The Temple of the Sun

by Moyra Caldecott

  * * * *

  Fern and Karne were having their troubles too.

  Isar was no longer young enough to keep under surveillance all the time. He had grown very tall for his eight summers. He was handsome and proud and did not care to be told what he should do or not do. Both Karne and Fern respected him for this, but given the circumstances of his past it made it more difficult for them to keep him from harm. They fortified him as best they could with the beliefs and understandings that they had of life, but they had the impression that he did not always agree with them. Other influences were at work upon him at the same time and he was young and impressionable, not always capable of seeing things as clearly as an experienced person might.

  * * * *

  Wardyke became the right hand of his Spear-lord, Hawk-Eagle, and encouraged trouble between his master and Olan. The two land owners were constantly quarrelling – the ownership of the lands bordering each other were always in question.

  Fern was concerned to hear the men talk of fighting for the land, the one determined to oust the other.

  ‘But this is foolishness!’ Fern cried to Karne. ‘There is enough for both.’

  ‘Try telling that to old Hawk-Eagle! It is he who is always taking more. Olan has given in many times to keep the peace, but he is gradually being squeezed into a position where there is not enough land to feed his own people. We cannot let Hawk-Eagle take any more. That would be foolishness!’

  ‘Surely you can talk to him?’

  Karne laughed.

  ‘Of course we have talked my love! But Hawk-Eagle does not understand our language, and of course now he has Wardyke at his elbow all the time there is even less chance of a reasonable settlement.’

  ‘What about the priests at the Temple? Can you not ask them to settle it?’

  ‘I am afraid, my sweet innocent, the priests at the Temple are so busy reaching for the other kinds of reality, they do not pay much attention to this one!’

  ‘I am sure that is not true!’ Fern said indignantly.

  ‘True or not, it is none of their affair. We must settle this between ourselves.’

  It would seem that Karne almost relished a major confrontation with his old enemy Wardyke.

  Fern thought of calling on Kyra for assistance, but knowing that her time for delivery was near and having heard that she had not been at all well of late, she thought she had better not worry her.

  Isar spent more and more time away from home, and when questioned where he had been, boldly refused to answer.

  One day Karne came storming home, his face a study in the conflicting emotions of anger and anxiety.

  ‘Do you know where that boy is this very moment?’ he demanded of his wife.

  She looked startled.

  ‘With Wardyke! And that is where he has been every time we have asked him for his whereabouts and he has not replied.’

  Fern felt sick with worry, more for the fact that the boy was keeping his meetings with Wardyke secret from them than that he was with the man. After all, they had not forbidden him to see him.

  Such a little while ago they had been so close and happy together, but recently she had noticed a sullen streak, a secretive look. She might have guessed Wardyke was behind it.

  When he returned that evening she contrived to speak with him without Karne being present. She did not want the confrontation to be an angry one.

  ‘I hear,’ she said gently, ‘that you have been spending a great deal of time with Wardyke and Hawk-Eagle lately?’

  The boy looked at her with expressionless eyes. He neither denied it, nor agreed with it.

  ‘You know, of course, that Hawk-Eagle and Olan are enemies?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you know the reasons?’

  ‘Olan tries to keep land that is rightfully Hawk-Eagle’s away from him.’

  ‘That is not so, but we will not discuss that now.’

  ‘What then?’ the boy said coldly.

  She hated the way he spoke and how he had changed. She thought back to the time when he used to sit peacefully creating beauty with his woodcarving. He had not touched his tools for a long while now. Wardyke had always had the power to destroy what was good and creative in people and bring out what was destructive and restless.

  ‘You know Karne and I do not like Wardyke, nor trust him.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And yet you still see more of him than of us?’

  ‘He is my father,’ the boy said, lifting his head defiantly.

  ‘Yes,’ she said and her voice had lost its gentleness and had an edge of great bitterness to it. ‘Yes, you can call him that, if that is what you mean by “father”!’

  The boy was silent.

  ‘You know he forced himself on me and I hated and feared him?’

  Again Isar did not reply, but she thought she detected a slight uncertainty in his eyes. This was not quite how Wardyke told the story.

  ‘Karne has brought you up, fed you, protected you and loved you. To me that is fathering!’

  ‘What if Wardyke is sorry for what he did and wants to make amends?’ Isar’s voice was less cold now, less sure that he was right.

  ‘Then we will welcome him as friend,’ Fern said. ‘But do you think this is how it is? Think.’

  Isar thought.

  ‘He does not visit as a friend, but entices you away and makes you lie to us and keep secrets from us. He encourages a man to rise in violence against another man, knowing that in the process Karne who has cherished you, and even your mother, may very well be killed. Does this seem like trying to make amends to you? Or does it seem like vengeance?’

  Isar was still silent, his face dark and confused.

  ‘I will say no more about it, nor will I forbid you to see Wardyke. See him, but think about what you see. You are old enough now to judge for yourself.’

  She left him alone and went for a walk in her garden, trying to regain her peace of mind, trying to calm the anger and the hate that still burned for Wardyke in her heart.

  She did not know how to break the link between Wardyke and Isar. It was of double strength if Kyra’s amazing story had any truth in it. Not only was Isar Wardyke’s natural son, but they had been friends for long ages in another life time.

  In a moment of despair she thought she would abandon all efforts to interfere in what must be a very strong and significant liaison. And then her love for Isar, the boy, her child, and the thought that whether she liked it or not she had become involved in this ancient drama and must have some role to play, decided her to keep trying, keep loving, keep interfering.

  * * * *

  The day before Kyra’s child was born the longing to visit the haunted mound grew so overwhelmingly strong that she slipped away from the Temple College without Khu-ren’s knowledge and walked the distance as though in a dream, all rational control gone.

  She was not well, and had not been for some time, but she had to reach the mound!

  Busy about their own affairs, no one paid particular attention to the young priestess, heavy with child, and clad in a long, flowing blue cloak, passing their way and climbing the steep sides of the forbidding man-made mountain.

  Out of breath and dizzy with the strain, she flung herself down on the top and sobbed with relief. She did not know why she felt so relieved, she knew only that those long days of fighting and struggling within herself to stay away from this place were over and she was where she was meant to be.

  After a while she fell asleep with exhaustion and the dream (or vision?) that came to her was not a comforting one.

  She was lying on a couch somewhere in a strange and foreign place and her body was racked with the most terrible pains she had ever felt. This time she knew it was her own pain she was suffering and not that of anyone else. There was no cry for help except from herself and, although she could feel the pain, she could not move her limbs, nor open her mouth to utter the cry for Khu-ren that she longed to give.

  I
n the dark recesses of the hall around her she saw her old enemies, the demons, half-animal, half-man that had haunted her before. They were crouching and leering, occasionally taking a darting step forward and then retreating to the shadows again, as though they were waiting for the pain to increase and she to become weaker before they dared approach too near.

  Fear and pain occupied her entirely and she felt desperately alone.

  She called in her mind for Khu-ren, for Maal, for all her spirit Lords, and at each call the demons cringed as though they had felt a lash. But she began to feel weaker and weaker with pain and even her mind-calling began to fade, and her tormentors, noticing this, drew nearer.

  Suddenly, through an archway that she had not noticed before, two figures came and stood one on each side of her.

  Through her agony she recognized the tall and bulky figure of the ancient king she had seen in the Field of the Grey Gods, and the tall and elegant figure of the sad queen of the lake mist.

  They had walked into the room together, but as though they were not aware of each other’s presence. Now, standing on either side of her, their eyes met and it seemed as though they noticed each other for the first time.

  Great joy came over their faces and they took each other’s hands and held them over her and then, as silently as they had come, they walked away, but this time hand in hand and very much aware of each other.

  While they were present the demons held back, but as soon as they had disappeared through the archway they surged forward and, screaming with agony, Kyra was torn apart.

  As darkness and pain overwhelmed her, she was shaken awake by a hand and she found a startled Isar looking into her eyes.

  ‘Kyra!’ he was calling. ‘What is the matter? Why are you screaming?’

  She sat up at once, trembling with the horror of the experience, and flung her arms around her young nephew.

  ‘Why are you crying? What is the matter? Are you in pain?’

  She heard his anxious questions, but could not answer them.

  ‘I am going to die,’ she kept thinking. ‘That dream means that I am going to die!’

  And now she knew why she had come to the Haunted Mound.

  The child she was bearing would be Isar’s queen, but in bearing her she was going to die.

  ‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘No! I will not! I will not!’

  ‘Kyra, let me take you home to mother,’ the anxious boy pleaded, pulling at her arm.

  ‘No!’ screamed Kyra, and with astounding force she pushed him aside and stood as tall as she was capable of upon the very top of the burial mound.

  She shook her fist at the sky.

  ‘I will not die!’ she shouted fiercely. ‘I will play my part if I must, but I will not die!’

  ‘I am Me! Kyra. I have my own Destiny ... not yours alone!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ The bewildered boy thought she had gone mad.

  She looked at him suddenly and there was hate in her eyes.

  ‘I do not see why I have to die for you!’ she spat out.

  ‘Kyra!’ he gasped.

  And then she fainted.

  He stared at her in horror for a few moments, convinced that she was dead, and then turned and ran to fetch help.

  When Kyra became conscious again she was in Fern’s house and in extreme pain. She remembered the dream and it was as though the pain she was feeling was the same. The terror on her face startled Fern.

  ‘Do not be afraid, my love, it is only the baby coming. Nothing to be afraid of.’

  ‘Khu-ren,’ sobbed Kyra, sweat pouring from her.

  ‘He is coming,’ soothed Fern. ‘Isar has gone to fetch him.’

  ‘Fern, I am going to die,’ Kyra burst out.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Fern calmly. ‘There is a new life coming here, not an old one going!’

  ‘I had a dream...’ gasped Kyra.

  Fern wiped the sweat and tears gently from her face.

  ‘I do not know anything about a dream, but I do know a great deal about having babies. You are having a bad time, but you are not going to die.’

  ‘But I dreamt...’

  ‘I do not want to hear about any old dream!’ Fern said sharply. ‘You priests know a great deal, but not everything. Dreams can be misinterpreted just like everything else, and you know as well as I do that if you believe you are going to die, you lessen your chances of living. Now stop being a priest for a moment and be a woman. Push!’ she commanded.

  Kyra pushed.

  Meanwhile Isar had found Khu-ren and the two were hurrying back to Isar’s home. As they went the boy told Khu-ren the circumstances of how he had found Kyra and the strange things that she had said.

  Khu-ren’s face grew darker and darker.

  ‘Boy, I am going to run and my legs are longer than yours. I would be grateful if you would return to the Temple and find the Lord High Priest, and bring him to your home.’

  Isar turned instantly and was gone.

  He was really troubled by Kyra’s insistence that she would have to die for him.

  By some strange quirk of fate, Hawk-Eagle and Wardyke chose this night of all nights to attack the village of Olan. Of course they had no way of knowing about the drama that was being acted out in Fern’s little house. Karne himself was unaware of it as he had been all day with Olan preparing defences, knowing that the time was near when the talking and the insulting would stop and the violence begin.

  Fern had been too occupied with the crisis of the moment to send word to him and could think only of fetching Khu-ren and seeing Kyra safely through the delivery of her child.

  It was obvious to her that the birth was not going as well as her own had done, and that Kyra and her child were in very great danger. But she managed to keep her fear from showing and continued to help her friend in every way she could, with calmness and fortitude, praying all the while for the arrival of Kyra’s husband.

  The dream Kyra kept muttering about seemed to be their worst enemy. There were times when Fern felt Kyra was so sure she was going to die, she just seemed to give up trying to live. At those times Fern used all her energy of love to sustain her, but if Khu-ren did not arrive soon she did not know how much longer she could keep her going.

  The attack Hawk-Eagle and Wardyke had planned to launch that night was delayed a while because Wardyke had intended Isar to be at his side and Isar had disappeared. He had been in the village all day seeing the preparations for the attack. Wardyke had thought the boy had seemed a bit restless and unsettled and if he had not been so busy himself he would have worried about it. As it happened it was only when the moment for attack arrived that Wardyke realized Isar was missing and something was wrong.

  He tried to stall Hawk-Eagle for as long as he could without telling him his reasons, torn between the two fears, one that the boy was in the victim village and would be destroyed with the other villagers, and two that he had betrayed them and the other village was prepared for the attack.

  * * * *

  Isar had been very uncertain of his loyalties since his talk with his mother. He had grown very close to Wardyke with the help of Panora and had thought his loyalties lay with him, but since his mother had commanded him to think for himself, he had been noticing things about Wardyke that he had not noticed before. Things he did not like.

  Wardyke himself had been so busy plotting with Hawk-Eagle he had not noticed the change in the boy.

  Confused and distressed by the violence that was threatening to break upon the people he now realized he truly loved, the boy left Hawk-Eagle’s village determined to warn Karne. But en route for his home he had seen Kyra upon the Haunted Mound, and became enmeshed in that particular crisis, totally forgetting the other.

  In some ways he had always felt the talk of attack was just talk. He never really believed Hawk-Eagle and Wardyke would do it, though within the last few days he had realized Hawk-Eagle’s greed for more land and power was very strong indeed, well matched by Wardyke’s greed for
vengeance against Karne who had been the instrument of his downfall as magician-priest.

  It was when he finally grasped that real violence was to occur that Isar knew that he had to choose, and he chose to return to Karne and Fern.

  But it was perhaps his former affection for Wardyke that made it easier for him to forget the urgency of the message he should have delivered to Karne and Olan when another crisis arose.

  Wardyke thought he had some control over the situation, but he reckoned without Hawk-Eagle’s own personality. Having decided to attack, and this had been largely on Wardyke’s recommendation, he would not be held back.

  If the boy had gone back to his old friends, too bad for the boy. All the more reason to start advancing before they had too much time to prepare a defence.

  Wardyke was torn between his love for Isar and his hatred of Karne and Fern.

  But his wishes no longer carried any weight. As before, he had unleashed forces of hate and violence in people he could no longer control.

  The attack was launched.

  * * * *

  Fern struggling with Kyra was horrified to hear the sound of shouting, fighting, screaming, the roar of flames, distant at first but coming nearer all the time.

  She feared for Karne, for her children sleeping snugly in the other room, for Kyra struggling to give birth. She feared for Isar somewhere on the road to or from the Temple and prayed now that he would not return, but that someone would see their plight and come to their aid. But she knew these villages were small and the wooden houses easily burnt. Before help could reach them there would be nothing left but cinders and charred bones.

  She screamed to all the spirits that aided the world to aid her in this, the worst moment of her life.

  As though in answer to her prayer the hanging rug that covered the doorway to her house was swept aside and the Lord Khu-ren strode into the room.

  ‘Go!’ he shouted at her. ‘Take your children and go!’

  She gathered them up and ran, as she saw him bending over Kyra.

  Outside was chaos and confusion.

  The men were fighting as best they could, but fire arrows were being shot by skilled bowmen at the straw roofs of the houses and the men were hindered by the smoke and flames, and the fleeing, screaming women and children.