The Seventh Bell

These three months came and passed, and still there was no sign of Antarn’s return. Kyrinne took to gazing into the distant forest path, trying to discern a thin, gangly youth striding homeward to the necromancer’s towers.

The map had led Antarn deep into the heart of an abandoned ruins of a once great elven city, following an obliging wood nymph. Being no more than one foot tall, and having no scent to speak of, nymphs were in less peril than the rest of Aramanthia’s inhabitants, as the lesser Dead perceive the world dimly and rely mainly on their sense of smell, which Death seems to heighten. The slim, attractive little creature had promised to show Antarn the ruins of Cormanthor in return for his protection on the journey and, of course, a precious gem of some sort.

They walked down what must have once been the city’s main street. To either side of it were the remains of the mansions of elf lords, and to one of these mansions the nymph brought Antarn, chattering excitedly in hushed tones. They came to a halt in front of a crumbling pillared building, which in earlier days would have been quite exquisite to view.

"House Alastra," the nymph whispered to him. The name held no meaning for him, but from her reverent manner he could only assume it had been important. Antarn unfolded his map and stared at it - yes, this was the right place. It must be here somewhere. He thanked the nymph and withdrew a small emerald from his pocket, handing it to her. She shrieked with pleasure and cradled the stone, smiling happily up at him.

"I never had one before," the nymph said wonderingly. She gave the apprentice a shrewd glance. "Sir, I can show you what you are looking for if you will give me another. I have a friend, you see."

"You know where the Seventh Bell is?" He was reasonably sure that no such friend existed, but she had succeeded in arousing his curiosity.

"Well, no Sir, not exactly, not a bell," she hedged , "but come with me and you will see for yourself." Antarn shrugged and followed as she led him deeper into the ruins. Finally, they stopped at a heavy oaken door, and the nymph drew back a little. "In there," she pointed shyly.

Antarn looked at her inquisitively. "You won’t come with me?" The wood nymph shook her head and fidgeted.

"Sir, if it pleases you I would rather leave you here," she said fumblingly. "You understand, Sir, I just wouldn’t be able to..." her voice trailed off and she looked at him hopefully. Antarn did not understand, but the little nymph had helped him reach his destination and he told her he was grateful. He gave her another emerald, to her squeal of delight, and watched as she flittered happily away, leaving the apprentice alone. He could think of no preparation to be made for whatever might await him, so taking one last precautionary glance at the ruins surrounding him, he squared his shoulders and threw open the door, stepping into the inky blackness beyond. The door, predictably, slammed shut behind him.

It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Once they did so he realized that he was not in complete blackness; in fact, there seemed to be a source of light somewhere in the stony and surprisingly intact room. Antarn could not figure out where the light was coming from, as the room seemed void of all objects, including windows. It appeared that the only entrance was the door through which he had come. However, once again Antarn surrendered to the predictable: He turned around and was hardly surprised to discover that there was no door behind him, or anywhere else. Apparently, this room could only be entered from without. Typical, thought Antarn, in his growing uneasiness failing to sense the slow stirring of an ancient presence to the sound of his mind-voice.