by Ross Turner
27
It was sheer adrenaline and fear that drove them to push their horses so hard along that track, all too aware of the demons pursuing them, they did not stop, did not even look back until they reached their destination. The High Priest’s Tower soon came into view, but it was still some distance away and they hastened their pace. Ayva grew weaker as they rode, numbed by the pain of her wound, which by now Isabel suspected was as bad as it looked, and she hoped that the demon’s blood hadn’t infected her friend.
She tried to apply pressure to stop some of the bleeding, but there was little else she could do. They hadn’t much in the way of medical supplies for such severe injuries. A few herbs and bandages were useless. They had to get to the Tower. It wasn’t long before she had to concentrate on just holding Ayva on the horse as they sped west.
The Tower of the High Western Priest of Vak’Istor was surprisingly different to the identical buildings of Kazra. It stood central in a small clearing, completely surrounded by the trees, with only one main track leading to it. Isabel had expected an exact replica of all the other buildings they’d seen before, but this one was different, and much plainer.
Whilst all the other buildings were square, this one was perfectly round and very wide, at least twenty-five metres across. The large stones weren’t polished and a single small wooden door indicated the only way in and out. A small arched, stained-glass window looked out across Vak’Istor a hundred feet above them, and the rest was stone.
The first to dismount, Zanriath approached the door without hesitation. He reached out his hand to knock, but before he could do so he heard a small click and the door silently opened. A young woman emerged, her hands clasped together; she was very petite, not needing to duck to pass under the small doorway. Though she looked young, barely sixteen, Isabel sensed that was something of a façade.
Her expression was one of worry and concern, which hardened her soft blue eyes. Her light, blonde hair was tied back to a ponytail, making her look much younger than she probably was.
At first no one spoke. The young girl looked between them for a few moments and her look of worry lessened slightly. Relief flowed through Isabel and she broke the silence.
“There’s still time?” The young girl responded with a slight nod of her head and, still saying nothing, gestured to the doorway. As she did so a young man appeared also from the Tower. He too said nothing. His eyes were a deeper blue than the girl’s and his short hair a slightly darker shade of blonde.
Zanriath and Isabel lifted Ayva down from the saddle and Zanriath carried her inside, having to duck underneath the arch of the doorway. The young girl beckoned to Isabel and the twins and they all followed. The young man immediately set about attending to the horses, but they did not see where he took them.
The ground floor of the tower was very sparse with few furnishings: two single beds, a chest of drawers, a table, and a basic kitchen. Everything was spotlessly clean, as if it had never been used. The floor had been scrubbed to white, and every pot and pan gleamed metallically.
Set in the same stone in the centre of the room was a large spiral staircase, much like the ones in Kazra, only this one had no walls and looked like a perilous drop from the top; the staircase led to the top of the tower and to yet another lonesome wooden door, etched into a gap in the stone ceiling.
The young girl closed the door without a sound and turned to look briefly at Ayva. The silence was strange. The instant the door closed they were cut off from everything. Not a sound could be heard from the outside world. Not even the slightest whistling of the wind or rustling of trees that waited still so close.
She sighed gently and began up the staircase, eyeing the now blood-smeared floor critically. Isabel and Zanriath instinctively followed still carrying Ayva.
The twins were bewildered by the whole place and still on edge from the skirmish only just over an hour ago.
Ayva clutched the gash at her chest, which was still bleeding profusely, her entire front saturated and blood red. Ascending the stairs was somewhat precarious and the steps were soon slippery with blood.
The young girl still had not spoken, but looked increasingly concerned for Ayva as they approached the top of the tower. Eventually, they reached the top of the staircase and came to another wooden door set carefully in the stone. This door however was not plain like the other; it was decorated with faultless engravings, etched delicately into the wood.
Carved in the wood was the image of a Phoenix, soaring effortlessly upon a sea of flames. The young girl seemed to study the engravings intensely for a moment before turning to Isabel. The look upon her face was one of deep sorrow and sympathy, almost as if she understood every ounce of pain that Isabel would ever suffer in her time still to come. And then an ancient voice sounded from beyond the door.
“Please enter.” Tearing her gaze from Isabel’s with clear reluctance, the young girl pushed the door open, again without a sound, and held it as they passed through, having to duck once more. She closed it behind them and then descended back down the spiral staircase, her footsteps soft and gentle on the cold stone splattered with Ayva’s warm blood.
The room they entered was exactly the same size as the one below, but furnished more abundantly. There was no kitchen, but instead a large bed and study off to the one side and a large dining table to another. Around the edges of the entire room were large bookcases, every one stacked to the brim with heavy books, save a small gap where the arched window allowed in stained sunlight. Oddly, though that was the only source of light, the room was still perfectly lit. Isabel searched round, looking for the owner of the voice amongst the tables and chairs and bookcases that should have overcrowded the circular space, but somehow didn’t.
Her eyes soon fell upon an old man sat at another small desk over to the right. He was pouring over a large open book, his hands carefully keeping his place as his eyes flitted left and right. After a moment he closed the book and placed it back in the single empty place on its shelf. He looked very old and frail but moved with surprising speed and purpose. His hair was white and long and he wore a small white beard also. His old grey robe hung loosely off his shoulders and he looked so comfortable in it that Isabel wondered if he’d ever worn anything else.
“Isabella my dear, Zanriath, please help Miss Ayva over to the bed. Kay and Hale will be along shortly to see to her wounds.” No one argued. The age-old wisdom in his voice was kind and understanding. Isabel presumed Kay and Hale were two who had shown them in, though she wasn’t sure which was which.
She and Zanriath took Ayva over to the large wooden-framed bed; by now she was very weak and slipping in and out of consciousness, though the bleeding had slowed considerably.
Only moments later Kay and Hale entered the round room, still without a sound, carrying a small bundle wrapped in cloth and a bucket of steaming water.
“Come my friends.” The old man beckoned to Isabel and the others, he now sat at a round table that Isabel had not noticed before and his hand extended to the chairs next to his own. Isabel looked back and forth between the old man, smiling warmly, and Ayva, lying very pale on the bed.
“Fear not my dear.” The old man reassured them, seeing her obvious distress. “Kay and Hale have healed many injuries over the long years, many much worse than the ones our dear Ayva has sustained. Though the demon who inflicted the wound was a powerful brute, our young friend is strong, and I have every confidence that she’ll make a fully recovery in no time at all.”
“How do you know it was a demon?” Ben asked. Zhack’s expression mirrored the same confusion. The old man smiled understandably.
“I shall explain everything don’t you worry. That is of course why you’re here isn’t it?” His question was directed more so at Isabel than anyone else, though she thought she was the only one who noticed.
“Yes.” She replied quietly. Zanriath looked at her with one eyebrow raised but she couldn’t explain. She glanced over to the bed where Kay
and Hale were bent silently over Ayva. “You said over the years…” The old man smiled again before replying and setting her mind at ease.
“Indeed I did. I thought you might notice. Please, sit.” They did so.
Ben and Zhack exchanged equally perplexed looks once more, but Zanriath seemed to grasp at least a little understanding.
“Many years my dearest.” The old man continued. “Hale is coming up to his three hundred and fifteenth birthday, and his sister her three hundred and ninth.” Zanriath and Isabel exchanged glances for a second, ignoring Ben and Zhacks open mouths. Their thoughts were along the same line.
“We have a rough idea on that…” Zanriath began. “Are you allowed to confirm it for us?”
“I see you’ve already come to some conclusions of your own.” The old man replied, stroking the pristine white beard at his chin. “I am permitted to give you information yes. That is after all the entire purpose of your visit. But let us first wait for our dear Ayva to be well enough to join us. We have prepared food for you. Kay and Hale shan’t be long. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
The old man’s prediction, if it was even a prediction, proved true, and Ayva was soon awake and regaining her lost strength. Her shoulder and chest were bandaged and, now in fresh clothes, she sipped gingerly at a steaming mug of vile looking liquid. Isabel imagined it was vile tasting too by the way Ayva’s face scrunched with every sip. But she said nothing, not wishing to question Ayva’s inhuman recovery.
Kay and Hale had vanished and returned in almost no time at all, bringing plates of bread, meat and cheese with them, closely followed by a pot of delicious stew. None of them had any idea how they’d prepared it so quickly, but they didn’t complain and were all grateful for the meal. They hadn’t eaten properly and the day had been a stressful one. In no time at all they were sat around the table with full plates of food in front of them, and the old man began.
“As you have probably realised by now, I am the High Western Priest. A grand title indeed, and one I may or may not need, but I hold it nonetheless. We know who you all are, and you have met Kay…”He gestured to the young woman who nodded her head and smiled. “And Hale…” He did the same and Hale repeated his sister’s gesture. “They are as I have mentioned a little older than they seem. I do not usually care to mention my own age and therefore we shall move on quickly.” He smirked almost childishly and paused for a moment before he continued, watching as Ben and Zhack pondered over how old he could be.
The top of the tower was warm, though there was no fire, and despite the fact that it was now dark outside and no light shone from the small window, it was just as bright as it had been earlier.
“As I believe you have come to realise, there are forces at work here beyond our people’s understanding, and beyond the understanding of even our Gods at times. It is my task, my purpose if you will, to be here to give you this information, and as it must be so, Koack did bestow on to me his immortality, for a temporary time you understand. The same can be said of Kay and Hale, but their purpose was not revealed unto Koack until more recently, which is why they seem much younger than I. It is their purpose to assist me, and clearly also to hone their skills in the art of healing, for without you my dear Ayva, your companions would unquestionably fail their tasks.”
The High Priest had spoken clearly but without pausing, knocking the wind from his audience with this sudden flurry of information.
“What can you tell us about these…higher forces?” Isabel asked.
“Not as much as you would like to know I’m afraid my dear.” The High Priest answered honestly with a sigh. “It is my duty to give you the information you require, but as I’m sure you realise, it is neither you nor I who decides what you are required to know, and therefore in turn, what I am required to know.”
“This is going to get frustrating.” Zanriath said smiling faintly.
“All will become clear my friends. By the time your tasks are complete I’m sure you shall have understanding that I may only dream of. And you have all done beautifully so far, if I do say so myself. When the time is right, you shall know exactly what is being asked of you. Now then, to business.” Isabel unconsciously leaned forward in her seat, eager for everything the High Western Priest was allowed to give her.
Kay and Hale sat quietly as he began. Isabel wondered exactly how much of this they already knew, and why they never spoke. Somehow, instinctively she knew that at some point, just over three hundred years ago, they had both had their parents stolen away from them. That seemed to be how this awful game was playing out.
“My Lord Koack’s brother, Demon-Lord Depozi, has released this evil upon our beloved Tamarack, and the reason for this you already understand I believe…as flawed as His reasoning may seem to be…” They nodded dumbly as the old man continued. “He has indeed struck a bargain, for want of a better word, with the demon you know only as the small boy.” Isabel’s expression immediately turned to steel and her eyes became flinty, but one sympathetic look from the High Priest softened her sudden flashing anger.
“You are right Isabel, the demons can’t simply be controlled, but the boy has a different level of intelligence, one that has been searching for an opportunity for his race to prosper - for a way out of their realm. When Depozi allowed them into Tamarack, he saw such an opportunity. He controls his underlings through fear, as you rightly surmised, and because he is one of their own, they will take heed to his threats, as he does not make them lightly. Seeing Depozi’s madness and anger deepen over the years at His envisaged worsening state of His people under the will of the Souls of the Ocean, the boy has decided it is time to take advantage.”
“What’s the deal they’ve made?” Isabel asked through slightly clenched teeth.
“Their pact is one of either great risk or great reward, depending on the outcome of you and Depozi’s meeting, which would explain why the boy is working so hard to stop you before the time comes for that meeting. He is, to some extent, Depozi’s inferior, and wishes to satisfy his master’s desires for his own gain. However, the force that controls our world, and equally his, will not allow such simple intervention, hence the reasons for the existence of people like myself, and Kay and Hale. This meeting will happen, so long as you wish it to. He cannot stop you Isabel. It is your determination to succeed that will get you to Depozi. As long as you keep following your instincts, and don’t give up, you can’t fail to reach Him.”
“What about when we do reach Depozi? What happens then?” Isabel asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t know. Oh how I wish I did. Long have I pondered that question and I yearn to tell you that I’ve found the answer, but truthfully, I have not.”
“That doesn’t fill me with confidence.” Ayva said with a sarcastic smile and in a slightly croaking voice. She was still slowly recovering her strength, but looked infinitely better than she had done only an hour ago.
Isabel smiled meekly as her wounded friend before looking back to the High Priest.
“You didn’t answer my first question.” She said. He smiled knowingly.
“Indeed I did not.” He replied. “The boy will reap the rewards of their pact if Depozi is the successor in your encounter. He shall give Tamarack to the boy, inevitably leading to the killing of every still-living soul here, and in turn driving His brothers from their islands. Depozi would then search for another planet, another civilisation, and take the demons with Him. He won’t be able to stop. He wants it all. The demons get what they want - expansion - and He gets everything.”
“That’s terrible.” Isabel said quietly. “He’d be doing it forever…”
“Consumed by His own destruction.” The High Priest concluded for her. “But if Depozi loses - if you are successful Isabel, the picture will be quite different. Because of the tear between the realms and their pact, Depozi and the boy are linked to such an extent that Depozi’s death would ultimately also result in the boy’s death, and the banishment of all his d
emons back to their realm.”
“And what if we kill the boy?” Zanriath asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be the end of Depozi. He is a God after all, and the boy is still only a demon.”
“I thought that might be too good to be true.” Isabel said sullenly with a faint smile.
“It would avert the meeting Isabel. I told you - that meeting will happen.”
“Ok then. I understand. So what else do we have to do? Where do we go from here?”
“You must travel now to Rilako. That is the next leg of your journey. Make haste. Ormath awaits you. The demons there are few; the boy has concentrated his efforts here in an attempt to cut your journey short. Even as we speak, he is filling our woods with yet another demonic army, even greater than the one he summoned in Hinaktor.”
“How are we going to get to Rilako if there’s an entire army waiting outside to ambush us?” Ayva asked, sounding like she was losing hope. This was not the same girl Isabel has first met. Her confidence was shot. Too much had happened and the ambush was still clear in her dear friend’s mind.
“He will not be permitted to avert the confrontation of Isabella and Depozi my dear. It is already set. The Watcher will see to it that you are granted a safe passage. That is something I’m sure the boy will not have anticipated.”
“The Watcher?” Zanriath posed.
“His tower is to the very north of Vak’Istor. From there he watches over our forests. He is entwined so closely with our woodlands that he channels his own thoughts through them.”
“Which gives the trees his will.” Isabel said, this time finishing the High Priest’s sentence.
“Indeed.” He said with a new delight, leaning forward and placing his hands flat on the table. “Your eye is most keen my dear Isabella. It is surely a pity that we must part company so soon.” Sitting back once more he breathed deeply and his hand absently came to his chin in thought. “Half of my task is now complete. I must now tell you what your individual tasks are, for you must each prepare yourselves for what lies ahead. Other than the knowledge I shall now pass to each of you, there is little other service I may offer you. Beside of course hope. I do dearly hope that luck is on your side, and I extend to you all my deepest sympathies. It is nothing short of a tragedy that it is the strongest among us who must always suffer the greatest anguish.”
