Rise of the Forgotten Sun

by Jon Monson

  “It looks like you’re almost ready for that hike up the mountain,” the man smiled. “Of course, you’ll be needing one of these.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his apron, he pulled out a silver necklace with a pendant crafted into the shape of a sunburst. It was simple, yet somehow elegant. It reminded him of something.

  “It’s the symbol needed to enter the monastery,” the clerk said. “You won’t get past those doors without one of these.”

  “That symbol – what does it mean?” Aydiin asked. It was so familiar, but he couldn’t quite remember where he had seen it.

  “It’s the symbol of the monastery,” the shopkeeper shrugged, letting the silver sunburst dangle from its chain. “The pilgrims who show up without this are turned away at the gates.”

  “That sounds strange,” Aydiin finally said, unsure of how to take this bit of news. None of the farmers he’d spoken to had mentioned such a token. They certainly hadn’t mentioned anyone ever being turned away at the gates.

  “You don’t have to purchase it from me,” the shopkeeper smiled, slipping the pendant back into his apron. “But you’ll come back in a few days for it, just as everyone else does. Only by then you’ll be exhausted and dreading that second climb.”

  Aydiin’s mind ran. He would feel like a fool if the man were lying, but he’d feel even worse if he weren’t.

  “I’ll take it,” Aydiin sighed. “Along with everything else I’m going to need.”

  The shopkeeper smiled and helped Aydiin put all the supplies needed into the canvas backpacks. The man seemed a little too joyful as he did so, and Aydiin felt sure he’d just been conned. Walking out into the open air, he stashed the necklace into the pocket of his trousers.

  “Took you long enough,” Seb grumbled as Aydiin joined him at the edge of town.

  “Sorry, the shopkeeper was busy stacking canned beans into a pyramid,” Aydiin smiled in return. Seb was the typical veteran – a man of few words. Yet when he did talk, he had plenty to say.

  Seb had seen the world, living the life Aydiin had always dreamed of. Of course, he travelled to escape his past – not exactly the ideal reason. Still, he’d seen every major city in the world and had more than enough stories to fill a lifetime.

  “I hope there’s more than just beans in those bags you’ve got,” Seb laughed, taking the pack that Aydiin handed him and throwing it onto his shoulders.

  “Well, mine does,” Aydiin smiled. “Yours is filled with canned beans. I know how much you like them.”

  Seb didn’t respond to that.

  “The man also sold me this,” Aydiin said, pulling the medallion from his pocket. “He said you can’t get past the gate without one.”

  Seb looked at the sunburst dangling from the silver chain. The grizzled soldier looked impassive, yet there was something underneath the surface. His eye twitched slightly, and it looked as if he were trying too hard to not show any emotion. The symbol obviously meant something.

  “I believe the shop owner took you for a simpleton,” Seb said. “And I guess he was right.”

  “Well, it wasn’t that expensive,” Aydiin laughed. “And it’s rather nice, don’t you think? It looks familiar – do you recognize it?”

  “We really should get going,” Seb replied, looking away from the pendant. “That sun is already too high for my comfort – we don’t want to be on the path when it gets dark.”

  Aydiin knew he’d struck a nerve. Seb was hiding something, and it made him nervous. Still, the old soldier had shown he was more than trustworthy. He could have killed Aydiin a dozen times since saving him at the docks.

  Seb kept a few spans ahead of Aydiin, and he knew there would be no getting anything out of his travelling companion. When Sebastian decided to be silent, even the Divines couldn’t open that mouth. It’s what made him such a pleasant person to travel with.

  As they began up the path, Aydiin found himself thinking about the medallion. Yes, he probably had been cheated. Yet he strangely didn’t feel so.

  There was something to the symbol, something he couldn’t quite place. It was so familiar. Then it hit him.

  “I’ve seen this symbol before,” Aydiin called out to Seb. The old man didn’t stop. “It was in the chamber where I found the Stone.”

  That did the trick. Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face him. Aydiin suppressed a smile, knowing that he might as well have moved a mountain as made Seb stop. It felt satisfying.

  “When I figured out the puzzle underneath the Lonely Spire, this symbol appeared on the floor,” Aydiin panted, the memory flooding back to him. “A statue rose up from the ground, holding the Stone. They have to be connected.”

  “It’s possible,” Seb nodded. He didn’t speak further, only stared at Aydiin as if to say they needed to keep moving.

  Is that really all he has to say? Aydiin thought. He’d just made a connection between a symbol that was supposedly required to enter the monastery and the Stone that started this entire journey. That should elicit a stronger reaction.

  “Okay, let’s keep moving,” Aydiin finally said and Seb turned around. He at least knew something. He couldn’t quite put it all together, but he had the feeling that the monks would have some sort of clue. It could very well be the missing piece to the puzzle.

  So they climbed, all the while Aydiin thought of how they were connected. He currently held a Stone that did nothing, yet someone was willing to go to great lengths to get it from him. And somehow it was all connected to this image of the sun.

  By mid-afternoon, his legs were feeling the effects of the altitude and the effort expended to reach this height. His back was drenched in sweat where covered by the canvas bag, but his face was cold in the chill air. The combination of the two felt odd.

  Seb wouldn’t stop. The man was not only in good shape for his age, but he put Aydiin to shame. The man barely perspired as the two continued upwards on a path obviously meant to try even the most ardent of pilgrims. Just when his legs could bare it no longer, an oddity in the rocky slopes showed itself.

  Aydiin hadn’t thought much about how the monastery would look, but he hadn’t expected the building to be carved out of the mountain. An immense staircase led up to the largest doors Aydiin had ever seen. They were easily taller than the Grand Hall in the Doge’s Palace, and they seemed to be made of pure stone.

  The shopkeeper had been at least partially correct - each door contained the same sunburst imprinted on the necklace that current sat in his pocket.

  The two climbed the stairs and Aydiin found himself touching the stone doors in awe. There was a power to them, a power that he’d never felt before in anything created by man. The monastery he’d visited back home – even the Great Basilica that could fit thousands of worshipers – couldn’t compare to the power embodied in this edifice.

  “Who approaches the Sanctuary of the Divines?” a voice called out. Aydiin jumped from his reverie to see an ancient being step out from a small alcove.

  The man’s face, beard, and clothing were all grey, acting as camouflage against the stone. Even now that he could see the man, he wasn’t at all surprised it had taken so long to notice him. His voice shook with purpose, and although he seemed to be nothing but skin and bone, Aydiin felt no desire to test the limits of his powers.

  “I am called Aydiin – Prince of the Sultanate of Salatia,” he said, bowing to the man and holding up the necklace he’d purchased. “I come to seek wisdom from those residing within.”

  Aydiin’s face suddenly felt warm, and he opened his eyes to see the Markings come alive on his hands. They danced and swirled, the colors changing as quickly as they ever had. The look on the old man’s face told him that the Markings on his face had also chosen to reappear.

  “It is I who must bow to you, My Lord,” the old man said. “Oh how I have dreamed of this day, how I have despaired of its coming. Yet it is here, and it cannot be avoided.”

  The old man grabbed Aydiin by the
wrist. With a flick of his free hand, the massive doors slid open enough for them to squeeze through. Still grabbing his wrist, the guardian dragged Aydiin through the opening.

  The chamber inside was taller even than the doors, and Aydiin was greeted by a long, wide staircase descending to a polished marble floor. Tall windows near the ceiling had been carved from the stone, and sunlight streamed into the room. It felt almost as open as the outdoors.

  Monks in robes of various colors milled about, obviously rushing to perform their duties. Some were old while others quite young. All of them – both men and women - sported shaved heads like Seb’s and maintained stoic expressions.

  When Aydiin had visited the monastery of Surion, every monk had worn red to show their devotion to the God of Fire. It made sense that a monastery devoted to all the gods would have more variety. He liked the effect the multitude of colors had on the room.

  As the old man continued to lead Aydiin through the crowded chamber, men and women stopped whatever they were doing to stare at Aydiin. No, they weren’t staring at Aydiin – his Markings had already faded.

  They were staring at the ancient man who led him through the chamber by the wrist as if he were a small child. Some even pointed, confusion and worry evident on their faces. Aydiin’s own confusion began to mount.

  “Alert the Council,” one man within the crowd shouted. The call went up, joined by several others. Almost a dozen robed figures dashed into the various hallways connecting the entrance hall to the rest of the monastery.

  Still, the old man walked through the crowd without slowing, his grip on Aydiin’s wrist never loosening. Aydiin wanted to speak up, to ask what was happening. Yet he knew that wouldn’t be an option.

  At the end of the grand chamber they reached a tall archway that led into a dark, empty room. The old man marched right on through, ignoring the two shocked priests who appeared to be standing guard. Aydiin gave the men an apologetic look, but their eyes seemed to not even register him.

  Aydiin could hear his footsteps echo loudly on polished marble as he entered the empty chamber. His thoughts went back to the night he met Byanca, as his footsteps had been as uncomfortably loud as he had entered the Great Hall in the Doge’s Palace so many nights ago. How long had it been? A week? Maybe less? It felt like a lifetime.

  The old man stopped without warning, and Aydiin nearly ran into him. They sat silently in the dark. The only sound came from his own breathing.

  Fingers snapped from somewhere in the darkness and torches surrounding the room burst into flame. Orange light cast an immediately eerie glow in the room, creating strange shadows from the many columns supporting the roof.

  A raised dais on the far end of the chamber held a table, behind which sat eight robed figures. Every color he’d seen in the entrance hall was represented by a single figure with an obscured face. The torchlight danced on their robes, casting shadows on the somber scene.

  “Why does the Watcher of the Keep abandon his post?” a voice called out from underneath a red robe. “Do you take lightly your sacred responsibility?”

  “In a thousand years, have you ever known me take my responsibility lightly?” the old man responded. “I have abstained from food and drink, from resting so as to never abandon my vigil. Why would you assume me to do so now?”

  “You have plainly abandoned the gates, Watcher,” a man in yellow robes spoke. “It is understandable why this causes the Council to worry.”

  “Your duty – nay, your sole purpose - is to await the return of Alarun,” the red robe snarled. “You have been faithful for a millennium. Why do you shirk your duty now?”

  “I have neither shirked my duty nor abandoned my post,” the old man said, beginning to tremble. “Rather, I have fulfilled them. Alarun has returned.”

  The monk stepped aside, presenting Aydiin to the group, all of whom gasped. The man in the red robe rose to his feet, apparently angry.

  “This cannot be,” he yelled. “High Priests of the Council, I believe the Watcher has lost his wits.”

  “The man was blessed by Alarun himself,” a feminine voice in blue robes spoke. “Do you doubt the powers of our God?”

  “The Rise of the Forgotten Sun cannot yet be upon us,” the red robe shot back. “The signs have not yet been fulfilled.”

  “There is only one sign that needs to be fulfilled,” the Watcher replied. “And it is right in front of your eyes, if only you have the vision.”

  “The Watcher is convinced,” the blue robed priestess said. “It is our duty to listen to his counsel. There is but one way to determine if the Rise of the Forgotten Sun is indeed upon us.”

  The priestess rose to her feet and nearly glided across the room to where Aydiin stood in shock. Dropping her hood, Aydiin was surprised to see a lovely dark face with close-cropped hair. The woman smiled, her pearly white teeth contrasting beautifully with her skin.

  “Welcome, Prince Aydiin of Salatia,” she said. “Do you understand what’s happening?”

  “I haven’t the slightest clue,” Aydiin answered honestly.

  “The Watcher believes you to be the Heir of Alarun,” she said. “If that is true, then a chain of events has begun that cannot be stopped.”

  “Heir of Alarun?” Aydiin asked. “Why would the Betrayer have an heir?”

  “That is an unfortunate little lie we’ve had to perpetuate,” the woman sighed. “But please, let me explain. I am Edona, the High Priestess of Katala. The men and women behind me are the High Priests and Priestesses of each of the eight Divines. Together, we form what we call the Council.”

  “You’re telling him too much,” the man in the red robes said. Aydiin guessed him to be the High Priest of Surion, and he apparently had the fiery temper of his god. “This man obviously can’t be the Heir of Alarun – just look at him.”

  “There is a simple way to find out, Jonas,” Edona replied, her voice calm yet firm.

  Reaching into her robes, the High Priestess of Katala pulled a chain from around her neck. As it rose from out of her robes, Aydiin was shocked to see a large blue Stone dangling from the chain.

  “The Great Stone of Katala,” Aydiin whispered.

  “Very good eye, my Prince,” Edona nodded in response. “What you see before you is one of the ‘lost’ Great Stones. We paid a dear price to obtain it, and it has hung around my neck for nearly a hundred years.”

  A hundred years? Aydiin’s eyes bulged. The woman looked to be no older than thirty. First this Watcher claims to be a thousand years old, and now this woman claims something similar.

  “If the Watcher is correct, we will know very soon,” Edona continued, the Stone dangling from its chain. “Please, reach out your hand and touch the Stone.”

  Aydiin did as he was told. As his hand made contact with the Stone, an almost magnetic force grabbed him. His hand clenched the blue Stone against his will. The Stone began to shake, the vibration growing increasingly powerful with each second.

  Blue light burst from the Stone, shattering the smooth surface as if it were only glass. The light filled his vision, and his surroundings vanished.

  Aydiin found himself lying on his back, the light fading from his vision. He shook his head, trying to clear the spots that covered his eyes. It felt as if he’d been staring at the sun.

  He was outside - the sky filled with dark clouds. Somehow he knew it had been that way for months, and it was far from a normal weather pattern. That knowledge filled him with fear.

  An explosion rocked with ground, and he sat up in shock. He was sitting on a pathway that led up a mountain. The stone was hard and rough, and his entire back felt stiff.

  Another explosion hit only a few spans away from him, and he covered his face with his hands and arms. He felt the skin on his arms burn from the explosion, and looked down to see his dark hands made raw by the fire. The smell of burning hair and charred flesh filled his nostrils.

  The pain screamed at him, telling him to move. He rose to his feet and scr
ambled up the path, towards safety. Somehow, he knew there was safety further at the top of this climb.

  His skin continued to howl in pain. The burns were deep and would need Healing. Yet he was alive, and that’s what mattered. Summoning water from the air, Aydiin coated his raw skin with the cool liquid. It wouldn’t heal him, but at least the water took the edge off the pain. Covered in a coat of water, he kept moving.

  The burns were nothing compared to the sorrow he felt for the world he had helped to create. From his vantage point, he could see the destruction that had been waged upon it. That sorrow weighed him down, but he forced himself to keep moving.

  Aydiin couldn’t quite tell where the feeling came from. He certainly had no recollection of creating any worlds, but the sadness remained, so strong that it threatened to consume him.

  Screaming from behind caught his attention, and he whipped around to face the sound. A dozen black-robed madmen rushed towards him, oblivious to their surroundings. Their eyes were full of madness, their mouths covered in foam as they rushed up the path.

  He felt disgust – disgust mixed with a significant amount of pity - for these men, although he wasn’t sure why. The sentiment confused him as much as the sorrow had. He had no idea who they were or why they rushed up the mountain.

  However, it was apparent that they wanted to cause him great harm. Aydiin stopped to face the men, planting his feet firmly on the pathway and ignoring the heat emanating from his skin. It could be dealt with later.

  He instinctively created a long strand of water from the humidity in the air. Instead of spreading the liquid along his skin, he crafted it into a long rope. It hovered in the air, awaiting his command.

  The water rope whipped towards his attackers. Whistling through the air, it made contact with the group’s leader. A loud crack sounded as the man’s head was severed from his body. Collapsing to the ground, the others barely stopped to notice.

  Another crack sounded as another black robe fell to the ground. Aydiin summoned another whip, commanding the two in their fury. After only a moment, the path was littered with a dozen black robes.