Chapter 29
THE TEMPLE OF ICE
Darag pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, his face falling into the shadows of the deep cowl. The air had turned noticeably cooler and the heavy fabric made a warm refuge. He paddled his small canoe to the side of the River of Turcot. Ice clung to the rocks along the shore even though it was just past mid-summer. Above leafless branches, towers were visible in the distance. Their stone sides shimmered with frost in the morning light.
He could no sooner have stayed waiting in Lus na Sithchaine as he could have asked Lavinia to remain behind while her brother and friends sailed south. It was Laith Lus asking Niri if she was going to the Temple of Ice that had given Darag the idea. That and the story of the war that Lavinia had related, heard when she had visited Laith Lus and Niri. The hope was tenuous, that he could find an answer to what had happened during the war, but it was action rather than waiting.
Unease had risen in him from the moment the small sailboat with Lavinia onboard had slipped from view around the bend of Drufforth’s harbor. If restlessness had once vibrated in him so that he had left the Forest of Falin, Darag had been unsure to what lengths this growing anxiety would push him toward.
He knew Lavinia loved her friend, but Ria’s gifts troubled him. The Kith did not trust the Church, but it did not mean he would welcome a power that had possibly started a war.
If it hadn’t been those with magic trying to gain power, if it had been the Order of Fire - the same Order that had encouraged Niri to go to the Temple of Dust? The thought twisted like a growing thing in Darag’s gut. What if Lavinia, Niri, Ria, and even Ty were walking into a trap?
One or the other thought was true. He was not sure which outcome he hoped for.
Darag pulled the canoe out of the frost-rimmed river and tied it off to a small tree. His breath was visible in the still air. Not a sound echoed through the forest. There was nothing to calm the thoughts racing through his mind. In all his years and travels, Darag had never before felt out of his element. He faced the ancient turrets of the Temple of Ice and wondered if Laith Lus or Niri would have felt the same unease.
Time was passing. Lavinia was most likely across the straight by now. Maybe even already on the Southern Shore on her way to the Temple of Dust. With a deep breath to steady himself, he plunged through the ice encrusted brambles.
The scant foliage at the edge of the river gave out to a world eternally held in winter. The trees were bare frames. A dusting of snow swept across the ground between the frozen trunks. Pockets of ice filled the hollows.
Darag walked silently, scanning the ground while straining to hear any sound, any warning. He had never seen such a place. The outer wall of the Temple rose before him. It wove through the forest around trees, rising and falling like a frozen wave of stone. Darag looked along its length in both directions. There was no opening in sight.
He placed a hand on the icy stones and paused. He could shape a doorway easily or lower the wall, but his instincts were shouting against it. He did not know if magic knew time. Old spells could catch him. He paused, wondering if he had walked into a magical ambush set in a war nine hundred years earlier.
“What am I doing here?”
Darag’s voice was the only sound. He pulled back his hand, fingers numb from the cold. His resolve wavered. He hadn’t considered not being able to use his skills. All Kith were born with power. It was a part of who they were. Already unnerved, Darag wasn’t certain if he could face the Temple of Ice as an ordinary man. He rubbed his eyes.
“There is nothing here and has not been for nine hundred years. Am I afraid of nothing?”
It was the notion that he still had power, and could summon it any time, that led to his decision. He was simply choosing not to use his skills unless there was a need. With a sigh, Darag picked left and walked along the wall.
After fifteen minutes of walking, he came to the first gate. It might once have been a small recessed door through the wall. Now, the opening was stretched and warped out of shape to a size twice Darag’s height. Melted stones flowed over the deformed wood. Ice filled the gaps where the door no longer fit.
Darag stared at the nightmarish image a moment. Then he turned and walked on without trying to see if the door would open. If he wasn’t using his powers, he was not going to walk through a portal deformed by another’s. It was over an hour later and going on afternoon when he found the main gate.
A canal cut through the forest and crossed under what was once an elaborate arch. Intricate carvings covered the broken remnants of stone scattered across the frozen field. The canal was encased in ice. Sections of decorated stone larger than a six-person canoe jutted from the frozen water. The cracks caused by their impact hundreds of years ago still stretched as white scars.
There was nothing left of the gate beyond melted metal brackets which twisted like skeletal arms into the frigid air. The entrance to the Temple grounds stood open across the debris studded ice. From the destroyed main gate, Darag could see an inner yard where the frozen water of the canal turned to skirt the inner wall and flow into the embrace of an ice-covered lake. Where the canal curved, a dock stood before a wide gate in the high stone wall.
As Darag surveyed the scene, an image of Lavinia, laughter shining in her bright blue eyes, flashed in his mind. A tender smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. For the first time in his memory, Darag wished he wasn’t alone. He wanted Lavinia by his side. The quiet of the place created a crushing loneliness, deepened by the endless cold.
Without her, I am lonely.
He chuckled at the thought. The memory of Lavinia in his arms warmed him, spirit and flesh. She had upset the balance of his life and finally set it right.
With Lavinia close in his thoughts, Darag stepped onto the ice of the canal. He gave the blasted stone a wide berth even though the ice felt solid. Water was not his element and he had no desire to have the ice crack under his feet. Beyond the gate and past the ruined arch, Darag’s cautious steps led him back to frozen ground. He kept his eyes on the wooden dock and the dark entrance looming over it. As he walked closer, scorch marks became visible. Darag gritted his teeth.
When Darag stood before the inner gate, he saw the full amount of damage. The remaining wood of the gate hung in charred splinters from the stout metal ribs between the stone walls. The fire had been so intense that the rocks on either side crumbled at Darag’s touch. It was almost enough to turn him around.
“The use of fire does not mean the Order of Fire is responsible,” Darag hissed under his breath. Rationally, he knew it was true. But in his soul, he was certain. The wind blew snow in his face. It felt like it lodged in him.
Doubt kept him from leaving. A part of him needed proof beyond fire twisted metal. For Lavinia’s sake, he had to stop the war within himself so that he knew what to do. Cautiously, Darag walked through the seared ruins.
Through the recessed inner gate, snowflakes swept from ramparts four stories above fell in hazy bands. Darag crossed the narrow stone courtyard into a world that was all the more unnerving for its quiet. Five frosted steps led to arched doors which stretched up another half of Darag’s height. Shards of blue and green glass clung to the remains of ribboned metal and framework. For all the exterior gates and walls, the door to the inner Temple had been nothing more than ornamental. Darag shook his head and stepped over the splinters of glass.
—
Hours later, fading sunlight glinted through ice encrusted windows high within the Temple. Shallow pinks frosted the sky above the sinking pale disk of the sun. It was a winter sunset. Darag shivered. He found it hard to believe that summer was half a day's walk away. The sun had dropped nearly to the horizon as he had searched the empty Temple. Now, there was no way to escape the circle of ice before dark. With sinking resolve, Darag realized he would have to spend the night in the frozen Temple.
The afternoon had brought only more questions. He had explored a majority of the silent Temple, finding kitchens,
dormitories, work, and study rooms. Tables had been overturned, a chair in one room shattered against a wall, but mostly everything sat eerily undisturbed. There was no sign of any fight after Darag had stepped through the shattered doorway. The lack of violence and deadly cold lent the silent ruin a haunted feel.
The evening wind howled against the stones of the building. The solitary sound echoed down the hallway. He walked along what must have once been an ornate passageway with broad views of the canal and forest along one side, the lake and gardens on the other. The hallway connected the two parallel wings of the Temple, swooping between them in a graceful arch of stone.
Before him, the hallway split to skirt an opening in the floor demarcated by a delicate railing. With a start, Darag realized he stood in the central tower directly over the entrance hall. He looked down icicle columns that plunged into the now frozen pool that constituted the floor of the room. Above him, a glass dome let in the last of the day’s light.
When Darag had crossed the entrance room earlier, he had been caught between the biting cold seeping up from the floor and the sudden flash of what the room had been before, when this had been the Temple of Mist. The frost on the blue and lavender ornamental tiles could have been fog that rose from the tumbling waterfalls to the dome overhead. The air would have been warm and humid, his feet in shallow water. A breath in of air so cold it had made him cough dispersed the image. The Temple now held only ice and death.
Now, the floor of the entrance hall fell into shadows as the sun touched the horizon. Darag shivered, remembering the dark hallway directly across from the broken doorway below him. From the windows where he stood above, he realized there was no building behind the central tower. The arched opening across from the ornamental doors of the entrance hall led to a room under the gardens. Unease writhed in him like a growing snake.
The darkness beyond the arch had been the only time he had sensed another presence that day. It had felt alive with unseen eyes, shifting in depth and darkness. His gaze had not been able to penetrate the dimness as if the entrance looked into night itself. Now he would be sleeping somewhere above whatever lurked in that room. All because he could not stand to wait in Lus na Sithchaine for Lavinia. Because he worried about her but could find no excuse to join her. Finally, Darag pondered the danger he had put himself in.
The last glow of the sun tinted the glass dome above him. The temperature dropped further. The wind was a constant mournful howl. Wet snow hit the panes of the windows with the dull thuds of soft feet shaking the glass. It was far too late to leave.
Darag hurried down the last sweep of the arch to where it connected again with the western mass of the Temple. The rooms opening from the central hallway were stately chambers, much nicer than the dormitories far below. These rooms contained neatly made beds, desks, and, most importantly, fireplaces.
It took half an hour to gather extra wood from rooms along the hallway and cart it back to the chamber on the southwest corner which Darag had chosen. It looked out over the blasted main gate and felt strategic, if not safe. By the time he pulled out flint to strike a fire, his hands were shaking with the cold despite having pulled blankets around himself.
Another try and the flint sparked, igniting a pile of shavings. The smoke hung suspended for a moment before drifting slowly up the chimney. He blew on the fitful flames, which caught on the dry wood. The smoke raced up to join the wind overhead. Darag closed his eyes as worry oozed out of him. He had truly thought the flue would be blocked and that he faced freezing to death before dawn. Lavinia would never forgive him. Darag smiled.
It was a fitful night's sleep at best. Darag spread the blankets he had scavenged next to the fire as well as under the door to the room in an effort to dampen the draft. Still, he needed to wake often to keep the fire going. The cold seeped through the stones, even close to the flames. Not enough to make him shiver, but the chill constantly reminded him of where he was. It was a disquieting night.
—
He was awake to watch dawn’s pink chase blue shadows across the snow. A weight rested inside of him, displacing restlessness or anxiety. In his troubled dreams, he had seen again the lower portion of the eastern block of the Temple. The straight corridor there had run along a smooth wall. No doorways had led off. He had been halfway down its length when he saw the subtle change to the stone. The stonework of the wall had been melted to flow across where doors had been.
One touch of the cold surface and Darag had known it hadn’t been fire that had transformed the rock. It had been an Earth Elemental. Now in the growing light of day, Darag thought of Niri.
“What would a Water Elemental do to fight stone?”
He didn’t know. The thought of Niri fighting against earth sent a wave of futility over him, leaving him nauseous. Whatever had been in that room had been sealed off from the outside. Lavinia’s relation of the war was that the Temple of Stone had fallen first. From what Darag could see, the Order of Earth had fought against Water here.
If it was the Earth Elementals fighting Water, then the Order of Fire had been here as well. It was not magic against the Orders, but Elementals against Elementals.
He did not really need further proof. But there were only two levels left unexplored. Darag opened the door, letting out a breath when he saw that the hallway was unchanged. It would have been easier to have found a sign that something prowled the Temple at night. It would have been a relief to be able to name the dread that seethed in the cold from the stones and had sunk into his soul. But there was only ice and pale light. His footsteps alone broke the frost on the stone floor.
Darag took the stairs at the end of the hallway. The chambers on the upper floors were large, encompassing several rooms with separate areas for offices, bedrooms, and even simple kitchens. Like every level below, nothing was disturbed. The beds were made and chairs slid under desks. A battle had obviously raged outside, but the Temple had been either partially deserted or prepared in a way Darag did not comprehend. The strangeness of it befuddled his mind so that he could not think clearly.
Or it could be the cold freezing him slowly. He exhaled a rueful chuckle on a warm breath at the thought.
The sight of a massive desk caught Darag's attention. So far he had scanned rooms, but not really entered as if he was afraid of offending the dead. A night within the cold walls had hardened him to absent spirits. He entered the room and opened up wooden drawers. Blank writing paper, quill pens, strikers for the lanterns, all were neatly tucked away, but there was nothing personal: no books, no journals. Darag moved to the next room.
He found a letter in the third. It had fallen behind the dresser. The folds were well worn as if it had been kept close. Darag opened it and read “I will always be with you, Y.” He refolded it and left it on the bed.
He found the journal two rooms later in one of the last rooms near the end of the hallway. It had been left sitting in the drawer of the desk. Over half the pages of the small leather bound book had been ripped out, but for the entry on the last page which was partially torn from the binding. Folded over, the writing was hidden until Darag smoothed it out, his fingers trembling. What was written was short, but held the answer Darag had been afraid, as much as he was desperate, to find.
“Why do they seek to destroy us? The four Orders have stood in equality since the dawn of time. There is nothing they can gain with control over all. But they don’t believe us. The end has already come.
We heard three weeks ago that the Temple of Stone had fallen. They call it now the Temple of Dust in mockery. Seeka and Byol came back to tell of the fight. They warn that since they helped the Order of Earth, we are next. Seeka said that any Elemental who did not join this new Church of Four Orders, faced death. We face not only the Order of Fire, but of Earth now as well. Their gifts have been captured and turned by the loss of the heart in their Temple.
Our only hope is in the letter of help we sent to the Temple of Wind and to Khodan. If they do n
ot come before the Fire Elementals, there will be only one thing left for us to do. We will not submit to the Order of Fire without a fight. But first we need to protect what is important. They cannot have the essence of us.”
Darag’s heart was pounding. He shut the journal and put it back in the desk, only distantly aware of what he was doing. The cold of the room was overpowering. He remembered the warped wall and the sealed room. The Orders of both Earth and Fire had stood against Water here. He pushed the thought aside. What mattered was Lavinia. She and Niri were walking into a trap in the Temple of Dust.
Darag pivoted on the ball of his foot and ran out the door.
Born of Water: Elemental Magic & Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 29
