They walked the winding path from his study deep into the belly of the Acropolis. Their destination was the Reliquary, a vault that housed the artifacts, both dangerous and rare, from the Golden Age. In the hands of a normal person an artifact could threaten the safety of hundreds, perhaps thousands. To prevent these disasters, they’d been hidden within the earth in a complex network of vaults and tunnels. Madan hands rattled his ring of keys as he opened the immense golden doors that sealed the entrance to the maze below. He could not imagine the horror that would be wrought if any of these artifacts fell to the man who accompanied him now.’
The door hissed and cracked as it opened revealing a musty scent. They proceeded into the antechamber the first of many passageways that led to their goal.
“Where is it?” the druid asked, his voice becoming impatient. “Where is the Spear of the Morning Star?”
Madan hesitated. He knew what he was about to give to the druid. It was the fabled blade that slew Atum. The blood of the tyrant remained on the cold forged iron. It was the first artifact laid to rest in the care of the Seræphym. There was no turning back. Madan had dug himself in too deep, and he was now chained to this fate.
“Need I remind you of our arrangement wordsmith? Of the consequences of betraying the Nemeton? Of betraying him? This research you’ve given me, the other members of the Sacred Grove would not look so kindly. They may even be convinced to label the Seræphym as heretics.”
Him? Thought Madan. A curious and very revealing slip of the tongue.
This was not a sanctioned action of the Sacred Grove. This druid, whoever he truly was, was acting outside of the divine laws of balance set forth by the Goddess. Still, he could do nothing. He was now just as complicit in his betrayal, and if he refused the Nemeton would no doubt punish his entire people. If he complied there was a chance, no matter how small that his people would be spared.
Madan raised his hand and pointed to a shelf in the corner of the room. The druid followed the line of sight and moved silently towards his goal. Before the druid was the Spear of the Light Bringer. His Watchers found it decades ago, but he never received the authority to use it. The Nemeton feared its power as well they should.
“The spear that ended an empire.” said the druid.
“Can you truly use it to locate them?”
“The blood of the father will point the way to where his children reside.” The druid paused before the artifact. “It is certain, with the Spear of the Morning Star, many things will be revealed, bookkeeper. A new dawn is upon this world, the dawning of a new golden age. An age of where man is free of the oppressive bonds of the Sacred Grove.”
Madan closed his eyes and turned away. He wondered if his ancestors if his daughter would forgive him. Madan called forth his many memories with Samsara before his obsession had ruined him. He remembered a single day on the cliffs of the Acropolis when his young daughter learned to fly. Her blue and green eyes elated with the joy of flight for the first time. He took her in his arms and smiled as he heard her laughter. The memory faded with the cold voice of the druid.
“Our oath shall be upheld, Sopher.” said the Druid. “the thirteenth tribe is found. ”
Madan believed those words would have brought him comfort after decades of tirelessly searching, but they offered no balm.
Was any of this worth it? He lamented.
Outside the vault, a loud thud and banging begun. Someone roused the Guardians.
Samsara you fool, Madan thought.
The Guardians would be no match for the druid. All that would happen was the enslavement of his people. He had few options left. For the first time in his life his life was the adventure he hoped for. Madan saw the chance present itself, this was his time. He reached for the closest relic. As luck had it, it was a blade, an ancient blade but its power was still intact. Madan struck at the druid with reckless abandon. His lack of training showed itself in moments. The druid parried and moved out of the way of his advance.
Then it happened. Madan felt the cold sting of and ironwood blade enter his lungs.
“Perhaps they cannot be saved,” said the druid.
Madan gasped and sputtered his lungs filling with blood. “Whatever you do, do not harm my daughter.”
Madan collapsed his eyes going dark. The druid stood over him and with a single breath absorbed his essence and soul. As Madan's body faded from the physical plane, the druid took on his appearance, his voice, his scent. Where Madan once occupied the shell of the body now the druid did. Madan felt the soul of the druid possess what was once his. His body was dead but his soul remained. He did not pass on from his body instead he remained a prisoner, chained by some foul magic. Madan could not understand. His soul should have ascended, yet he remained bound to his body. As if by dark force, to witness what it would do with his body.
It was a black art that few mastered. The druid’s form had vanished. He was now wearing Madan’s body. He placed the Spear of the Morning Star in his boot and proceeded to the vault door. He opened the vault from inside and stepped out of the vault. Outside the vault was Sariel the Captain of the Watchers, a contingent of Seræphym Guardians wielding golden halberds and Madan's daughter Samsara.
“What is the meaning of this?” he barked at the Guardians. “I demand an answer!”
The Guardians were prepared to lay the life down for the old bookworm.
“Sopher, the young Samsara informed us of a hostile presence in your chambers. We…” said Sariel the
"My daughter?" questioned Madan. Inside Madan fought to regain control of his body, but he thrashed about without success.
Samsara race to embrace him. "Father you're alive!"
As she held him, Madan heard a voice, it was neither his own, nor the druid. The corridors of his mind were becoming exceedingly crowded. This voice was not like the druid’s, it was born of something older and more foul.
“Vessel,” it spoke. “She,” it continued. The druid forged an oath with the Sopher to exclude Samsara from the Conclave, he could not break the oath without help, it was bound to his essence.
“Mine,” the voice called. “Powerful.”
The druid pulled Samsara’s arms from around his neck. Madan watched as she appeared shocked by the rough attitude.
“My daughter was clearly mistaken. As you can see, I am alone. None enter the vaults without my authorization. I have been alone the entire evening.” he paused. “Did it not occur to you captain that my daughter suffers from the Night Mare? That perhaps she may have dreamed what it was she saw?”
“He lies!” she screamed. “I saw it with my own eyes, there was a druid of the Grove attacking him.”
“Samsara! That will be enough,” said Sariel.
His voice was stern.
“Father, why won’t you tell them?” she wailed.
“Lord Sopher, our most sincere apologies,” Sariel bowed. “May we be of any further aid?”
“Take my daughter to her quarters and post guards at every door. The Nemeton demands her sacrifice for the Conclave.”
Samsara’s eyes were filled with disbelief. Sariel and the Guardians followed the instructions without question. They gripped her by the arm.
“My Father!” Samsara cried. “What have you done with my father?”
Madan watched helpless. She struggled against their iron grips but she could not wrest herself from their control. She kicked and screamed. Madan watched his hand grip a club from one of the Guardians and bludgeoned her head. Then everything went dark for Madan, the last thing he saw was blood dripping from his daughter’s head onto his hand.
Chapter Nine
Samsara, the initiate Keeper of the Seræphym
From the darkness doth arise,
Wholly open, unerring eyes,
To see the demons, slay the lies.
Samsara awoke within her chambers. She had an aching head, and a broken heart. The emotions of hatred, the feelings of confusion congealed into a potent mix for fru
stration that bubbled inside Samsara. Her entire life flipped upside down in less than an hour’s time. Perhaps it had all been a dream. She’d experienced dreams with eccentricities before, but none so poignant as this. Sam felt pain in her head.
She was unsure of how much time elapsed since the concussive blow. As she came to she noticed a pair of Guardians stood outside a barred gate which separated her chambers from the adjacent berth. There would be two more standing outside the door to the hall. Samsara stumbled to her feet and collected her thoughts. The memory of what occurred remained foggy. Then she saw him.
“Father?” she asked. “What is going on?”
“You were dreaming little wing,” he said. “The episode was frightful, you took a sharp blow to the head. I was worried.”
Her hands confirmed that it was a reality. Confusion laid claim over her mind.
“But I was in the Reliquary. Wait, no I was in your study before that.” she recalled.
“I’m afraid you’ve been under the influence for a day now. I’m sure it all seemed real, but I assure you, you haven’t left your chambers.” Madan said.
Samsara wandered around her chambers, stumbling. The memory of the dream was so vivid, she was certain it was real.
“There was... a druid, and... and he was hurting you.” she stammered. “After I left your study, I flew up to the balcony and spied on your conversation. He threw you against the wall. Then I went to get the Guardians, but then you were both gone.”
“You poor thing. It was all a dream, a terrible terror of the night,” said Madan.
“No father, it wasn’t a dream,” she said
Samsara walked to the door and tugged at the handle, but it didn’t budge.
“What’s going on, the door won’t open.” she turned to face him, but he was gone. “Father?”
Samsara shook her head, her eyes must have been playing tricks upon her.
Was it really just her affliction? Was it getting worse? She wondered.
Her senses were returning as was her strength. She opened the window within the door and peered through its thin opening to the outer hallway. At first glance she saw she was correct in assuming there would be two Guardians posted at the door. Something was wrong. In all of her years in the Acropolis she’d never been confined to her chambers. All children were confined to the Island until they received their assignments, but this was unheard of. She knew this could not be her father’s doing. If she could get the Guardians to speak with her, she might convince them that the man posing as her father was an imposter.
“Excuse me,” Samsara called through the window. “Where is my father? Where is Sopher Madan?”
The Guardians didn’t budge. Their gaze stayed fixed at on the hall ahead of them.
“You realize what this will mean for you once my Father knows what has transpired here?”
They neither moved to made a sound. She should have known better, their training, their breeding made them unbending servants. They would only respond to one question.
“Why am I being confined to quarters?” she asked them.
Samsara saw the Guardian recognize her question
“Samsara, daughter of Madan, shall stand as the tribute of the Seræphym at the trials of the Conclave. Samsara attempted to flee her duty to her people. Thus she must be detained until transport to Tara can be arranged.” said the Guardian.
Conclave, that was part of her dream. Was it all real? Was this druid fiddling with her mind?
She’d been the only one to see. If he made her appear crazed, no one would believe her.
“Why must you always rebel Samsara? Did you not think first of our people? Why have you been so selfish?”
Sam knew the voice well though there was a hint of darkness that colored the familiar tones. It was her father’s voice. A figure presenting itself as the Sopher appeared.
He faced the window and smiled. “Dearest daughter, I am so proud. That the Nemeton would choose you to act as the sacrifice for our people. What a momentous occasion! In this I know you will redeem our family and yourself. This opportunity will allow you to right all the wrongs you have committed against me, our people, and the Goddess.”
Sam’s hope dwindled. This was not her father. Though the Guardians did not comprehend the difference, she knew her father would never submit her to such barbarity. She panicked, she was under guard, locked away, and did not understand what had happened to her father. She gripped the handle and screamed. The metal from the door handle wailed under the stress of her grip. Her anger was getting the best of her.
She saw Sariel standing with the Guardians. He hung his head, he was clearly upset.
“Sariel! Don’t you see? Guardians this is not Sopher Madan! This is not my father!” she cried out.
Sariel approached, “Samsara we all care for you. You must listen to your Father.”
Madan looked at her, “I promise I will find you help. I’ve sent words to the finest physicians in the land. Sariel is going to deliver the messages personally.”
Sariel nodded, and Madan smiled slyly.
You are as rebellious and troublesome as your father. Perhaps we can teach you to be less selfish, to think of the good of your people. Said a strange voice. Samsara could not make out where the voice came from.
Samsara shook her head, trying to drive away the voice. “Get out of my head!”
Madan grinned. “Sariel, give me a private moment with my daughter.”
Sariel bowed and left the hall the Guardians followed, leaving their post without question and walked down the hallway. Madan inched closer to the window in the door. Samsara felt a sharp coldness grip her throat as the air temperature dropped. Her heart sank as the figure impersonating her father approached. Anger built within Samsara creating a tempest ready to unleash vengeance.
“What have you done with my father?” she said behind grinding teeth. “If you hurt him in any way I will…”
“Dearest daughter I am your father,” he responded goading her anger.
Samsara pulled wildly on the handle and crushed her fists against the oaken boards of the door. The boards croaked and wailed as they stressed behind her enraged assault. Her screams rang out through the hallways, mimicking the cry of a banshee. The impersonating fiend smiled and licked his lower lip. Sam realized he must have barred the door. She may not be as strong as a Guardian, but a normal door would be no match for her.
“Such power.” He paused and sniffed the air. “I think you will find that door is a match, even for your impressive abilities.” He placed his hands on the door frame and took a deep breath. ‘The Mal’akim are as strong as anything within the Father’s creation, and the Nemeton uses them as sentries and bookKeepers. What a waste. Just imagine what a man could accomplish with a host of angels at his back.”
His voice was laced with a dangerous and evil lust that Samsara sensed at once. This being that had presented itself as a druid of the Nemeton, was something far more sinister. The way it carried itself, how it spoke, reminded her of something.
“At first I was certain our lord would enjoy the crackling sounds of your spine and bones, the rending of your sweet flesh. It is no wonder he stayed my hand, to preserve such worthy vessels as yours is a far wiser course.”
An impossible thought occurred to Samsara. She had read about a being from the Great Celestial War, a soul so utterly twisted that it no longer held life to be precious. But there had been no such evil in over six thousand years, it was impossible. Surely it was impossible. Her eyes widened, and a whisper gave voice to her fear, “An Abused Soul…”’
“What a bright one you are?” he said. “The Goddess was right to chose your name from the multitude.”
Samsara shuddered and cried, “Goddess no…” She heard the slight cackle of the creature outside the portal, it breathed in deeply and she shivered. She heard it sniffing and smacking its lips as it drank in her fear. He had done something with her father, she was not sure what, but she had a
sinking suspicion that Madan, her father and the leader of her people was gone from this world. Samsara prayed that he found his way into the arms of the Goddess.
“No, no, that foppish father of yours renounced his oath to the blasphemous Nemeton and their Goddess. He has seen the light of Elohim! He is here, in this body with me. Your father was a hero, an angel of righteous virtue and soon he will become legion.”
“Curse you, demon!” she cried out.
“Yes, child it is true. He never cared for you, he only sought to use you. He stole your research and submitted you to the trials of the Conclave. He has given you up as a gift to Elohim.
“He did it all to bind your people once more, to return them to their rightful place as servants to the One True God, and soon the whole of the world will know him for what he was: a hero who will sit at the side of the Great Father”
“Liar!” she cried.
Sam wept on the other side of the door. The demon knew exactly where to strike. She had always assumed that her father meant to make sure his people had held their end of the bargain with the Goddess. But she had seen her father give the druid her research. He presented it as his own work.
How could he? She lamented. Samsara felt the bite of betrayal as keenly as she ever had. She flew into a rage, “Goddess Help Me!” she cried out as she beat against the oaken portal. She cried out to the Guardians standing at the end of the hall.
“Can you not hear him? The Sopher has been killed that is an imposter! Arrest him! ¨
The imposter laughed.
“They cannot hear you Seraeph.” He breathed in again. “They belong to me now, and soon everyone of your people including you will return to the service of Elohim. He has special plans for you.”
Samsara beat her wings and flung herself at the door once again. Feathers shed from her wings, and her skin tore open against the force of her assault on the warded door. The imposter reveled in her injuries.
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 11
