"That's not thunder," she said. "Can you make it? I know you're suffering but I need you sharp.”
"I can manage," he argued.
The rock wall slid open before them as a chamber quickly revealed itself behind the stone facade. Torches displayed a large amphitheater with wooden chairs and a elevated platform with stone podium displaying ancient writing on the sides.
"What is this place?" Isha ran her fingers across the ancient stonework.
"This is the assembly," said Nathan.
Isha was shocked for a moment as to why Nathan would know this but then watched him as he ran his hand over some of the wall writings.
"Can you read this?" she asked.
"Some of it looks like ancient Hebrew to me," he said.
At the far end of the amphitheater, stood a high-backed chair of stark white marble engraved with a circling pattern of old masters faces long past. In the chair, sat an old man wearing a white robe guarded on either side by two well-muscled young men. The seated elder gazed at the newcomers through eyes thickly clouded in white with only the faintest color of brown behind them. It became apparent to Isha that the man was completely blind.
“Why have you come,” the old man asked. “Don't you know that Mano has decreed death to all Vengers?”
“I am Isha Tulshia, Thrall of the Grey Branch and daughter of the Formori. Conner, Regfennid of the Blood Fianna, poisoned him and we seek your assistance,” said Isha.
“I am Arkos, Headmaster of the White Branch. As a Grey Branch member, you know the penalty for entering a different stronghold. None may leave unchallenged,” he said, as the members in the chamber echoed his decree.
“I know the decree and accept my fate, but I have one request,” she said noticing for the first time that Arkos was blind.
“You have boldness for a Grey Branch demon-user,” said Arkos.
“I've heard that the White Branch values life over all else. Is that true?” she said.
“So you say,” quipped Arkos.
“Win or lose, I want you to heal my companion of the hemah poison,” she asked.
“We are not above acts of mercy. Win or lose, we will help him,” said Arkos.
“Isha, don't do this,” said Nathan leaning on a nearby wall.
His face ran with sweat as his breath came in short panting gasps. It wouldn't be much time before the antidote no longer mattered. She quickly let her cloak drop to the ground that took her captors by surprise as they backed away from her. She was no more than five foot five, but every inch of her screamed danger. Her tattoos only accented the wild-animal fire in her eyes. She was lean, strong as the wilderness and held a cold expression of combat on her face. The skin of her arms, stomach and legs rippled as she glided towards Arkos like a vapor of death. Although blind, Arkos understood her abilities. She was savage beauty incarnate and deadly as a tigress.
“Are your warriors so afraid of a ‘girl’ that they won’t take up the challenge,” she said.
“You misunderstand, young one. The challenge has already been taken,” said Arkos. “I am the opponent.”
Shock suddenly came across Isha’s face as she stared in disbelief.
“You mean the so-called ‘men’ here would allow a blind old man to fight for them. What kind of cowards are you?” She exclaimed.
Immediately, Arkos left his chair, causally dropping his cloak as he strolled toward her. His feet were quiet as a whisper as he moved over the ground. Firm muscle showed on every inch of the old man’s lean body, his head did not turn to one side or the other as he made a path directly for Isha, never losing track of a single movement she made.
“Since you are the challenged, you may choose the weapon,” said Arkos.
“Knives,” she said as the distant rumbling grew louder coupled with vibrations from the floor.
“As you wish,” Arkos replied, and with a clap of his hands two blades were brought.
Isha took the knife but it was made like nothing she had seen before. It was a drop-point blade that curved downward like the wing of a bird, yet the tip was sharpened on both sides. It felt thick, heavy, and excellent for chopping, but also was long enough for thrusting. The members made a circle in the middle of the chamber, holding the torches high in a ring of fire and then, they bowed their heads for a moment as the old man uttered a prayer in a language she did not understand. When the prayer ended, he tucked his long beard into his belt and instantly lunged at her. His speed was incredible as the tip of his blade grazed the side of her arm, telling her that had she been any slower, it would have run her through.
Arkos spun around, dropped to one knee and slashed out again, barely missing her vitals a second time. Isha leaped backward only to have the skin on her belly cut, sending blood running down her midriff. She held the wound in disbelief since, for the first time, fear began to creep into her. All her life her strength gave her the advantage of speed, but not today. The demon focused her with hate and rage where life and death were all the same. But now, things were different. She wanted to live. Arkos was taller with longer reach, but she was quick, strong, and getting angry.
He lunged at her again, but this time she was ready. She parried his thrust and spun on her ball of her foot catching him with a heel kick to the back of his head. The force of the blow echoed as Arkos fell to the ground but quickly rolled with the blow only to spin back to his feet. Blood began to trickle from his scalp to his shoulder as the wound she gave him became apparent. A curious smile crossed his lips.
“You have skill, demon-user, but it’s not be enough,” he said.
Isha realized he taunted her to giving away her position. She froze where she stood and tried to check her breathing but the thundering sounds of explosions rocked the chamber, sending dust and small rocks falling from the ceiling.
“I don’t have to hear you to find you young one,” said Arkos.
He walked within the circle, nose in the air, turning as he moved. Suddenly, Isha could quiet her breathing no longer. The old man darted for her, his blade made a downward slash, taking some of Isha hair with it as she ducked the knife. Rolling toward him, she sprang off the ground throwing a knee-smash to his chin, stunning him for a moment. Skillfully, she grabbed his beard and wrapped it around his throat, sliding behind him at the same time.
“Enough! Stop this now or I’ll wring your bony neck,” she yelled as she pulled back on the beard. Suddenly, an explosion opened a hole in the roof of the chamber, sending beams of light shooting to the floor. Isha, momentarily blinded by the light, lost her grip as Arkos instantly cut his beard loose, spun around and planted his blade to the hilt in her stomach. A mixture of surprise and confusion crossed her face as she looked at the knife protruding from her midsection. Arkos stepped away and walked calmly back to his seat.
“No,” Nathan whispered in disbelief.
He looked on as his gasp of protest trailed into the vast loneliness of the room. Fighting passed the circle he caught her in his arms as she sank to her knees. She pulled the knife from her body, letting it fall to the earth and stared at the blood on her hands. Rarely had she seen her own blood, and the experience confused her. She never for a moment thought she would lose. How could this happen? She thought to herself. But then, the wildness of her features softened as the cold arms of death wrapped around her.
“I feel cold,” she whispered as she fell to her knees.
Nathan caught her and pulled her to his chest, looking intently into her crystal-blue eyes as the clouds of finality covered them. Then, slowly, her eyes closed and her small frame fell limp in his grasp. Suddenly, the shackle around her neck began to crack and splinter until it split in two, falling from her neck like broken pottery. Nathan brushed her hair away from her face. Since he’d known her, she had been larger than life, fearless and unstoppable. Yet now, in death, she looked unspoiled by the life of pain she had lived, like a young village girl whose only dream was to have a family. He buried his face in her hair and clung to her
with all his strength, screaming his agony into her foamy locks.
“A life was required, and a life has been given,” declared Arkos. “The darkness has found us, so the light must recede for a time.”
Nathan looked up for a brief moment. He reached for the knife that took Isha’s life. Gripping it by the blade, he squeezed it with all the pain of his heart, and mingled his blood with hers as it ran down his forearm. Isha lay in a circle of light that streamed from the hole in the damaged ceiling as fiercely beautiful in death as in life.
“You think death is the answer,” he screamed, choking back his tears. “What kind of life is that?”
With that, he hurled the knife to the far wall and slapped his hand on Isha’s wound and yelled God’s name to the sky.
“Adonai!”
The light around them intensified to a blinding brightness that caused everyone but Arkos to shield their faces. Immediately, her eyes shot open as someone awaking from a horrible nightmare. Isha gasped for air, arched her back and gripped handfuls of dirt with each hand. With eyes wide, she bolted upright and looked around in confusion.
“How is it that you know the ancient name?” demanded Arkos as he stood from his seat.
When Nathan removed his hand, the wound had gone but his weakened condition took its toll as he collapsed to the ground unconscious. Isha sat up, putting a searching hand to her abdomen where the wound should be, but there was no sign of injury whatsoever. In amazement, she took the broken pieces of her shackles from the ground and turned them over in her hands. For so long, they had reminded her of the pain of the past, but now she was free.
“I don’t understand,” Isha said as she looked up into the face of Arkos.
“He returned you,” said Arkos.
Isha grabbed the blade that had once been inside her stomach and held it toward the old man with menace. Arkos took his seat once again and casually addressed her. “You may put your weapon away young woman, I’m no longer a danger to you.”
“That remains to be seen,” she spat.
“A life was required and a life given. Why didn’t you tell us he’s a seer?” asked Arkos.
“To what end?” she said.
“I suppose you have a point. The Venger Branches rarely swap information. Tell me, did he touch you?” asked Arkos.
“What do you mean,” she shot back with heated suspicion.
“I simply mean casual physical contact like two people who shake hands in the market,” Arkos asked.
Her mind traveled to the moment in the cave when she had first seen him. She looked at her hands for a moment. “Don’t you see that he is the reason your Malakim demon is gone and, what’s more, also the reason it hasn’t returned?”
She didn’t have an answer to what had happened too her and stared intently at the jumbled frame of Nathan as he lay on the dirt of the cavern floor. All at once, he stirred and put his hand to his head. Slowly opening his eyes, he found Isha kneeling over him. When he saw her, Nathan threw his arms around her but she held still, cold and frozen for a moment. True affection felt foreign too her. But Isha smiled anyway and returned his embrace.
“You saved me, again,” she said.
Seeing Arkos on his dais, Nathan staggered to his feet and put himself between the old man and Isha.
“Give me a knife. I’ll fight,” Nathan said weakly.
“You are a foolish as you are brave,” said Arkos. “It wasn’t until you used the ancient name that I started to hope again. I hoped that a seer stood among us again.”
“Don't you understand that there is a war brewing?” asked Isha.
“We have no dealings with the outside world,” said Arkos. “We seek peace as best we can.”
“It appears the war has come to you,” said Nathan.
“Mano attacks us out of fear, even though we have assured him he has nothing to fear from us,” said Arkos as he motioned to a man nearby. “ I will give you what help we can and will send one of my brothers with you to render whatever aid he may. However, be aware, he also has a duty to perform for us.”
“He will only slow us down,” Isha stated.
“I assure you, that will not be the case,” replied Arkos with a sly smile. “This is Hanoch. He is young to our order and comes from another community originally. His Branch doesn’t carry weapons and he finds it rather difficult to fit in with us. I believe he would welcome the opportunity to go with you.”
“We are not going anywhere without the antidote,” stated Isha.
“No need,” said Arkos. “The healer has healed himself as well.”
Stunned, Isha turned a questioning look at Nathan. He knew that somehow he felt better but had no better explanation as to why. The dark circles around his eyes were fading, the pale pallor of his face gradually filled with color as strength seeped back into his limbs.
“You’re beginning understand what belief can do aren’t you?” said Arkos. “The ancient word is ‘Emun’.”
“How long will the healing last,” asked Nathan.
“I don’t know, but Elyon has a way of working when times are desperate. And we are all in desperate times,” quipped Arkos. “Long ago, when the Emperor left to conquer foreign soil. Mano conquered Akeldemah in his absence with the aid of the mancers, many opposed him in the Battle of Ariel on the Southern plains of Pelan and paid with their lives. The tomewrights that remained reluctantly surrendered but everyone else died on that plain. Their bones are still scattered there to this day in the acres of sand before the ruined gates of Ariel, some say, waiting for the Emperor’s return.”
Nathan's mind drifted, wandering to a place with broken ancient walls standing high against a pristine sky of blue. Beyond the walls, stood a fallen city of granite and marble, pushing its broken bulwarks against the clouds and bearing cracked towers in the blistering winds of the southern plain. Before the splintered gates, trapped in hundreds of acres of sand, stark white bones littered the ground, poking between thick bunches of grass as grinning skulls pointed skyward in frozen anticipation, waiting. But waiting for what? Thought Nathan.
“Nathan!” shouted Isha, snapping him out of his waking dream.
“I have to see this for myself,” stammered Nathan.
“You want to go to the ruins of Ariel?” asked Isha.
“There's something there, something I have to see,” he said.
“Hanoch will guide you,” said Arkos, motioning to the young White Venger.
As he approached, they noticed his wiry muscles under his close-fitted satin shirt and tunic as he walked. Giving a quick bow of respect to Nathan, he silently took a place at the seer’s side as he tied his wavy brown hair back with a leather cord. Isha viewed him with contempt, but could not ignore the innate power that the young man had.
“He seems rather young,” asked Isha.
Ignoring Isha, Hanoch gave his reply to Nathan in a tone devoid of emotion and feeling.
“I've seen fifteen winters, Nathan Seer, and am pleased you will allow me to be your guide,” said Hanoch ignoring Isha.
With the look of blood in her eye, she stepped toward Hanoch intent on laying him out with a backhand when Arkos stepped in between them.
“Please forgive his manners, he is young and our Branch rarely has female members, so, over time, the members forget how to relate to them,” said Arkos.
“He better start learning,” interjected Isha.
Nathan wanted to refuse the help but couldn't bring himself to do it since he still felt some weakness from the poison. Hanoch's long black hair, forest brown eyes and youthful light complexion stood at odds with the lean muscle of his limbs and the quiet way he moved. His face never displayed a hint of emotion, but showed that he could pick a flower or snap a neck with equal ease and forethought. What brought him to this state, Nathan could only guess, but something inside him knew Hanoch was needed.
“Make no mistake, in spite of his youth, Hanoch is highly skilled and totally capable of doing whatever task is r
equired of him. He is actually more traveled than most of his brothers,” said Arkos.
“Then what would be the best way to Ariel?” asked Nathan.
“The fastest or safest route?” questioned Hanoch.
“Time is no longer our friend, so tell me the fastest,” said Nathan.
Hanoch bent down and drew a perfect representation of the southern desert of Pelan and pointed as he explained.
“The Southern Plain is rampant with nomadic raiders who care little for the lives of others as well as dust devils, sand-traps and venomous creatures of all variety. However, it's preferable when compared to the dank fumes of the Defiles and the dangers of Lake Ith. Your choice,” said Hanoch.
“Let's try the plain and maybe we won't be noticed,” said Nathan.
Abruptly, the sound of shouting and clanking metal began to echo into the chamber.
“They’re here, you must leave immediately,” said Arkos.
“Then how are we to leave Pelan unnoticed?” said Isha.
“Leave that to me,” said Hanoch.
“Though you may not believe it, we wish you the best in your journey,” said Arkos.
“I don't believe it,” shot Nathan as he and Isha followed Hanoch from the chamber.
Twenty-Three
“Laying The Cover…”
They each took a torch and rushed after their guide down a nearby passage. The sound of cascading water reverberated through the thick walls of the underground passage. Abruptly, the passage in front of them exploded, throwing rocks and dirt in all directions as a dust cloud chased them down the passage, blowing out their torches like a quick breath. Hanoch jumped to one side as Isha pushed Nathan to the other, moving him out of the way of falling rocks above. When the rumbling subsided, he scrambled to find the torch and re-ignited it. In the flickering light, she could see him sitting with his back against the far wall with dust covering his face. He moved with difficulty and a thin trickle of blood ran down the side of his face. Nathan’s hair clung to a blood soaked spot on the side of his head but he made no motion to soothe the injury.
The Last Refuge (The Tomewright Compendium Book 1) Page 23
