by A J Allen
“It is not necessary that only one should prevail in a single contest, young Tiberion, but that each be able to bear the weight of all their successes and failures at the same time.” She turned to Simon, Jack, and Rachel. “To that end, Lord Lionsbury will see you now. Follow me and remain silent.”
Lady Bellemar opened the door. “You are not to leave until I come and fetch you. Is that understood?” She ushered Simon, Jack, and Rachel into the Council chamber and shut the door behind them.
The Holy Seer sat in his Lordship’s chair, a plain wool shawl over her white head and thin shoulders, her bony hands folded in front of her on the large oak table. “Be a dear boy and fasten each bolt securely, won’t you, Simon?” A warming fire burned in the hearth. There were no monks or any other Council members in the room.
Simon and his friends bowed and kept their heads down. “Holy See—See—er?” Jack stammered. “Lady Bellemar said his Lordship wanted to see us.”
“Please, each of you take a chair and draw closer to the fire. Let us all stay warm, for my eyes and bones are not as they once were.” She pointed a shaking finger at the door. “But first...”
Simon slid both heavy iron bolts into their latches. He drew a chair close to the table and waited, the breath barely escaping from his lungs.
Rachel shifted on her chair, pumping her foot up and down while she looked around the chamber.
“Whatever is the matter, dear?”
“Holy Seer, forgive me but I wanted to apologize for the other night when you asked me to fetch a book from the library.” She looked shamefaced down at the floor.
“Yes?”
“I ... I” Rachel cleared her throat. “Something very strange happened as I was reading a story. There was a voice, a woman’s voice. I became frightened and ran from the library without the book but when I returned to tell you what happened you weren’t there.”
“Where, dear?”
“In the hall near the women’s dormitory. I angered Lady Bellemar when she saw me out after curfew.”
“I see, well, I have become quite forgetful these last few years so it is you who must forgive me if I don’t recall, although it sounds very much like a dream I had recently, so vivid and clear I could not tell the difference.” Her thin lips rose in a bemused smile “And tell me, child, did you enjoy the story in the book?”
Rachel blinked with astonishment. “Yes, Holy Seer. It was... a most intriguing tale of a winged queen and her six lords.”
“A winged queen, you say? Gracious, that does sound interesting! And you must share it with all of us when time allows, but first there is the grave matter before us.” She took a long, slow breath as though summoning the strength to speak. “Lord Lionsbury and I have discussed the seriousness of your situation and have come to the only conclusion that will offer our people hope in this time of their greatest need.”
Simon leaned closer, his long hair falling forward. “Please, Holy Seer, you know Mister Byrch is a good and honest man. He was overcome by grief and his judgment clouded by anger after what he saw. I beg of you not to punish him any further and return him to his post.”
“Your defense of our trusted friend is admirable, dear. Oswin will return to our good graces after he has rested from his ordeal for even the most stouthearted among us can be overwhelmed by sorrow and guilt.”
Jack exchanged stunned looks with his friends. “Then... we’re not being punished?”
“Oh? Do you believe you deserve it?”
“No!” the three replied at the same time.
“Very well. I thought, perhaps, I detected a hint of disappointment. You will not be disciplined, but you will be challenged, and I fear it will prove the more terrifying experience of the two.”
Simon pushed back from the table. “I’ve seen many a hanging tree and know some at Farrhaven wish I was already swinging from its branches. If there’s worse suffering than that, I don’t know of it.”
The Holy Seer unfolded her hands on the table, revealing a small vial of green liquid. “Unfortunately, that may not be altogether true, Simon. Do you remember now what you saw in the Corridor of Shadows?”
Simon dug his fingers into his palm. “Yes, though I wish soon to forget.”
“And in time, you would, so it becomes nothing more than a disturbing memory, something you would easily dismiss as the after-effects of the poison, as you call it, and that is precisely what our enemy desires.”
Simon looked to his friends for an answer but they both sat tongueless and mystified, their anxious faces creased with confusion.
The Holy Seer removed the woolen shawl from her head. Her snow-white hair fell to her shoulders. “You are the only protector known in almost a thousand years to have survived for so long in the Corridor of Shadows and to have returned alive. There is a reason for that, Simon, a reason only you can discover. Do you still not believe what you have seen with your own two eyes or will you betray your promise and sacrifice all to the Choldath?”
The gruesome image of Brennus Paliter, butchered and hanging in the wind, held firm in his mind. And he knew there would be more, many more such instances if he did not do what he could to help destroy this unspeakable evil now before it festered and grew. Simon’s heart and head pounded and the brand on his chest burned. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I... believe. I do believe what I have seen.”
“And what is that?”
“Certain men will choose bloody acts to summon dark forces within themselves and by setting them free wreak havoc upon the world.”
“Why would any commit such unspeakable crimes against the innocent?”
Simon rubbed the spot on his tunic concealing his chest brand. “Because they believe it will give them power over all they desire.”
The Holy Seer drew her shawl in tighter around her shoulders. “And are you willing to fight these demonic agencies of tyranny and death at the risk of your own life and soul?”
Simon recalled Byrch’s warning to Rachel in the forest. He was no longer the illiterate, cowering slave of the cruel Pumbertons in Grimsby. He was an initiated defender of the realm, a sworn protector of the noble Marcus Evermere and his claim to the throne. What he had achieved in such a short time he would not have believed possible, yet here he was at Farrhaven in the presence of the Holy Seer.
“Simon?”
Simon drew a deep breath. “Yes, Holy Seer. I am willing, for if we do not fight, there will be no life worth living for any of us if we fail.”
Jack ran a hand down his face and exhaled in frustration. “I and my brothers will do whatever you ask, but are you saying we should go to war against this unseen enemy lurking in the shadows? Have you told Marcus and the others? What of the King? How is he to be chosen if it comes to war?”
“I said each of you would be challenged, my very young lord, for the rites continue. If we ever hope to overcome this enemy, then whether the King is crowned or not, we must first be certain of the six-headed demon’s name.” The Holy Seer picked up the vial of green liquid. “If I had the strength to undertake this journey, I would, but I must remain in this realm if I am to help our people. That is why the three of you must return to the Corridor of Shadows.”
A cold breath of air touched Simon’s cheek. “But why Rachel and Jack? I’m the one who faced the creature and came back. So, I’ll return alone.”
“No, Simon, you cannot traverse that shadow land by yourself this time because of what you must do. You will need the help of two protectors who, only now, you are beginning to trust and open your heart to in different measure. Only these two can aid you in this task if you hope to return with the demon’s name. No other protectors will suffice.”
Rachel and Jack looked at each other as though sharing a dark premonition that held them still. Rachel glanced at Simon, her expression cheerless. She looked away.
“But why them? What must I do that I cannot do alone as before?”
“Listen carefully and remember the soun
d of the words I am about to speak.” The Holy Seer began to speak slowly, as if in a trance.
“Dalach mair su faytoh lantori daemonicou.”
Simon and his friends watched spellbound as her wrinkled face twitched and her frail body shook. Her head snapped back and her mouth gaped. Her eyes turned milky white as though suddenly blinded by piercing light.
As she fell forward, Simon reached for her. The moment he grabbed her shoulders, his hands burned like his chest as though being singed by hot coals. He gritted his teeth, accepting the pain and holding tight.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Simon?” She awoke with a start and jolted upright.
Simon released his grip and looked at his hands. The pain was gone with no lingering discomfort and they were unblemished by the invisible embers. “Are you hurt, Holy Seer?”
“I am beyond worrying about that now, child, but thank you. There are only two ways to break the trance. The laying of hands is the first.”
Rachel recoiled. She stood and folded her arms across her chest. “What... What happened to you?”
The Holy Seer exhaled and brushed back her flimsy white hair from her face. “The language you heard is ancient Asharru, oldest of the remembered tongues in the known world. We have but fragments and it is spoken only in the most secret, sacred rites of our religion. When the demon hears those words, it will be compelled to reveal itself.”
Jack rose and stood closer to the hearth, his face gray with dread. “What does it mean?”
The Holy Seer ran her quivery fingers over a sheet of parchment. “There exists a debased translation, quite profane, since the literal meaning is impossible to decipher. As a lady, and considering there is another present, I will not repeat it. Accept that it is powerful and our first weapon in the battle to come.”
Rachel lowered her arms and stepped closer. “Is it the same language inscribed on the temple pillars we saw in the forest?”
“You are very bright and observant, my dear. Few people outside the priesthood and King's Council know that or care to discover the hidden history of our Kingdom but each of you must do if we hope to save it.”
Simon stared at the vial. “Those were similar words his Lordship spoke before he killed the Necrolos.”
“Yes, and the power of that ancient tongue is that it compels not only the demon but the speaker as well. That is why you must remember the sound of each word. It may be only spoken once by the sayer.”
Jack rubbed his hands over the fire. “Only once? What if you say it wrong?”
“Then the demon’s answer will be false, its true name hidden for eternity and our people will edge ever closer toward the abyss.”
Simon picked up the vial of green liquid. “And if I speak these strange words clear and true?”
The Holy Seer’s eyes glazed. “The demon must surrender its true name and none shall have to speak the words again. To name the thing is to know it, to shed light on its dark mystery and thereby weaken its power in our world. It is the first and crucial step if we hope to eventually destroy it before—”
Simon leaned closer. “Before what, your Holiness?”
“Of late, my thoughts sometimes run away from my tongue. I know what I want to say, but the words escape me.” She slid the parchment sheet across the desk. “Read this until each echoes clearly in your mind, just as they did in your ears when I spoke. They must become second nature, part of your mother tongue, but do not speak them aloud until you confront the demon or you will be transfixed the same as I was in this chair.”
Simon read the phrase over several times, amazed at how the spelling on the parchment matched precisely the spoken sounds in his head. If he repeated it now, he was certain to fall under its possessive spell the same as the Holy Seer. He handed the sheet to Rachel. “But I was there, Holy Seer. None touched Lord Lionsbury after he spoke and he did not succumb the same as you, yet seemed greatly wounded after.”
The Holy Seer withdrew a ring-hilted rapier dagger from beneath the folds of her white silk gown. The gold hilt was embedded with small rubies and emeralds. The longer blade narrowed to a fine point. She turned the weapon expertly in her small, almost translucent hands. “The five patriarchs bestowed sacred weapons upon the noble families as gifts for their support in overthrowing our enemies during the Age of Heroes.”
Without warning, she threw the dagger over Simon’s head. He scarcely had time to dodge before it struck the center of a huge boar’s head mounted on the wall.
“Retrieve that for me, won’t you dear?”
Jack bowed, as speechless as his friends, and hastened to her bidding.
The Holy Seer rubbed her thumbs over her thin fingers. “Lord Lionsbury possesses his family’s sacred blade, Irkalla, and while his hand may still touch it, he can call forth a demon and destroy it without surrendering to the power of the summons. Until we discover the name of the one who rules them all, that is the second—and final—way to break the spellbinding effects of Asharru. One must possess one of the few known holy swords.”
Jack returned her dagger and she slipped it back underneath the folds of her gown. “And now you understand, Simon Blackfyre of Grimsby, why you must have those you trust most at your side at all times.”
Jack stood behind his chair. “Are you saying our old rusty sword Bella has this power?”
“Belessunu? Indeed, when held by one who proves worthy, otherwise it is simply a common blade like any other.”
Jack pulled the chair closer and sat down. “Why would our father not tell us that?”
“Because every noble except Lord Lionsbury believed that we would never have to face our ancient enemy again. Even High Priest Worlaw himself, upon whose counsel I have long depended, believed it. Perhaps I sought his wise counsel a little too long, for he was deceived—as was I—into believing the demons of our ancestors would never return.” She slowly nodded her head. “I pray Lord Delcarden is not yet lost to us.”
Jack fidgeted and rapped the knuckles of his balled fist on the desk. “There is no time to waste then. Our father must be summoned at once to deliver the sword to Marcus.”
“Patience. Word has been sent to the fathers of each contender and they will arrive within a few days but we cannot wait. Simon must uncover the demon’s name and hear it from its own foul mouth. Each of you must remember it before Simon succumbs, or there shall not be enough swords to strike back the hellish hordes that may soon be unleashed.”
Rachel and Jack nodded their consent. Simon rose from his chair. “What would you have us do, Holy Seer?”
A faint light twinkled in the depths of her tired, deep-set eyes. She offered the vial to Simon. “This is the purified essence of the same Eelamassi plant that initiated each of you. Simon has proved it is possible to survive longer in the Corridor of Shadows than any believed, and still to return not only alive but with all faculties intact. Apply a drop each on your tongue, then clasp hands and close your eyes.”
The Holy Seer rose unsteadily from the desk. “Remember, though your body remains here and cannot be destroyed in the Corridor of Shadows, your mind and soul most certainly can. Focus your awareness on the image of what is most compassionate, good, and true in your life, the one thing bringing the utmost joy to your heart.
“Hold fast your faith in this and your will shall remain constant against the forces seeking to overwhelm you. That is the way of Soru Kentay and your only defense in the corridor joining our two worlds.” She passed her hand over Simon’s face. “Our attention will be fixed on Simon. We will see the moment he is taken by the summons and that is when we will lay our hands on each of you to bring you back.”
Simon uncorked the vial; its scent was aromatic and gingery. He placed a drop on his tongue and it burned like oil of cloves as it spread across his tongue and down his throat. He swallowed and passed the vial to Rachel.
The Holy Seer hobbled to the rear door of the chamber. She paused beneath the ornamental sword over the threshold. “Now take your se
ats.” She motioned toward three high-backed chairs placed in a close triangle facing each other. “Clasp hands and close your eyes.” She lifted the latch. “Safe journeys to wherever your paths may lead and return to us quickly before dawn’s first light.”
Simon joined hands with his friends and closed his eyes.
Nothing will stop me from gaining my freedom and none shall stand in my way in this world... or any other.
A few moments later, his head snapped back, his body turning rigid beyond his control, blood burning, turning to fire as though struck by lightning from within.
Chapter 14
Vengeance from the Abyss
Simon fell through the starless black of night eternal. He opened his mouth in a loud cry of terror but heard nothing except cold, dank air rushing past his ears.
Below, the earth and heavens seemed to be whirling around together as if being stirred in the cauldron of the stormy cosmos. The rocky ground rose up toward him and he closed his eyes ready to meet his fate.
Simon moaned. He felt himself lying on a hard, uneven surface. He blinked and stared up through the shattered ceiling at the black sun, shining like polished obsidian in a blood-red sky, its cool rays strangely bracing against his skin.
He dragged himself up to a crouch on the broken floor, waiting for the dizziness to fade as he looked around the remnants of the same battle-scorched room. The first time, it had been a shock to wake in this desolate place—but now it just felt sadly familiar, a black veil of memory moving painfully across the back of his mind... and then it was gone.
Rachel lay on her side before him near a broken table. Simon rushed to her. “Are you all right?”
She coughed and rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I think so. Where’s Jack?”
“Back here.” Jack sat against the remnants of a crumbling wall, stooped over as if drunk. He rubbed the side of his head. “That’s the last time I drink anything that doesn’t come in a pint.”
Simon helped Rachel to her feet. “Did either of you travel to this place during the initiation rite?”
