((Follows on immediately from The Heart of Avalon.))
It had been some months since Rhys had been to the Treasury, not since they'd laid Joyeuse to rest. In a strange way, he missed that sword, the way it felt in his hand, like it belonged there, and yet, he didn't miss the task that had gone along with it. The Treasury itself was little more than a large cavern set with niches and pedestals where the various artifacts that had been collected over the course of time were stored within protective sigils, effectively protecting them against theft or misuse. Rhys remembered the way, following the sound of voices quietly conversing upon his approach. He recognized those voices as that of his beloved Natalya and the Grand Master, Sir Lionel Cavendish, who was probably the closest thing either had to a father figure here in Avalon.
His journey took him past a familiar pedestal, where Joyeuse and her sister, Durendal, lay together on smooth stone, both broken and finally allowed to rest. Beyond that pedestal were revealed Nat and Sir Lionel, standing before a large mirror that seemed to have been carved out of the very rock of the cavern itself, suspended against the curved wall. The protective sigils about it were thick and writhing, stronger than any other in the entire Treasury. As Rhys' footsteps made themselves known, Nat looked up from her conversation with the Grand Master, a warm smile on her face for her husband, even as Sir Lionel greeted him.
"Ah, and there is the Lady's Champion," he declared in his jocular tone, showing himself to be in a good mood for once. He extended a hand toward Rhys in greeting. "My Lord Champion, welcome back to Avalon. Your wife has been chattering non-stop since she got here."
Beside him, Nat's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in a wordless protest at this patently obvious lie.
Rhys remembered laying Joyeuse to rest, and his fingers itched to touch her as he moved past, pausing a moment to look on her longingly. She called to him like an old lover, but he resisted. She was the past, she was no longer needed. She had served her purpose and now it was time for her to rest, but he did not share her fate. Not yet. There was still too much for him to do. He pulled himself away from her and continued on to join the other two, just a few feet away, where they stood in front of a great mirror he assumed was not there to serve anyone's vanity. Rhys returned the Grand Master's greeting, reaching for his hand and flashing a warm smile. He'd become fond of the older man, once he'd gotten past his rough exterior. "Sir Lionel, I trust you are well," he replied, his smile widening as he glanced at Natalya. "Hasn't been bragging too much about my sexual stamina, has she?" he asked, purposely seeking to get a rise from his wife and a chuckle from the Grand Master.
He got his chuckle from the Grand Master. "I should hope you do have stamina, lad," the older man laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Never be the first to pass out, that is my only advice."
Nat's eyes narrowed at Rhys as he teased her, her lips curving in a warm smile at the warmth that had grown up between the three of them. They were the three highest ranked of Avalon, beneath the Lady; that they had found an equitable manner of dealing with one another was a relief. "I am not going to respond to either of you on this subject," she informed both men with a roll of her eyes, which set Sir Lionel off laughing once again.
"Oh, I can assure you she's the one who does the passing out first," Rhys replied with a teasing grin, mostly said for Natalya's sake. The opportunity to tease her was rare, though he knew he couldn't push too far or he risked facing her wrath. Still, there was a certain camaraderie that had grown between them that was almost akin to family, and he was enjoying his place in that family. Before she could react either way, he abruptly turned his attention to the mirror, eyeing it curiously. "Don't tell me this once belonged to Snow White's evil stepmother."
His change of subject was just in time to save the Champion of Avalon from having the Priestess (and his wife) dress him down in front of the Grand Master of the Order of the Temple. As his gaze turned to the mirror, Nat subsided, snorting softly with laughter as she settled in at his side, looking up at the mirror herself. It was almost as though living liquid silver had been captured in a rough stone frame, the surface constantly moving, not reflecting the Treasury around them at all.
Sir Lionel glanced briefly toward it. "If it had, she would have won," he told Rhys in a sombre tone, clasping his hands behind his back comfortably. "This is a Mirror of Souls, one of three known to have been created long before the advent of Christianity, and the only one that exists in the world today."
Rhys turned a curiously-arched brow on the Grand Master at his slightly-cryptic remark. Was he dropping a hint that the tale of Snow White had been more than just a story created to frighten small children" And more importantly than that, was Lionel suggesting what Rhys thought he was suggesting" Rhys stifled a shudder at the thought of what it might feel like to find one's soul trapped in such a thing for all of eternity. It was a fate he wished on no one, except maybe demons. "Okay, but unless you have a pocketsize version, it's a little impractical, don't you think?"
Sir Lionel chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. "This is merely what you might call our storage medium," he told Rhys. "There is no practical way this Mirror could be taken into the world outside, or indeed, out of the sigils that protect it. Anything that touches that surface is absorbed. What the Mirror contains is a portal to a pocket dimension - a forbidding, if you like - specifically designed millenia ago to serve as a place of banishment for the irredeemable."
Rhys winced, glad he hadn't reached out to touch the thing and wondering why they didn't put a guard rail around it or something. A sign. A cage. Anything that would prevent some unsuspecting person - like himself - from touching it. But maybe that was what the sigils were for. Whatever the case, he was glad he hadn't been stupid enough to try. He failed in stifling that shudder this time, reaching for Nat's hand, if only to keep the twitch from his fingers. "Like demons," he added, understanding.
It had been some months since Rhys had been to the Treasury, not since they'd laid Joyeuse to rest. In a strange way, he missed that sword, the way it felt in his hand, like it belonged there, and yet, he didn't miss the task that had gone along with it. The Treasury itself was little more than a large cavern set with niches and pedestals where the various artifacts that had been collected over the course of time were stored within protective sigils, effectively protecting them against theft or misuse. Rhys remembered the way, following the sound of voices quietly conversing upon his approach. He recognized those voices as that of his beloved Natalya and the Grand Master, Sir Lionel Cavendish, who was probably the closest thing either had to a father figure here in Avalon.
His journey took him past a familiar pedestal, where Joyeuse and her sister, Durendal, lay together on smooth stone, both broken and finally allowed to rest. Beyond that pedestal were revealed Nat and Sir Lionel, standing before a large mirror that seemed to have been carved out of the very rock of the cavern itself, suspended against the curved wall. The protective sigils about it were thick and writhing, stronger than any other in the entire Treasury. As Rhys' footsteps made themselves known, Nat looked up from her conversation with the Grand Master, a warm smile on her face for her husband, even as Sir Lionel greeted him.
"Ah, and there is the Lady's Champion," he declared in his jocular tone, showing himself to be in a good mood for once. He extended a hand toward Rhys in greeting. "My Lord Champion, welcome back to Avalon. Your wife has been chattering non-stop since she got here."
Beside him, Nat's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in a wordless protest at this patently obvious lie.
Rhys remembered laying Joyeuse to rest, and his fingers itched to touch her as he moved past, pausing a moment to look on her longingly. She called to him like an old lover, but he resisted. She was the past, she was no longer needed. She had served her purpose and now it was time for her to rest, but he did not share her fate. Not yet. There was still too much for him to do. He pulled himself away from her and continued on to join the other two, just a few feet away, where they stood in front of a great mirror he assumed was not there to serve anyone's vanity. Rhys returned the Grand Master's greeting, reaching for his hand and flashing a warm smile. He'd become fond of the older man, once he'd gotten past his rough exterior. "Sir Lionel, I trust you are well," he replied, his smile widening as he glanced at Natalya. "Hasn't been bragging too much about my sexual stamina, has she?" he asked, purposely seeking to get a rise from his wife and a chuckle from the Grand Master.
He got his chuckle from the Grand Master. "I should hope you do have stamina, lad," the older man laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Never be the first to pass out, that is my only advice."
Nat's eyes narrowed at Rhys as he teased her, her lips curving in a warm smile at the warmth that had grown up between the three of them. They were the three highest ranked of Avalon, beneath the Lady; that they had found an equitable manner of dealing with one another was a relief. "I am not going to respond to either of you on this subject," she informed both men with a roll of her eyes, which set Sir Lionel off laughing once again.
"Oh, I can assure you she's the one who does the passing out first," Rhys replied with a teasing grin, mostly said for Natalya's sake. The opportunity to tease her was rare, though he knew he couldn't push too far or he risked facing her wrath. Still, there was a certain camaraderie that had grown between them that was almost akin to family, and he was enjoying his place in that family. Before she could react either way, he abruptly turned his attention to the mirror, eyeing it curiously. "Don't tell me this once belonged to Snow White's evil stepmother."
His change of subject was just in time to save the Champion of Avalon from having the Priestess (and his wife) dress him down in front of the Grand Master of the Order of the Temple. As his gaze turned to the mirror, Nat subsided, snorting softly with laughter as she settled in at his side, looking up at the mirror herself. It was almost as though living liquid silver had been captured in a rough stone frame, the surface constantly moving, not reflecting the Treasury around them at all.
Sir Lionel glanced briefly toward it. "If it had, she would have won," he told Rhys in a sombre tone, clasping his hands behind his back comfortably. "This is a Mirror of Souls, one of three known to have been created long before the advent of Christianity, and the only one that exists in the world today."
Rhys turned a curiously-arched brow on the Grand Master at his slightly-cryptic remark. Was he dropping a hint that the tale of Snow White had been more than just a story created to frighten small children" And more importantly than that, was Lionel suggesting what Rhys thought he was suggesting" Rhys stifled a shudder at the thought of what it might feel like to find one's soul trapped in such a thing for all of eternity. It was a fate he wished on no one, except maybe demons. "Okay, but unless you have a pocketsize version, it's a little impractical, don't you think?"
Sir Lionel chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. "This is merely what you might call our storage medium," he told Rhys. "There is no practical way this Mirror could be taken into the world outside, or indeed, out of the sigils that protect it. Anything that touches that surface is absorbed. What the Mirror contains is a portal to a pocket dimension - a forbidding, if you like - specifically designed millenia ago to serve as a place of banishment for the irredeemable."
Rhys winced, glad he hadn't reached out to touch the thing and wondering why they didn't put a guard rail around it or something. A sign. A cage. Anything that would prevent some unsuspecting person - like himself - from touching it. But maybe that was what the sigils were for. Whatever the case, he was glad he hadn't been stupid enough to try. He failed in stifling that shudder this time, reaching for Nat's hand, if only to keep the twitch from his fingers. "Like demons," he added, understanding.