The Obsidian Quest [Search for Earthlight Trilogy Book 1]

by Laraine Anne Barker

  Peter felt himself drawn to the platform in the center of the chamber. There were several shallow steps leading up to it. He mounted them feeling like one in a trance. But all his senses were alive—and stronger than they'd ever been. Dreyfus, Jamie and John stayed at the foot of the stairs and Peter was as aware of their thumping hearts as he was of his own.

  The first casket Peter looked in was empty. It was beautifully adorned with heavily embroidered satin cushioning. Dully Peter guessed it was waiting for someone of great importance. As he stood, numb and cold but alive to everything around him, his brain gradually understood the pattern of the embroidery. The red dragon predominated. Its eyes glowed up at him with apparent mockery. Is this Merlin's tomb? he asked himself miserably. His deepest instincts told him he was right.

  With leaden heart he turned to the other stone coffin. This time his heart leapt right into his throat, nearly choking him.

  The coffin contained a woman. She was dressed in white like all the others. The deep blue of the satin cushions on which she lay emphasized the porcelain pallor of her skin. Peter didn't try to touch her: the forbidding spell around her was like a physical force. Eyes blinded by a sudden rush of tears, he turned to Jamie and John.

  "It's—it's the Lady,” he said, choking on a sob. “And she's dead."

  Chapter 11

  The Grotto

  TWO SHOCKED and horrified pairs of eyes stared up at Peter. The twins’ faces looked white and strained in the yellow torchlight. With their mouths ajar, they were like people caught out of time and frozen. Even Dreyfus stood like a staring statue.

  It was Peter who broke the silence. “The other coffin looks ... as though it's ... meant for—for Merlin."

  His voice broke on the name. To his friends’ further horror and distress, Peter broke down. Grief caught up with him and great wrenching sobs tore through him. He clutched his chest, where it felt as though his heart was splitting in two, and sank to his knees between the two stone caskets.

  Without warning the air started humming around him and he felt sick and dizzy. I mustn't faint, he told himself, making a supreme effort to overcome the almost physical pain clawing at him.

  The humming became all but tangible and Peter felt all the hairs on his body prickle. He raised his head. The air was visibly shifting and changing. Realization dawning, he scrambled to his feet the better to face his Enemy.

  The huge black cloud drew all the light from the torches, plunging the chamber into near darkness. Straining to see the presence inside the moving mass, Peter met a wall of violent resistance.

  A volley of derisive laughter greeted his efforts. “So, my friend, it has come to this—as I could have told you. Your great lady is dead, and what's even better she lies with those easily-led doltheads who called themselves Erewhonians, which is only another word for nobodies, and whom I destroyed so effortlessly—because one of them dared help the cause of the Earthlight."

  The final words exploded into the great cavern in a violent, uninhibited shout, echoing over the ranks of tombs. Flinching, Peter put his hands over his ears. As soon as the echoes died the voice continued: “It's a well-named country, Erewhon, for it is indeed Nowhere now. They used to call this enormous set of burial chambers the Hidden City of the Reborn. Ha! Ha! It's now the City of the Dead. For all Merlin's efforts, these once highly civilized people are still the barbarians they became when they started listening to ill-informed and wayward philosophers."

  The voice chuckled with relish. “Make no mistake about it, young Chosen of the Earthlight: only because one of their kind gave assistance to the Earthlight was I permitted to take such revenge. The Absolute Law is very strict—and mercilessly just.” More chuckles came out of the darkness at Peter. “I've had my revenge on the Earthlight, for Merlin will shortly be joining all his friends in this magnificent place. I've also claimed full compensation for your meddling, as you will learn when—if—you return home. I've taken your aunt."

  Peter grabbed the nearest object for support, the side of the Lady's coffin. With effort he found his voice. “You can't do that! She's done nothing. She's not part of Earthlight's mission. You can't harm her. I won't let you!"

  Gales of laughter filled the mausoleum. “Who do you imagine you are that you even think you can stop me? I can do what I like with her. She's too weak and useless to resist. Shall we say she's my hostage for your good behavior?” The voice chuckled like one enjoying a joke at the expense of someone who was unable to work out what was so amusing.

  Fury rushed over Peter like a tsunami. It was something over which he had no control, although he tried—for he had no wish to drive this terrifying Enemy to more horrific actions. He drew himself up to his full height and his right arm shot out of its own volition, while his left hand still clutched the edge of the tomb.

  He pointed his index finger at the shadowy mass of evil. “How dare you defile this sacred place! Get out! Get out!"

  The dark mass wavered and started to fade, then returned, shifting and changing rapidly.

  Peter learned later that he seemed to grow in front of his friends’ eyes. “By the power of the Lady I order you to leave!"

  The black cloud stopped moving inside itself and started fading again. Then, with a cry of rage, it vanished as though someone had turned on a light and dispelled all the shadows. The stifling chill in the air disappeared and the chamber returned to normal.

  Peter drew in a deep breath. Realizing he was clutching the Lady's crib, he took his hand away. His gaze fell on something he hadn't seen before—an inscription on the casket's side. He dropped back to his knees to read the writing. The lettering was old-fashioned and the carving, though worn with the ravages of time, still legible. Peter read aloud;

  "Like a Phoenix from the ashes of the doomed country rises the City of Light

  The Reborn shall garner their power and the Evil One be put to flight."

  His voice echoed over the rows of tombs. He memorized the lines by repeating them in his mind, then spoke in mind-speech to the still figure resting on the blue satin. He was no longer a boy, but addressed the lifeless form as though they were equals. “Farewell, Lady. If you are one of the Reborn—and somehow I don't think you are—I shall see you after the garnering of power. If you're not one of the Reborn, then I must accept whatever happens. Did you, perhaps, manage to leave your gifts in waiting for the Reborn when their time comes? You can't possibly have allowed your life and Merlin's to be sacrificed to no purpose. We will avenge your death, Lady. We promise we'll do whatever is required of us."

  With one last, lingering look at the lovely dead face, Peter rose and walked down the steps to rejoin his friends. John was looking back the way they had come, his face a picture of anxiety. However, concerned not to appear cowardly, he said nothing. Peter was too upset to notice his uneasiness.

  Nobody spoke as Peter led the way further into the chamber, in whose eerie silence their boots sounded too loud. They passed row upon row of the stone coffins and had been walking some time before a blank wall confronted them. On their right a staircase carved into the rock led down. It was dimly lit by the same type of torches that lit the chamber above. They descended the stairs, which led to yet another chamber similar to the first with a pair of doors like the ones above. Without much hope, they walked to the doors, which swung silently inwards at their approach, letting in soft daylight filtered through a heavy tracery of green.

  They gasped at the beauty that greeted them. It was the most amazing grotto they had ever seen. At one time it had been a large cave, whose roof had fallen in, letting in streams of light. Water flowed somewhere—water they could only hear at the moment—and the walls and floor were covered in an amazing variety of ferns, mosses and other shade- and damp-loving plants. Tree-ferns reared their magnificent heads everywhere.

  Peter moved forward as though in a trance. In pushing aside some hanging ferns, he saw what was making the sound of running water. A large pool filled the center of th
e grotto, its outlet hidden among all the greenery. The light filtering from above glimmered in its depths. But what was most astounding to the eyes of the boys was how the pool was fed. On the other side of the water at the pool's edge stood a marble statue of a woman in flowing white robes. Her right hand stretched over the edge of the pool and it was from this that the water cascaded. Most of the light from above centered on her and she glimmered like a pearl in a dim setting. Her eyes stared into the depths of the pool at her feet, around which grew small and medium height plants. These swept out and upwards behind her as though deliberately creating a frame of peaceful beauty to set off her luster. Around her head flowed a breathtaking veil of young maidenhair fern fronds, palest green in the filtered sunlight. No crown could have been more queenly.

  "It's the Lady!” Peter's voice was a hushed whisper.

  Jamie craned his neck over Peter's shoulder. “My goodness! It's beautiful! Like the moon goddess herself."

  "It's creepy!” John's voice trembled. “It feels as though it's alive."

  "That's strange,” Peter said slowly. “It looks so much like the Lady lying in her coffin and yet John's right: although there was no sign of any life in the Lady, the statue does have—not life—but a strange power. You can't see it. You can only feel it."

  Jamie looked around critically. “This place looks like nobody's ever been here. There's no path leading to the statue and no way of getting to it without doing an awful lot of damage. You'd have to be desperate to chance the freezing temperature of a mountain pool.” He looked dubiously at the dark water with the fan of silver ripples spreading from the statue.

  Peter moved to the pool's edge and knelt in the moss. Without knowing what he was looking for, he lifted some of the fronds overhanging the water.

  "You could use a boat,” he said with sudden excitement, pulling at something hidden under the encroaching greenery. A small, tidy dinghy came into view, equipped with a pair of oars. Peter frowned at it, puzzled. It looked as though it had been there for ages. The plants hiding it hadn't simply been pulled over it but had grown there. Yet it was as clean as though someone had just scrubbed it. He looked up at the others. “Anyone want to come with me?"

  Peter held the boat steady while Jamie and John clambered aboard with all their gear. With some persuasion they got Dreyfus in and the twins held the boat steady while Peter climbed in. Only when everybody was seated did Peter discover nobody had rowed before. However, the boat gave them no time to argue about who was going to take the oars—it turned its bow towards the opposite bank and moved slowly but steadily over to the statue.

  The gaze of four pairs of eyes were glued to the statue as it came closer and closer, until it was looming over them. Peter had the electrifying sensation that the blank, sightless eyes were looking directly at him. He tied the boat to a stanchion projecting from the bank.

  "There isn't anywhere to land without spoiling the plants.” He looked up at the statue. “She looks as though she's just been cleaned—no dirt or moss anywhere—and yet no one could possibly clean her without doing some damage."

  He looked at the sparkling stream of water running from the statue's right hand. It hit the water only a foot from the boat with a musical sound like the tinkling of a fountain. Impulsively he pulled his drinking cup from his backpack and held it under the stream. For a few seconds the magical sound was replaced by the dull splash of water filling a small vessel.

  At the same time the brightness fell from the air. Peter's heart felt as though it leapt into his mouth when he saw the reason for the dimness: the black cloud that shrouded the Enemy. It now filled the entire cavern. Instead of the musical splash of the fountain all they could hear was loud laughter. It echoed like a profanity through the sacred grotto. Peter put down the cup and they all placed their hands over their ears.

  "Ha! Ha! Ha!” laughed the evil shade with increasing mockery. “The only way one who is not of the Earthlight may enter this place is to stop the water hitting the pool, even temporarily. Congratulations, young Chosen One. You've done what we've been trying to do for ages.” The voice sounded different from the one that had taunted them in the burial vault. Peter decided it must be the difference in acoustic qualities.

  "I thought I told you to get out!"

  "Not I. That was my Master. Remember the spider, young Chosen One?” The voice filled with amusement. “You won't get rid of me so easily. The power of your Lady—your dead Lady—can't reach out from where she lies. It's fading because her spirit has gone.” Peter heard a sound like someone rubbing his hands together with unholy glee. “In a short time Merlin will lie beside her.” The being in the shadow spoke the sorcerer's name with infinite scorn. “Then my triumph will be complete. He will learn that even a so-called Great One may not betray those whom he calls his friends."

  "Merlin wouldn't betray anyone,” Peter said indignantly. “Who are you, anyway, that you dare sully his name—and this place—with your foul presence? You were never Merlin's friend. He has no dealings with vileness like yours."

  A vicious hissing came from inside the cloud. The being within moved forward. Peter started back in the boat, nearly upsetting it, as a hand shot out and jabbed at the air in front of him.

  "You'll learn your manners, you young jackanapes, before I've finished with you!"

  Without understanding why he did it, Peter flung the water in his cup at the stabbing hand. His aim was perfect. A scream rent the air—a cry of anger and pain—and the vision, cloud and all, vanished like a puff of smoke. The gentle radiance returned to the grotto and the boys sat in the boat blinking dazedly at the statue.

  "There must be magic in the water,” Peter said. “Let's fill everything we've got that's empty. It might come in handy."

  They found one empty bottle and filled it, taking care not to interrupt the flow, before filling their cups. As soon as the last container was filled, the boat tugged at its mooring like a living creature. When Peter had untied the rope the boat pointed its bow not in the direction from which they had come but to the end of the pool farthest from the statue. Slowly it glided along the pool, sending ripples radiating outwards like streaks of silver on the dark surface. They all craned their necks, staring around them to make the most of the grotto while they had the opportunity.

  To their surprise, when they reached the far end of the pool they found a pathway leading into the dense growth of ferns. Peter tied the boat to another stanchion and they clambered out. He wasn't sure what to do with the boat until he noticed it was straining to move away, so he untied it and threw the rope onto one of the wooden slats that served as seats. Silently they watched while the boat found its way back to the start of their journey.

  They said a silent good-bye to the statue, invoking the help of whatever spirit dwelt within the grotto for the successful completion of their mission. As they breathed their silent prayers, a dying frond in a tree-fern above fell away from the trunk and a shaft of sunlight sped downwards, striking the statue and bathing it in eerie brilliance. To each one it was as though the statue was bidding them farewell. Reluctantly they turned away from the aching beauty of the grotto and followed the path. It led to a flight of steps cut into the side of the cavern. In single file, they mounted the stairs.

  When they emerged into the blinding daylight, they looked back the way they had come. But there was nothing to see; the grotto was too well hidden. They had emerged from the bowels of the mountain into a forested valley. Unwillingly, for to him everything worthwhile had been left in the burial vault and the sacred grotto, Peter turned his attention to a river ahead running over a bed of boulders. Immediately below where they had left the grotto a trickle of water poured down the side of the mountain.

  He pointed to it. “That must be the outlet of the stream in the grotto. And look—there's a road running into the forest.” Relief flooded through him. “That must be where we go next."

  "I don't like the look of that forest,” John said. “We won't get th
rough that before dark."

  Peter laughed. “This isn't Canada or the States. There aren't any bears or wolves. There aren't even any snakes. There's nothing in that forest to be afraid of—except perhaps the Enemy."

  "He's more frightening than any wolf, bear or snake,” John said.

  "We can deal with him,” Peter said firmly. “We proved that in the burial chamber and the grotto."

  But his heart had started to hammer. Without Merlin and the enchantment of the Lady he wasn't too sure of anything. It would appear they had only their own initiative. Involuntarily his hand went up to his neck and his fingers found the chain from which was suspended his Token of Power. His heart skipped a beat as he recalled the medallion's purpose. He drew it out and the red dragon on it winked in the sunlight.

  "We've forgotten these. The Powers of the Earthlight obviously haven't overlooked anything. We'll be all right! We're going to win whatever battles lie ahead of us!"

  The optimism and hope in his voice raised all their spirits as Peter led the way along the road toward the forest.

  * * * *

  "WILL THIS forest ever end?” John asked plaintively. “We've been going for hours and I'm hungry—but I don't fancy stopping under these trees."

  Peter looked up at the treetops, which spread out on either side of the road, turning it into a tunnel that couldn't be seen from above.

  "If you want to eat, we'll have to stop here because it looks as though the forest doesn't end for some way yet. We'll be all right if we stick to the side of the road. If we wander too far in, the worst that can happen is we'll get lost—though I must admit that would be pretty awful."

  John looked pensively through the trees at the edge of the forest. “I still don't think it's the worst that could happen. Those—those Things that appeared to us among the coffins and in the grotto...” He shuddered.

  "We have our Tokens of Power,” Peter reminded him, fingering his medallion through his shirt. “The Earthlight made sure we'd be well prepared to face the Enemy without the help of the Lady. Our Tokens were left for us in the care of Nostradamus and they contain the essence of the Lady's powers.” Peter was remembering a stark room with firelight playing over the coarse white habit of a simple but graceful woman. He saw again the flames dancing on the image of a red dragon, and the dragon appearing to come to life, its fiery breath destroying something fleeing from it in terror. The recollection brought a measure of comfort to his heavy, grief-laden heart. But the feeling didn't last long. It was followed by a thought that made his heart seem tojump sideways: I'm responsible for the entire mission, now. It's my duty to see no harm comes to Jamie and John—and Dreyfus—and it's up to me to make the decisions which could mean the difference between failure and success.