But I am glad today, and not yesterday, or the day before. I owe a great deal to you," replied Stefan.

"And I to you," said Guro'jintal, extending his left hand. "Bless you, Stefan Dreis, for saving my life. Perhaps now, my debt is repaid."

"In full," answered Stefan, clasping his hand wrist to wrist.

As Guro'jintal joined the others, Mae stared over with red, swollen eyes, peering across the invisible threshold that separated Stefan from them.

"You're a brave man, Stefan. I find it a shame, that such men as you are lost to us, taken by the gods as if you are nothing more than a pawn. You are more than a man could be, Mr. Dreis. Remember that," said the old scholar.

Stefan nodded silently, then pointed to one of the murals. "There's a hidden exit route that will lead you to Azjol'Nerub behind that panel. From there, the Nerubians will give you the proper assistance in returning to Warsong Hold."

"What about you, Stefan?" asked Geraldros.

"My good Dwarf, I must remain here."

"Why?"

He wanted to answer, but he couldn't. Geraldros nodded his head after a moment, and to Stefan's pleasure, he knew the Dwarf understood. They began shuffling over to the mural, where an exit tunnel was hidden as Stefan had said. One by one, they gave their final goodbyes. Iyana and Stefan remained, two lovers on opposite ends of the spectrum, separated by a single passing moment that had changed their lives forever.

"You're really gone, huh?" Iyana's voice was sobered up and calm as ever. But her feelings were simmering just behind her eyes.

"Yes," he stated.

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"More than you can imagine."

She believed him, and only loved him more for it. She turned to leave, giving him a final glance.

"So long, Stefan Dreis."

And then she was gone. Stefan stood alone in the room, listening to the silence as it emanated from the walls aroudn him. He brought a finger up to touch the crown again, feeling the magical warmth of its surface. He turned to the door from whence they had come, staring at the corpse of the fallen Troll. He thought back to the battle. Since then, everything had changed. When he had dropped the crown over his head, he had lost his friends, his family, and his self. He wasn't Stefan Dreis anymore. He was no one, a singular being without a name or a history. With the crown he saw birth, life, and death. He knew his fate, and he knew he could not avoid it. But it didn't scare him. He knew its purpose. He knew the purpose of all there was, is, and to come.

And he couldn't say a word. The Gods had a wicked sense of humor. He chuckled quietly as he walked out of the room, listening to his voice echo in the treasure room, the last token of remembrance to his life.