by Jake Adler
Ethan felt Alexon, his spirit ring stir, “Your suspicions hold true. The Treaty has formed a powerful bond. In time it will become impossible to resist.”
Ethan frowned as he stared at the white diamond banded in gold placed upon his right index finger as it sparkled at him in the sunlight, “What do you mean?”
Alexon chose his words carefully, “Soon, you will think of nothing else. Even your quest will be forgotten as your desires consume you.”
Ethan blinked in alarm, “What can I do?”
The spirit ring sounded relieved at his question, “You must find the Talisman Ethan. Trust me when I say that you will find it in the grave of Brid Clodagh. She never knew of its importance until it was too late to save her. You must find it quickly.”
Ethan frowned as his mind raced. He knew that the spirit ring knew more but was remaining silent in order to protect him. He had been given the information that he needed and now he needed to trust Alexon and act on it without delay. They needed to find the protective Talisman at Père Lachaise in order to be able to proceed on their quest.
They washed and dressed themselves quickly, not stopping inside the hotel to take breakfast but instead opting to purchase a Croque Monsieur, a type of toasted cheese and ham sandwich from one of the many street vendors. With mixed feelings of both trepidation and excitement, Ethan and Talina quickly traversed the underground metro system and were soon stood outside the main walls of Père Lachaise cemetery. It was not yet noon and the small winter sun shone high in the sky as Ethan wrestled with the idea of mentioning to Talina his earlier conversation with Alexon. He grimaced then quickly dismissed the idea. The last thing that he wanted to do was to unnerve her before they were about to enter a cemetery. Besides, he did not yet sense that there was any immediate danger and he knew that Alexon would intervene if his help was needed.
“Shall we go in?” he asked her softly.
Talina frowned and nodded.
It had recently rained and the air smelled of damp earth as they stood in front of the grey stoned archway of the cemetery. Talina read aloud the words carved on either side of the archway, firstly to those on the left, “Spes illorum immortalitate plena est,” her eyes narrowed, “their hope is full of immortality,” she turned her gaze to the right column, “qui credit in me, etiam si mortuus fuerit, vivet, whoever believes in me, though he may die, yet shall he live.”
They briefly exchanged nervous glances then stepped through the archway. They came upon the first of the many cobbled streets that ran the length and breadth of the walled cemetery that the locals referred to as the City of the Dead. The site spanned over a hundred acres and was festooned with thousands of trees, many of considerable age that neatly lined the streets and offered havens of life to wildlife that had made their home amongst the graves, tombs, war memorials and carved creatures of myth and legend that stood guard over the dead. The cemetery sat upon hilly ground, which often required the companions to use a series of stone steps as they searched the cemetery. The hours passed by slowly and the sun began to slide towards the horizon as the heavens turned crimson as they reached its centre. A grand edifice stood before them that had a cross carved out of white marble within it that was made all the brighter by a window in the roof. It stood nearly sixty feet in height and thirty feet in width and took that began to take on a golden red hue as the evening drew to a close.
Talina sighed wearily and pulled out the parchment that Master Bedwyr had given her, “He told me that the Seer in his book had stated that these words would be important for us, ‘Bonorum enim laborum gloriosus est fructus, et quæ non concidat radix sapientiæ’, she squinted at the text and frowned, “the toil of the righteous bears choice fruit and wise discernment is a tree that does not wither”.
Ethan glanced around him and shrugged his shoulders, “Anything more specific?”
“A tree that does not wither could be an evergreen.”
Ethan saw oaks, maple, ash and hazelnut trees, all without their leaves. His gaze then rested upon a group of ravens perched high upon one of the trees, it had no leaves as with the others but he was reminded of the time that he, Master Bedwyr and Cara had hidden from a group of ravens who were considered to be the familiars of demons.
“What street are we on at the moment?” he asked suddenly.
Talina glanced down at her map, “Avenue des Acacias, why?”
Ethan briefly remembered something that he had once learned in school about the acacia tree. It was a symbol used in Freemasonry to symbolise purity and the endurance of the soul it was also used by Hiram Abiff, the builder of King Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem as a symbol of resurrection and immortality.
He glanced excitedly at Talina, “I believe that we are on the right street,” his gaze rested upon two ravens perched upon a nearby tree, “do you see anything over there?”
“Yes!” Talina gasped as she moved swiftly towards a pile of dried, brown leaves nestled amongst the exposed roots of a small tree that could easily be mistaken to be a bush. The plant seemed to be nearly dead as its pale green leaves hung down limply amongst dried brown pods that dangled underneath spindly twigs, yet signs of life remained at its heart.
“Stop it!” Ethan demanded angrily as Talina began to claw at the dirt.
“What’s the matter?” she asked in alarm.
“Only someone from her bloodline can claim the Talisman,” he offered her a weak smile.
She bit her lip then nodded as she backed away from the earth. He could see her squinting at the ground as if it hurt her eyes. He knelt down and began to use his hands to clear away some of the earth. The ground felt cold against his hands, much colder than he had expected, despite it being a winter’s day. He sucked in a lungful of air to firm his resolve and continued to dig. Time passed by slowly as he felt his fingertips begin to bruise against the hard earth that had compacted itself around the roots of the tree. After several minutes of digging, his fingers brushed past something hard and flat. He carefully used his index finger to explore the object and felt a faint tingle on his skin. It was not an unpleasant sensation but he felt Alexon stir in surprise. The feeling passed quickly and within moments he had managed to clasp hold of the item and pull it out of the ground.
He turned the item over in his hands to find a circular object that was no bigger than the palm of his hand. It was encrusted with dirt and would need to be cleaned but he could discern that had some strange decorations within its centre and it appeared to be made entirely out of gold.
“What do we do with it?” Talina asked quizzically.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but Alexon will explain everything.”
He was not sure why, but the feelings of malevolence and obsession that were growing inside him like a dark shadow over the past few days were already beginning to subside. He was eager to return to the hotel to take a better look at the Talisman, “We must go as the cemetery is closing soon.”
Talina smiled then gasped as she pointed to something behind him. He turned to find that the leaves of the acacia tree were no longer faded, but a vibrant, with lush green and its branches were laden with reddish brown seed pods.
“Take some of these seeds,” Alexon instructed him.
Ethan did as he was bid and without asking why, Talina did the same. In the faint glow of the evening light he saw that she was trembling, “What’s wrong?” he asked in concern.
“I can’t explain it, but I know that something wonderful has just happened,” she replied as a tear slowly trickled down her cheek.
Ethan nodded solemnly and smiled. A feeling of great peace had descended upon both of them as if a soul had finally been returned to the Creator. He felt Alexon move comfortably inside him as his eyes flashed towards the acacia tree once more. The sun had now almost gone from the horizon and the night guards were busy calling for visitors to leave Père Lachaise before they locked the gates for the night. The two companions moved quickly and left the cemetery.
&nbs
p; CHAPTER TWO
The two prison guards slept in a drunken stupor as the figure watched them from the shadows. The overweight man sat slumped in his chair, his chin resting upon his chest as his snores echoed down the corridor. Old food debris lay scattered at his feet, remains of the prisoner rations that he had stolen earlier that evening. The figure continued to watch, barely blinking as it studied each of the men in turn as it searched for signs of alertness. Finally satisfied that all was quiet, it shifted its gaze towards the keys that lay upon the table.
The cloaked figure moved silently towards the item then quickly returned to the shadows once more. With its prize now in its hands, it wasted no time in traversing the winding dark corridors as it made its way towards the prison cells. It paused only briefly as it reached a locked door and with barely a faint click, the door swung inwards.
The scent of magic was now almost overpowering and the figure slowed as it began to edge its way towards the first of the prison cells. To an ordinary observer, there was nothing inside except pitch darkness, but the figure was anything but ordinary. The cell was crammed with dozens of people, both male and female, mostly human but some of the other races and almost all of them not yet reaching full adulthood. They all wore the same dark grey hooded robe with a sun shaped disc necklace as the figure’s eyes widened in recognition. It surmised that they had not been held captive for long as they did not look malnourished and the faint scent of death that it had detected earlier could now be discerned as emanating from the surface.
A girl whimpered as she lay upon the cold, filth-ridden floor and a young man with dirty blonde hair offered her comfort by gently patting her hand. The figure stared at the two young mages through the bars of the door as it considered its options. After a brief pause, it spoke, “I can free you,” it whispered.
The young man gasped and scrambled to his feet, “Who are you?” he asked as he stared into the darkness.
The figure was now deep enough inside the innermost recesses of the prison to light a torch without fear of discovery. It moved towards an unlit torch on the wall beside the door and within moments, a fire sprang to life. As the veil of darkness was finally lifted, the figure drew back the folds of its hood to reveal the face of a stunningly beautiful woman with pale skin, raven black hair and piercing grey eyes.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, “Who I am is irrelevant,” she brushed aside his question with a wave of an arm and opened the folds of her cloak to reveal her dark armour beneath. It was heavily engraved with symbols that the mage immediately recognised. “However what I am is important,” she cocked her head to one side and studied his expression closely and noted that he looked to be one of the few adults in the group.
He chose his words carefully, “I am no threat to you and I hope that you will return the courtesy.”
The woman suddenly broke into a dazzling smile, “Don’t worry, mage. I can smell the magic upon you,” she chewed upon her lip thoughtfully, “I believe that we have much to gain from helping one another.”
“How so?”
By now, the rest of the prisoners had begun to stir and nervous whispers filled the air. The young man signalled for silence, “What do you want from us?” he pressed.
“They have marked your door with symbols that make your magic useless, I can remove them for you,” she grinned mischievously, “or I could just hand you this key.” She moved in closer, “What I want is unlimited access to your library at the College of Mages. What I seek there is my own business.”
He kept his gaze distant, “Agreed, but how do we get past the guards?”
The woman shook her head, “We are not travelling upwards but down towards the depths of the earth by using hidden paths known only by my people. You will find nothing but death on the surface.”
“What do you mean?”
“My people have sensed something evil walk the lands for many months and tonight I fear that it has made its presence known in Ellington,” her voice trailed off then she offered him a forced smile, “follow me if you want to live,” she spoke the words quietly but her warning could not be mistaken.
He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, regretting his earlier deception about the library which he now doubted still existed as he had seen the College razed to ground, “My name is Roban,” he stated with a short bow.
She glanced at him in surprise, “Your etiquette requires me to return the gesture. You may call me Bruja,” she said as she offered him a swift bow in return.
Without speaking further she unlocked the cell door and then proceeded to free the other captives until their group numbered over three hundred. After leading them a short distance, she motioned them to halt under one of the few air vents that led down from the city. Bone chilling shrieks echoed down the small opening as a sharp breeze funnelled in acrid smoke. The city above seemed to be burning and whatever hunted its citizens could enter the prison at any moment.
Flecks of firelight danced across the raven black hair of Bruja as she carried the torch before her. Although she had no need for the light, it served as a beacon for the mages to follow as she led them through the dark, winding corridors. She paused momentarily and whispered words that Roban did not recognise then turned to face him, “We are entering the passages of my people. Take hold of this torch and guide them through the rest of the way, I will be with you shortly once I have closed off this exit,” she pointed towards an opening in the rock that he was sure was not there only moments before.
The faint screeches of the creatures became much louder as they entered the prison. The faint snoring of the overweight prison guard was immediately cut short followed by a blood curdling scream. A few moments later, shrieks of rage echoed down the corridors as the creatures discovered that the prison cells lay empty as Bruja gestured sharply for Roban to hurry the last of the mages through the opening within the rock.
They moved swiftly and within moments Bruja had returned to take the torch and lead the group forward, “We are safe now. They will never find this passageway,” she glanced at him reassuringly as her eyes glittered in the firelight.
“Where are you taking us?” whispered Roban as he moved in closer.
Bruja glanced at him but said nothing. Her expression seemed troubled as if she was about to say something but then thought better of it. After a long pause she finally spoke, “I will take you to the leader of my people. Do not worry mage, you are safe.”
He felt the heat of embarrassment flush his cheeks, “I believe you,” he replied, then quickly qualified, “you seem to be an honourable vampire.”
Bruja spun round and with a frightening strength, lifted him off the ground by the neck with the use of just one hand. Her eyes blazed with rage, “Never use that filthy word again mage. My people are not blood sucking monsters but the blessed descendants of Manannán,” she blinked as she realised that his face draining of colour and lowered him to the ground.
Roban choked as he gasped for air. His hands reached towards his neck as he felt his veins throb in response to the release of her iron grip, “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, “I meant no offence.”
“Are you alright?” she asked with concern, “it was wrong of me to react so violently, but your ignorance clouded my manners,” she moved in closer to see the scarlet silhouette of where her fingers had pressed hard into his skin.
He stared at her and saw the regret in her eyes. For a brief moment, something else flashed between them but the moment quickly passed as she turned to walk ahead of the group once more. Most of the mages were unaware of what had happened in the cramped, dark passageway, but those few that did had already begun to jostle their way towards the rear of the group.
After several hours of laboured travel through the cramped passageway it branched into a cavernous expanse. The size of the cavern was difficult to discern in the vast darkness, but it was clear that it was vast as the group were now able to walk abreast with one another. As the mages began to gather their wits, mo
onstones on their rings and necklaces began to shine orbs of silvery-blue light that cut through the darkness.
The group trudged onwards with their damp, soiled robes that offered little protection against the chilled air. They focused their gaze upon the golden glow of Bruja’s torch as Roban offered them gentle words of encouragement. As time passed, the rocky ground beneath their feet began to flatten and sounds of running water could be clearly heard as the air took on a strongly metallic smell. Before long, they reached what seemed to be a well-trodden path that ran parallel to a large underground river, its waters thrashing against the rock at great speed and forming a violent surface that regularly drenched the group with sheets of icy cold water.
In the distance, a faint glow appeared to the right of the flowing water. As they continued forward it began to take shape and revealed a spectacular sight. Buildings rose into the dark air that glowed with the colour of bright moonlight, their magnificent shapes were adorned with intricate masonry that seemed to include figures from all the race of the Kingdom of Nemedia alongside those of myth and legend. As they approached, the light became brighter and more shapes became distinguishable. What they first thought to be just a handful of ornate buildings were just the few that were on the edge of an enormous city. Thousands of buildings lay before them, with cobbled streets that also shone as if they were made out of the purest moonlight. The glow was so bright that as their eyes became adjusted to the light, it could easily be mistaken for a bright summer’s day.
