by Dan O'Brien
It was their final resting place, the Temple of Exiles.
THE LAST RESTING PLACE of the Fallen was foreboding. It was a dark monolith that stood alone amidst the flat, useless tundra. It had once been a pillar of society; its depths delved deeper into the earth than anyone dared to venture, even my father. He had been chased into the endless chasm of the monolith’s belly, until he could go no farther. Evan, my father, fell that day. Fell to something that no Fallen had ever seen; or could have seen, for no man came back alive. No stories to tell, only myths and legends that permeated the steel walls and limitless depths.
He had tracked markings east along the Maiden, a party of nine at his heels.
Talk of roaming beasts had infected the tribe and there were some that claimed that shadow beasts and nether men were afoot to the east. The first of these to speak such madness was the sour being I now walked to his death, Fredrick. The markings had led to the Temple of the Exiles, its doors agape and encumbered by ice. Knowing that danger was within, my father pushed on; his companions followed his lead without hesitation or reflection. Something came for them within the ruins, something more powerful than my father.
Now, I walked alone into his tomb, challenging the image of my father’s death.
I turned back to Fredrick, his wavering figure at my heels as I had instructed.
The goggles that hung across his face had begun to frost and the loose folds of his wraps had begun to come apart.
I moved closer to the door of the monolith. The entrance was a monstrous steel door. I inspected the panel at its side, the once bright panels having been reduced to iced-over versions of themselves. The numbers and analog readouts were no longer understandable. Not a word had not been spoken between us since we had departed from the Fallen. His mind had slipped into a recess where reality no longer held dominion. I did not attempt words now. They seemed useless, no matter their meaning. I slammed my wrapped fist into the iced panel, shattering the shards away from the control and depressed the button whose position had been passed down from huntsman to huntsman.
The entrance to the Exiles was given only to the bravest of the Fallen.
The door creaked open. Sputtering at first, it struggled against the ice that had formed along its edges. For a moment, I thought that perhaps it would not open at all. But, it shot forth with an explosion of power, slamming into the other wall, revealing the dark gaping hole that led within. Lights that more than likely should have been burned out centuries before remained lit. I was as if something kept watch over the place, making sure it ran smoothly, waiting for its eternal guests.
“Seth?” Fredrick’s voice was cracked and barely audible over the powerful winds, but I heard his disjointed speech nonetheless.
I turned back toward him, looking away from the darkness within the monolith to the featureless plains that stretched out beyond us.
“What is it, Fredrick?” I replied kindly.
Kindness was something I had not expressed in sometime.
He looked at his feet, his body shivering and the goggles hanging loosely, almost stupidly from his head. I felt such sorrow for him, his very being seemed too pathetic to go on.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“You owe me nothing, Fredrick. I am walking you to your death. An executioner receives no praise.”
“I’m not thanking you for leading me here. I’m thanking you for being human, for compassion and kindness. These things have been lost in our survival, sacrificed for the continuation of our species.” His voice was at its very limit now; it would crack soon and he would be unable to speak.
“Enough of this, Fredrick, let us at least get inside where it will hopefully be much warmer. Perhaps you will feel better about all this.” The words felt stupid and unappreciative, but I could not think of what else to say to the man. His life was forfeit here in this tomb. I walked forward, my boots slick on the seamless steel surface; Fredrick followed, his footfalls sounded hollow upon the floor. The door slammed shut behind us with such a colossal sound that it startled me, as well as Fredrick.
Lights carved a path down one of the narrow corridors and I begrudgingly followed it, having never been within the confines of the Temple of Exiles. The map of the place had been burned into my memory by my father’s stories. It felt as if I could close my eyes and hear his words. I could navigate the halls without error on his words alone. I was astonished by the warmth of the place; it was almost instantaneous and rather out of place considering the vastness of the room into which we had stepped. The ceiling extended at least fifty meters at its apex and was more than ten times that in width, a colossal entrance that would fit things drawn from imagination.
“Astounding,” I whispered.
“Amazing indeed. What in the hell is this place?’ queried Fredrick. His voice sounded clearer in the warm confines of the Temple than on the tundra.
I looked at the room with a careful eye. The shadows hid something; what is was I could not place. I pulled a flare from the pack at my back and broke it, sparking the iridescent flames for a moment. It dulled to a warm green glow, bathing the room in an incredible emerald hue.
“What in the name of….” I began.
What I saw rendered me speechless as I stood motionless at the room’s center. At the corner of each wall was a human figure cast in some metalloid material contorted upon a frame. There was a mass that held it in bondage and its face revealed torment and anguish, an eternal punishment for a previous sin. The place had transformed from darkened chambers to an antechamber of antediluvian proportions. Runic statues were situated all about the room and the multitude of halls and rooms that seemed to stretch far beyond the single path that had been illuminated for us.
“Seth, how old is this place?” queried Fredrick, the wonder of the things before his eyes drawing him from the comatose state that had gripped him.
I started to say something, but realized that I had no idea as to the age of the structure. It seemed as if it had been built recently. The interior was completely intact and cleaner than it had a right to be. The floors looked as though they had been polished by hand; I could see the reflection of the dwindling flare in my hand as I looked down. The green aura slowly diminished and plunged us back into the shadow.
“Ages, I would imagine. It stood far before my father’s time and who knows how much longer before that. Timeless in a way….” I replied.
“This is where I am to spend my last days?”
“This is where the Fallen have come for centuries upon centuries. Whether they stay or not is beyond my knowledge.”
“Then, you are going to leave me here?”
I looked farther down the hall, the row of lights holding my attention. Without looking back at Fredrick, I replied. “Not just yet. I think I wish to search this place. There is something strange about all of it.”
“Yes, I can feel…”
“Something.” I finished his thought and moved forward, my hand at my sidearm and my free hand loose at my side.
Fredrick followed. His steps were less than nimble and hurried. His head roved from side to side like panicked prey.
Drip.
The sound was like echoing thunder. In the distance, liquid leaked onto the flawless steel. The sound was haunting in the darkness. The feeling of a shadow breathing upon our necks was unnerving and caused even me to turn every so often. I was certain that there was something behind me, stalking me moments before. I stopped in the half-light, a shadow crossing my face. My hand went to the hilt of my planedge, the grip staving off the fear that lingered and played with my childish emotions.
Fredrick’s cowered behind me. His hurried steps carried him right into me. He bounced off of me with a wild jolt, sending his spindly body sprawling out on the floor.
“Why the hell did you stop?” he queried in a panic.
I allowed silence to pass between us. I was convinced that a sound had piqued my senses and I trusted this instinct. It had many times sa
ved not only my life, but the lives of the travelers that accompanied me out upon the tundra. I held a hand up for silence, my gloved hand already dried from the time spent within the temple.
The husky, hoarse breathing came again.
I drew my sidearm. The barrel was still cold from the air outside. I raised it slowly. The faded, blackened steel reflected no light within this strange place. Fredrick remained still as I moved forward, his body shaking as fear claimed him. The farther I moved away from the lights and into the dim interior beyond the entrance, the more I realized how large this place truly was.
Then, I saw them: the blood-red eyes of our executioners. There was a single pair at first, but soon there were scores of them. The crimson globes upon their faces were apparent even through the darkness. I paused mid-step, not knowing whether or not they had felt my presence, and turned back to Fredrick to warn him.
He already knew, for he began to scream as the creatures charged forward.
