“Before you go,” Rikar said, his voice cool and thoughtful, “let me show you something.” He looked at Talis.
“What do you want?”
“I want to show you something…bring out the map.”
“Why?”
“Don’t be so suspicious. I’m not going to steal your precious map. If I wanted to I’d have done it a long time ago. The map, you’ve missed something vital on the map.”
“On it? It works just fine.” Talis withdrew the case from inside his shirt, and stretched out the map. “See, here we are on the map...”
“Turn it over.”
“What? There’s nothing on the other side.” Was there?
Rikar twirled a finger around, as if daring Talis to do it. “Just plain parchment, right? Look again.”
Something rippled and shimmered on the surface of the map. “What’s that?”
“Let me see.” Mara peered close.
Black ink formed on the parchment, bold lines and circles, ancient symbols. A map unlike any Talis had seen. A geometric map filled with parallel lines, overlapping triangles, and branching lines like tree limbs.
“Here’s the original temple of Zagros, found only in Darkov. This represents the angle of descent into the Underworld. And this, the twin terrors that guard the subterranean entrance. The empty area will only reveal itself when we successfully pass.” Rikar tapped the map. “This here…this is the real Surineda Map.”
“How do you know all this?” Mara said.
A wry smile crossed Rikar’s face. “How do I know most of what I know. A certain master teaches me well.”
“But you could be just making this all up,” Talis said.
“I could…but I’m not. Let me put it another way, if you seek out the temple of the Goddess Nacrea using the other side of the map, you’ll find nothing but broken rubble...”
“What?” Mara studied Rikar.
“This is an old map, created before the fall of Urgar. As Urgar and Darkov were twin cities, so too did the ancients create two paths to the temple. One underneath Urgar proper, and the other through Darkov, beneath the temple of Zagros.” He flipped the map over several times. “Two entrances, two sides to the Surineda Map.”
Rikar paused for effect, grinning as if he knew he’d won. “So, shall we continue?”
“First of all,” Mara said, jabbing her finger towards Rikar, “just because you proved a point with the map doesn’t excuse what you did to those poor twins.”
“And your sickening devotion to the Lord of Death,” Talis said.
“Let me continue… The decision to allow you to stay with us should come from everyone.“
“Well, I’m in favor,” Rikar said, grinning stupidly.
“Stop already! I can’t believe you think all this is funny. Our city and our families might die or get forced into slavery…like Seraka…do you want that?”
“The problem with you…you fail to see the whole picture. Such as, why did the Jiserians attack Naru?”
“They’ve conquered all the cities along the western coast. We were next.”
“Nonsense. Naru was allied with the Jiserians. Think about it, an alliance is a negotiation. The negotiation broke down. Naru wasn’t willing to give in, so the Jiserians gave them a taste of their power.”
“The Elders never mentioned this,” Talis said.
“Of course they wouldn’t. There are factions within the Elders, just as there are disputes in the royal houses.” Rikar stared thoughtfully at Mara, then shifted his gaze over to Talis. “I’d say things are a mess right now back in Naru…with the royal houses. We’re lucky the royal guard of House Lei didn’t catch up to us.”
Mara grinned like she knew a secret. “Luck didn’t have anything to do with it. I fabricated an elaborate ruse to keep them off my tracks. If staying in House Lei means marrying Baron Delar’s son, I’d rather be on my own. I’m not marrying that pig.”
“I vote we continue to Urgar,” Nikulo said, rising suddenly. “If Urgar is in ashes as Rikar claims, then we go on with him to Darkov.” Mara and Talis nodded in agreement.
“An unnecessary waste of time…but feel free to try. Just remember this, there will be no more favors from Zagros to help us out in case we’re in trouble again. Urgar is not only a wasteland, it’s teeming with undead.”
7. THE DEVIL'S SPINE
After three days of trekking through the dense jungle, the Carralides Mountains looming closer, they reached a clearing along a river and camped for the night. Game was plentiful and the party feasted on roasted pheasant.
The next morning, Talis woke to a terrible smell. Sulfur. The closer he got to the mountains, the more he felt like death was circling them, preparing for the kill. Sweat dripped off Talis’s forehead as he stared at the mountains, wondering how such menacing formations were made. Jutting granite spires rose towards the sky with hundreds of soldier pines clustered around the base. Sheer cliffs soared above the volcanic land, pushed up ten thousand feet.
“Do we have to climb those mountains?” Nikulo wiped his brow.
“The narrow mountain pass seems like the only way through,” Rikar said, his voice uncertain.
At twilight, they’d ascended halfway up the pass. Ominous and filling half the sky, the peaks to the left glared down on Talis as if daring him to take a step closer to its domain. The mountain gods were displeased with their arrival. Cinder cones belched fire. Plumes of smoke rose feverishly. The way seemed marred with treachery.
At their already high elevation on the ascent, Talis could see a rim of cliffs dropping down to a vast caldera, packed with lush jungles and dead lands where sulfur and poisonous gases had burned the vegetation. A beautiful yet cruel place, filled with the power of life and of death from the Underworld.
They hiked farther up, following a river curving its way up through granite spires and massive boulders, joining a series of waterfalls cascading down the steep ravine. He glanced back: the green sea seemed filled with millions of shimmering jewels.
The next afternoon they reached the top of the pass and stared at the vista on the other side. It looked like a different island: in the center, copper hills spilled into miles of golden prairies; to the left lay hundreds of active, charred, and plugged volcanoes and craters; to the right stretched thick, wooded lands pressed against the Carralides Mountains. Beyond the forests hung a yellow-grey fog. He looked at the Surineda Map. Urgar and the temple was there. A constriction settled over his chest as he stared. The fog breathed, as if aware of everything in its domain.
“So beautiful,” Mara said.
“Beauty holds its sting.” Nikulo drank from his water skin.
“You’ll soon taste that sting if you insist on continuing into that fog.” Rikar wiped the sweat from his brow.
Talis followed Mara down a path running along the foothills. The loose stones gave way underneath. The wind ripped up the mountainside, swirling dust into his nostrils. He coughed and rubbed his nose. The path was quiet and lifeless, except for vultures circling overhead. The sun bore down on his head.
Soon the sun lay a sliver above the Carralides Mountains. Twilight shadows crept down the hillside and climbed the wall of trees off to the east. The four moons appeared unsettled, sprawled out in awkward directions. The sages had a name for this: The Eves of the Tempest. A person's birth year, day, and time could measure one's fortune and fate—all based on the moons and their position in the heavenly bodies.
He’d only studied a small amount of astrology, but what he glimpsed in the sky frightened him, as if all the forces of earth and sky were aligned against them. A bad omen. As they neared the ancient city, the stars themselves spoke ill of their direction. Perhaps Rikar was right.
They continued walking for miles through the darkness, searching for a decent place to rest. Finally a massive, flat rock ledge appeared above the trail. Talis climbed to the top. It was wide enough for them to sleep. His body ached after the long hike. He sat, staring at the fog
below.
“Do we have to go inside?” Mara plopped down next to him.
“Hopefully we can find a way around,” Nikulo said.
“Around? Urgar is inside that fog. However we approach it, we still have to go inside.” Rikar curled up, facing away from them.
When Talis gazed at the fog, he sensed the clinging tendrils of death. He studied the pale-yellow fingers that grasped out at the leaves of the forest. Mara handed him some dried pork and he ate quietly, listening to the wind coursing up the mountainside. He sat for a long time and allowed the sounds around him to drift far away: the air calmed down and all movement ceased as the others went to sleep.
He pressed his eyes together until only a faint amount of light passed through. He breathed deeply and noiselessly, and settled into a fathomless calm as the fog churned and wavered. He felt hypnotized by its movements. Then he rushed towards the mist, flying over treetops and out over a vast plain, down a gully filled with cavernous bones, and past steam wafting from volcanic vents.
A light inside the fog illuminated his way as he flew. He burst through and an ancient city appeared before him atop a rocky mound overlooking the ocean. Urgar. Guarded by legions of ghoulish armies, skeletons and wights and wraiths, wearing broken armor and wielding exotic weapons from every kingdom. Slain soldiers from failed military campaigns. Mounted on white, undead horses with fiery red eyes and yellow mist billowing out of their nostrils. They moved and stirred this way and that, tireless and unceasing in their task to defend the walls.
He spotted a cave on the southern side, along a tall cliff face. An iron gate barred the entrance. He hesitated, then flew inside past the gate and into the darkness. He finally reached the end and burst out over a vast, gleaming city of white and gold and stone. Turrets shot up towards the sky. Groves of camphor trees dotted the landscape, and parks, filled with vines that climbed the walls nearby. The buildings rose in between the greenery, layer upon layer of square houses forming a single tetrahedral unit. Across the vista, Talis noticed many such units, each could hold hundreds of families. Beautiful, white gleaming walls a hundred feet tall surrounded the city.
As he came closer, he studied people standing on balconies watching a game of some kind being played in the park below. The radiant city filled him with hope. If this was his destination, then all would go well. Surely the leaders of such a rich and powerful city could help.
Above the city was an island in the sky. Winged creatures carried people up to the island, to the top, where the temple sat, walls scintillating with golden light. This was his destination. The temple of the Goddess Nacrea shimmered under his gaze. He felt a flood of warmth rush over him. He sighed. At last, he’d made it.
“You’re seeing a vision of a time long ago,” said Aurellia, his voice soft and hideous.
Talis flinched in response, and whirled around to face him. “You lie.”
Aurellia laughed. “Why would I?” He stared at the city and his face softened for a moment. “Urgar was a beautiful city. When we came here to this planet, this world was an infant. We built twin cities to balance the forces of light and darkness. The latent power of the Underworld flowed strong through the ether.”
“This doesn’t exist anymore?”
“Not like it was.” Aurellia waved his hand. The scene changed instantly to a broken and ruined city, filled with pestilence and rot. The temple walls were cracked, with no light remaining in them. Aurellia’s eyes trembled and for a moment Talis thought he’d cry.
“Gone…forever gone.” Aurellia raised his clenched fist to the sky, and let it flop to his side. “There’s much confusion as to the reason behind Urgar’s destruction. Many say I was to blame. Perhaps they’re right. But the mortal leaders of Urgar share the guilt, for they dabbled in magic that should never be practiced by mortals. They were drunk with this new found power, and it ultimately led to the cities’ complete destruction.”
“And the temple?”
“Yes, yes, the temple of the Goddess Nacrea is gone as well. Not destroyed, gone, vanished from Urgar. I’ve been looking for the temple for four thousand years. I’ll find it, someday.” Aurellia stared into Talis’s eyes. “You might be the one to find it.”
The scene changed again, this time to a vision of Naru under siege. The Jiserians were at the gates with battering rams. Catapults rocketed flaming stones. The city was on fire. Talis searched for Master Viridian. He wanted to find his family. But he couldn’t do anything except stare as the fury of battle grew.
When he reached out, he woke instead, screaming. Sweat poured down his underarms. He lifted himself up, and Mara stared into his eyes.
“What happened?” she said, and rubbed his arms.
“It's worse…so much worse.” He told her the vision and she frowned in response. After he finished, they sat for awhile in silence, staring at the fog.
As if in a realization, her eyes brightened, and she gazed at him. “Did your master tell you the story of Nacrea and Satvis?”
He shook his head.
“An ancient legend. Some say it came from the Jiserian Empire. Others say it came from the ancients in the Kingdom of Kirthgar.” She paused for a moment, gazing up. “Well, Nacrea, the Goddess of the Sun, would arise each day and bring life and warmth to the world. All beings on the planet would worship her and sing praises to her power. But Satvis became jealous and waged war on Nacrea. Satvis, the God of Darkness, of the moons, of death. The daylight waned, and in twilight, the battle waged fiercely, and Satvis's power dominated Nacrea—leading to night. The battle raged, day led to night, night led to day.”
“So Satvis is related to the moon sisters?”
“He rules over the moon sisters. They're part of his domain. Nacrea and Satvis were twins born of Nestria, the Goddess of the Sky, mother of all gods. From what my master taught us, thousands of years ago the ancients came to worship Nacrea, and revered her as goodness, while despising Satvis as evil. Originally, they were considered equals and yet opposites. Both are necessary.”
“As day and night are needed.”
“Like the seasons. Spring comes and gives new life, summer unfolds in its brilliance, and fall's color leads to the emptiness of winter. Each season is a rebirth. The ancients saw this endless battle as a process of renewal.”
“Life and death?”
“Even that.”
“So what does this mean?”
“Our world is divided between those following gods thought to be good, and those devoted to darkness. What if neither is bad? The true meaning was twisted over thousands of years. The ancients originally understood this as the balance between light and darkness and the renewal it brought.”
“Here we are at odds with the Jiserian Empire—and they’re ruled by dark sorcerers. My master worships the Goddess Nacrea—worships light—but does it really matter?”
“They're both part of life. My master was a bit hesitant to tell the story. If you ask me, I think when you get too obsessed about one side or the other, balance is lost.” She stood and stretched her spine and raised her hands high into the air.
“Then both light and darkness are necessary. The world is out of balance. The power behind great civilizations has shifted to the dark sorcerers. It makes our mission even clearer. If we don’t succeed in reaching the temple, not only will Naru fall to the Jiserians, but the world will plummet into darkness.”
“Only once the power of the sun is restored. Then the legend is true, there’s an enormous power waiting inside the temple.”
“A good theory,” Rikar said, and rolled over. “Until you consider the world around us. It is inherently evil. We kill, we consume, we battle. We’re all trying to break things apart. The force of death and disintegration.”
“Speak for yourself,” Talis said. “Disintegration is necessary, but you still need spring.”
Rikar pointed towards the fog. “Here comes death now…and you speak of springtime.” A dark, menacing fog raced towards them. “Exac
tly what I was afraid of.” He wrapped his cloak over himself.
Soon a wall higher than trees was over them. It crashed down and looped around and struck them from both sides. A wave of drowsiness swept over Talis as sulfur entered his lungs. He collapsed, losing consciousness, and struggled to keep Mara close.
8. THE GRAVEYARD OF KIRTHGAR
Dawn's first light touched the fog hanging over the hillside. The pungent smell of sulfur sickened the air. Words of poisonous intent slithered through the dream-world like flying serpents, winding their way towards Talis as he slept. His head moved back and forth restlessly. A grand struggle crossed his face. The fog piled higher and denser, creating greater darkness on the ground below. What had once seemed like a dimly lit morning, soon transformed itself into night. The fog crushed the earth and pressed against the sleeping figures on the rock ledge.
The spell was cast and a vivid pall lay over the sleepers as they dreamed of death and ruin. Their bodies moved fitfully and their hands clutched the air. The urgency in the movements of the dreamers surged as the fog condensed like clenched fingers around a delicate neck.
Talis thrust his hands forward, flailing. He thought he was blind until his palms appeared a few inches from his face. He touched the ground. Crushed shale. He lay at a steep angle. Where was Mara? He shouted for her, but the thick air swallowed his voice.
He climbed the hill, and called out, “Is anybody there?” Farther up, he searched for the rock ledge, but failed to find anything. Out to the left, he noticed a shadow flickering in the fog. He crawled and heard a soft whimper.
“Talis, is that you?”
“Thank the gods.” He touched Mara’s shoulder, grasped her arms and pulled her close.
“I woke up alone. I must have fallen off the ledge in my sleep. I had such terrible dreams… Where’s Nikulo and Rikar?”
“I've only found you.” He held her hands and exhaled. “I'm glad you're safe.”
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