The Lost Crown

The Hidden World Calls

When Walliam Mavery turned 18 he had a dream.  It was a hot summer, and water was dwindling in the provinces east of Gideon’s Waste.  Wells were drying up in the small village of Kelton, where he lived.  Farms were parched and every day they made an offering to Eperna to bring them rain.

Walliam had gone with his father to deliver a bell that day.  It had been a sunny, hot day, and the trip to the next village was dusty and sweaty.  The village had a new inn, and the innkeeper had commissioned a bell from Walliam’s father, Hyram.  They had delivered the bell quickly, while the horses drank noisily.  Water was a worry, and was all they spoke of while the bell was heaved off the wagon.

The conversation was short.  A delegation was on its way to Selendril to petition the High Priestess of Eperna, and also Lord Anand Berthold.   

Walliam thought about the city of Selendril on the ride back to their village.  He had heard about the city’s beauty.  It was as great a city as Sundjahar or Cerallon itself.  Like all of the cities in the Kingdom there were seven temples in Selendril, one for each of the seven gods.  Everyone had contributed to buy the gift to Pasterya, the High Priestess of the temple of Eperna, the goddess of Spring and life and birth.

Walliam wondered what the temple in Selendril looked like.  He imagined a grand building, with tall columns along the front.  Inside would be a giant statue of the goddess, holding her arm out in front of her.  He had seen a small statue once of the goddess, and she had stood with her arm out, holding a strange flower in the palm of her open hand.  He couldn’t tell what the flower was, and he had been too embarrassed to ask.

“You’re always daydreaming,” his father said as the wagon lumbered along the road back to their village.

Walliam felt his face grow warm.

“It’s okay,” his father said.  “I don’t mind, son.  You’re young once, you might as well enjoy your daydreams while you can.  Soon you will be an apprentice and the carefree days will be gone.  Enjoy them as you can.”

It was late in the day when they reached their own village, and home.  When they pulled into the yard by the foundry Walliam could smell stew cooking.  His stomach growled.

He was thinking about Selendril, and the towers there, when he fell asleep.  Then he had the dream.  He was standing in an empty field, at night.  He looked around and saw a hedge in the distance and began to walk towards it, through the field.  As he drew closer he saw that it wasn’t a hedge, but a row of trees.

A strange, half-light bathed everything around him.  He looked up, but the sky was dark and there was no moon.  A few stars glittered coldly.

He walked closer to the trees and saw that one tree in particular was much taller and bigger than the others.  They ran in a row, to either side, off into the distance.  The big tree rose into the night above him.  

He walked up to the wide trunk and saw that it was dark gray, almost black.  There were no leaves on the branches, or on the branches of any of the other trees, for that matter.  Walliam blinked when he saw this.  He thought there had been leaves.  He blinked and looked around again, and the trees running off to the left and right were clad with green leaves.  But the giant he stood beneath remained leafless.

Slowly he walked around the wide, bumpy trunk.  He heard a strange sound and then he noticed a dark shadow at the base of the tree.  He leaned down and saw that it was an opening.  A root of the tree knuckled up, and the shadow lay below it.  As he looked at the opening he noticed steps in the dark, leading down, below ground.  He felt a tingle and he leaned down and placed his hand on the top of the root that formed the top of the opening.  The opening had looked small, but when he leaned down and looked closer he saw that it was larger than he had thought.  In fact, he could duck his head and step down onto the first step.  The light was very faint down below, but he could see the steps winding further down.