The Ring of Winter - James Lowder [76]
As Artus reached the edge of the plaza, he noticed something peculiar about the temple. At first he dismissed it as a trick of the tight or, perhaps, a warning that his fatigue was returning. "Lord Rayburton, the temple looks like…" He cocked his head. "It only has one wall."
Rayburton nodded. "Amazing, isn't it? No matter where you stand, you see the same wall, from the same perspective. Some sort of dimensional trick, I suppose. When a temple is built by the god it's meant to honor, you should just accept it and marvel."
The closer Artus got to the temple, the more its grace and subtle beauty overwhelmed him. The walls weren't built of stone blocks, but interlocking triangles of crystal. The dark gems looked as fragile as Sembian lace and glistened seductively. Looking at the walls was like staring at clouds; the longer Artus gazed at the swirls of light and shadow, the more fantastic the shapes that appeared before him. At first they were simple things-squares and circles, half-formed faces and bodies. Then the mace and hawk crest from his tunic appeared on the wall, broken into hundreds of tiny images at the center of each triangular block. At first he thought it was a reflection, but no matter how much he moved, the image remained still in the crystals.
The crest warped and twisted, becoming the harp and moon symbol of the Harpers. That changed swiftly to a pair of bands, black as pitch and clutched into angry fists. After a moment, the hands clasped together. The color bled out of them, and they became the kind, smiling face of Pontifax. Artus reached out, but his friend was gone, lost in a tangle of trees and vines. The jungle closed in, filling all the crystals with a deep green radiance.
It was then that a simple image formed against the riot of trees: a ring, a plain band of gold flecked along the edges with sparkles of light. No, not light. Frost.
The Ring of Winter.
"It's here!" the explorer cried. "I know it's here."
"Artus!"
The voice came from far, far away. It tugged at his consciousness, but Artus pushed the nagging thoughts aside. If he stared at the ring in the crystals long enough, if he focused all his thoughts upon it, he would learn where the Ring of Winter was hidden.
"Master Cimber! Oh dear, he's gone quite rigid. I hope you don't have a sizeable pigeon population in this square."
That high, cheerful voice insinuated itself into Artus's mind and threatened to tear his thoughts away from the ring. He knew, too, someone was shaking him by the shoulders. He didn't heed the call, but instead stared at the ring as it spun slowly in the crystal before him, close enough to touch. Forget what Rayburton said, a voice told him. You've spent your life searching for the Ring of Winter. It's here in Chult. It can be yours.
A fierce pain in his ankle shocked the siren call out of the explorer's mind. "Hey!" he shouted, hopping backward. In doing so Artus tripped over the large brown wombat, who still had his teeth locked onto his boot.
"Leave it to Lugg to cut to the heart of the matter-or the foot, in this case," Byrt chimed. "Well done."
Lugg released his hold on Artus's ankle. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he said, "More like extremely rare." He spit and stuck out his tongue. "Feh. That's really 'orrible tasting, that is."
"What… what happened?" Artus murmured. He rubbed his eyes. The image of the Ring of Winter remained clear for an instant, then faded.
"A property of the temple walls," Rayburton said. "Rather like a massive scrying crystal. Allows you to see into your own heart. I should have warned you not to look too closely. You've been standing there for the better part of an hour." He extended a hand and helped Artus to his feet. Only then did the dazed and bemused explorer notice the two other people standing between him