Sam’s tears flowed. She gripped him tight. This was the first time she let herself feel the weight of her father’s death. If he was right, her father was finally free of his bondage here. In a way she envied him and hated him for leaving her here to deal with this mess.
“He left me here, to deal with this? How am I to help our people without him?”
She pulled away from him as her tears faded.
"They have been taken by some evil within your cursed grove. I do not know how many are enthralled by it." she lamented. "Can you help me?"
“I can help you realize what you are destined to do. For all of your strength and power child, you battle things you cannot understand. You have seen horrors you may never understand. I assure you they will not be the last you see before your time is done.”
“What am I to do against such horror?” she asked.
“You have rage do you not?” She nodded. “And grief? Together they can be powerful allies. If you learn to focus the emotions that breed within you and point them in the right direction, you will find that mountains move and oceans flee before you.”
There it was. He was trying to help her, but attached to his service was the ask. He wanted to use her grief and rage as a weapon. At this point she wasn’t sure if she cared. She wanted blood and justice, she wanted to watch their false throne fall and she wanted everyone to see it.
So be it. She thought.
“What was the impostor like? What can you tell me about it?” he inquired. “Be careful not to color your memory with bias. If we are to reveal him and his darkness, we must use you as a counterweight of the Mother’s light.”
Sam thought about what he meant. Her emotions had clouded her mind. Details were what he needed. She would have to be objective in her report.
"He was evil, the feeling of air was heavy around him, and he twisted your thoughts so that you felt attracted to his words. It was like being unraveled and then twisted into some dark form of your own self. It was horrid. He was like the evil in the bard’s tales of the first age." she recounted. "He took the form of my father. I know for sure he has enthralled the Guardians, they all serve him now. As for the Watchers, I don't know."
“We have little time. Had he gained access to the reliquary?”
“It was where he killed my father. I am certain of it. He had the Spear of the Morning Star in his possession when the Guardians discovered him within the reliquary.”
“It must be how he found the Lost Tribe. He must have used apostate blood to activate the call of the spear.”
Falbanach rose to his feet, “By now he has access to every relic he needs to wage war. This is far worse than even the Oracle has seen. How could they have been so blind?”
Sam was unsure how to feel. Before her was a being of incredible power that trembled at the information she had given him. If he feared this, how could she feel any different. She knew how powerful the artifacts within the reliquary were. The level of security that her people had put in place was beyond excessive. It was that way for a reason.
“Did you see him take anything else from the reliquary? A stone perhaps?” he asked.
“None,” Samsara said. Falbanach scratched his chin.
“If he did not access the stone, then who did?” he muttered.
“What stone? What does it look like? Father kept a separate Reliquary in the event that the first was breached.”
“It is black, with a hole through its center. In my time it was called the stone of Fal, or the stone that summoned the kings. It was forged by Atum to control his five fallen demonic lords. When they fell it was cast into the sea, to be discovered in a distant time.”
She was sure her eyes betrayed her. “I have seen this stone. Father gave it as a gift. He told me it was a long dead relic, the Nemeton had declared it devoid of power. I wore it around my neck.”
“Do you still have it?” he inquired.
“I’m afraid that I left it in my chambers in the Acropolis.”
“Did the Guardians know he’d given it you? Did anyone know of the gift except your father?”
“No, no one knew.” she said.
Falbanach grinned. “Perhaps Dagda had not been entirely remiss in trusting your father.”
Samsara did not take kindly to the comment and Falbanach took note. "If there is still any chance, we can tip the scales back into our favor we must take it. By now the impostor has consolidated a great deal of power and has distributed it. He makes his move at the Conclave, he wanted to tip the Hidden Circle in his favor. With me removed, and a majority in his favor he can undo the power of the Golden Fist. He will control the Nemeton. Whoever he or she is?"
“He is dead, I put my halberd through his spine,” she said with bloodlust.
“Did you see his face?” he said.
“It was cloaked in light. He took father’s form before, when I saw him in the Greatwood he concealed his identity.”
“At least we can rule out those who share the form of the Goddess. This is good.” Falbanach laughed. “If they were to turn, we would not be so lucky.”
“But he is dead,” she repeated.
“This hooded figure you say cannot be killed by any weapon you possess young Seræphym. At least not yet. He lives still and he will make his move at the Conclave. A Conclave you must attend if we are to have any hope of saving your people and this world.”
Sam couldn't fathom how she had failed. A part of her always knew it couldn't be that easy. If it was her father would have done it long ago. She felt the weight of failure.
“Not failure, you kept the most important piece of your father’s work from falling into the hands of the enemy.” He turned his attention to the apostate boy. “If you know what he is, then you know how important he is. You are bound by the web of fate, your father knew this girl.”
Conclave weighed on her mind. If the warlock was right, she would have to bend to the will of the organization that had destroyed her entire world. How could this be?
“There is nothing fair in this world. It is cruel, and we must meet it with the same vicious zeal as it greets us when we take our first breath. Where it presents injustice we must show it justice.”
Though she had just met this strange old beggar, she felt grateful for his presences. He brought her answers where there were only questions. He brought direction, and that she could follow to an end. An end she hoped would bring about a means to punish those who had taken her father.
The pair stood over the young man and looked at him.
"Why is he so important?" she asked.
"The blood in his veins contains the key to removing the curse placed on mankind. The same curse that bound Atum and his generals to the Abyss after the Great Celestial War. Whoever has begun this terrible work already has access to each of the bloodlines. Every one of them will be present at the Conclave. If he can combine their essence in the proper configuration, he will have the key to breaking the first seal of the curse."
Samsara was confused. “Why would he need this one? He and his comrades captured dozens more, what difference does this one make?”
Falbanach looked at her. “The others are useless to him. This one carries the knowledge of the tribe, he is their shaman, he carries with him the future of the bloodline. Without him, the blood of the others is without direction. He or she knows this, and that is why they have continued to look for him. The witch was wise to pass on her gift before the sanctuary fell. By now she has passed. I feel her power growing within him. They will need him as a vessel if the harbinger is to return to this plane.”
“The harbinger?” she asked.
“The first of his fallen kings to return will be the one who fell last. Amaros, the anointed and most loyal lieutenant of the old empire. He would need the body of a powerful mage to return, one of pure blood. Of which this boy may be the last living vestige.”
Samsara looked at the boy. She had watched him rest for many weeks now, but she had never stopped
to contemplate why her father had guided her towards him. She fiddled with the cylinder that had led her to his position. “Will he live?” she asked.
¨With my help I believe so," said Falbanach. "You have done well in your father's absence young Seræphym. You may have single-handedly saved us all, without even knowing why. That takes a heart of a true hero."
Samsara didn’t feel like a hero, she felt like she had barely been present through any of it. Like she had been possessed by something external, something that had guided her hands and head.
"All heroes feel this way young girl, it is a feeling you will need to get used to. For this world is not done with you yet. Not for quite some time I am afraid. If we are to be successful in returning you to the real theatre of battle, we will need to gain what is left in your father's secret reliquary. Do you know where it has he kept it?"
“Well yes in the Acropolis.” she said “Father hid them in plain sight. They are all in my chambers. Dead relics and trinkets he believed were too dangerous to be kept within the vault. He always said it was foolish to gather every dangerous weapon into one place. No matter how defensible it might appear.”
He walked to the mouth of the cave. “He was no fool.”
“I cannot retrieve them, my presence would be detected at the Acropolis within seconds, but what I can do is get you inside and distract them long enough to allow you to infiltrate. There is but one way forward after your return to the Acropolis.”
Samsara looked at him curiously.
"You must allow the Guardians to take you into custody," he said.
Sam stared at him in disbelief. She had spent the last few weeks avoiding the Guardians at all costs. She knew where they would take her, what their orders were. If she were captured, she would be taken to Tara.
“If I am captured by the Guardians will they not also have the stone?” she retorted.
“The stone came to you for a reason. It will not call to anyone else. If they want the stone, they will have to convince you to use it or to give it to them.”
“And you’re willing take that chance?” said Sam.
“We must have faith.” he said.
“They will take me to Tara. I will be forced to undergo the trials. How am I going to bring my father’s murderer to justice if I am fighting for my life?”
“What do you think you’ve been doing the past few weeks?” he paused. “No matter where you flee, where you go, you will always end up in Tara. This is not something you can avoid. Should you want to avenge your father, the only way is through the fire. Right now you must not think of the trials, all that matters is retrieving the stone. You must be taken, and you must make it seem like you do not want to be taken. Our path forward lies in deception. We must deceive those who have mastered the art.”
She knew he was right. Regardless of how she felt she would never right the wrongs done to her people by fleeing this fight. She did not want to endure the trials. Even if she survived, she would be bound into servitude to the Nemeton, an organization that had allowed this rot to accumulate and roll over into her life. Her only chance to rectify to bring justice was by way of submission and subversion.
Samsara felt things begin to move in their favor. She knew the mission was insane, but she knew the Acropolis, and with the help of this warlock, she may succeed. They were out of time, out of options. If she was going to avenge her father, she had to go all in. The Conclave would be riddled with tribulation, and if she were to uncover the one who had deceived her people, she needed every advantage she could get. She steeled herself and prepared her mind for what needed to be done.
“What do we do about him?” she asked the warlock.
"He will be fine, none will find him here. Take my hand," he said. Samsara did as he asked. As soon as she took his hand she felt the space within the cavern close around her. It felt like when he had grabbed her in the woodlands, only this time she felt her body stretch and bend more. Before she could gather her thoughts, she was standing atop a rock with waves crashing against it. Night had fallen and the towering Unreachable Isle stood before them. It careened upwards for nearly a mile into the air. Falbanach stood to her left, his eyes were closed.
“Do you have a way inside?” he asked.
“Yes there is a passage from the caverns below, it’s a steep climb but It shouldn’t take me long. What do you plan to do as a distraction?”
"I suggest you make haste," he said dryly. His concentration was focused on something else. She felt a strong wind come from behind her. Samsara turned to see if a tempest had formed. Behind them, her eyes reported an incredible sight. A massive wall of water built. Falbanach spoke in a strange language, it created a heavy feeling in the surrounding air. The power built and built until Samsara heard the warning bells of the Acropolis.
“Are you insane? There are children in the city.”
“Whatever is left in that reliquary must be sunk to the bottom of the ocean where he cannot gain access. The small and meek will not be harmed, you must trust me Samsara. Go no, or we lose all hope,” he said to her forcefully.
Samsara leaped from the rock and took flight towards the cavern from which she had escaped. She wondered if there would be anyone guarding the passageway. They may have found it after her escape, but they had bigger worries. She looked behind and saw the wall of water had nearly doubled in size. She was running out of time and fast. Sam was furious with him. They needed the stone, but she had not anticipated that he would call forth a hurricane. She had begun to understand the concept of sacrifice.
She reached the opening of the cave and took one last look at Falbanach. He stood where he was on the inconspicuous rocks at the water’s surface. The waves were as large as mountains and hid his location well. The attention of the Guardians was fixed on the wall of water. Across the ancient city that topped the towering isle warning bells and signal fires raged. Falbanch's voice hung in the air and grew in intensity with the storm. It was only a matter of time before the guardian's keen eyes noticed him. Once they did they would take aim with every weapon in their arsenal. His body was frail, the vessel had aged, but his spirit remained more powerful than ever. He conjured the power from deep within him and Sam prayed to the Goddess to give him the strength before she began her ascent.
Sam moved through the passageway as swiftly as she could. Minute after minute passed, all the while her focus was on whether her people would be safe. She knew the stakes, and she pressed harder to reach the top. She bashed her elbows against rock and bumped her head a few times, cutting her skin and bruising her body. They were small sacrifices to make. She reached the doorway to her room. Sam reached for the handle and noticed that it was stuck. She gripped it and pressed with all of her might, but it would not budge.
"Damn!" she cried. Through the door, she could hear the warning bells and the terrified cries of her people. She pressed against the small door with her shoulders and rammed her body against it, all the while screaming and shouting. After several advances the door gave way and as she climbed through the portal, she noticed it had been opened on the other end, a hand extended aid through the passageway. Samsara didn't have the time to determine if the hand was friend or foe, she took it. Once above the doorway, she noticed to whom it belonged.
“Sariel,” she said in disbelief. He lifted her from the passage. He was not alone. There were five others with him.
“Sam” he paused. “We thought you were dead. Where have you been?”
“Sariel, what are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you were enthralled!” she said ecstatically.
The storm raged, and the wind ripped through her chambers. "The order fled the Acropolis when your father took the Guardians to the Greatwood. We returned shortly after and infiltrated the Guardians. We have been lying low waiting for the right time to strike. This storm is the first chance we have had to strike back. More are coming to rescue those who remain true to their purpose. Come with us, you’re all that is left of your
father’s blood.”
Samsara was pleased to hear not all of her people were enthralled to the evil that had taken the Guardians. She was even more pleased to hear that the storm Falbanach conjured would not wipe out everyone else. It was a welcome reunion that could not have come at a worse time. She was already committed to helping the warlock and she could not devote another second to any other course.
“Sariel, help our people I must complete what I came here to do. Get as many of us away from here before this storm sinks this island into the depths.”
Sariel could not believe his ears. “What has come over you, your first duty is to our people. You are the only one left who can lead them. We must get them to safety.”
“Sariel, I can’t,” she said. “I have to sacrifice myself. The Conclave is the only way our people survive.”
“I will arrest you if you do not heed my word,” he said. “We can’t afford to lose both you and your father. Whatever you have become involved with, I must end it. Our people come first.”
She could hardly hear what he was saying over the sound of the waves. Her eyes darted around the room looking for the stone. It was attached to a leather strap that held it about her neck. She shuffled through her desk.
“Samsara what are you looking for?” he cried.
“A necklace, something my father gave me.” she panicked. She tossed things about turning the room inside out. She noticed the looks the Watchers gave her. One even began to help her.
“Samsara this is madness,” said Sariel. “A necklace? Our people are dying!”
Then her hands found her quarry, “Thank the Goddess.” She tucked the stone into her pants.
Samsara hustled around the room picking up trinket after trinket. Each one appeared of little consequence. In fact, it probably appeared that she had gone crazy. Waves crashed outside the berth and water came flooding into her chambers as she hurriedly grabbed items. Sariel grabbed her by the arm.
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 29
