There Comes A Prophet (21 page)

They took the nearest seats, facing the front. They'd been travelling for days and in darkness for hours. Odd as the circumstances were, they took the chance to savor the light and rest. For several minutes nothing else stirred. Then, just as smoothly as it had opened, the hatch began to close.

Thomas leaned in and whispered. "What happens next?"

As if in answer, the hum grew louder until it approached a roar.

"I'm not sure," Orah said, "but if I were you, I'd hold on."

As if on cue, the great wagon of the keepmasters began to fly.

***

The wagon wasn't flying, but was moving faster than anything Nathaniel had believed possible, driving forward with a roar that echoed through the cave. In the light cast from within, the walls seemed to pass in a flash.

He tried to measure their progress but gave up. They might cross the world in hours in the heart of this wagon.

Then, as suddenly as it had started to fly, it began to slow. The echo spread into a larger area, perhaps bigger than the first chamber. The wagon eased to a stop. Moments later the hatches lifted and they stumbled out. The doors closed behind them, the lights faded, and the three found themselves in darkness once more.

Nathaniel was disoriented, his mind flying past shadows while his feet were rooted to the ground. But even after adjusting to the loss of speed, he remained unsettled. Where were they, and what should they do next? Then, as his sight adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a brightening at the front of the chamber.

Not far in front, a sliver of light filtered down from above. Shortly, the platform ended, and he found himself at the base of what appeared to be a metal staircase. While the oddly grooved steps were bent and corroded, they appeared passable. But most encouraging as he began his ascent was what he saw up ahead.

The topmost stair was aglow with the reflected light of the sun.

The Golden Doors

Nathaniel emerged onto the ruins of a street so broad it could have held all the streets of Temple City combined. The black rock that covered its surface was warped from the ebb and flow of weather, and tangles of weeds sprouted through the fissures.

Running along its center was what once must have been a bustling park, lined with trees planted at intervals. A few still survived, but most had succumbed to age and fallen, their rotting stumps visible only as moss-covered mounds. Here and there lay the remains of fences that formed the border of gardens, now overgrown, with the occasional wildflower all that was left of their former splendor.

On either side of the street, buildings stretched as far as Nathaniel could see. These rose to staggering heights, some intact with towers tipped by needles that poked at the sky. But most were ragged and crumbling, as if the heavens had fought back, leaving their bases littered with stones. Their vacant windows stared out like hollow eyes, silent and sad, not monuments but memorials. Could there ever have been so many people?

Thomas tipped his head back and gaped. "Did the darkness do this?"

"If we're to believe the keepmasters," Orah said, "it was they who built this and the Temple that destroyed it."

But Nathaniel was too impatient for contemplation. "We must be close. I only hope we don't find the keep in the same state. Where does the rhyme lead us?"

Orah shook herself from her reverie. "This must be the forest of stone. The rhyme says to head north to the Temple of Truth."

They stood at the intersection of great roads. With so many tall buildings, it was hard to get direction from the sun. Nathaniel guessed north must be down the broadest of boulevards-appropriate for the approach to the keep.

"It can't be far," he said. "Even with keepmasters' magic, this many buildings can't go on for long."

He passed buildings beyond counting, each with an entrance more impressive than any he'd ever seen. Some had walls of black granite, while others displayed carvings and the remains of statues. So much lost. How could they have fallen to such ruin?

In the distance, the boulevard was ending. Ahead stood a building far different from the rest, dwarfed by those around it in height, but ceding nothing in grandeur. Its facade was white marble, fronted by columns, each too wide for Nathaniel's arms to embrace. A staircase as broad as the facade rose up to a corridor behind the columns.

Anticipation quickened Nathaniel's pace. Orah jogged alongside, reciting the third verse between gulps of air.

To the North, through forest of stone

The Temple of Truth you shall see

Once great, it now stands alone

Climb its stairway, fourteen and three

Running as fast as they dare on the uneven surface, they finally arrived at its base.

Thomas stared up reverently. "Is this the Temple of Truth?"

Nathaniel counted fourteen steps of granite, each as pure as the sundial in Orah's garden. These climbed to a landing, where they were followed by three more that went on to the top. They'd arrived.

He made a bow to Orah. "You go first. You've earned it."

She started up the stairs, climbing slowly out of respect for the new-found Temple. He watched as she rose above him, placing one foot in front of the other and holding her shoulders square. She turned at the landing and gazed back over the ruined city. But when she glanced down, her eyes widened, and she beckoned for her friends.

When he reached her, Nathaniel saw what had caught her eye-a golden plaque inlaid in the floor. Covered with dust, its words were barely visible.

"Thomas, give me your water skin."

She reached, but he pulled back. "I'm not wasting any more."

Orah dropped to her knees and began wiping away the grime. Thomas reached down and tugged at her elbow, but she twisted away.

"Leave me alone. I believe even if you don't."

"But it may not be important."

She whirled on him. "Hush, Thomas. This is the Temple of Truth."

She returned to the plaque, rubbing with the sleeve of her tunic. Where the dust was too thick, she added spit to the task. At last, the first words became visible.

The greatest truth must be...

She scrubbed harder, but the next several words were gone, the metal melded with the stone. Her shoulders sagged, but she pressed on, intent on restoring the rest. When she was done, they could make out the final phrase.

... that in every child is the potential for greatness

Orah knelt there exhausted, while Nathaniel waited, giving her time. Finally, he eased her up.

"There's more to discover."

At the top of the stairs, past the columns, a corridor extended in either direction. Several stories high, its domed ceiling must have once been decorated with paintings but was now reduced to patches of color.

"We're almost there, Orah. Which way?"

"To the East, the entrance shall be."

"We've been heading North. East is to the right."

Nathaniel was anxious to get there, but the enormity of the situation made him slow down. His footsteps echoed behind him as he strode down the corridor. At its end, it opened onto a dome painted with white stars on a blue background. In the back wall of the chamber stood two massive, golden doors bolted shut with such conviction they might have been closed for all time.

***

They were at the last lines of the rhyme, the final phase of the journey. Nathaniel approached the doors, eager to touch them, knowing the keep lay behind. He rapped with his knuckles-they hardly made a sound. The surface betrayed no lock, no keyhole, no handle. He turned to Orah.

"Do you know how to open them?"

"I hope so," she said. "There's only two lines left."

Sixteen stars shall set the doors free

When touched by the lines of the rhyme

Thomas gazed up at the dome. "There are the stars, but how do we get to them? Even I can't climb that high."

Orah laughed. "I don't think those are the stars, Thomas. The ones we're looking for are much closer."

She gestured to the left of the doorway. There in the shadows was a box made of a substance like the coating of the scrolls. On its surface were four rows of four buttons, marked in sequence from one to sixteen, each in the shape of a star.

"I knew the last lines had to refer to a puzzle, a sequence of numbers that would unlock the doors. It took me a while, but I figured it out. The one thing I didn't know was where to find the stars. And there they are."

"Well," Thomas said. "What are we waiting for?"

"Nothing at all. With your help, I'm ready."

Orah told Thomas to kneel on the floor and mark out the numbers in the dust.

"I noticed there were numbers in the verses but none higher that sixteen. The numbers to unlock the doors are in the rhyme. I'll recite the verses and each time I say a number, write it in the dust. Take care not to miss any."

She began chanting.

To the North, behind the rock face

Twixt water and dark walls of pine

For a full eight days you shall race

Thomas was spellbound, and she needed to remind him. "I said the number eight, Thomas. Write it down."

He nodded. "Now I understand."

One more past four falls in a line

He wrote the numbers one and four unprompted. Then two for the doors. He checked to be sure that fourteen and three-the steps-were to be counted.

"Yes. That was one of the clues. I wondered why they didn't say seventeen and then realized it would have exceeded the number of stars."

After he wrote sixteen in the dust, Orah directed Nathaniel to the box on the wall.

"Now I'll read the numbers from Thomas's list and you touch the matching star."

Nathaniel positioned himself next to the box, while she stood over the markings in the dust.

"Eight."

He pressed the eighth button. Much to his delight, it lit up. Orah moved on.

"One. Four. Two. Fourteen. Three. Sixteen."

Nathaniel was having trouble keeping up. With each successive number, his vision was becoming more blurred. When Orah recited the last one, he settled his finger over the sixteenth button, checked to be certain and pressed.

He stepped back from the doors, giving them leeway, and waited.

Nothing happened. No movement, no sound, no change in lighting. Nothing. After a few moments, the stars went dim.

***

Orah sat cross-legged on the floor, sullen and silent. The upward arc of her features had yielded to defeat. Nathaniel decided to let her be and wandered off to explore with Thomas. A half hour later, they returned to the golden doors. They'd found nothing; the Temple of Truth was as lifeless as the rest of the keepmasters' city.

Orah still couldn't face them. "You were right all along, Thomas. I'm not smart enough. The secret of the keep is beyond me."

Thomas plopped down next to her, brushing her shoulder as he sat.

"Not smart enough? You've been brilliant. We'd never have come this far without you. Not that Nathaniel and I haven't contributed, but you were the best."

Orah rocked to one side and bumped him playfully before becoming thoughtful.

"But what if you were right about another thing? What if it's taken too long for the seekers to arise? What if we did everything right but the doors no longer work?"

Nathaniel had been pacing the room, poking at every crack and corner. But he turned now to his friends.

"Then we're not to blame. Other generations had the chance. We've done more than all of them. We have nothing to be ashamed of."

He dropped down on Orah's other side and watched her drawing circles in the dust. She finally glanced up.

"You're the best of friends, and I'm so grateful to be with you. But we're supposed to be the seekers, the most curious and persistent of our generation. Are we now saying it's all right to accept failure because we're victims to the order of things?"

The order of things.
Nathaniel jumped up. He strode to the doors, his mind racing.

"We haven't failed yet. You said the word order-the order of the rhyme. Maybe it's not the numbers in the rhyme. It's the lines that contain numbers."

His friends looked perplexed.

"There are sixteen numbers and sixteen lines to the rhyme. What are the exact last words?"

"When touched by the lines of the rhyme."

He became more confident. "I'll show you what I mean."

He found a fresh section of floor and wrote down one through sixteen.

"Now, Orah, recite the rhyme, one line at a time."

She did.

To the North, behind the rock face

"No number in that line, so we remove it." His boot rubbed out the number one.

Orah stirred and rose to her feet, leaning over Nathaniel's drawings. Then she continued.

Twixt water and dark walls of pine

For a full eight days you shall race

One more past four falls in a line

The number two was erased, but three and four stayed. When they were finished, a new sequence remained:
Three. Four. Seven. Twelve. Fifteen.

Orah nodded. "It's worth a try. I'll read the list and you press the buttons."

"No. You do it this time."

Her face flushed. "It's not my place. It was your idea. You deserve the honor."

"Thomas was right. We wouldn't have made it here without all of us. Besides, it's only a guess. Maybe you'll change our luck."

Orah took his face in her hands, pulled his head down and kissed him. Then she went to the box at the side of the golden doors.

"I'm ready."

Nathaniel read the list, while Orah touched the stars. When the last was called out, her finger hovered and her dark eyes glowed.

"It'll work this time, Nathaniel of Little Pond. I can feel it."

She pressed the final number.

Slowly, the structure came alive. The floor began to vibrate. Then they heard the grinding of gears, unused for centuries, echoing off the starred dome. In moments, the doors started to swing inward.