A Warrior's Redemption

by Guy S. Stanton III

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bloodletting

  Roric

  I stood beside Flin in the cold early light of dawn. My hands were busy checking that the saddle was on right, while my mind was focused on the journey ahead.

  It had been a week since my discussion with Thaddeus. I thought back over the discussion I’d had with him. I didn’t like the task that I had before me. I remembered what Thaddeus had told me in the hidden room and now, more than ever, I felt that the ancestral knowledge should be destroyed, but I wished that there was a better way.

  He had given me instructions as to where to find the secret hiding place of the real ancestral artifacts, but there was one problem with that. I had never really traveled in the Attorgron forests much, especially not the area of the forest where he was sending me and I told him as much. Without a guide or a basic familiarity with the land, it would be very easy to get lost in the jungle like habitat of the forest.

  He had told me, “Father John will be your guide. He knows the area well enough, having been born and raised there for part of his childhood. We’ll keep your party small so as not to attract undue attention. I doubt you should run into any trouble, providing, of course, that you can avoid the natives.”

  Besides destroying the knowledge, Thaddeus had laid one more task onto my shoulders that he had said was almost as vital as destroying the knowledge. After destroying the knowledge was complete, he wanted me to travel down through the forest to Santarus and pick up information there from a trusted spy contact of his.

  The information the spy had apparently contained details concerning the Zoarinian Empire’s invasion plan, which was unlikely to be tainted with misinformation like the other spy’s intelligence had been. At least that is what Thaddeus had said.

  I didn’t like the extra excursion, because it involved exposing ourselves to the enemy far more than the original smash and dash plan. Our extraction involved going through Zoarinian held territory, which I was not overly fond of either, but if the information helped us win the war it would be worth it. At least I hoped so.

  Coming back to reality, I made sure that I had Thaddeus’s letter to his spy contact. Letter was a small word for it, for all intents and purposes it appeared to be a two hundred year old book complete with musty stained pages.

  Thaddeus got a bit too much into the whole spy/intrigue thing I thought to myself. But then he had managed to keep the family secrets safe during his watch over them. Now it was up to me to finish it.

  There were only going to be five of us on the expedition; Father John, Seth, two of my grandfather’s trusted men at arms and myself. I would have preferred a party made up entirely of my men, but all of my men were busy improving the fighting abilities of the castle’s fighting men and couldn’t easily be spared from that task.

  The only reason Seth was going was because he was useless as a teacher and he had insisted on going so repeatedly that I had finally agreed. Father John hadn’t seemed overly excited one way or the other when I told him that he was to accompany us.

  He was a hard man to read. I had detected that he and my grandfather were not too keen on each other, even though my grandfather had raised him from boyhood as a son. Pulling myself up into the saddle, I headed for the side gate, followed by my four companions.

  We left the castle quietly, not wanting to attract any attention, as we made our way through the early morning mists out into the wide valley beyond. I drew Flin up briefly to look back the way we had come. The castle was breath taking with the morning light cascading down upon it.

  I had only been here a few weeks and yet it already felt like home to me. I hated to leave its calm assurance and beauty and go back into the world and the troubles I had left behind me there, but it had to be done. I pulled Flin back around and let Father John take the point as we started on our journey out of the Valley Lands and towards the dark shadowed world of the Attorgron Forests.

  The low arching branches of a Patna tree spread its large leaved foliage over the jumble of boulders under which we lay concealed. Nestled in and amongst the boulders, we were all but invisible to the people in the clearing beyond. I wished we were invisible to the bugs too.

  They swarmed around us in clouds of stinging annoyance. The insects were just one more item to add to the long list of things that I hated about this forest. I did have to admit though that my grandfather’s hiding place for the knowledge of our ancestors had been ingenious if not downright brilliant. Of all the places to hide something that countless people were turning over rocks left and right to find, this had to be the best and least expected option, as well as one of the more deadly. In this unlikely clearing in the midst of the forest lay several crude wooden hovels. At one end of the clearing was an uprising of stone from the forest floor. Its summit barely cleared the canopy of the surrounding forest. It was covered in vegetation, but it was obvious that the stony monument was of human construction and of a very old origin at that.

  The peoples that had migrated to these forests long ago had been very skillful, as well as sophisticated. However, in the deep dark areas of the forest, the darkness and solitude of the forest overcame them and ignorance took root, until all that was left was this smattering of crude wooden shelters that housed a people who preyed upon their own kind.

  Cannibals. Within walking distance of the greatness of their ancestor’s architectural accomplishments, the descendents lived out their lives in squalid barbaric conditions, a mere shadow of their former glory.

  This northernmost area of the Attorgron Forest was avoided by all because of the savagery of the barbarian peoples who roamed through it. Though fierce and warlike as a people, their primary method of attack was by sneaking up on their victims and ambushing them.

  Their primary weapon was the poison tipped darts they blew from long ornamented blow guns, which seemed to be their one technological accomplishment as a society. They were completely devoid of mercy.

  They had one weakness though, which I intended to exploit as my grandfather had. They were a superstitious people. We lay uncomfortably in the concealment of the boulders waiting for night to come, while being bit and gnawed upon by the millions of insects that infested this forest. Patience against the torment came somewhat easily, as the fear of being noticed by the savages could lead to something altogether worse than a bug bite and some itching.

  Steadily the day wore on until dark shadows hung over the clearing. The darkness of the night soon followed. Fires from the native village blazed forth, lighting up the night sky and echoing the need by even these heartless savages to keep the darkness partially at bay, at least superficially.

  The natives had begun to dance and shuffle around the flickering fires, worshipfully chanting as they did so, to their latest superstitious thrall of the moment. Suddenly a whoosh of noise punctuated the chanting sounds the natives were making, which was underscored by corresponding showers of sparks breaking off into the air from the large ceremonial fires.

  Soon puffs of smoke plumed up from their fires and their chants came to a sudden halt as the fires they were thronged around extinguished abruptly into grey clouds of smoke.

  Fearful murmuring took over at the strangeness of the event. Suddenly a loud pop could be heard, followed by a bright streak of white light rising above the canopy of the forest, which exploded with a deafening crack like thunder above the clearing.

  A thousand sparks tinged with blue and white burned briefly in the night sky. Some of the natives screamed out in fear, but most were held motionless in a speechless terror. In the dark stillness after the burst of sparks in the night sky, five hooded figures marched out in a phalanx formation from the surrounding forest.

  Each figure was clothed in a shimmery blue robe with a silver mask over the face that resembled an eagle’s face. In their right hand, each figure held a torch that blazed forth with a green flickering flame.

  The natives drew back in terror and fell to the
ground in homage of the manlike eagle beings with the green flaming torches.

  Passing through the camp, the eagle beings headed for the decaying stone structure at the edge of the clearing. The last two figures on the wings of the formation peeled off and turned to face the groveling natives.

  The natives stared in mute terror from their prostrated positions on the ground as the remaining three figures walked through what appeared to be a solid rock wall. As they disappeared within the stone structure, the villagers howled in dread at the supernatural sight and commenced to moan fearfully as they lay on the ground.

  I took my mask off, grateful that I was now able to scratch the bites on my neck once more. The scratching gave only a brief moment’s respite from the itchiness. Turning to Seth, I laughed upon seeing him. Being the nut that he was, he had taken some feathers he had found from somewhere and stuck them in the creases of his elbows and was moving his arms in the imitation of a chicken, complete with the hopping.

  I glanced at Father John and my laughter died as I noted his disapproving face. He hadn’t been happy about the whole eagle costume superstition idea. Oh well, it had worked beautifully and was far preferable to being in a cannibal’s cook pot.

  Getting back to business I turned to survey the room. It was devoid of ornamentation and appeared to be a singularly boring square of stone walled room. I stepped into the middle of the room and pressed my thumb to the gem of a ring that Thaddeus had given me.

  The walls disappeared like curtains falling to the ground and we were surrounded by a gallery filled to the ceiling with strange and amazing items of every imaginable 194nvent194ttion. To say we were surprised by the foreign looking scene around us would have been putting it mildly. I had been under the impression that the repository of the ancestors was entirely made up of an extensive collection of books, not actual relics of the knowledge.

  There were pathways through the jumble of artifacts, through which we made our way. Mesmerized by the treasures around me, I was almost afraid to reach out and touch the strange inventions that littered the room from floor to ceiling.

  Doubt began to rise in me that we were doing the right thing by destroying all of this. No doubt these inventions could be used to do great evil if they fell into the wrong hands, but think of the good that could come of using them. No doubt there existed in this room of wonders and inventions the key to all the problems with which our people were faced.

  The gallery was lit by devices such as the one I had seen in the room at Thunder Ridge. I thought they seemed to be glowing brighter as we moved deeper into the room. I could hear Seth excitedly exclaiming over the stuff around us and a quick glance showed that Father John was equally engrossed. I wanted to see where the brighter light led and so I separated from the others in pursuit of it.

  Making my way around yet another pile of more priceless artifacts, I saw where the brighter lights led. Ahead of me was a circular area that was brightly lit up. It was not jumbled with artifacts like the rest of the gallery. Five pedestals stood alone in the space, with each pedestal displaying a book. The fifth pedestal was in the middle and its book was larger than the others.

  I drew close and looked at the first book’s title, Matthew. I went to the surrounding pedestals and read the names, Mark, Luke and John. I had heard of the names. These were the four gospels authored by disciples of the Son of the Creator.

  Excitement rose in my heart at the greatness of my discovery. What had Thaddeus said was wrong with these books? I carefully reached out and picked up the book nearest to me, which was the Book of John. Opening it, I began to read.

  I came to a verse that I had memorized by heart from one of the walls of the chapel in Ta’arny and confusion rose within me as I read it. It was worded completely different than the scripture from the chapel, which made the meaning one gleaned from it different too. If this book was so badly off on the translation of just one verse, how much else could it be off from the original manuscript?

  I saw the wisdom of my grandfather’s words and I closed the book and looked at the inside cover, seeking to ascertain its origin, which my grandfather had said originated with the Zoarinians. At the bottom of the page, in small black lettering that I almost missed it read, ‘The fully revised version of St. John, as interpreted by The Enlightenment Authority Order’. Enlightenment Authority Order? Feeling like my fingers were burning I put the book back on its pedestal.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, Roric, to read the scriptures that speak of the tales of our Lord?”

  Surprised, I looked up and saw that Father John was holding and reading from the book entitled, Matthew.

  “Is it wonderful?” I asked speculatively, watching him closely.

  “Oh, yes Roric! How can you ask that when we’re holding the complete story of our Lord’s life on Earth? These books form the very essence of our belief!”

  “Have you not noticed some inconsistencies in the text from that of the Holy Scriptures that we do still have?”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed some but they are only minor ones. Such inconsistencies are within reason I believe. It’s to be expected in the translation of any book, for the most part.”

  “The Holy Scripture isn’t just any book, Father John! It’s the Holy inerrant word of the Creator Himself, if it wasn’t so our faith would be completely baseless!”

  John quickly agreed, “Of course, you’re right Roric. There are too many inconsistencies for these books to be trusted, I suppose.” He continued to scan through the book in his hands.

  “What is the Enlightenment Authority Order?” I asked him.

  Father John looked up, surprised at my question, “Why do you ask that question?”

  “Look on the inside cover of the book.”

  Father John did so and studied it for a moment and then looked back over at me. “They were a secret society during the early colonization of this world. They broke off to form their own faction but have since then disappeared from our world. Their stated primary purpose was preserving the integrity of our ancestor’s religious doctrine.”

  “You said they were a secret society. Why?”

  “Oh, it was easier to get their work done that is all, but it doesn’t matter now since they’ve long since become part of history,” Father John said as he went back to reading the book in his hand.

  I doubted it, though, as well as his explanation for the need of a secret society to accomplish something that sounded like a worthy ideal to have and that the Valley Landers had never been against.

  I stepped forward to the central book. It was bigger than the rest. Eeriness coursed through me, causing an involuntary shiver down my spine as I read the title, “The Book of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.” Below the title was some smaller lettering which read, “An account of the creation of the world to its proposed end from the eyes of one who has been there and can attest to the truths written herein.”

  Father John came up beside me and read the title as I had done. “A very dangerous book indeed. I would like to study it to see if there is any wisdom worth gleaning from it.”

  “Father John, you do know who likely wrote this don’t you?”

  “But of course Roric, it would appear that Satan himself did, seeing as he is the only one that could make a statement like that other than the Great Creator.”

  “What worthwhile wisdom could you even hope to glean from such a source of heresy?”

  “But of course you’re right, Roric. It would be far more likely to lead to deception than any manner of hidden truth, which goes the same for these other works as well. They are inconsistent at best. Come, let us be about the destruction of all of this before we are enthralled by it any longer!”

  With that said, Father John turned and strode away towards Seth, who, against orders, had been loading himself down with gadgets and pretty looking devices. Father John, despite Seth’s protests, began to take the gadgets from Seth and throw them back onto the piles o
f artifacts littering the room.

  Following Father John’s example, I turned from the books and hurried to a lighted display I had seen on the wall at the far end of the room. Taking off my ring, I placed it into a keyhole made to fit its exact shape. Another display came up on a shimmery looking crystal that showed a vertical row of colored lines. I moved the dashes that were on the lines in the blue areas, until they were all the way into the red areas with just the pressure of my finger on the screen before me as Thaddeus had instructed me to do.

  I took the ring out of the keyhole and the display began to pulse on and off causing the lights in the room to flicker. Running back across the gallery towards where we had entered, I ran past the books on their pedestals and through the piles of artifacts, eager to get away from the confusions of this place and how it had threatened to overcome my better judgment.

  Father John had already dragged Seth out to the entry point into the room and away from his spoils, about which he was none too happy.

  “Roric, call this guy off before I’m forced to hit him!”

  “Be quiet! You knew we came to destroy this place and all its contents. Nothing leaves this place Seth! Nothing!” I said roughly.

  Somewhat sheepish looking, Seth nodded in response. We donned our disguises once again. I pressed the ring with my thumb and the wall before us became translucent and we walked through it into the welcoming coolness of the night.

  The natives were still whimpering and wailing in fright on the ground and we exited the clearing the same way as we had come into it. Just as we reached the end of the clearing and the beginning of the forest, the ground shook violently and a great explosion ripped through the night air behind us.

  I turned and looked back briefly for a moment and saw that the dilapidated stone monument was literally being blown apart. Large chunks of rock were being hurled everywhere and flames reached high into the sky from the molten interior of the structure.

  The fierce cannibalistic tribe of forest dwellers had taken off in every direction as fast as their legs could carry them to escape what must have looked to them like the opening of the pits of hell.

  I turned back towards the forest and headed for where we had left the horses earlier in the day, eager to complete my mission and be headed back to my home and away from this miserable forest.