by Adam Watson
The High Priestess was sweating despite the coolness of the air; if she failed to raise the Priest-King, the Drakhar might lose their faith in her. If she couldn't commune with their god, then her position and power as the High Priestess of Solus Bal would be compromised, and that was something she wasn't going to allow - she focused her energies on the vortex.
In her hand, she held the Staff of Darkness: a staff made from the hardest wood on Mya and imbued with powerful magic. Dark purple sigils illuminated the spine, the top of the staff flared into the head of a demonic beast; it was intricately carved in the highest of detail, powerful beams of the brightest blue and the whitest of white radiated from the mouth and eyes, oozing magical power into the vortex.
"Hear us now, oh great one. We, your children, plead for your blessing. Please, mighty Lord, forgive us for failing to keep the light from these lands. Forgive us now and grant us your blessing by raising the messenger so that we may once again receive your wisdom and bask in the glory of your word."
The time had come, if the Priest-King didn't rise now, he never would. Four retainers walked up the steps and took their places, two either side of the sarcophagus, they raised the lid. Blackened rays burst forth from within, spreading in all directions.
"Rise Eefest! King of the Drakhar! Rise exalted one! Let the power of Solus Bal into your body and rise up to lead your people to the glory days of old!" Katra Varta had tears trickling down her face, as did many who were in the room witnessing the resurrection - the feeling was now one of elation.
The dark light of the sarcophagus dissipated. Inside was the body of the Priest-King, still dressed in the same kingly robes he was wearing two hundred years ago. High Priestess Katra Varta was trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. The robes were black, like the darkest night. Blood red sigils glistened faintly and slowly began to pulse as if coming back to life. A stream of darkness flowed from the vortex and into the mouth of the Priest-King.
"Consume the power of Solus Bal, let his breath fill your lungs, let the life return to your body, let the blood return to your veins, let your heart beat once more." The Priest-King's body twitched, and Katra Varta gasped. This was it, it was really happening, the mighty and wise Eefest was coming back to them.
"Come to us now holy and righteous father, for we, the Drakhar, seek your love and guidance. Take us now into your dark embrace and show us how we can right the wrongs of the world." Everyone near the sarcophagus took a step back as the body started to violently convulse.
Katra Varta's eyes widened revealing her bright red irises, she licked her black lips in anticipation. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face, another ran down the exposed skin between her breasts down to her bare abdomen as she trembled. Is he supposed to shake that much? She could not remember, it had been many centuries since a raising of such importance had been performed. The body continued to flail; the legs and arms whipping to and fro with such ferocity the High Priestess became afraid something might break.
"Hold him down!" she commanded to the retainers. "Don't let him hurt himself." She could just imagine the wrath that would be invoked if the Priest-King awoke with a broken arm or leg. "Hold him down you fools!" she shouted, when the retainers hesitated. The retainers obeyed, they knew full well that the High Priestess could invoke a wrath of her own, but Katra was in no mood for wrath, she had more important things on her mind. Is it supposed to take this long?
More and more of the dark power poured from the vortex and into the mouth of the Priest-King like a whirling funnel; filling his body with energy and life, filling his body with the essence of a god. She could see the Priest-King's hands opening and closing, movement returning to the body as the sense of touch revisited the king. His face was contorted, like an eternal scream - but a scream that had no sound. The High Priestess trembled with a mixture of stress and fear. Should he look like he's in that much pain?
"Rise up righteous father, come and take your place at the head of our society. Come now and be seated on the 'Throne of the Dark Lord'. Take your rightful place as our king, our holy master and our messenger." The body continued to thrash so violently, the retainers had trouble holding it down. Something’s not right. Katra's heart raced, and her breathing became erratic.
Black beams shot forth from the Priest-King's eyes as his head thrashed from side to side. His fingers dug into the base of the sarcophagus, leaving deep gouges. The whirl of the vortex began to rage like a fierce tempest, and the sound became deafening - like a tremendous beast roaring at the top of its lungs.
Katra could feel the power being drawn from her staff and into the vortex at an incredible rate; she had to hold on with all of her might to keep control. At the same time a scalding heat was building up inside, burning her hands, but she dare not let go, for fear of destroying them all.
Thunderous claps burst through the room, making the ground tremble and the walls shake. Lightning forked from the vortex striking the ceiling. The retainers released their grips and fled to the outskirts of the room. Katra looked around, the invokers were on the verge of losing control, she needed to refocus them.
"Solus Bal hear me now! I, your humble servant, the high priestess of your order, Katra Varta, beg you. Grant me the power to awaken your messenger. Grant me the power to bring your will into the world. Bless us with your voice, bless us with your guidance." The Staff of Darkness seared her hands as though they were direct to fire, she could feel the burning agony as she watched wispy smoke pouring from them. She held on, despite the pain - she would rather die than fail at this.
The power grew more and more, the noise grew louder and louder, her hands burned hotter and hotter. Everything was on the verge of oblivion, some Drakhar who were witnessing the event turned and fled fearing their destruction. The entire Temple was shaking, pieces of the ceiling began to drop and fall. The dark light from the vortex filled the Priest-King with more and more power, overflowing and spilling into the sarcophagus, filling it with a void.
The void continued to expand like a ball filled with darkness, a ball on the brink of explosion - and then it did. Tremendous power and wind streamed from the room like a raging cyclone. Anything not secured down flew out of the great doorway and into the corridor. The retainers were killed instantly from the blast of raw power, their shadows forever etched onto the walls. High Priestess Katra Varta was the only thing in the chamber that did not move - her divine powers protecting her from the wrath.
After the blast there was silence, nothing moved, even the Drakhar who were still alive did not move, for fear of the wrath of Solus Bal - they could all feel that his power was amongst them once more. Unable to bear the pain any longer Katra dropped the Staff of Darkness and collapsed to the ground.
"Katra! Katra!" She could hear the clanking of heavy armour upon stone. "Katra! Are you all right?" Katra opened her eyes - it was Vuko Vlad. She smiled, who else would it have been? Who else would have the courage to face a god's wrath? Only the General has such.
"Vuko? Yes, I am all right." When Vuko offered his hand and helped her back to her feet, he couldn't help but notice the charring on her hands. "Wielding too much power has its consequences Vuko."
"So I noticed, but I'll thank the Dark Lord that you're still alive. When I saw what I saw, I didn't think that would still be the case." Vuko could have sworn she had been obliterated in the blast.
"Oh Vuko, have some faith. I am the High Priestess after all." She smiled, but instead of being reassured Vuko furrowed his brow and stared directly into the High Priestesses eyes.
"Something went wrong." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and a statement that demanded answers without lies, her smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of grave concern.
"Yes, something did, and I'm afraid I don't know what." Vuko stared long and hard into Katra's glowing red eyes. "I'm sorry Vuko. I ..."
"It's all right Katra, it's not your fault. I know you, and I know you wouldn't do anything to harm E
efest." They both peered towards the inner chamber. "Come, let us see if he lives." Katra nodded, and they both walked towards the great doorway.
Inside the inner chamber of Solus Bal, the vault of the Dark Lord, all was blackened and charred to such a degree that the room was almost unrecognisable. Stones had fallen from the roof and now lay smashed upon the floor, great cracks lined the walls; walls which now looked unstable. The sarcophagus had been obliterated sending shards and fragments of granite in all directions, many of which were now embedded into the walls.
Upon the floor in the centre of the room lay a solitary figure, the unmoving body of the Priest-King Eefest; beneath his open robe, the darkened armour of the Dark Lord could be seen; the blood-red sigils that were engraved into the armour glowed.
"He lives," stated Katra Varta, as they entered the room, the fact that the sigils glowed were a testament to that, Vuko smiled. Could it really be true? Had his brother been brought back to life? Had his leader and mentor truly returned to him?
Vuko rushed to his brother's side, Katra followed. The room itself was still and eerily silent, but some power could be felt resonating within. The outer walls creaked under the weight of the Temple, dust fell down from the crevices in the ceiling - the inner chamber was now a dangerous and unstable place to be.
"Eefest my brother," he called, as he knelt down next to him. Electric bolts could be seen sizzling and crawling across the surface of the Priest-King's body making it twitch and convulse involuntarily.
"Wait!" cried Katra. "Don't touch him!" Vuko had no intention of touching his brother, in fact, he put his arm out to stop Katra from going any nearer.
"What is this?" he asked in awe. Katra looked down at the Priest-King with sorrow in her eyes. They were so close, and yet so far away, she wanted to reach out and touch him but feared she might end up dead if she did.
"I don't know Vuko, I've never seen anything like it. There is nothing that mentions a reaction like this in any of the texts. I don't know what we should do." Vuko smiled his grim black sneer, his eyes raged like burning furnaces.
"Pull yourself together Katra and wake him now, like you would wake any other." Katra licked her lips, she knew that Vuko was fond of her, but she also knew that defying his will could be deadly.
"I will do as you say Vuko, but it's risky. We could lose him." Vuko stared hard at his compatriot.
"Every move we make is a risk Katra, the Drakhar will never obtain its former glory without it." Katra sighed, she knew Vuko was right, but this wasn't just any old Drakhar they were dealing with - if this one died at her hands, she was sure the consequences would not be favourable for her.
"I just don't want anything to happen to him. This is the King we are talking about, how will the people react if something happens?"
"Something has already happened Katra, and doesn't look good does it?" Katra felt sick to her stomach. Was Vuko blaming her? She was the one controlling the rite after all. The General was not someone whom you wanted to upset, but she knew she had to stand up to him.
"This will be a gamble Vuko." The General grabbed the High Priestess around the throat, her head whipping back as he lifted her off of the ground - impatience had always made him volatile.
"Then roll the dice and let's see what happens. We have come too far and waited too long to prolong this any further. I will not waste any more time trying to decipher the unknown High Priestess. Pray to Solus Bal that you can make it happen!" Vuko Vlad dropped the High Priestess to the ground. Katra gasped for breath, but despite the brutal nature of what just happened, she remained unharmed.
The message was clear, she needed to awaken the king regardless of what happened. Great Lord Solus Bal, she prayed. Please grant me the power needed to awaken Eefest. She held the Staff of Darkness in her charred hands, trembling from the pressure of expectation. She could never remember being so nervous, she licked her lips again and swallowed hard - she needed to find the answers and quick.
As she looked down upon the Priest-King, she focused upon the electrical energies sweeping across his body and tried to study their purpose. They must have got there somehow, and they must be there for a reason.
"What do you see?" General Vuko Vlad could see the faraway look on her face; he knew that look, he had seen it on many of his Drakhar mages.
"I see a prison, a final cage that we must unlock." Vuko nodded, it was just as he had suspected. The humans had somehow placed a final trap to shield them from the power of their leader; some final guard placed upon the body of the priest-king so that he could not be raised.
Had Vuko been the leader of the humans he would have destroyed the body and ground the bones into dust. Maybe they couldn't. It was the only logical reason why they hadn’t.
"And how do we free my brother from his bonds?" Katra lowered her head and stared at the ground. "Katra, how do we free him?"
"The bonds are so powerful, so pure, it was surely the Oracle of Tempus who placed them there. This magic is truly divine and comes directly from Tempus. I fear we cannot remove it without her." Katra kept her head down and swallowed hard, she was unable to meet Vuko's gaze as she feared his wrath.
Tempus! The thought didn't make Vuko’s stomach churn like the thought of Wotan did, but Tempus too was one of the new ‘Gods of Light’ - and at this moment in time, it was this particular god of light that was thwarting his plans. You may have delayed me Tempus, but I shall take great pleasure in destroying your followers too.
"Then we must do everything in our power to find this Oracle and force her to release these bonds from Eefest." Katra turned and looked up at the General - any idea that would take the focus off of her was a good one.
"But how can we possibly find her, she could be anywhere, anywhere in the world." Once again Vuko Vlad's mouth thinned as his grim, black-lipped smile returned to his face.
"We can't," he answered. Katra looked at him perplexed, not quite understanding what he meant. "But I do believe I know someone who can." Katra stood up using the staff as support, she wasn't sure who Vuko was talking about, but she didn't really care. She was just glad he had an answer to their problem and that she wasn't likely to suffer.
"And who would that be?" she asked curiously. Vuko's dark, red eyes shone in the chamber so brightly that they lit Katra's face up with a crimson glow.
"Just some friends I made in Castle Candelier," he replied cryptically.
7. THE ORACLE: SAVING THE SAVIOUR
The Oracle slowly regained consciousness. She was sore all over, but she tried to open her eyes as far as she could - which was not far, thanks to the swelling she obtained from the beating.
She could see that she was in a stone cell. Moss grew on the cracked and decaying walls. The cell was small and dirty. In one corner there was a small pile of hay which the Oracle was to use for bedding; it looked damp and dirty and not at all comfortable.
Thick, strong iron bars stopped any escape from the only exit. The cell had no window, but there was some light shining in from a torch burning in the corridor outside. She surmised that she was in the dungeon underneath the Temple of Kara.
She had scrape marks down her arms and legs, her blouse was torn; baring her back and the freshly made welt marks upon it. It seemed that after she had lost consciousness, they had tossed her face down into the cell, uncaring as to how or where she landed. The stone slabs on the floor were cool against her skin; blood trickled down from a cut on her lip.
She tried to sit up; it was painful, but she managed it. She looked around. There were no mirrors to see her reflection, but she didn't need a mirror to know that she was a mess. Her hair felt knotted and tangled, she sweated from the humid air. Dry blood had caked onto the right side of her face, and although she couldn't see them in the dark light, she could feel the many bruises upon her body.
Memory stirred, and she tried to think back to what she had said during the ordeal. What had she revealed to the pain? What had she confessed in the throes of agony? Who
had she betrayed and what secrets had she given up? More than she wanted to, she was sure of that.
She moved her legs out in front of herself and rested against her knees. There was nowhere else to rest except against the walls, but her back was too tender for that. There was the hay, the so-called bedding, but that was so soggy and unclean that it made the walls look appealing. In the end, she sat in the middle of the cell and tried to get as comfortable as she could.
What had happened before she blacked out? She tried to think back, she remembered being in the room, sitting beside Dray, reading a book about Karite healing. Then she remembered that there was some kind of commotion outside. She couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but someone was talking in a very loud and aggressive manner.
Suddenly the door had burst open, and a total of five karite inquisitors stormed into the room; all dressed in the dark green robes of Kara, all wearing the pointed hoods of the Inquisition. She had stood up to protest the intrusion, but was forced to the ground by a large, dark-eyed inquisitor. The man had put his knee on her back and pulled her arms up behind her.
"What is the meaning of this?" she had demanded. The man pinned her wrists together with one hand and had pushed her face into the floor with the other.
"Be quiet woman!" he had demanded. "And stop struggling, you are only going to make it harder on yourself." She, of course, had known that he was right, there was no way she could have struggled against his strength, especially in a place where she was cut off from her divine powers, but she had done so anyway. The green-cloaked guardian then tied her wrists and dragged her to her feet, he had looked at the other inquisitors with a dead-eyed gaze. "And the man?" he had asked in an unemotional monotone.
"Still unconscious," one of the underlings had answered; the large one nodded in response.
"Watch him, he's dangerous." He then turned back to the Oracle and started pushing her towards the doorway. "Move."
