The Obsidian Quest [Search for Earthlight Trilogy Book 1]

by Laraine Anne Barker

  Peter swallowed his disappointment and looked for his friends. He recognized at once the city square bounded on three sides by enormous civic buildings and on the fourth by the largest of the urban parks of his fantasy. As he drew closer, he saw the group of three men, two boys and a dog all staring upward in amazement. Without more ado he landed beside them.

  "How the devil did you do that?” the leader of the men asked, stepping away from Peter as though afraid.

  "Not by the devil. I'm simply coming into my powers as a Chosen of the Earthlight.” Peter looked at the three men and saw only doubt, suspicion and fear in their faces. “I told you we had come to help you,” he reminded them sharply. “Your city has been rebuilt and you can bring your people back.” The men remained stunned and immobilized by what they were sure was merely hallucination. “If you don't believe that what you're seeing is real, walk around the city for a while before bringing everybody back,” Peter suggested.

  The leader of the men snapped back to life. “Oh, we'll do that all right.” He frowned thoughtfully at the boy who had spoken to him not merely as an equal but as one with authority over him. “Did you do this?” He flapped his hand helplessly at the splendor surrounding them.

  "The power of the Earthlight is responsible. I'm only the instrument through which it works."

  "How old are you?” the man asked, irrelevantly.

  "Thirteen,” Peter said without resentment. “We're all thirteen."

  "You're very young for the responsibilities you claim. I can't think what Merlin was about to enlist the aid of children in whatever he's doing."

  "He's dead,” Peter said bluntly, adding with the bitterness of an adult: “Someone amongst the Chosen has to take over his duties.” The man shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Peter was beginning to realize it might be difficult to dislodge the three men from their trail, but he would have to do something quickly. “The sooner you get everybody rehoused the better.” Seeing the man's bewildered appraisal of their surroundings, he added, pointing, “If you walk across the central park in that direction you'll come to a road. Turn left and that'll take you to the largest village.” His voice changed suddenly to one of command. “You will all three forget what you've just witnessed. You won't recognize any of us, including the dog, if you see us again."

  To Jamie and John's astonishment, the three men shouldered their shotguns and began walking across the park. Not once did they look back. Peter watched until they had disappeared. Then he turned back to his friends and surprised them with the expression of resolution on his face.

  "We need to find Sujad. I don't know why it's so important we find him—I've just got this feeling of urgency inside me. Maybe it's because he refashioned the Obsidian Orb. You remember what Merlin said about someone who creates an Object of Power having some mastery over it? Well, maybe—but of course we haven't got the Orb,” he finished with drooping shoulders. “It fell with Merlin in the avalanche.” He looked at the others in despair. “Maybe Sujad can refashion it again. Though how he's supposed to do that without Merlin's help I don't know."

  He turned away from the town square and started walking across the park. The others followed. Jamie and John gazed around them in delight; but Peter walked with his head down, apparently examining the toes of his shoes. They wandered through a stand of deciduous trees. The breeze rustling through the summer foliage made delightful music above their heads and from somewhere ahead a gray warbler trilled his sweetly piercing song. As they came through the copse, the sun disappeared behind a cloud. It grew suddenly cooler, making them shiver.

  They were now on a track through the grass leading to a denser area of bush where tree-ferns grew in abundance. Peter recognized where they were headed. This was the beginning of the forest park leading to the grotto he had created in his imagination. He quickened his steps, sure the grotto had been included for a purpose he couldn't fathom at the moment.

  The entrance to this grotto was nothing like that of the original. A watercourse had once flowed beneath the hill, creating the cave. This had since collapsed to form the grotto. A short damp tunnel led straight into the grotto. The air was cool and damp. It was eerily dim because of the lack of sun. They stood beside the still, dark pool. The cavern was as quiet as the grave.

  A deep sigh from Peter broke the silence.

  "There's nothing for us here.” He spoke in a near-whisper and turned to leave.

  "Oh yes there is!” cried a loud voice, setting all the echoes ringing.

  They all gasped, their hearts seeming to jump into their throats. Peter's spine tingled at the familiarity of the voice. He swivelled his gaze wildly around the grotto. He could see no one.

  "Who's there?” he demanded.

  The air over the pool shifted restlessly. The shifting resolved into the familiar black shadow. Something was struggling to manifest itself within the shadow. Gradually a form took shape. Peter strained hard to see—and this time met no resistance. Whatever was within wanted to be seen.

  "It's only I,” said the disturbingly familiar voice. There was an explosion of high mocking laugher. A figure emerged from the center of the blackness—that of a man. In his hands he held the Obsidian Orb. He lifted it up with a second burst of derisive laughter. Only when he lowered his hands did they recognize him.

  It was Sujad.

  Chapter 13

  First Betrayal

  PETER'S VOICE stuck in his throat. He could only stare at the figure hovering in the black haze. With some effort, sure the Enemy was using illusion to break his spirit, he managed to speak. “Prove you're Sujad! There's no way Sujad could have found the Obsidian Orb. He would need to climb Mount Cook's lower slopes and clear away tons of rock, snow and ice. One man can't do that—and Sujad's people are too intent on the disaster sent by the Evil One to be able to help him.” Peter's heart hammered. He had to believe the figure before him was of the Enemy's making. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

  The handsome face sneered down at him.

  "I admire your loyalty, young one, misplaced though it may be. It's a pity your master Merlin didn't have the same philosophy!” This time the voice was a desecrating shout. “He killed more than half of my people! He destroyed the city of my descendants. I owe no loyalty to such a tyrant!” The apparition moved the Obsidian Orb into his left hand and stretched out his right. He lowered his voice, and somehow this was even more menacing. “If you don't believe I am Sujad Cariotis, take my hand—feel how solid I am."

  Peter looked at the hand in distaste. He ignored it. How, he wondered, had this once pleasant man, if he was who he claimed to be, become so hateful? Why had Merlin's judgment been so faulty that he had trusted someone so easily swayed by evil?

  Into Peter's mind came part of his conversation with the three men from Erewhon: “Who's Cariotis...? What sort of name is that for an Erewhonian...? He definitely left no descendants in Erewhon ... An Erewhonian is a nobody without descendants."

  The appalling truth burst into Peter's brain.

  "Sujad Cariotis—Judas Iscariot! Of course! The traitor has always been in our midst no matter how hard Merlin tried to prevent it.” He jabbed his finger at Sujad in accusation. “How dare you betray one who saved your life and gave you so many opportunities for good? How dare you steal one of the Great Tokens? If you don't return the orb right now it will destroy you."

  Peter felt as if his jabbing finger had become a deadly weapon. His voice filled the cavern as though it was amplified. “Merlin didn't destroy your city. The Enemy to whom you betrayed him did that. And as for Merlin killing your descendants, you yourself are responsible for that. By selling yourself to the Enemy you've destroyed your own future and trapped yourself in the twentieth century. Therefore, you'll never have any descendants."

  Sujad made a sound like a snarling dog. “Your empty threats don't frighten me. Merlin was the only one with power enough to harm me—and I know you're useless without him. My new master, who has powers Merlin cou
ld only dream of, has given me gifts Merlin would never have granted. The Obsidian Orb, for instance, is all mine! All Merlin ever wanted was his own glorification. He hated the knowledge that my refashioning of the Obsidian Orb gave me certain privileges. He resented that he couldn't remake it without me.” He thrust the orb forward tauntingly, at the same time making sure it was well out of Peter's reach. “The Orb is mine, now—all mine! If you want it you'll have to raise Merlin from the dead! Ha! Ha! Ha!” He burst into gales of strident cackles. “Be sure I'll use it against you at every opportunity! It can be used for things not dreamed of by Merlin himself. I look forward to our next meeting, Pukling. Even more, I look forward to our final victory over you and your miserable Earthlight."

  With more cackling laughter, the apparition vanished.

  Peter drew in a deep, steadying breath. “That was only the first treachery. Remember the Obsidian Orb spoke of double betrayal."

  They all jumped as Sujad's high cackle, more distant, filled the air again. “Yes indeed there is more to come. As Master of the Obsidian Orb I know all about the future. I wish Merlin could be brought back to life just to witness it. I should so much enjoy seeing him crushed as he so richly deserves.” On the last words the voice faded into silence.

  Peter stood, head bowed, staring into the dark depths of the pool, so different from that other despite the sun that had broken through the clouds at Sujad's departure. When he lifted his head, his friends were taken aback at the grim light in his eyes and the determined set of his jaw. He looked unexpectedly much older than his thirteen years.

  "We're going back to the grotto and the City of the Reborn. As Merlin's friends and part of his Quest for Earthlight, we wouldn't be welcome at the City of Light, and we've done what we came for anyway."

  Peter could feel the grotto and the bizarrely named burial chambers calling him. His heart yearned more than ever for a sight of the Lady—even in death—and the statue that looked so much like her and radiated such strange power.

  "It's a long journey on foot,” Jamie objected. “Can we get there any other way? The wizard in black didn't wait for us. He said he had other things to do."

  "We'll have to walk, I suppose."

  In silence they left the cavern and trudged through the forest park until they came to a road. Peter scanned the sky to get his bearings from the sun.

  "This way,” he said flatly and they started down the road, using the regular rhythm of soldiers with a long march ahead of them.

  They hadn't traveled far, however, before the sound of clopping hooves from the direction of the resurrected city jerked them round. The pony and trap were coming toward them, the familiar figure in black handling the reins. Boys and dog ran joyfully toward it.

  The wizard, his cheerful face split into a wide grin, drew the horse to a halt. “Okay—in you get. I'll take you as far as I can, but you'll have to climb to the grotto."

  "How did you know we need a lift?” Peter asked as they scrambled into the trap.

  The dark eyes twinkled. “I may not be Merlin, but I am a wizard."

  It was a relatively cheerful journey through the cool dark forest. Once again the wizard knew how to steer the conversation by keeping them entertained with his own experiences. They all fell into sober silence, however, when they reached the place where the grotto stood. The wizard waited for them to alight and he and his pony and trap disappeared, his only farewell a lift of his hand in a grave salute.

  "There's a spell of forbidding on the grotto,” Peter said, “but I'm sure it will let us through because we have our Tokens of Power."

  "We haven't used them yet,” Jamie said. “I don't even know what mine's for."

  "You will when the time comes.” Peter sounded so much like Merlin that both his friends looked at him sharply.

  They reached the steps leading down into the grotto and Peter stopped at the top so abruptly that Jamie nearly collided with him.

  "What's wrong? Can't we go any further?"

  Peter had been probing ahead with his mind. “Yes. The spell is still working but it's going to allow us through."

  In silence they followed him down the narrow steps. Although Peter's mind-probe had told him the spell of forbidding was still operating around the grotto, his relief was almost tangible when they reached the pool and found the statue still there with the silvery water pouring from her outstretched hand. Nothing had been touched. However, the statue was out of reach, as was the cavern of the dead—for the boat was moored at the other end of the pool.

  Peter stood at the edge of the pool and pointed at the place where the boat was hidden.

  "Come, boat,” he commanded. “Four of the Chosen wish to visit the dead."

  The overhanging ferns at the other end of the pool moved aside. The boat slipped its moorings and slowly came to them. In silence they clambered aboard. But although Peter wanted to visit the statue again, the boat refused to go anywhere but back to its moorings.

  There, Peter returned the boat to its hiding place and they made for the great doors leading to the lower cave. These swung open at their approach and they passed through, hearts beating high with a mixture of fear and hope. Peter knew he had been called back for a purpose. But was it his role to make things happen or to use his new powers to respond on the Earthlight's behalf to whatever was about to occur?

  He led the way to the upstairs chamber. Nothing had changed.

  Drawn like a magnet, Peter went to the two stone coffins on the central platform. The Lady lay as they had left her. Peter's heart skipped a beat when he looked into the second casket: for there lay Merlin, dressed in the finery presented to him by Uther for the coronation. Peter realized he had been hoping against hope that Merlin had escaped death. His hopes in fragments, he stood by Merlin's coffin and his grief overcame him once more in loud, racking sobs. The anguish of his loss tore at his body and mind like a physical pain.

  Jamie and John stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the platform, looking extremely uncomfortable. It felt as if Peter's grief filled the whole cavern, as though a giant wept.

  A voice cut through the heart-rending sounds. “Do not weep for them, Peter. Destiny is shaping everything as foretold by the old prophecies. Everything will be all right."

  The voice was calm and soothing, but it was difficult to tell the whereabouts of the speaker. Peter, Jamie and John looked all round and were aware of the direction from which the voice was coming only when they noticed a strange area of luminescence moving toward them. Slowly Peter left the platform to stand beside his friends as the brightness advanced toward them. The closer it came the more solid it seemed, until it stood only a few meters from them and they saw it was a man in a white robe. The light came from the white robe. Peter looked at the man indifferently—for the newcomer wasn't Merlin.

  A dry, humorless chuckle filled the air. “No, I'm not Merlin. I'm not even a wizard. But I'm the best you'll see for some time."

  Impulsively Peter moved toward the man and put out his hand. He touched nothing but empty air, which felt as cold as ice when his hand and arm went right through the specter. “Who are you?"

  "I am Giddeon, Leader of the Reborn, and I am sent to bring you comfort in your grievous sorrow. I know I'm only a spirit. But I have a message for you from Merlin."

  The ghostly voice stopped at a loud gasp from Peter. “Did Merlin send you? He is alive?"

  The specter gently shook his head. “No. Merlin is indeed dead. You see him lying in state up there.” The ghostly voice was flat and expressionless. The spectral hand pointed up to Merlin's coffin. “But he didn't die immediately. I was able to send my spirit from my tomb to attend him in his last minutes. Alas that I could not physically help him or take charge of the precious Token of Power that he bore. I took his message and promised to deliver it to you. After he died, I was forced to watch the traitor Cariotis descend on the site in his master's evil black cloud. The vile creature put one of his master's spells on me so I couldn't
move—not that I could have done much to stop him in my bodiless state. I watched helplessly as the Obsidian Orb, miraculously intact, was removed from where it had fallen near Merlin's outstretched hand. I had to endure the traitor's gloating and his vicious taunts before his master's powers let me go back to my rest. I have been waiting for you since. I bathed in the Lady's pool to enable me to become visible to you and to give me sufficient strength to deliver my master's message. He said to warn you the time for the Book of Obsidian to disclose itself is near and you must go to the statue and wait. Even more important, however, is his wish that you not grieve for him, for such emotions will sap your strength for the Earthlight Quest."

  Peter interrupted him, speaking with a dignity that overawed his friends. “I understand what you mean. But what you don't realize is I've lost not only my dearest friend and master, but also my Uncle Paul—for they were one and the same. The Evil One also has my Aunt Angela. If he and his servants were able to destroy Merlin, what they'll do to my aunt is ... unimaginable.” Peter's voice broke on the last word.

  A strange expression crossed the specter's face. Is it pity? Jamie wondered. But Peter seemed not to notice. “For the moment your aunt is ... in no physical danger,” the apparition said slowly, and only Jamie noticed the small pause. “We'll do all we can for her—but the quest must come first. It must come before any expressions of grief for lost ones."

  "Unfortunately,” Peter said with that air of bitterness that sat so strangely on a boy, “I can't forget on command such an enormous tragedy."

  The expression on the specter's face was definitely sympathy this time. “I understand. That's why before he died Merlin bade me bring comfort to you along with his message."

  "Where can I find comfort when I've lost my master and my uncle, the Lady is dead, the Enemy has captured my aunt, and Merlin's most trusted friend has betrayed him?"

  This time, at the bitterness in Peter's voice, a look of pain crossed the Leader of the Reborn's face. “There is much I know that I cannot tell you, but I am permitted to tell you the Lady is not dead,” he said in his slow, effortful voice.