Framework of the Frontier, Sain Artwell [read me a book .TXT] 📗

behind Ember’s eyes. A growing grin lifted up her floppy ears. “That must be it, yes. I was preoccupied with the loot and all this…” She shook her head, slapping both cheeks. “Ha! Okidoki. Let’s do thinking.”

“So…” Trotto raised a brow. “The scaffold?”

“Uhh, well.” William offered him a cringing shrug of shoulders. “It was a decent workout, yeah?”

Trotto and chuckled, while the faun brothers groaned.

“You guys keep looting if you wanna. Unless you’re experts in whatever history Ember is nerding on, you’ll probably not be needed,” William said.

Ember lifted herself on the central platform. “Will… Please don’t bully me, except… Well, you know… Thinky-time, not pervy-time. Please don’t disturb me.”

“Haha, sorry love. Wasn’t the platform trapped?” He climbed up to join her.

“Possibly. Most likely.” She knelt down to inspect hieroglyphic carvings spiraling on the surface of the pedestal. “Could you help me sweep off the dust here? Oh, and, actually, could you bless me? Magic of the Maze is insanely intricate and well hidden.”

“Sure.” He tapped her shoulder and spoke the blessing.

His heart nearly broke with a swelling of thankfulness at the sight of her soul. She was a flame of singular determination, set on her hooves to chase their aboleth to the end of the realms if she had to. They shared a knowing smile, and William patted her head. Bless your precious little soul.

“Ahem.” Ember brushed clean the hieroglyph, still smiling. “I still need help sweeping.”

“Right, yeah.” William bundled his tunic into a mop with the flat end of his spear and rushed to turn his shirt into a dusty rag.

“Yesss,” Ember hissed excitedly, squeezing her fists. She studied the platform around them, her arcane infused eyes flicking wildly. “Everything connects to the statue. I see patterns of magic similar to those within the golem cores and the doors lead up to the feet of the statue, but the adamantite conceals magic beneath it.” With a ponderous ‘hmmm’, Ember bit her lip.

“I’m done dusting!” William coughed some out of his lungs.

“Great, let’s have a look. Just to be clear, I can’t truly read the language here but…”

“At least they added pictures.” William chuckled.

From the center of the spiral to its outer edges, the near realistic imagery of hewn stone, metal filigree, and embedded colored gemstones told a story beginning with a dark sphere. It was covered by a wormy texture of grooves shimmering in every color — a pattern seared into William’s retinas. His heart skipped a beat and imagination pushed forth connections between the Maze and the magic that had brought them here, but William brushed it off, following the story.

The wormy grooves connected with a tunnel to a garden watched over by a ring and moons matching that above the night sky of the Frontier. For two rounds around the spiral, the landscape was washed by the sea and ravaged by volcanic eruptions. Creatures spilled from the tunnel and into the garden. To William’s eyes they were utterly alien and fantastic — some kind of fungoid creatures of radial symmetry. Some moved while others seemed to be more rooted plant-like organisms. From there spiraled outward a story of the eternal conflict of life.

New beings rose from the depths of the Maze to usurp those in the garden. Civilizations came and went. William counted a total of eleven eras of architecture depicted in a scale of grandeur matching the majestic structures and cathedral-esque towers of Iram. After them, the spiral showed ruins teeming with monsters, monkeys, and a camp of adventurers huddling for the night.

“Look Will, look!” Ember crawled over the carvings, poking different spots too quick for William’s eyes to follow. “Here, here, and here and here. Every time a new civilization rises, it begins with someone finding the core, with meeting her.”

The red angel had many shapes throughout the spiral history and many had approached her. Eleven of them bore features identical to the golden statues lining the ceiling. The identities of the other few hundred statues were never mentioned in the spiral.

“How’s it going?” Trotto paused by the pedestal, hauling armfuls of shiny loot.

“It’s going,” William replied absently, afraid to stop his train of thought. “Ember, we’re on the clock. Suggestions? Do we hit the statue? Sacrifice blood and recite something? Fuck its tits? Show a golem core to it?”

Ember bit on her tongue with an ever intensifying expression of pondering. “There’s no depiction of weapons, or magic, or sex. I have to be honest Will. This spiral mural by itself is fantastic and beyond the known. It proves the Dorman hypothesis for the origin of life in the realms. Were I to share this with the Adamant Archives, they would name me a grand historian on the spot. But, right now, your guess is likely as good as mine. Sorry.”

“No. That’s alright.” William gave her hair a friendly ruffle. “Mind if I take my guess?”

Ember touched his chest, slipping into a snug hug. “In case we die trying.” She parted her lips in an invitation. He tilted her chin up and leaned down to relish in the head-buzzing cocktail of love and lust.

“Probably safest if you hop off of the platform. Maybe go hide behind something, just in case.”

“Nu-uh. We’re in this together. Wait here, I will get the core.” Ember skipped off the platform to fetch the antimagic chest.

William started the experimentation by gently touching the statue’s nose, then the tit, then the butt. After confirming it was indeed cool rigid metal, he activated a ring to let the mithril armor coat his arm, and punched hard enough to feel the hit in his bones. The statue, however, did not budge. If this doesn’t work Rulu is gone forever. Fuck, please work.

“Err, Ranger. Everything a-okay there?” Orien paused by the platform.

Ember returned with the chest. “Here.”

“I cannot help but notice you