We continued onward. The distance along the eastern road was almost a quarter of a mile before we reached the point at which it joined, what I thought of as the World Road itself. A massive iron portcullis marked the ceiling above us about ten yards from where the two roads, or at this point, ‘tunnels’, met. Nicholas remarked upon it, “I see a portcullis above but no gate. Is that intentional?”
I chuckled. “There’s a gate, you just didn’t see it.” I pointed back along the road we had just trod. “Over here,” I said as I walked back twenty yards. “See these two parallel lines?” The lines I had designated were about five feet apart and crossed the entire road. They also continued up each wall and across the ceiling.
“Yes.”
“The stone in the floor can drop about two feet and the stone in the walls can recess a similar amount,” I indicated the area between the lines on the floor and both walls. “When that happens, the stone in the ceiling slides down at a rapid, but controlled rate, creating a sheer stone wall that fits into those grooves and completely seals the road. That is our ‘gate’, but we refer to it as a ‘lock’, since one of its purposes is to prevent water from flowing up this road if we decide to flood the World Road.”
“How is it operated?” he asked.
“Well, normally such a thing would be worked using gears and winches, turned by either men or draft animals, to provide the power. In this case however, the weight of that much stone made such an arrangement extremely impractical,” I said. Not to mention that there are far too many of these locks to keep men at them twenty four hours a day, I added mentally. “Instead, the mechanism is driven by an enchantment I designed, and it is controlled by a set of levers located within the main keep.”
I neglected to add certain details, like the fact that there were such locks at both ends of the eastern and western access roads, along each quarter section of the World Road, and in front of each of the twenty three portals. The World Road could be sealed into four separate sections, or even six if you counted the eastern and western access roads.
King James’ main stipulation, before committing resources to building the road, had been that it should never become a threat to Lothion itself if an enemy gained access to it. The locks, the flooding mechanism, and even the ability to destroy the entire road with magma, those had been my answer to his requirement. Even more importantly, the enchantments that controlled the locks, the portals, and lighting, could all be activated and controlled by means of levers, providing the user knew the appropriate command words. That meant that the road could be managed and defended by anyone given the proper knowledge, wizard or not.
Nicholas’ face grew thoughtful before he asked another question, “I am no expert on magic, but surely these things must take power to operate. Where does that power come from?”
My estimation of Nicholas’ intellect went up a notch. I also wondered if he might be hinting at the whereabouts of the God-Stone. After defeating Celior and imprisoning him, I had generally kept the existence of the stone a secret. Some naively believed I had slain him, while some still worshipped him, ignorant of the fact that he was no longer answering prayers. King James and some of the greater peers of Lothion had been informed of the truth, including the existence of the God-Stone, but the general public was still in the dark. It was quite likely however, that Nicholas had learned of it through his own network of informants, which was a polite way of referring to spies working for a friendly ruler.
He had missed the mark this time though; the stone wasn’t required in the slightest for any of this. I drew a deep breath before answering, “The lighting doesn’t take much power, but you are correct that the locks do take a more considerable amount. What you might not realize though, is that that power is only drawn upon once.”
Nicholas frowned, “You’ll have to clarify for me. I am no expert in these things.”
“It comes down to the basic difference between what wizards refer to as ‘wards’ and ‘enchantments’,” I explained carefully. “Both are constructed using symbols that we refer to as ‘runes’, but in practice they use power in different ways. Wards can be created simply and quickly, but they do not retain power indefinitely, and over time they wear out. Enchantments are made using specific geometric alignments that result in their power being conserved indefinitely.
In the case of these locks’ for example, the power built into the enchantment is enough to move the stones and lower the primary gate stone into place, but once that action is accomplished, the power is not lost. Rather, the potential energy that was released as the main stone descends, is stored within the enchantment, and when it is activated again, that power is applied in reverse to raise the stone and restore the wall stones to their position holding it up.” I finished the explanation and waited to see if he had any questions and he didn’t disappoint.
“That hardly seems possible. Isn’t some energy lost during the process?”
Very astute, I observed silently, someone has studied basic science and engineering. “That is true, both in normal machines, and in magic, such as the ‘wards’ I described a moment ago. However, enchantments are perfectly balanced constructs; they store aythar in three dimensional arrangements that can include movement between two states, in this case essentially ‘up’ and ‘down’,” I told him.
“The great philosophers say that we live in a world defined by four dimensions, not three,” the King of Gododdin replied, in a manner that made me feel as if I had fallen into an academic debate.
I grinned, “You mean time?”
“Yes, time,” Nicholas remarked, as both Elaine and James watched our discussion with confusion on their faces.
“You’ve hit upon the crux of it. The geometric structure of an enchantment is such, that it forces the aythar within it into a state that is independent of the fourth dimension. It is essentially isolated from time itself,” I said, with some enthusiasm. I was warming to my subject, and glad to finally have an audience that might understand. I had taught the Prathions the methods to produce some of my enchantments, but they had yet to really understand the underlying rules.
“I didn’t think time could be either stopped or reversed…,” said Nicholas a bit hesitantly.
“The other three dimensions can be traversed in both directions, there is no reason to think time should be otherwise,” I said, slightly impressed with my own logic. I hadn’t fully thought the logic through like this before. The geometry and the rules it had to follow had come to me almost intuitively, but until now I hadn’t fully understood the implications. Now the stasis field effect makes sense, I realized. A stasis enchantment included a physical space within it, and isolated it in time in the same way that other enchantments isolated themselves from the arrow of time. A lot of things began falling into place in my mind, like pieces of a puzzle.
Our conversation died off after that, and so we simply walked, following the curve of the World Road until we reached the first of the portals. It was a magnificent stone structure along the outside wall of the road, a stone arch twenty foot high and twenty foot from side to side. The stones were covered in massive, yet utterly perfect and precise runes. I had etched them there myself, nearly a year ago. A flat tablet set above the arch named the portal’s destination, ‘Verningham’, one of Lothion’s three largest port cities.
The archway itself held a flat stone surface, for the portals were still inactive. James ran his hand across the smooth granite. “How long before you will be able to activate them, Mordecai?” he asked, more for our guest’s benefit than his own.