What Was Forgotten (3 page)

They stood before the sun altar and prayed silently. Egus kept his head bowed and eyes closed for far longer than Osmun did, but the young priest kept his head bowed and waited for the old man to speak first. Osmun eyed the Eternal Flame and noticed it flicker almost down to nothing. Egus lifted his head.

“Are you ready, Osmun?”

“I am. I saw it flicker, Cleric Egus.” Osmun pointed to the Eternal Flame. “Do we need to move it somewhere safer?”

“This place is old and drafty. Not to worry.”

“But the Flame might go out.”

Egus smiled at the naivety of the young priest. “The Flame? Oh, my dear Osmun, the Flame has gone out many times. Don’t be concerned. I know the Tenet of the Eternal Flame is a holy one…”

“‘The light of Xidius will be a Beacon, unending, a flame that survives all things,’” Osmun recited.

Egus began to walk and motioned Osmun to follow. “Too humourless of a reading, I fear. The instruction was not for us to keep a flame lit for all eternity. Such an endeavour would be bound to fail. Let the historians make such an attempt. They have much more time to tend to such things.” Egus laughed. “The flame is the one in here.” The cleric tapped his chest. “This is the fire which must remain lit.
Here
is where we fight evil, where the battles against the darkness are won and lost. Xidius taught his followers to be vigilant, always vigilant. The fire inside allows us to drive the darkness from this world.”

Osmun put his hand to his chest and looked back at the flame before the altar, drawing connections between the symbolism of the Tenet and the intangible aspects within him.

“You have a question,” Egus said.

“Just a thought.”

“Thoughts and ideas can be a valuable currency.”

Osmun stopped walking so he could form his thoughts into a phrase less impious than he felt it was. “Can our flame within also flicker and die?”

Egus tilted his head and continued walking, nodding as he spoke. “It is the telltale mark of wisdom to look into poetry and metaphor and discern the truth of our nature. Well done, Osmun. Yes, the light within will flicker and become dim. You will be tested, and you will fail. Perhaps you may feel as though your light, your strength, has gone out completely.” A look of sadness flashed across the cleric’s face, a memory of some great sadness or terror. Osmun almost pried, but remained silent.

“As long as you are in the light of the Beacon, He will give you strength,” Egus said, smiling again. “Have you prepared for your trial?”

The offhanded nature of the question surprised Osmun. Did Egus not take the trials seriously? Or did he think that Osmun would not succeed? Surely Egus had heard of his exploits. He had not only communed with malign spirits of the Beyond, he had
commanded
them. Like the Beacon. He had spent a year campaigning with General Cassurus’ army in their war against the Dramandi. After the fall of Altyri, the soldiers had been too fearful to sack the temples because of the presences that could be felt there. Osmun had driven the spirits from the place, and he had done so alone, a feat that few others could claim. What was more, he had done so with relative ease. Cleric Lavus, a veteran of many campaigns and a high-ranking member of the Assembly of Elders, had been unable to seal the rift to the Beyond through which the spirits were able to pollute this world.

Osmun had done it in a scant few hours. He recalled the sensation; communing was like being thrust deep underwater, into total darkness. This was not the Beyond; it was like a meeting ground between their world and the black despair of the Beyond that men were fortunate enough not to see. They called the meeting ground the silhouette, the place where the priests and clerics fought against the darkness. Combating the spirits in the silhouette was like being surrounded by a mass of entities with countless voices. It never was like talking to just one individual. The energy of the spirits hardly stayed still, rushing around like dust whipped up in a sandstorm. It seemed sometimes that they were aimless, as though they were fumbling in the dark of their own damnation. Osmun knew it was only the sensation, though. When the spirits of the Beyond seeped into this world, they haunted and tainted the living, driving them to evil and blasphemy. And these Dramandi actually
worshipped
the darkness. The young priest shook his head at the perversion. The sinners deserved the cleansing that they had received.

“Has Cleric Andrican already returned from Yasri?” Osmun asked.

“Two nights ago.”

“Should the trial not wait? Surely he must be weary from such a lengthy travel.” Osmun hoped he was, and that he would not attend the trial; Cleric Andrican had a reputation as an obstacle to those he saw as potential threats to his own position.

“Andrican has been anticipating your trial for quite some time. He is eager to begin. Afterward he will likely tell us about the fall of Yasri and the wondrous relics they found there. He does like to prattle on, you know.”

Osmun had heard about the relics. Most of Lycernum had. Particularly the monolith made of pure gold unearthed from Dramandi holy ground. The army had worked for nearly two weeks continuously, day and night, to remove it from the earth.

“I think it unwise to bring such unholy remnants here.”

“I had the same thought,” Egus said. “However, Andrican was able to determine quite quickly that the monolith is not Dramandi.”

“It’s not? What was it doing in their temple?”

Egus smiled and shrugged. “Andrican said there are images and writings carved into it in a language he has never seen. Whatever it is, it seems it was buried long before the Dramandi built their great city on top of it.”

The two men walked from the hall of the Great Cathedral, through several small cloisters, and down a long hallway. Osmun felt a chill despite the dozens of torches that kept the hallways brightly lit. They turned into the Cathedral’s library, a large room which was sparing in everything but shelf after shelf of books on every subject Osmun could imagine, though they were not the books written by the historians, the records of dozens of cultures that had been defeated and erased by the Empire.

Daylight poured through tall, opaque windows, keeping the library illuminated through all daylight hours. Osmun was always awestruck by the sheer amount of knowledge that had been amassed in this one place. This day was no different, and as he marveled once again at the countless pages that surrounded him, he nearly failed to notice Egus produce a small iron key from his robes.

“This way.”

Egus walked between two stacks that jutted out from the wall opposite the windows to a small iron door that Osmun had never noticed before. It was in the wall parallel to the stacks; one would have to walk all the way to the wall in order to see it. Even then, in the half-darkness between the tall, densely-packed shelves, it looked more like a faded tapestry hanging on the wall than anything else.

The door opened inward without a sound, revealing a steep and narrow staircase going down. Osmun followed Egus into the sparsely lit corridor. The stairs descended for a long way, and Osmun could only see the faint silhouette of Egus in front of him from the light that flickered at the bottom of the steps.

“We’ve always had the trials down here,” Egus said, breaking the silence.

“What do you keep down here?” Osmun asked.

Egus slowed his step just barely before answering, “The most dangerous of things.”

There was another iron door at the bottom of the stairs, which Egus opened with the same key. Osmun noted the unusual sequence of turns and counter-turns need to release the lock. Cleric Andrican stood waiting for them as the door opened.

“Welcome, Cleric Egus… Brother Osmun…”

The young priest almost did not notice Andrican at all. Instead his eyes fixed on the massive chest in the middle of the otherwise empty room. It looked as though it was composed almost entirely of steel, though the engravings of scripture into every inch of metal gave the container a sort of elegance. Andrican stepped between Osmun and the chest. “Brother Osmun?”

“Yes, Cleric Andrican. Forgive me. Welcome back to Lycernum.”

“Thank you, Brother Osmun. Cleric Egus has told me much of you. I have looked forward to helping oversee your trial. Very much so. I often wondered how you would have fared in one of the many Dramandi temples I cleansed.”

“I would have done what was necessary.”

“Is that so?” Andrican asked, his tone more inquisitive than doubtful.

“I do believe… I
know
I would have. You may have heard of my successes in Altyri, although, now that the campaign is nearly ended, I’ll not have another chance to show you firsthand.”

“You may yet.” Andrican motioned for Osmun to sit in front of the chest. He and Egus sat on either side, facing each other. It was then that Osmun noticed the walls of the room; the walls had looked at first glance like stone, however in the flickering torchlight Osmun could see now that they were massive panels of iron.

“Before we begin, you must swear to us, to yourself, and to the Beacon that you will not discuss anything that takes place here, in this room. The events of your trial are and shall be forever something which is never discussed with anyone, inside or outside of the church. Not other clerics, not the elders. Not even the
emperor
, should you meet him one day.”

“I understand,” Osmun said.

“Swear it.”

“I swear by the Beacon.” Osmun looked Andrican directly in the eye as he spoke, until he was certain the cleric was convinced of his sincerity.

“Good. Now, you are going to perform a cleansing,” Andrican said. “Ready yourself.”

Osmun nearly laughed. “You mean to say there is darkness here? On holy ground?”

“Not exactly,” Egus said. “We are going to bring the darkness in.”

Osmun was stunned. “You’re going to…
create
a rift to the Beyond?”

Andrican nodded towards the chest. “This contains sacred relics taken from the Dramandi temples. The historians will soon take possession of them, but we are using them now for your trial. The holy aspects of the relics should draw forth some strong spirits… it will be up to you, Osmun, to drive them out and repair the breach.”

“Do the elders approve of this? Creating a rift? Is it not a violation of our teachings?”

“The elders know,” Andrican said. “And it is only permitted for this purpose, for the trials. We must be able to assess your skills, to know whether or not you are ready.”

“Even with everything I’ve already done? Surely you must have heard of my accomplishments besides Altyri. In the border provinces , especially.”

“We have, but stories have a tendency to be exaggerated and embellished. We have to see for ourselves.”

Osmun shook his head. “This is…”

“Necessary,” Andrican said.

“I was going to say ‘foolish’,” Osmun said. “What if I fail?”

Egus motioned towards the walls. “If you lose control of them, the iron will slow them down, but only for a few moments.”

“So, try not to fail,” Andrican added. Osmun thought he could see the hint of a smirk.

“I will not,” Osmun said, straightening his back as he placed his hands on his knees. He rubbed them slightly to dry the sweat from his palms.

The two clerics closed their eyes and began. Osmun observed carefully. Their bodies tensed and their brows furrowed in concentration. They began to breathe deeply, and Osmun nearly jumped as the iron walls around him groaned slightly, as if welcoming a new visitor. He knew, then, it was time.

Osmun closed his eyes and, in darkness, saw the room with his mind, felt the cold iron walls and the heat of the torches. He could sense himself and the two clerics, all sitting motionless.

The rift felt like a scar on his consciousness, as they always did, and as Osmun felt his awareness wrapping around it, he could feel it pushing back against him as it tried to grow and expand.

Then the voices came.

It started with whispers that circled around him, barely audible but impossible to ignore. The whispers grew in number and intensity, and Osmun’s perception of his surroundings dimmed, as if a fog had suddenly settled in the room. They pushed back against him even more, so he withdrew and let the voices in the darkness focus on something else. Soon enough, it was the chest. Osmun could sense it had become the focal point to the spirits, as Andrican had assumed. He withdrew himself even further, barely keeping his perception on the spirits so that they would not notice him. And then, with sudden force, he felt the tendrils of his mind stretching out, racing over every surface of the room, and pushing the darkness back towards the rift. It was so swift that they were hardly able to resist. Osmun exhaled heavily and his hands clenched around his knees as the rift was sealed with his invocation of the Beacon’s light. Osmun remained focused and still; he heard no more whispers, but remained in his trance until he was certain they were gone.

He opened his eyes and felt a wide smile spread across his face. Even though the passage of time was different when communing with the Beyond, he was certain he had closed the rift in short order.

“I was going to allow more of the darkness through, but I didn’t want to chance it,” Osmun said. His voice trailed off as he noticed that Egus and Andrican still sat perfectly motionless, eyes closed. Even the flames of the torches were frozen. Osmun tried to rise, but there was something keeping him motionless. Daggers of cold surged down from his shoulders through his spine, and he tried to cry out in agony, but could not budge an inch. A shadow stepped around from behind him, walked behind Andrican and Egus in turn. No matter where it was, it always seemed to hide in Osmun’s periphery.