by Bill Mays
As he drew nearer to the small town of Keilly, Ado’s hopes were dashed. It became obvious there would be no freshly cooked food and no soft bed awaiting him. The town, or what was left of it, was a smoldering mess. Keilly had been destroyed. Fires burned on what looked to have been buildings at one point in time. Now they were blackened husks, piles of charred wood and crumbled stone. Strangely, no bodies were seen anywhere, only the remnant of civilization was present.
“What has happened here?” Herrin’s mouth fell agape at the horrible scene.
“Where are all the people?” Nivit’s big eyes began to water and her bottom lip trembled.
Ado said nothing aloud. He only mumbled the words to another invisibility spell. Tark soaked in the scene of devastation in silence. It reminded the gladiator of his last view of his childhood village, Minta. He could clearly see his mother’s tiny schoolhouse burning as if it were happening again. When the big man did finally speak, his paranoia was in control.
“I told you I had a bad feeling about this. This, whatever it was, happened recently. The fires are still burning. We must take cover. The enemy may be watching us even now.” The gladiator drew out his trident and began scanning the area, prepared for an attack that did not come.
“I don’t see anyone around,” Ado whispered from hiding.
“Me either,” Nivit whispered too as she darted back to Herrin’s side. Normally she would have called out, but something felt wrong and dangerous here.
“There are no bodies. It’s as if they were all able to escape before the attack,” the old sage stated hopefully.
The woman sifted through the burnt shambles of a shop. It looked to have been a clothing store. There were many pieces of burnt cloth in various colors and shapes strewn about the area.
“They could have been taken prisoner, or maybe eaten. We don’t know who or what did this. Let’s get away from here before they decide to return.” Tark was adamant. The big man’s eyes darted about nervously. His whole body trembled with excess energy. A strange chill crept up his spine.
“Look at this,” Nivit cried as she hovered over a patch of tall grass that had avoided the fires.
“What is it?” Tark called out as he headed through the town’s center.
He was set on getting through the place quickly. The big man was not interested in wasting time with investigation. The very air felt tainted and dead.
“For once, I agree with the gladiator,” Ado whispered loudly, “We should be away from here as quickly as possible.”
Herrin shuffled over to see what her assistant had spotted. In the grass lay a small buckler. The shield held a few marks to indicate it had seen some fighting, but what was curious was the emblazoned emblem on its surface. There was a symbol of what looked like a very long arm, ending in a hand with only four oddly shaped fingers. Herrin lifted the buckler for closer inspection; but, when she touched the metal of its surface, her fingers sizzled and she cried out in pain. The old woman dropped the item immediately and began searching her many pouches for herbs that could soothe the burn. Tark ran to her side ready to fend off whatever assaulted the woman.
“What happened?” He demanded. Tark scanned the smoldering buildings warily. He expected to see some demonic creature skulking about.
“The shield, it burned her,” Nivit explained.
“It’s probably still hot from these fires,” Ado offered from hiding. ”Now let us be gone!”
“No,” Herrin was speaking as she tended her wound. “There is some sort of energy or magic attached to that item and it didn’t like me touching it.”
“It’s cursed then,” Tark spat as he looked down on the strange symbol drawn on its surface. “That’s probably why it was left behind. Could it be property of some evil sect maybe? This whole place is cursed, even the air. Can‘t you feel it?”
“I don’t recognize that particular design. Perhaps they will know of it in Vool Hearth.” The old woman looked without touching this time. She wanted to remember the image painted on its surface. She tried to ignore Tark’s paranoia, but there was an odd energy here.
“I can sense a magical presence in the item, but it is out of place somehow. I don’t know how to explain it,” Ado squeaked nervously. The tremlin just wanted to leave.
“Did anyone else notice that the animals have left here, too?” Nivit wrapped her arms around herself as if she were suddenly very cold. It was more than cold, though; the air was drained. The girl was right; there were no insect noises or night bird calls in the area.
“Yes,” Ado hissed, “They are the smart ones!”
“Agreed,” Herrin whispered. “Please accept my apologies for delaying us, Tark. You were right to rush us from this town. It feels - wrong - here.”
Tark could feel the gem beneath his jerkin pounding swiftly against his chest. It was like a second heart and it cried out for them to leave. An image flashed through his mind, but this time his eyes were still open. The surreal scene showed him a very tall, slender figure in a hooded white robe. The being was not quite human. It moved in sporadic, jerking motions. It stepped out of some form of unseen doorway in the air. It reached out grabbing an unsuspecting woman and dragged her back through the door that was not really there. It reached out from nowhere again and grasped a priest in white robes. When its long arm extended to drop the priest’s dead body, a buckler fell from the man. The buckler looked much like the one they had just found in the grass, the same symbol etched on its surface. The hand attached to the arm was deformed. Its fingers were twisted and lacking one digit. The strangest part was the blue tint to the creature’s skin. Tark snapped back to his surroundings. The fairy hovered close to his face.
“Are you feeling alright, Mr. Tark?” She asked innocently.
The big man shook his head clear. “We move out,” he mumbled loudly and rushed to take the lead. “Everyone stay close.”
Tark did not share his vision. He did not want the others doubting his competency. He was not sure if it held any truth or if it just meant he was losing his mind. Either way, they needed to hurry and learn what he was supposed to do with the artifact. Tark could feel things drawing in around him. Events were circling him and anyone he pulled in with him. It was like a noose tightening about his neck. Time was against him; he was certain of that much.
* * * * * * * * * *
They were forced to travel well into the night to escape the dead zone the area around Keilly had become. Conversation was strained among them. Even the fairy remained quiet. The area they had traveled through left them all with a hollow feeling. It was as if something had sucked the life from everything around them. Even the plants seemed lacking somehow. They did not risk a fire this night and their sleep would be limited to a few hours before the sun rose again.
Tark watched over his companions as they slept. He ignored the usual flashing images that he could not make out anyway, jumbles of people and places he did not recognize. There were no more hints at the identity of the tall blue being. There was, however, a passing image of Dalia in his mind. He held onto her visage as long as he could. Whether it was the artifact or his own dreams pushing her to the surface of his mind, he could not be sure. It did remind him how badly he missed her, though. He glanced at his sleeping companions and wished the lady were among them. She always had a way of calming him and making him more confident in his choices. Lately he felt like he could use that reassuring presence more than anything. Fortunately, his anxiety subsided during the night. The big man felt much more relaxed come morning despite his lack of rest. He chose to attribute this to the Lady Dalia. Tark felt that their minds had met somewhere between reality and the dream world, somewhere in that elusive realm of thought. She was thinking about him at this very moment, too, he knew it.
The daylight brought the group little solace. The hollow feeling of the dead town left a lasting impression. Herrin remained strangely distant. The motherly sage seemed always lost in a deep contemplation that left her face in
a scowl and her brow constantly creased.
“Any idea as to what that was back there?” Ado yawned as he broke the silence. He chose not to think about it until after he had the chance to sleep. No point in giving himself nightmares, he decided.
“None,” Herrin mumbled distractedly.
“Something evil visited that town. Something that doesn’t belong in our world was there,” Nivit whispered. Herrin looked at her assistant and nodded as if that made perfect sense.
“That’s reassuring,” Ado moaned, “and I suppose it will be after us soon too, right?”
“Why do you say that?” Nivit had a look of terror on her cherubic face.
“That was sarcasm,” Ado rolled his little red eyes. “I should have known it would be wasted on a fairy.”
“Oh, a joke,” Nivit faked a weak laugh.
“Enough of this worrying about what may or may not have been,” the gladiator was in a very chipper mood this morning. “We are growing near to the library, and I for one can’t wait to see what secrets are tied to this thing.” Tark patted his hand to his chest over the concealed gem.
“If the library still stands,” Herrin mumbled too low for any to hear. She was getting worried. Villinsk did not seem the same place she once visited.
Ado thought about Tark and his intense paranoia the night before. “You really are insane, aren’t you?” Ado grumbled from his perch inside Tark’s pack. “You’re just one overgrown crazy human. There’s no wonder trouble follows you. Last night you were all doom and gloom and this morning you want to skip all the way to the library?”
“Can’t a man have a change of heart? Life is too short to waste it on worry, my tiny friend,” the gladiator chuckled as he very nearly skipped along. “Let’s hurry! I want to learn about my destiny!” Tark grinned ear to ear.
His uncharacteristic enthusiasm brought a smile to the jittery fairy’s lips and a groan to Ado’s. The gremlin did not know which was worse, the paranoia or the bubbling happiness. Ado decided they were equally obnoxious. What the gremlin really wanted was to cause a little mischief. That would help him relax. It was an innate part of his being. It is what tremlins do, he thought to himself. Grumpy and tired, Ado decided to entertain himself at Nivit’s expense. Playing off of the girl’s fears, he used some minor illusions to make her jump at every turn. The flower that winked at her and the bird that smiled her way with rows of sharp teeth were just a couple of his pranks. It felt good and helped to ease the little mage’s worries.
They found a well-used road and stuck to it. According to Herrin, it would lead them to the hearth. It was strangely quiet here, too. They passed no other travelers on the journey. Animals had returned, but they seemed exceptionally nervous.
“This is very, very odd,” the old woman would mumble to herself periodically.
Another night came and they camped just off the pass. Tark was hoping to encounter someone, anyone, so he could learn what was going on in this foreign land. So far, it seemed nothing like the place Herrin had described. She talked of mass pilgrimages at every turn and wandering minstrels. They saw no one through the night or well into the next day. Villinsk was peaceful enough, but it did not seem like much of a kingdom. They saw no signs of a ruling presence and no traces of organized peoples. There were a few farmhouses along the way. They made an effort to stop at each one, but no one had been home. The crops looked like they had not been tended in a week. Everything looked abandoned. Every now and then, they would notice signs of boot or hoof prints in soft patches of the road. In these instances, there were many peoples’ tracks overlapping one another. Maybe it was some sort of special religious pilgrimage, Tark thought. Herrin described them as a faith-filled and artsy people. He could not imagine what could possibly entice everyone to take up a journey at the same time, though. Surely they did not all share the same worship. Things were getting stranger and stranger.
* * * * * * * * * *
After what seemed like forever, a raised hill came into view. Atop the hill was a huge structure with delicate towers all around its broad oval base. The ornamental towers almost looked like slender fingers supporting a large ceremonial candle. Numerous sculptures and murals decorated its walls and topped its domed roof. The shapes and colors were exceptionally diverse all clustered together and in stark contrast to the natural surroundings.
“That is Vool Hearth I presume?” Tark stated aloud.
“Oooh, how pretty!” Nivit gasped, clasping her hands together in front of her face. “Like a giant flower!”
“It’s kind of gaudy if you ask me. Well what are we waiting for? We didn’t come all this way just to look at it. Start walking!” Ado squeaked from Tark’s shoulder.
“Proceed with caution,” Herrin warned.
“What’s wrong, Herrin?” Her tiny assistant could not understand her lack of excitement now that they had finally arrived.
“This isn’t right. Where are all the people? Where are the travelers and the musicians? Something terrible has befallen Villinsk.” The sage sucked in a deep breath and began the trek towards the abandoned hill. Her fond memories of the temple library seemed out of place in this desolation.
Tark led the way with weapon in hand. He took Herrin’s warning to heart. Ado was invisible and had been persuaded, though not easily, to place Herrin under the same spell. A small bluebird rode along on the gladiator’s shoulder. To any watching, it would appear that Tark was alone. As he drew nearer to the structure, he could see the many areas around the grounds where people had once gathered. Intricately carved stone tables and benches were scattered here and there. He strode past all of these without a second glance. His sights were set on the temple’s main doors.
“Move with care, gladiator,” Herrin whispered. “This was a temple of great power. If something did attack and win, then we have little chance of challenging it.” Tark nodded his understanding.
The bluebird hopped up and down on his shoulder chirping, and then shifted back to fairy form. “I can’t talk with a beak, or at least nobody understands me when I do.” Nivit looked annoyed. “I was trying to tell you that I don’t feel any negative energy here.”
“Stupid fairy! We’re supposed to be hiding!” A voice squeaked out of thin air.
“Oh, yea,” Nivit smiled sheepishly at Tark. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tark. It’s just that everybody else gets to talk.”
She then shifted back to bird form. Never mind the fact that she was a redbird this time. Tark sighed. It was not worth the effort to correct her. The big man knocked on the huge copper doors loudly, but there was no response. Only the sound of his banging echoed out softly.
“In my day, we just came and went. The door was always open and had no attendants,” Herrin whispered. “This is disturbing.”
“Here goes nothing,” Tark whispered.
The huge latch lifted easily and the shiny doors swung in with the slightest of pushes. A vaulted entry hall decorated in an eclectic collection of paintings and tapestries led to the heart of the temple. There was a plush carpet with a swirling green and orange design running the length of the passage. It was clear by the scuffmarks that the carpet had been used frequently not too long ago. The companions moved cautiously down the empty hallway and into the biggest library any of them had ever seen. At least ten stories high, there was a central opening leading all the way to the temple ceiling. The area of the ceiling directly over this opening was constructed of colored glass panels that let in the sun’s rays. The oval opening gave each floor a balcony to look up to the stained glass portion of the ceiling. The glass panels depicted Nickadameous, God of Knowledge and Time. His image was always portrayed as an old man with a long white beard and robes of many colors. In his hands was a large book, the book of knowledge. It was said that every bit of information that had ever been could be found in his great tome. A glimpse of each level of the temple could be seen from the base level through the open balconies. Books and scrolls lined shelf after shelf as far as the eye cou
ld see. Any clear wall space was covered in paintings and tapestries telling important events of the past. Small pedestals sat in every nook and cranny supporting some form of sculpture or other artwork. The library was currently empty of people. It was so quiet Herrin could hear her own breathing. There had always been music playing and conversations at every turn. This silence was eerie.
“Now what do we do?” Tark whispered as he turned to evaluate every stairwell and doorway. “If there is something in here, it has plenty of places to hide.”
The bird chirped a couple of times then darted off flying over the bookshelves on each of the ten levels.
“Well that was very discreet -- stupid fairy,” Ado hissed.
In a matter of moments, Nivit came flitting back to Tark’s side. “I checked all over and I didn’t see anyone,” the fairy shrugged. She was back in her normal form.
“My how the hearth has grown. I think they’ve added a couple of floors since last I saw it. I guess we can begin with the research,” Herrin sighed sadly. She was obviously disappointed with the change in the temple. There was no warmth or happiness here.
“There are still the doors leading to the towers,” Ado warned. “Something could be waiting behind one of those.”
“They used to house the priestly order’s private quarters and meditation chambers.” Herrin spoke with a tone that suggested everything she knew might very well be wrong now.
Just then, one of the tower doors swung open. Herrin gasped, Nivit screamed, and Ado screeched. Tark stood at the ready with his trident spinning before him. From the portal stepped a middle-aged man with neatly trimmed hair and beard of ash brown. He wore robes of blue-violet with specks of red and yellow at the edges of his sleeves. A green and orange sash wrapped securely about his waist. From his neck, there hung a chain with a sizeable metal medallion. The medallion had a symbol of a book and hourglass on it. He looked surprised, and then annoyed.
