Soldier Scarred

by D. K. Holmberg

  The priest met his eye. “Where is this one?” Endric asked. “There should be another here.”

  The priest smiled sadly. “The thirteenth sculpture is gone.”

  “How?”

  The priest looked around the pool of lava. “The guardian has been stolen.”

  Endric frowned and looked around the fountain of fire, wondering what might have happened. He couldn’t imagine how heavy such a sculpture of teralin might be. It would have to be enormous, impossibly heavy, especially given what he knew about smaller samples of teralin.

  And all of this was neutral teralin.

  That surprised him almost as much as anything. Why would the gods have neutral teralin in their image?

  He could understand if there was positively charged teralin, especially as he had spent enough time around the metal to feel as if that were somehow more reflective of the intent of the gods. He didn’t expect to find negatively charged teralin, at least not in the image of the gods.

  “They are all different,” Endric said.

  “The gods were unique individuals,” the priest said.

  Endric looked back around before his gaze fell on the nearest of the sculptures. The level of detail on it was exquisite, far too detailed for it to come from anyone not enhanced in some manner. How could it be anything but the gods who had sculpted this?

  “The gods made these themselves, didn’t they?”

  “The guardians were a gift to Salvat,” the priest said. “And they would steal them.”

  “They would be after the sculptures?” Pendin asked. He had completed his circuit of the pool, and sweat beaded on his brow. Urik followed him shortly after and seemed less bothered by the heat. His eyes had taken on a distant, almost faraway expression.

  The priest nodded. “The guardians represent the gods who look down on us following their Ascension.”

  “You believe in the Ascension?” Endric asked.

  “We are not so different from the Urmahne that we don’t recognize the truth that the gods have disappeared, having Ascended, leaving us to understand their intent without their guidance. And within this place, so close to one of their ancient temples, we believe that they left their guardians for us to know so that we can feel their presence.”

  “If these were left for you to feel their presence, they wouldn’t necessarily want to steal them,” Endric said. For that matter, he had no idea how the sculptures could be stolen. They had to weigh an enormous amount. It wouldn’t be a simple matter of carting them out, especially if they had to go up those stairs. It would be difficult—impossibly difficult.

  “There would be no other purpose for them to come after them,” the priest said.

  “Other than to destroy them,” Endric said.

  “They would not be easy to destroy,” the priest answered.

  “You don’t think so?” Endric approached the nearest sculpture and pressed his hands on it. Like all uncharged teralin, it was warm, almost hot. He pushed but it did not move. He pushed again and felt it begin to wobble, though barely so. “I think I could push this into the pool of lava,” Endric said.

  The priest approached and looked at Endric, his eyes wide. “You could not do such a thing. The sculptures are far too heavy to be pushed over in such a way. Besides, what would the purpose of pushing them over be, other than to destroy the creations of the gods?”

  “You obviously think that there is some reason,” he said. “Were there not, you would not have brought us here.”

  “I brought you here so that you can understand the gods. I brought you here so that you can see how the guardians continue to watch over us. I brought you here so that you can understand that there is power in the presence of the gods. They look over us, as they always have. There are those who would change that, who would steal the protections that the gods have bestowed upon us. We must oppose that.”

  “This was why you were on the defensive,” Endric said.

  The priest looked at him, anguish in his eyes. “The guardians have protected us for centuries. Now…”

  Now there was one missing.

  “This is why the mountain has trembled the way it has?” Endric asked.

  The priest stared at the sculpture. “These were made so long ago, and crafted by the gods themselves as a way to provide protection, to leave their hand upon us even though they weren’t here. Without them, we begin to lose the favor of the gods.”

  Endric wasn’t sure that he believed that the gods offered their protection, not the way the priests claimed, but he did understand the power of teralin, having seen it himself time and again. If the gods had created the sculptures for the priests, he could imagine that the teralin that comprised the sculptures was responsible for granting a certain strength.

  Was there anything that could be done to help?

  “Urik. Is there anything of these sculptures that you can tell?”

  Urik looked at Endric. “Other than how they were created?”

  “They are of teralin. Is there anything to their creation that you can think of that would make a difference to ensure that the mountain doesn’t erupt?”

  Urik studied the sculpture, running his hand over it. “There was a time when I thought that I understood teralin well.” He looked over at Endric. “I believe that you have the knowledge of teralin that would answer that. There is nothing that I know that will provide those answers.”

  Endric sighed. “I can’t tell. It’s all neutral teralin.”

  “Which is strange,” Urik said.

  “Why is that strange?” Endric asked.

  “Well, when we were in Vasha and found the remnants from the gods, they were neutral also. I think it’s strange that the gods would leave neutral teralin when the positive charge has such a different purpose.”

  The priest was watching them. “The gods left us with their protection. The guardians have watched over us for countless years.”

  “How did those others learn of them?” Endric asked the priest, but as he looked at the man, he thought that he understood. “They were one of you, weren’t they?”

  The priest nodded slowly. “He was one of us at first. He thought that he gained a greater understanding of the gods. And claimed that his understanding granted him the right to act in another way.”

  “They wouldn’t have destroyed the guardian, then. If they serve the gods—however misguided they might have been—it seems as if they wouldn’t have destroyed the sculptures.”

  He looked around, letting his thoughts coalesce. “If they didn’t destroy them, then they would have to have some way of carrying them out without the priests knowing.”

  Endric looked back at the stairs. He couldn’t imagine lifting the sculptures and carrying them from the cavern. They were enormous, and they would be enormously heavy.

  “It must be returned here. They provide the protection.”

  “Finding the sculpture will be difficult,” Urik said. “It’s massive, but once they have been taken from the temple, they could be hidden anywhere.”

  “Not hidden,” Pendin said.

  “What do you mean?” Endric asked.

  “I don’t think it’s been hidden at all.” His eyes were wide, and he shook his head. “I don’t understand why, but I think it’s in the canicharl.”

  “The canicharl? Why would the Teachers have stolen this from the priest?” Endric asked. Even as he asked, he remembered the Teacher and his surprising devotion to the gods. At the time, Endric had thought him merely devout, but it seemed there was something more to it.

  “Because they don’t feel that the priests serve the gods,” Urik said.

  The priest nodded. “The Teachers follow the Urmahne. Were it up to them, they would see that all followers of the gods following the ancient traditions would be removed.”

  Endric took a deep breath. “I guess we are returning to Elaniin.”

  31

  The earth rumbled as they traveled back to the city, and with each rumbli
ng, Endric had the unsettling sensation that perhaps the priests were right and that the gods somehow managed to watch over them. It seemed a strange thing to think of, especially after all the years he’d spent denying the role of the gods, but how could he deny what he had felt?

  The city appeared in the distance, and Endric made his way toward it, urging his horse faster, taking the mount borrowed from the priest at a faster clip than probably was safe. He felt each steady rumbling from the volcano as a shaking. It jarred him forward.

  Pendin and Urik remained silent. He was thankful for that, but a part of Endric worried what would happen when they reached the city. Would they be enough to counter whatever had happened here?

  It troubled him that the Teachers would be involved in this. It troubled him that they would risk attacking the priests for… What? He had no idea what they might do with the sculpture. Why would they have claimed it?

  As the canicharl came into view, Endric’s heart pounded. Would he need to fight his way through? Or would there be another way? Would there be some way that he could get through to them peacefully?

  Maybe peace wasn’t in his plan. Maybe his father had never intended for him to have peace. Endric suspected that his father intended for him to come here and to find what had happened. It fit with how his father acted.

  After tying the horses up in the stable, they reached the main door to the canicharl. Endric knocked, and then they waited.

  The door came open and a younger student stood in front of them. Her eyes widened when she saw them, and then she quickly slammed the door closed.

  “It seems they recognize you,” Pendin said.

  “It seems they do,” Endric said.

  He pushed on the door, but the student seemed to have barred it from the inside.

  “There’s another way in,” Pendin said.

  “Why didn’t we start with that?” Endric asked.

  “I thought we would give you a chance to see if your charm would get the door open. Seems that only works on Senda.”

  “My charm hasn’t worked on Senda in quite some time,” Endric said.

  They made their way around the outside of the canicharl and quickly followed along a narrow path around the outside of the building. Pendin guided them to a small stream that circled around the canicharl. They stayed close to the edge of the building and with each passing moment, Endric feared that they were running out of time. How long did they have until the Teachers came after them, knowing that they were here? How long did they have until they were aware of Endric’s concern that they had stolen the sculptures?

  Pendin followed the stream as it trailed along until he reached a section of the wall where the stream ran beneath it. He glanced up at Endric. “From here, we need to move quietly.”

  “Quietly? I think we’re going to end up getting wet,” Endric said.

  Pendin nodded. “There’s no way around that.” He crawled through the streambed, disappearing beneath the wall.

  Endric hesitated a moment before following. When he was inside, he glanced back at Urik. “Are you coming?” he asked.

  Urik stared at the canicharl. “I… I don’t know that I should.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve made many mistakes, Endric.”

  Endric looked up through the opening, water running around his feet. “Even with the Teachers?”

  “Unfortunately, no one was spared my mistakes.”

  “Then use this is an opportunity to make amends,” Endric said.

  “I’m not certain that anyone would like me to make amends.”

  “Urik—”

  Urik sighed. “When we find the sculpture, and once we restore the temple, what then? What would you have of me?”

  “The same as Tresten would have had of you.”

  “Tresten intended to offer me an opportunity to join the Conclave, but I don’t get the sense they would welcome me quite the same way that he intended to.”

  “No, I don’t get that sense either. Regardless, you can make of your opportunity whatever you choose. If it is to serve the gods, then you should do so. If it is to continue to chase power, then you would find me and the Denraen chasing after you. If it is only understanding that you seek, and to serve knowledge, then perhaps the Conclave will welcome you. I don’t speak on their behalf, but I do know that they will make up their own mind about you.”

  Urik dropped down and started into the tunnel leading through the streambed.

  Endric turned and followed Pendin. It quickly became dark, reminding him of the stair leading down from the temple and into the pool of lava. It didn’t remain dark for nearly as long. When they emerged from the darkness, Endric breathed out a sigh of relief and looked around the room they were in.

  It was a storage room.

  “How did you find this?” he asked Pendin.

  “I was here a long time. They gave me free rein of the canicharl, allowing me to explore as I recovered.”

  “From here, we can sneak through, and perhaps we can take them out one by one,” Urik said.

  “Where do you think they might have stored it?” Endric asked.

  “That’s just it. I didn’t see any sign of the sculpture, but they have stockpiled artifacts here.”

  “What of the Teacher who leads them?” Endric asked.

  “Belson? I can’t believe Belson is responsible for this. He’s old.”

  “And though he’s old, he speaks about the gods in a way that reminded me of priests, though was a little different.” Now that Endric understood the connection to the Salvat priests, he thought that would have to be the connection. They would have to be linked.

  “I can help you find Belson, but I don’t think you have the right person,” Pendin said.

  And if they did, would it make a difference? Would it help Endric find what had happened to Tresten? Likely it would not, and he couldn’t think of a reason why one of the Teachers would have taken Tresten’s body.

  Pendin led them out of the storage room and made his way along the hallway, twisting and turning until they came to a narrow set of stairs. On the next level, they made their way along, moving quickly. So far, they had been lucky and had not seen anyone else, but Endric suspected that would eventually fail them.

  In the distance, Endric heard sounds coming toward them.

  He motioned to Pendin and they ducked into a doorway, concealing themselves.

  Endric looked around the room. This was someone’s quarters, and thankfully they weren’t here at the time, but how long would their luck last? When would someone appear and realize they weren’t supposed to be here?

  “Did you recognize either of the voices?” Endric asked.

  Pendin shook his head. “I don’t know the people here well enough that I could.”

  “But you knew Belson.”

  “Everybody knew Belson. He’s been here a long time.”

  “What did the man who captured you look like?” Endric asked Urik.

  “There were many of them. I don’t know that I could identify one that was primarily responsible.”

  “Try,” Endric said.

  Urik glanced from Endric to Pendin. “I’m not sure how to describe him.”

  Endric rounded on Urik and studied him for a long moment. Too many things had happened since they had been in these lands that troubled him. There had been Urik’s disappearance, and then there had been his reappearance, searching for the temple. And then he had willingly jumped.

  All along, Endric had thought that Urik was here for redemption, and that Tresten had wanted that for him, but could that have been wrong? Could he have had it incorrect from the very beginning?

  Everything that Urik had done had slowly eroded his resistance to the man staying with him, and everything that he had done had begun to change his opinion of the man, making him think that he could trust him.

  But what was it that Urik had said?

  He served the gods, then his family, and then everything after tha
t.

  “Endric?” Pendin said.

  A door in the back of the room opened. Endric hadn’t noticed it when they first arrived, and now three Teachers appeared. They were not ordinary Teachers, and they appeared to be armed, each of them carrying unsheathed short swords.

  “Do you recognize any of them?” he asked Pendin.

  Pendin shook his head. “I don’t.”

  Endric sighed. “That’s what I feared. Hold Urik.”

  Endric jumped forward, nudging Urik as he passed, knocking him down. He hoped that Pendin recognized what he needed from him and intervened. Endric turned his focus to the three men. They rounded on him. Energy sizzled from them. He recognized the energy and felt it pulsing away from them.

  Endric focused on the catahs, thinking through his movements before he even made them, planning how to attack.

  He needed to have strategy. He had realized that when dealing with Urik, but had somehow allowed himself to forget. Urik had been planning—and countering—him the entire time he was here.

  Endric swept his sword around and knocked down the nearest person. When he did, he moved on, jumping to the next, slamming the hilt of his sword into the man’s forehead before swinging around to the third man.

  The fight was over quickly, and he spun, looking for Urik and Pendin, but they were gone.

  Endric swore under his breath and looked at the fallen men, hoping that he had injured them enough that they would remain motionless. He didn’t need them getting up and trying to intervene, especially as it was his fault that Urik had gained access to the canicharl.

  Racing down the hall, he saw flash of Urik’s cloak and hurried toward him.

  They turned a corner and Endric followed, coming around so that Urik couldn’t escape, and when he rounded the corner, the man was missing.

  There still was no sign of Pendin.

  Where had they gone?

  The hall widened here, and it was a place that Endric recognized, having been here before when he had brought Senda.

  Why had he allowed himself to believe that the canicharl might have stolen sculptures? How could they when they sought only scholarship?