by Susan Faw
Darkness descended with the setting of the sun, but the temple did not stop projecting its images. The crowds pulsed and thinned as they gradually drifted away to their homes.
Only the elders remained and with them a contingent of Primordial warriors, who ringed the temple. No one could approach the temple or mount its steps since Avery had entered. An invisible force repelled all who attempted it.
At the foot of the stairs, the High Priestess marched back and forth, scowling at the temple. The elders watched her pacing, secretly amused by her annoyance.
“Marea, why don’t you relax? There is nowhere for the young woman to go. There is only one door in and that is at the top of the stairs. She will have to come out the same way she went in.”
Marea glared at Elder Hania, her scowl deepening so that he took an involuntary step back from her. “She mocks me. The temple and its secrets belong to the High Priestess. She should never have been allowed to enter it on her own. Obviously, she intends to usurp my authority. I will not allow it for the good of our people. Prophesied One or not, she will obey me.” She flung out an arm at the glowing temple. “Look what she has done! She has tripped some ancient safeguard and now the temple is out of control. Maybe she never comes out. She may even be dead. Baw!” She resumed her pacing, and Elder Hania opened his mouth to respond, just as the temple went dark.
The darkness was complete and eerie after the display that had lasted the better part of a day and a night. As he furiously blinked away the remaining light image, he noticed the beginning blush of dawn creeping across the horizon as the sun prepared to rise in the east.
Everyone stared at the door, and a hush fell across the watchers. The warriors pulled bladed weapons from their leather scabbards and others notched arrows to the long bows common amongst the clan. A nervous tremor ran through the group. Suddenly, the double doors whispered open, ghostlike. A diminutive figure stepped across the threshold to the balcony railing, just as the first rays of sunlight broke the horizon. The sun flashed over her and the blue glow that initially surrounded her faded in the harsh morning glare.
The archers drew back on their creaking bows, arms straining with the resistance of the wood and sighted on Avery’s heart. Marea raised her left hand imperiously, halting the bowmen. She cautiously approached the steps of the temple, feeling for the powerful spirit force, the field of spirit that had been humming throughout the day, but it had vanished. Avery’s head rose as she approached, her face masked by her heavy hood, and then she moved to stand centered on the staircase. Marea ascended the stairs, eyes intent on Avery. Halfway up, Avery reached back and drew the hood off of her head.
A collective gasp sighed around the crowd, and then fresh murmuring broke out and a few shouts echoed over the grounds. The elders closed in on either side of Marea, who had paused in midstep.
Liquid silver. Her eyes are liquid silver pierced with celestial blue. What is this creature? Cautiously, now, Marea approached Avery, making no sudden movements. Her eyes narrowed at the tattoos covering her skin.
“Hello, child. I am Marea, the High Priestess of the sacred temple you have been enjoying for the past twenty-eight hours.”
Avery stared at her, and then her head swung around to take in the weapons pointed in her direction. “Is this how you usually greet guests? With bows and swords?”
Marea shook her head. “No, child, but none of our guests have commandeered a holy site on entering the city either. They do not know your intentions and are correctly cautious, but no harm will come to you as long as I command it.”
Avery’s strange eyes swung back to Marea, and Marea shivered, masking the thrill that raced along her pulse as the silvery orbs settled on her. The gaze felt ancient, as though an older soul lived behind the silvery window, a presence older than the temple itself, the age of which had passed into legend. No one knew when it had been built or how or by whom. It had simply always existed, as did the mountains around them, ancient and permanent and unmoving.
“I commandeered nothing. I was bid to enter and I did so.” Avery’s eyes scanned the crowd, but she could not locate her father. “Where is my father?”
“He is safe. What concerns me is what you were doing in the temple for an entire day and night? Come, we must talk, and you need to be seen by our healers.”
“I am perfectly fine. I do not need to see any healers. I want to see my father.”
“I’m afraid I cannot permit that right now.” Avery’s eyes swung back to Marea and their silver centers pulsed angrily. “Come, we will talk,” implored Marea. “I do not even know your name. What do they call you, child?”
“I am no child!” Avery struggled to restrain the urge to stomp her foot…like a child. Her eyes glazed for a moment, and she struggled to remember her name. She rubbed a hand over where her eyebrow should have been, now permanently inked to match her body.
“Avery.” She tested the name on her tongue and found it to be familiar, if not quite true. “I am called Avery in this age.” Memories assaulted her with the thought of her name, and sweat broke out on her forehead, a pulsing pain accompanying the effort it took to remember.
“Come, you need rest.” Marea held out her hand, indicating that Avery should join her. Avery stepped down the remainder of the steps, pulling up her hood, joining the High Priestess. The clansmen surrounded them and led them away from the temple and back into Faylea proper, crossing over a second bridge that led directly into the heart of the city.
Two sets of eyes, unnoticed by the Primordial guards, followed the retreating group. One was hostile. One was not. But both followed, slipping through grey early morning patches of shadow, pursuing the assembly.
***
Elder Hania fell into step beside Avery. “Hello, Daughter. It is pleasant to meet you at last. Sharisha has told us of your journey and the trials you have endured along the way.”
Avery nodded but did not reply. She took in the buildings as they passed, larger than the homes that had lined the street from the south. This paved stone road was more westerly, and the buildings had the feel of shops or perhaps meeting places. However, it was difficult to tell as no signs decorated the exteriors to advise of their intended usage. The majority were built from saplings, bent and tied and intertwined as they grew. By the number of stories involved, the age of the buildings became apparent. The deeper into the town they walked, the thicker the trunks became until the houses took on a wooden appearance not that different from the log cabins that were popular in Sanctuary-by-the-Sea. The main difference was that instead of lying stacked on their sides, these trunks stood fused side by side.
Eventually they arrived at an immense central square, which was actually an octagon, each side another road departing the central area. At the focal point of the octagon rose a spire that twisted into the sky and down into the earth. As the sun struck it, the light bounced off and was sent down one of the darker streets that would have remained in perpetual twilight due to the height of the buildings and the trees involved had this feature not have been present. As they approached the spire, a grinding noise met their ears. A mirrored disc halfway up the tower rotated into alignment with the sun’s rays and sent a secondary shaft of sunlight down another street. With a series of clicks and whirls, the remaining mirrors aligned themselves and lit the side streets with morning sunlight.
Avery stared at the contraption. “That is incredible. How does it work?”
“We do not know.” Elder Hania watched the machine click over to the next setting. “The knowledge of its construction has been forgotten. It is very old, perhaps as old as the temple or the gods.”
Avery’s head swung around to look him in the eye. “You know of the gods?”
“Of course. I am an elder. Come, we can discuss more of this once inside the spire.” He led the way to a curved arch carved out of the base and onto a spiral staircase, which they climbed in dizzying circles until it emptied onto a landing before a door. The door was carved fro
m a huge alabaster clam shell, and the surface rippled with rainbow hues. It swung open silently at their approach. Inside, arched buttresses soared to disappear into the murky gloom of the ceiling. The pale arches reminded Avery of the bones of a whale she had discovered on the beach one summer, washed up and decayed long ago. Only the bones had remained, and she had wandered around and through the ribcage trailing her hand along the arch of bones in awe that such a creature could exist.
Elder Hania and High Priestess Marea led Avery to a trestle table set with matching chairs and indicated that she should take the chair opposite them. The warriors lined the walls, but they did not put away their weapons.
The door opened again and Sharisha entered, striding up to the table and taking a seat on the other side of Marea. Directly behind her entered a woman bearing a tray with a pewter pitcher with a great curved handle and four pewter cups. She set the cups in front of each of them and poured crimson juice into each cup. Setting the pitcher in the middle, she bowed and left the chamber.
Sharisha met Avery’s eyes across the table. Shocked at Avery’s transformation, she struggled to keep the fear from her face. She studied the tattoos visible on every inch of skin as Avery lowered her hood to her shoulders and then folded her hands in her lap to keep them from twitching.
I must appear strong and confident. I must not give away my insecurity. I must not show weakness. They do not know what happened in the tower. They do not know who I am. Avery’s lips curled into a sneer. “I assume you wish to question me? I will only answer what is appropriate for you to hear.”
Marea’s glare was quickly replaced by a condescending smile that did not reach her eyes. “Child, what could you possibly say that is inappropriate for us to hear? Simply tell us why you entered the temple and what you found in there.” Her eyes travelled over Avery, and she was unable to hide the disgust that flickered in her eyes. “Obviously, you borrowed several artifacts of clothing…which, of course, you will return, as they belong to the temple. Where did you find them?” In all her years as High Priestess, Marea had not found the secret closet, despite searching the temple extensively. How did she find it so easily? “You also triggered a dangerous display within the temple. What did you do? I must know so that others do not trip over this trigger by accident.”
Elder Hania leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, watching Avery closely. He frowned as his eyes examined the visible tattoos on her head. Whirls and symbols followed a pattern that was familiar to him. He stood up and walked back around the table and stopped beside her chair, his frown deepening, drawing his greyed drooping brow almost into a straight line. Avery watched him approach and pause by her chair, and then she clenched her hands, hidden under the table into fists of anger. The elder did not touch her. He simply studied the array of tattoos, moving slowly around her until he paused on the opposite side.
Marea harrumphed and the elder’s eyes flickered to her and then back to Avery. With a sigh, he sat back down in his abandoned chair and waited for Marea to resume her interrogation.
Marea swung back to Avery and did not attempt to hide her displeasure this time. “Well, child? Speak up!”
Avery rolled her tense shoulders and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened. I entered the temple and after that I passed out. When I came to, I was in need of clothes and there was a doorway in front of me. I opened the door, found some clothes, and put them on.”
The silence stretched following these words. Then Marea, in a voice so heavy with sarcasm that it hit the floor with a nearly audible thud, sneered, “And? Is that it? Surely you do not think I believe that story, You were in there for twenty-eight hours—a full day and night! You want me to believe you saw and heard nothing? That you did not explore the temple? You locked the doors! Why? I will have answers, and I will have them now!” This last came out just shy of a screech.
Elder Hania shot a look at Marea out of the corner of his eye but did not speak.
Avery flushed and stared back at Marea, her eyes glowing with emotion. Her gaze switched to Sharisha, who sat expressionless, watching Avery like a cat who had cornered a mouse, after a long chase.
“Well, obviously, you are not meant to know, if you as High Priestess have never had a similar experience.” Avery’s smile widened, even as her heart raced. This will not end well, she thought. “Perhaps you are not meant to access the temple but merely be a caretaker of it? Hmm?”
Marea’s face flushed as bright as the ruby liquid in her untouched cup. She leaned forward across the tabletop toward Avery, and her lips drew back into a snarl. “You, young one, are the one who is sadly mistaken. To enter the temple without permission is an offense, punishable by death. You will tell me everything that transpired in the temple, or you will find yourself staked out as food for the vultures. Chosen One or not, you are still human and die just as easily as the rest of us. Your father thought he could resist us too. He came to understand the truth of the matter…in the end.”
Avery shot to her feet, lunging at Marea. Before she could do more than lean forward, strong hands grabbed her arms to restrain her. Weapons were drawn, and Avery was surrounded by the Primordial warriors. A knowing grin spread across Sharisha’s face. Elder Hania frowned deeper and shook his head, displeased at the turn of events.
“Take her to the cells until I choose to question her again. The cell beside her useless father would be a good one. Guard her closely, for if she escapes, you will be very, very sorry.” Marea stood up, eyes glinting at Avery’s struggle as she was dragged out through a side passage.
“You will fail, High Priestess!” Avery yelled over her shoulder. “You were never more than a caretaker!” she spat as she was hauled over the threshold and the door boomed closed behind them.
Chapter 14
Artio
ARTIO ROAMED THE FORGOTTEN TEMPLE, examining the throne room and the attendant chambers beyond the main audience hall. In the private rooms she claimed as her own, she located several trunks with rusted padlocks that broke with a swift tug. Inside the trunks were articles of clothing wrapped in silk. The trunks had been preserved with a spell that kept the ravages of time from harming the contents. Rummaging through them, she found several sets of soft chestnut robes that fell over one shoulder, leaving the other exposed, and dropped to just above her knees. She tossed open the lid of an oaken chest banded with iron and found a sleeveless leather vest and leather-plated skirt with interlocking folds of armadillo shell. Her lips stretched into a feral smile at the discovery. It was more armour than clothing, and she was pleased. She also found leather greaves studded with cabochons of emerald, ruby, amethyst, and tiger’s eye. She strapped the greaves on her downy arms and, as a crowning touch, settled a rough circlet of hammered gold on her dirty-blonde curls to complete her transformation.
A bubbled mirror on the far wall reflected a distorted view, but it was enough for Artio to see the warrior goddess in her true form. I am truly a blend now, thunder-bear and goddess wrapped into one lethal package.
As she had rummaged for the clothing, pieces of long-buried memory surfaced. Memories of a forgotten past and people, of sibling wars and banishment amongst the very stars she was to maintain. She snarled at the image in the mirror. I will never be banished again. This time I will prevail. My sisters and brother have a lot to answer for, especially the twins. I will hunt them down, and this time I will not fail.
Artio re-entered the audience chamber to find the High Priests exactly as she had left them, standing in the center of the hall with their eyes rolling in their heads. On the floor, scorpions scuttled everywhere, blackening the floor in the circle bound by her magic. One priest whimpered as a scorpion crawled over his naked foot, poised with its poisoned tip raised as if to strike.
“Please, Great One! Release us so that we may serve you. We will find the people you seek. We are sworn to your service!” He shuddered as the scorpion began to crawl under the hem of his robes and out of site. Sweat rolled dow
n his cheek, and his eyes widened at the movements that were now not visible, but that he felt nonetheless.
Artio bent and picked up one of the scorpions, which curled up on the palm of her hand like a dog settling to sleep. “My pets will not harm you, provided you mean me no harm. Think on that this evening, and in the morning, if you are still alive, you may serve me.”
She strode out the temple doorway and into the night. None followed her. None could, for where she was headed only the dead could go.
***
Artio’s long legs carried her through the woods. She began to climb a twisting trail that led up to the jagged peaks forming the tip of the spine of the world. The location of the place she sought had come back to her while she’d searched the trunks for clothing. As though awakening from a long sleep, the clouds had lifted and fragments of memory reorganized themselves, solidifying into a solid plan. If the twins did indeed roam the earth again, as the weak priests had suggested, Artio needed to level the playing field. That meant it was time for a little family reunion.
She snarled once again, annoyed at the time lost. Multiple millennia she had been chained. True, she had been unaware of the passage of time (she was immortal, after all)—but still. She checked that the weapon she’d strapped to her left thigh as she left the temple was secure. The long thin blade of obsidian was set in a creamy bone handle that she had been especially pleased to find right where she had left it before her banishment. The blade was impregnated with the deadly poisonous slavering of Cerberus, a very effective poison both in this life and the afterlife.
Memories of her existence as a thunder god blended and merged with her memories of the godling child called Artio. Artio had been a weak creature, barely aware of the world around her. She had been fascinated with the constellations and with the one she had been named after in particular. The irony was not lost on her. Now returned to a physical form, they were bound as one. She should have anticipated that the experiment harnessing the moon that was her home could have dire consequences. She could not remember her name as a cub. Artio would do.
