58 Entering

“Master!  Master!”

All eyes turn towards the man who has just burst in through the entrance, ignoring the guards who had tried to block his way.

Andazabbel draws himself up to his full height.  “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” he thunders.

The man skids to a halt and looks around the tent, suddenly aware of where he is.  Throwing himself to the floor at Andazabbel’s feet he begs for mercy.

“Do not ask for my mercy; this is the Queen’s tent.”

Without waiting for the messenger to find his feet, the Queen says, “Oh, you’re forgiven, man.  Now, tell us why you are here.”

“Your Majesty, we’ve found it!  The entrance has been revealed!”

At once, he is brushed aside as the Queen and her magician hurry out of the tent.  The walk to the dig site takes a few minutes, Andazabbel offering his hand to the Queen to help her over the shifting sands, but at length they arrive at the lip of the hole the slaves have dug.

The entrance to the temple is several times the height of Andazabbel, carved from solid rock.  Carved sinuous beasts entwine with exotic plants, seeming to shift and move whenever you look away from them.  The doors are also made of stone but are sealed shut.

“Oh, Andazabbel!  It’s... magnificent...”

He nods in response, unable to find words to express his wonder.

“I am sorry I ever doubted you, my friend,” she continues, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Turning to her, he smiles.  “There is nothing to forgive, Majesty.  I had my own doubts, at times.  But what are we waiting for?  Let us go down!”

A walkway made from logs and chunks of stone has been laid against the cliff and they make their way towards it.  By this time, the Queen’s attendants have caught up with her and one holds a parasol over her to keep off the burning sun, whilst two others help her down the walkway.  Andazabbel follows, keeping his eager feet at the slower pace of those ahead with some difficulty when all he wants to do is run.

On level ground, the true scale of the entrance is revealed as it towers over them.  The wall of sand behind cuts off most of the light and provides an obvious threat.  However, the foreman has already sent slaves to begin the work of removing it.

“Now, Andazabbel.  Let us enter!”

He bows to her then walks up to the cliff.  The doors are clearly visible but there is not enough of a gap between them for even a piece of paper to be inserted.  As he runs his hands over the rock, he can feel the magic tingling against his skin.  There is power here, greater than he had imagined.  Oh, what use he can make of it!  Will make of it!  Just as soon as he gets inside...

Aware of the many eyes watching him, he steps back and raises his staff above his head.  He begins to chant, using words of the Old Language that have not been heard in a hundred generations, but he has repeated the incantation so many times, he knows the words almost as well as his own name.  The words flow through him, almost taking on a life of their own, and the crystal at the top of the staff begins to glow.

He grips the staff with both hands, knuckles white with the effort of holding it.  The last few words emerge from his mouth as if they are speaking him rather than the other way around.  As the sound of the final word hangs in the air, light flashes from the crystal knocking all onlookers to the ground.  There is a sound like the splintering of a thousand trees and the great doors swing open.

Andazabbel leans on the staff, breathing hard.  He feels a light touch on his arm and turns to see the Queen smiling at him while an attendant hastily brushes sand from her robes.

Together, they look up at the entrance he has opened.  No more words are spoken; none are necessary.  He offers her his arm and they walk through the yawning hole in the cliff together.