Iorrjaer

Chapter 46

They all stood for a second in the dimly lit room. Now that they were all there, it was cramped and Malka started to feel a little claustrophobic. He began to breathe heavily, hugging the wall and then clutching his chest and sinking to the floor. Barsabel joined him and put her arms around him, holding him tightly as Sorâth searched for a door.

"Trapped," Malka said, sweating. "Oven...we're in an oven..." His rainbow hair clung to his face and his robes were soaked to his body. They looked to be several sizes too big.

Sorâth continued searching for an exit but was also starting to sweat. He tried to shrug it off but the room was getting tighter and hotter. Sorâth's hands were slick and he began to stop to examine them. He had never felt such heat, such oppression of hot, dry, heavy air. It was taking his breath away. His vision started to blur and he became weak in the knees. One thousand years of life and this was the first time that he had ever been caught helpless.

Graphiel slumped to the floor as well, finding it hard to catch his breath. He clutched and clawed at his coat and neck, trying to free his shirt and whatever else was constricting his air.

Barsabel released Malka and sat back, pushing Malka away from her as she tore at her robes. If getting naked would relieve her from the heat, so be it.

Yophiel, still in her armour, watched the others struggle but she was unphased and confused as to why they were acting the way that they were. For her, the room was still the same size and quite cool, and the door into the rest of the ziggurat was obvious. She went over to it, despite stifled protests from Graphiel, opened it and the spell broke.

She shrugged when asked about how she was able to withstand what had happened. Malka was particularly the most curious and genuinely wanted to know how she was not affected.

"Kêdêmel flexes his strength," Sorâth said, stoically. "Showing us that he has power here. Yophiel, did you not feel anything?"

She shrugged again. "Nothing. The room was normal for me."

"Curious." Malka said, giving Sorâth a knowing look.

Sorâth nodded and they all happily exited the room and found themselves in the foyer of the ziggurat. The main hall was a massive expanse of pillars and dust. The whole main interior of the structure was hollow and looked as if it was once used as a great dining hall. Although, it was now barren, save for the centuries of dust.

Moonlight shone in and illuminated enough for them to see where they were and what was around them but they ran into another problem: there were no visible stairs or other means to ascend.

Sorâth growled at the inconvenience and quickly ordered everyone to start searching. He got the sense they were so close to the moon's zenith that Kêdêmel was purposefully trying to delay them. His perception of the room was that it was a vast and sprawling space that was as empty of people as it was void of any defining characteristics. Save for the rows of support pillars, there was nothing else to the room. It was as tall as it was wide and he started to get lost in trying to figure out the square footage. It was a number that was there in his mind, he knew that he had the answer, but every time he came to vocalize it, the thought was lost. Causing him to fall to needing to get the thought back.

For Barsabel, the room was full of tables, chairs, and unlit torches, both floor and wall-mounted. There were unlit chandeliers, dirty tablecloths, platters and goblets that were half filled with partially eaten food, now rotten, and stale drinks. Wine and ale mostly, but there was something else about the space for her that was even more haunting: the tapestries on the walls and hanging from the pillars bore the sigil of the Monks of Amker.