"... WHERE FEW HAVE A RIGHT TO TRESPASS?"
The specter's words came in a polite, if resonating manner and tone. There was little doubt, however, that a response was both expected and required. As the pressure that kept him from moving eased slightly, Paul gently squeezed Ainea's hand for encouragement to her, and then responded as best he could think to do.
""I am the Lord Paul, rightful heir to my father's Kingdom of the High Mountain, and seek to enter the citadel to evict the usurper who holds sway in what does not belong to him."
He would have gone on to explain the circumstances, but the skull swiveled so that the empty sockets gave regard to the woman whose hand Paul still held. The specter did not repeat his question, but waited silently for her to identify herself. With humility and yet with a strain of pride, she did so. At the mention of Nuada, the skeletal figure stepped back. Its voice came again, but this time in a conversational tone, without the resonance. Paul found the difference intriguing, and somewhat amusing. It was as if it had been given the ability to speak loudly in order to add to its stature, something that was completely not required.
"So ye say." The eyeless face swiveled once more to him. Still in the quieter voice, the ancient one demanded, "Prove thyself."
How to do so? He could recite his lineage, but that proved nothing. He had nothing with him that would certify his right to rule, for he never had been confirmed as such. His father had carried the signet of the Crown, but that was gone three centuries ago, probably taken by those who attacked and mortally wounded the King. Certainly the ghost of his father whom they had encountered in the High Tower had not offered it. Then he recalled his thoughts on this, the plan he had envisioned when first he saw the Sword of Nuada.
"Sir Specter, I can not prove myself." It drew itself up as if in preparation for dispatching him. "But hold, I beg of thee. This one who accompanies me will attest to my being, and will identify the means by which she knows my claim is a true one. And she carries the means of proving her own self." The skeleton stood erect, its left hand half raised. Long moments passed as it considered Paul's unique request. Then the hand raised further and beckoned.
Behind it, the wall of the room to the right of the entry and sweeping around to the left of the exit disappeared. Faint light silhouetted the ones who had been behind the wall and flooded into the chamber. The light illuminated a large chunk of wood that now sat in the middle of the chamber. It was an execution block. The ancient one spoke again.
"In all the centuries since I was placed here, only thee have tried to come this way and enter the Citadel. My instructions are clear. I may let pass that way only those who are proven worthy."
Those he had beckoned now strode forth. It was a huge host, warriors all, and like the one who wore the crown all were clad in tatters of clothing long disused. All were skeletal. Not one shred of flesh still clung to the white bones. Each was fully armed, and the weapons were at the ready. In their midst was a lone figure in a black costume of robe and hood that had no damage. It was an executioner, identifiable by his long halberd-style ax. What marked them especially was that there was not one sound from their movement. They were enough to give even the most hardened warrior the heebie-jeebies, and Paul was no exception. Silently he began a prayer for his soul and that of Ainea. Yet the empowered figure raised his hand once more in a gesture for the host to halt.
"Still, ye have raised a point. This I will grant thee. If she can prove herself, then she may go on. I will listen to what she says."
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