Marked (35 page)

No. Do not let fear defeat you. There is always a way out. Think!

“The... .spirit... It’s... here... The spirit...” came the sound of Kendas’ shaky voice.

Aliana looked in the fallen lancer’s direction but could see nothing in the pitch blackness of the cave. She squinted, trying to peer through the darkness but could not make anything out.

“The spirit...”

What was Kendas seeing that she could not see? It did not make sense that he would be able to see the spirit when she could not—unless it was hidden by some spell. She continued peering into the depths of the cave. Nothing. Only darkness. She heard a sound coming from behind her and turned to look. Both of the Golems were now fighting the Sergeant, who was barely managing to dodge them in a last-ditch attempt to escape a tragic end.

Aliana focused her attention on Kendas. She had to do something!

Making an extreme effort, Kendas lifted his hand just enough to point toward the corner to his right.

She strained to see what he was pointing at but could still see nothing. Kendas lost consciousness, his outstretched arm still pointing in the direction of the corner. Aliana took a step to her right, loaded her bow, and shot into the blackness of the back of the cave, aiming for whatever Kendas had been indicating. The arrow hit the rock wall with a clatter
.
She reloaded and released another arrow into the darkness, this time aiming a bit more to the right. Same result. She swiftly nocked and shot three more arrows but all three ricocheted off the wall of the cave. Aliana shook her head and sighed. Was the spirit really hiding there or had it been the delirious imagination of a wounded soldier? Or maybe a hallucination from the powerful blow to his head? No, Kendas was a well-trained Elite Soldier of the Corps of Royal Lancers, selected from a large number of contenders for his physical and mental skills. If he had seen something it meant there was something there, hidden beneath a veil of dark shadows.

Shadows... An idea popped into her head. She tore a piece of material from the sleeve of her tunic and tied it to the tip of an arrow as quickly as she could. Then she ran to the torch that was lying near her, still burning, and set fire to the cloth.

Just then, she heard a stifled groan behind her and turned to see that one of the granite creatures had violently thrown the Sergeant against the wall at the entrance to the cave.

Time was running out. Both monsters were coming for her now.

She shot into the corner again. The arrow pierced through the darkness, the flames casting their light into the dark shadows. Aliana’s eyes followed its path, hoping against all hope that she would see even just a glimpse of the spirit’s silhouette.

The two creatures were getting closer; she could see them closing in out of the corner of her eye.

For the briefest of moments, the arrow lit up the outline of a dark figure next to the wall in the corner.

Aliana somersaulted forward to avoid a blow from the stony arm of the creature that had caught up to her. She finished off the move with the agility of an acrobat, locking one knee against the floor as she nocked an arrow to her bow without looking back, concentrating on the exact spot where she had momentarily caught sight of the silhouette of the hidden figure. Completely ignoring the threat posed by the two creatures that would be catching her in a matter of seconds, she released the arrow.

There was a wail of pain in the back of the cavern.

The hidden spirit was now partially visible.

The white tunic edged in gold stumbled out of the darkness of the cave’s deep shadows. The arrow had struck the spirit in the stomach.

It looked at Aliana with its sinister golden eyes, clutched the arrow and rushed out of the cave through an opening in the rock without making a sound—and sealed the exit behind him.

All hope lost, Aliana prepared herself to be brutally beaten by the Golems. She put her hands over her head, closed her eyes, and helplessly waited for the fatal blows.

She was going to die.

But the fatal blow never came.

Terror crushing her very soul, she opened her eyes and turned her head, expecting to see the two creatures about to finish her off with a horrifying beating. But what she actually saw left her dumbfounded. The two Golems were indeed there behind her, arms raised, ready to strike.

Frozen in place.

Lifeless.

The golden light that had shone in their eyes and in the strange symbols on their stone chests had gone out. Life had drained out of them one miraculous instant before they would have beaten her to death.

Aliana breathed in deeply, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. As she inhaled, the fear that had gripped her began to melt away. She carefully observed the two stone creatures, trying to make sure they really were not alive, then nervously place her hand on the chest of one of the Golems. Concentrating, she called on her power and projected it onto the creature, sending it coursing through his stone body. She found there was not a single sign of life. The beast was solid granite, lifeless; it was... of the earth.

She looked at the walls and noticed that the two lines of strange symbols etched all along the length of the cave also had lost their intense golden glow. Her mind raced, thinking through what must have happened. By wounding the spirit, she had broken the spell he had put on the two creatures.

That was desperately close. I almost didn’t make it! Thank you, Helaun, Mother Healer, for having protected your humble servant.

She looked at her companions. All four had been taken down by the Golems and were still lying as limp as puppets, scattered about the floor.

Fearing the worst, she hurried to help them. Her anxiety took her breath away as her eyes locked on Gerart’s motionless body.

Lindaro walked hurriedly through the crowded main street of the commercial district. This was the most bustling, lively area of the city of Ocorum, the metropolis eternally lit by the great Egia Lighthouse.

His simple brown cassock brushed against the numerous transients, buyers, and curious onlookers swarming around the market stalls filled with merchandise. Stands of every kind were arranged on both side of the wide mercantile avenue. Over the chest of his cassock was displayed the symbol of the Temple of Light: a brilliant white star with thirty sides set within a circle of the same color on a black background. The emblem identified those in the priest’s ecclesiastical order. Lindaro looked at the sky to verify the sun’s position and to calculate the amount of daylight remaining.
There is not much time before nightfall. I’d better get back to the inn. How quickly time flies by; a day is nothing when there is so much to do!

“A blessing for a poor widow?” begged an old woman dressed all in black who’d approached him as soon as she’d seen him coming her way.

Lindaro stopped, looked at her tenderly and, laying his hands on the aged woman’s head, recited an invocation. “In the name of this, your humble servant, I ask that the Creator Light care for this daughter of yours, guiding and protecting her path, illuminating it that she might always walk in the way of the Light, and be forever safe from harm.”

Pleased, the old woman smiled at the clergyman, her small mouth flashing her three scattered remaining teeth as her face wrinkled up into a sea of deep trenches.

The humble, who have nothing, are happy with so little.

Lindaro resumed his walk. At the end of the street, he turned right to go onto another of the popular, busy commercial avenues of the district. Citizens were making their last purchases of the day, some chatting animatedly; some simply browsing the stands.

He tried to navigate through the multitude as quickly as possible but, like waves constantly crashing against him, the throng was keeping him from moving forward.
The great metropolis of Ocorum and its people full of anxiety... always so active... in perpetual motion... never resting. Thousands of lives carrying out tens of thousands of activities, making hundreds of insignificant decisions every instant. The work of the Light is certainly a splendid marvel.

 Since his return from the Egia Lighthouse, he had been so busy he had not even had time to breathe. Life had become frenetic from the very moment he had returned to the Temple of the Light with his fellow adventurers. When he had come back, he had immediately sought out Father Abbot Dian who, in addition to being his superior, was responsible for the temple in Ocorum. With great excitement he had shared the story of their incredible adventure, the marvelous encounter in the underground temple, and the tomb of a possible King or Grand Master of the Ilenians.

The Abbot had had trouble believing what he was hearing; for a moment Lindaro even doubted that the good man
would
believe him. But after verifying the fantastical account with the three foreigners and asking countless questions, he finally seemed convinced—even if not completely.

They immediately organized an expedition to the temple beneath the lighthouse, and Lindaro guided the Abbot and several of his fellow priests through it while the three travel companions rested at the Temple of the Light and gave their wounds a chance to heal.

When he returned from the expedition, Abbot Dian imposed a vow of silence on his priests so that nothing of what they had witnessed about this discovery of great significance would be revealed or mentioned to anyone, thereby assuring total secrecy. They needed time to investigate and study this spectacular find, to learn more about the Ilenians and the mysteries buried in that astounding place. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with thousands of curious onlookers slowing them down and making it impossible to get started on the work. Or, worse yet, to have to fight off thieves, tomb raiders, and any other such riffraff.

The three companions, for their part, had no issues with keeping the secret and allowing the Abbot the time he needed to complete his studies. They organized a careful plan for concealing what had happened and not drawing the attention of the ever-vigilant —and ever-curious—port city. They fabricated a story to cover up the priests’ trips to the lighthouse: urgent and laborious repairs that were required to the large brazier that illuminated the coast. Taking into account the war that was about to break out, the mistruth was totally convincing. From that moment on, Lindaro’s days flew by at a dizzying pace.

He took a sudden turn to the left, leaving behind the street he’d been on. In front of him now was a small plaza beyond which was the picturesque building that housed the Flying Horse Inn where his three companions were completing their recuperation from the wounds they’d suffered during their underground adventure. For the life of him, Lindaro could not understand why they preferred the noisy, bustling inn to the peace and tranquility of the Temple of the Light.

Much like a pitcher set beneath a spring of crystal clear waters cannot contain the rushing water flowing into it, Lindaro’s spirit was overflowing with joy. He was absolutely exuberant over the events of the last several days. His whole life he had been fascinated by the mysterious Lost Civilization and anything that had to do with the Ilenians—a fascination which, he had to admit, was almost to the point of being obsessive. He was working to control that with the grace of the all-powerful Light.

He had been captivated by the story ever since, in his earliest years of childhood, his grandfather had told him about how an advanced and mystical civilization had ruled over the great continent of Tremia and then had disappeared without a trace before the time when man began to rule the kingdom. Many myths and legends about the unknown Lost Civilization had circulated through the kingdom but there was not a shred of concrete evidence that gave any indication of its origins or details of its culture—at least not until now.

It has finally happened! Just what I’ve always wanted to find—evidence... solid evidence!
They were finally in possession of concrete proof that could begin to explain what was undoubtedly the continent’s most ancient, most important mystery! Just thinking about the possibility of finding and being able to study the thousands of writings and runes in the temple filled him with energy and enthusiasm.

“Blessed be the Light! May its infinite goodness guide our paths according to its will,” he prayed, stopping for a moment to look up at the sky.

From the time he was a child, Lindaro had always had a weakness for studying and literature. He was not at all strong or athletic—and never had been. All through primary school and later grades, his preference had always been toward the intellectual rather than the physical. He had dedicated countless hours to reading in his zeal for the understanding the marvelous tomes and parchments provided... well beyond the history of the kingdom, its allies and enemies, religion, healing, and a host of other topics. He had always had a penchant for history and religion, which went hand in hand throughout the ages. Tremia was a continent immensely rich in both.

His entrance in the Temple of the Light had come about rather naturally since he had spent most of his time in the Temple’s library, reading the volumes collected there and listening to the stories and accounts of the oldest priests in the Order, never missing a single detail. His thirst for knowledge had at all times guided him through life. And nothing brought him more happiness than acquiring new knowledge still to be deciphered or the chance to cultivate and learn about new concepts. More than once he had wondered if his belonging to the Temple of the Light and his vocation as a priest were secondary to his desire to understand the nature of things... though he truly did fervently love his work as a priest. The kindness and goodness he tried to bring to people in need was enormously fulfilling. Fortunately for him, his superior in the Temple, Father Abbot Dian, knew him well and consciously assigned him tasks related to studies and books. Thus Lindaro was quite content with the path he had chosen in life.

Approaching the embossed door of the inn he thought about how chance, or perhaps destiny, had brought him together with Komir and the others, living this incredible adventure. Being that he was not a man of action but rather of faith, the adventure had made a tremendous impact on him, most notably the fear he had experienced during the battle with the beasts and monsters and the deadly traps they had had to find their way around. But in spite of all that, the discovery of the thousand-year-old artifacts and treasures of the enigmatic civilization had left him totally ecstatic and overcome with a vitality and excitement he could barely contain.

What mysteries would be revealed by the discoveries made in the tomb of that Ilenian King? How much would they be able to learn from the arcane tome they had found—and from the temple itself? What other writings might be hidden in that marvelous place? Were there more temples like this one? And if so, how many? And most importantly, what were they for? Where were they? So many questions; so many unknowns to resolve...

Lindaro gave thanks to the Light for having illuminated his path and having afforded him such an incredible opportunity. He would gain the most knowledge possible about this magnificent discovery. He’d been working tirelessly for days in the temple and now he had to speak with the group to discuss a topic of utmost importance: the Ilenian treasures they had found that were now in the hands of the Norriel and what their intentions and next moves would be. An unconscious fear hammered away inside him; fear that the three foreigners would leave with the treasures. He was afraid not so much because of their economic value, which was certainly quite significant—even to the untrained eye of a priest the Ilenian King’s gold crown studded with precious stones was clearly valuable—but because of the chance he would lose to study them... especially that Ilenian grimoire belonging to the enigmatic Guardian Mage they’d had to confront.

He would have to convince Komir not to leave the city, or that he should at least let him evaluate the treasures first. According to the law of the kingdom, the treasures found by Komir belonged to him, as the discoverer. On the other hand, being of such great importance to them, if he were to take them before a Royal Magistrate he had no doubt they would order Komir to give them to the Order to study. But Lindaro did not want to betray him that way. And, unfortunately, the Temple did not have the necessary funds to buy the treasures from Komir. The Abbot had been very clear about that when Lindaro had mentioned that possibility to him.

“The Temple of the Light does not have much gold, as you well know, and the little we have must be used to maintain the temples and its priests all over the kingdom as well as to sustain all the works of charity we carry out.”

“What about in the capital, in Rilentor? The Prelate, perhaps?”

“The Head Abbot has funds conceded to him by the King but they are to be used specifically to sustain the Order.”

“So is there no way to obtain the treasures?”

“No, not if they are not voluntarily surrendered. The only other option is to get the law involved so they would perhaps be forced to turn them over.”

“I would prefer not to do that. I would be betraying them and, from everything I’ve seen, they are honorable, brave people.”

“With a propensity for violence, from what you’ve told me. Warriors accustomed to killing who don’t see the barbarity and vileness of their own destructive acts. Such is not a path marked by the Light...”

“I know, Father Abbot. I know that the path of violence brings only pain and destruction and that our path is the opposite, the path of the Light, toward goodness and guided by love and compassion. But even so, I do not sense any evil in them. In this world of wars, assassinations, and assaults they are not the evildoers; they are not the source of it. They fight it the only way they know how—with their weapons of violence.”

“But they participate in the wars that destroy everything, the wars that bring so much pain and suffering to man. Meaningless wars that leave behind thousands of deaths—families slaughtered... farms, animals, and forests razed. Wars after which it takes generations for a kingdom to erase the pain and desperation from the hearts of good men—and yet they happen again and again, as if their souls had not sufficiently absorbed this excruciating lesson. The Light in its eternal wisdom urges us to illuminate their dark path, offering brightness to those who have lost it, even to those who never found it. These people are part of the evil, not of the Light; they reach for their weapons without any fear of the consequences. This you must never forget, Lindaro.”

“You are right, Father,” admitted the clergyman, “I will not forget that. I will try to find a peaceable solution that will not cause a confrontation with the foreigners. Maybe we can reach an agreement that will satisfy all parties.”

“We can offer ourselves as intermediaries... Tell Komir that the Temple of the Light will keep their treasures so as to carefully study them. And once we’ve completed the studies we would offer them to the Crown. I am sure the King would be eager to retain those jewels due to their incredible value and significance. Perhaps that way, everyone wins. We would have the time to study and analyze these marvels, Komir would have a fair price for them instead of selling them in the markets, and the relics would reside safely in the hands of the Royal Family.”