A faint odor of mold, or at least strong mustiness, mixed with the aroma of old paper. The air at this level was dead still and the only sounds were those made by the passage of the group. Brother Andrew lit several additional torches, mounted on the stone wall well away from any of the books. He smirked as he turned back toward the group, mini-torch in hand. “Be careful please. Fire is not our friend down here.
“This is the main repository. It contains not just documents and records but, as you can see, many texts, some of which are the only remaining copies. The other rooms are dedicated for specific purposes. Let’s start here and see what we find.” He strolled over to the texts on one side of the room and began running his fingers over the spines.
Doc followed him over and seemed to hang on his every word. “This is simply incredible.” He slowly turned around, as though taking in the magnitude of the intellectual treasure before him. He shook his head, his eyes wide with wonderment.
“This looks like a promising beginning.” Andrew retrieved and held up a tattered volume and smiled. “A Treatise on the Pre-War Races.”
As they dug into the text, Jarek felt himself overwhelmed by the futility of their task. Page after page of hand-written text accompanied by crude drawings. “I can hardly even read the writing. And these pictures don’t make any sense.”
Andrew shrugged. “We don’t need to read everything. We’re looking for the specific mention of colors.” He continued to turn the pages, running his fingers down over the text on each of the facing pages before moving on.
Morning gave way to lunchtime and, after a brief respite, the group reconvened to begin their afternoon’s pursuits. They had barely begun when Ratio spotted something. “Look. Here. It’s talking about the beginning of the great war. I can’t read that first part but, beginning right here,” he pointed to a passage that was marginally more readable than the others, “it says, ‘And came the noble but corrupted forest dwellers, forsaking their green, primeval homes in search of the riches of the desert.’” He reached up and scratched his head. “I can’t read that next part. But, if what little I know is correct, it’s probably talking about the elves.”
Doc nodded. “It’s possible. The elven people are said to abide in the deep forest, avoiding the open fields. They are, or at least at the time were, hunter-gatherers. So, while we have no direct evidence or proof, the notion of green being associated with the elven lands at least makes sense.”
Jarek’s mood improved. They were making progress. “That’s good. So, if green is elven, then blue must be some other race.”
Brother Andrew stood and ambled over to a different bookcase. After inspecting a few tomes, he pulled one from a shelf. “To my knowledge, there was only one other major race—the ogres. Bear in mind that there were sub-races and offshoots of those races, but only three predominant ones. This book should tell us a little more about the ogres.”
This particular text had been typeset, albeit crudely. And the quality of the ink had apparently not been that good, because there were copious amounts of smudging. The hand-drawn illustrations were far better than the previous book.
Jarek stared at the representation of an ogre. While there was no frame of reference, the being looked large and fierce. It had a stocky build, bald head, and small ears. Clad in some kind of crude, simple body covering, it carried what looked like a large wooden club in one hand. “Is that really what they look like?”
Andrew chuckled. “I have no idea. I have yet to meet one. But I suggest that we take this at face value. After all, we’re not really interested in the ogres themselves, at least not for the present. Let’s read on.”
Another thirty minutes and Doc spotted what they were looking for. “This description—really interesting. It talks about the brilliant blue of the desert sky in the realm of the ogres. The land is referred to there as the Crystal Sands.” He reached down and turned the page, noticing the look of disdain on Andrew’s face. “It says here that ‘…it is as though Myhrren has stolen the color from the purest sapphire and placed it in the daytime heavens to reward the gentle ogres.’ That could be it. Blue must be associated with the ogre realm—the Crystal Sands.”
Brother Andrew cleared his throat. “Humph, well, I am happy to be of assistance.” The consternation on his face didn’t match the words.
Burns recapped. “Now we know, or at least we think, that green crystals are associated with the land of the elves and blue with ogres.” She paused and turned to gaze around the room. “But that still doesn’t tell us how the crystals work.”
Ratio chimed in, “And it doesn’t really help us to understand why the king would want blue crystals. Why does he want to get to the Crystal Sands?”
The answer hit Jarek square in the face. “Maybe the name of the realm has meaning—Crystal Sands. Is it possible that, in that land, crystals are more plentiful than here?”
Brother Andrew continued to turn and scan the pages. It took only a few. “Here. Right here. It says that the ogres are master miners. And,” he turned another page and jabbed his finger down hard, “yes. They mine crystals.”
Burns spoke with a burst of enthusiasm. “The king wants access to the realm of the ogres to acquire more crystals. That makes perfect sense.”
Smiles found their way onto all of the faces. But Doc’s grin was the widest. He seemed almost giddy with the accomplishment. He clapped Andrew on the back. “Incredible. This is all, well, quite overwhelming.”
Jarek could sense that they were closing in on their charge. Only one major issue remained. “Now we just have to find out how the crystals are used to get by the fading.”
Brother Andrew rubbed his chin as he glanced over at one of the darkened passageways leading out of the main repository. “I think that I may be able to help with that.”
Chapter 77: Jarek
“Where did you get these?” Jarek stared in the flickering torchlight at the massive crystals, which sat on cushions of cloth and leaned back against the wall. The entire room was filled with them, not just blue and green, but red, golden, and a multitude of variations—orange, purple, pink, and others. “What do you use them for?”
Andrew held the torch higher. “We don’t use them. They reside here in safety. With regard to the acquisition, we rescued them from an old monastery to the north. What they were used for there is not clear. But they have been here since before my time.”
Doc ambled over to a large chest. Etched metal, bronze by the look of it, bordered the large double doors that remained closed. The enclosure stood easily as tall as the crystals. “What’s in here?”
Andrew, retrieving a key from his pocket, unlocked the cabinet and opened the doors. Inside hung a cloak of inestimable beauty—it was hooded and of rich emerald green with threads of shiny deep blue sewn throughout, as well as a slightly glowing whitish-gold trim around it. On the trim were finely-stitched symbols that none of the brothers were able to decipher.
Jarek, eyes wide, joined the two men. He reached out toward the cloak and felt a slight tingling in his fingers. He jerked them back with a start. “Whoa! What was that?”
“Truly, we’re not certain.” The brother stood back away from the chest. “It seems to be a cloak of some significance. I know only that it was passed down from the last priest, Father Perrin, long ago. It is kept here in the hopes that, upon Aristan’s return, he will reveal its secrets to us.”
Doc posed the question, “You said it was passed down by a priest. And yet you refer to yourselves as brothers. Is there a difference? Are you priests or something else?”
Andrew chuckled. “We have wrestled long and hard with that question. I fear that we cannot, in good conscience, call ourselves priests. In our view, being a priest assumes that there is a group of loyal followers to whom we would minister, and priests, after studying many years, are ordained by a bishop or higher clergyman. The last priest was ordained by Aristan himself but now, alas, there are no remaining clergy, so we are both bro
thers and followers. We live in hope that our god will return one day, and all humans will return to his word. Only then, I suspect, could we consider ourselves priests. Until then, we view ourselves as the brotherhood—the keepers of the word.”
Jarek turned his attention to the crystals. He eased over and touched a blue one. It stood easily ten to twelve centimeters taller than he. “The size of these things—it’s amazing.” He turned to the others. “Do you think it’s possible that, if you directed a beam of white light through one of these, say, a blue one, it would create a beam or portal or something that would allow us to travel to the Crystal Sands?”
Ratio shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
◆◆◆
Bringing a crystal of that size up from the depths of the archives turned out to be more complicated than Jarek had imagined. The weight alone was too much for the bookish researchers.
It didn’t help that Brother Andrew’s demeanor bordered on paranoia. “Careful with that. These are fragile… and irreplaceable.” He scurried back and forth as the three others attempted to move it. “Here. Hold it here. No, not like that. Like this.”
Finally, Ratio called a halt. “We’re not going to be able to do this alone. Let’s get some help.”
Brothers Martin and Daniel, along with Mathias, brought more confidence to the process. The burly individuals found their handholds quickly and, in unison, lifted it. And so began the process of moving it upward toward the open air. They emerged into the glowing light as the sun kissed the western horizon.
The brothers, collectively, surveyed their surroundings nervously. Andrew furtively rubbed his hands together. “I’m not at all comfortable with this. We are visible to whomever happens by.”
Daniel slapped him on the back. “Not to worry, good brother. We are out of the way here and darkness approaches. You know as well as I do that the villagers avoid this area. It’s haunted, remember?” The massive man chortled.
As they labored to turn the blue crystal so that the fading sunlight would pass through it, a warm diffused glow appeared. Jarek eased over cautiously and placed his hand in the cool light. “Nothing. It’s just blue light.” He shook his head and turned to stare at the setting sun. “Maybe if we tried it tomorrow, you know, when the sunlight is stronger. It’s possible that it just needs a stronger light source.”
A look of alarm washed over Andrew’s face. “We can’t just leave it out here all night.”
Martin took one more glance around the area. “It’ll be okay here. Like Daniel says, no one will dare wander here after dark. We can get started first thing in the morning. And, if it’ll make you feel any better, some of us can set up out here for the night and keep an eye on it.”
Andrew looked skeptical, stealing a glimpse first at the crystal and then the would-be guardians. “One of you will be awake at all times, right?”
Martin guffawed. “Of course, we will.” Jarek caught the man winking across at Daniel.
The heretofore silent Doc intervened and addressed his comment to Andrew. “With that out of the way, perhaps you and I might discuss the events leading up to the great war. I confess that, while I have an interest, I have never seen the likes of your resources.” He edged toward the door in the small house from which they had recently emerged.
Astonishing, to say the least. Jarek pondered the illusion—this tiny, isolated hut in the middle of nowhere with a tunnel beneath it leading to an incredibly large archive complex. And, beyond that, who knows? What else is connected?
As the two bookworms made their way inside, Burns, Mathias, and Jarek remained outside with Brothers Martin and Daniel. The sun had set, and darkness was fast approaching. From the east a yellow glow backlit a small ridge with a few scrub trees appearing as black silhouettes. The moon would make its appearance shortly.
As the others bantered, the Azyrean alternately watched the crystal and the ever-lightening evening sky as the moon rose above the obstructing ridge. With the first glimpse of the milky orb, he felt a shudder, as if something was coming.
With half of the moon visible, the air around the crystal began to shimmer with a silvery light blue tint. When the moon finally cleared the horizon and shone without interruption, Jarek got the answer to his questions. Shooting out the other side of the crystal, a brilliant blue beam of light erupted, terminating on the ground some five meters away. But most impressive was the portal—a swirl of brilliant sapphire light that seemed almost alive.
The group fell silent, staring at the sight. Mathias was the first to move. “By all the gods, what is that?” He crept closer, his gaze never leaving the portal.
Burns, shaking her head as though to regain a grip on the moment, called out to him. “Hey, you might want to stay away from that.”
“I’m just going to get a closer look.”
The man moved in, his hand outstretched. In that moment, he became backlit by the brilliant light. He took another step. And then he was gone.
Chapter 78: Marzi
Marzi sat on the cold, hard stone surface that served both as a raised seat and makeshift bed. Tears streamed down her face. Where are you, Valyn?
“I am with you, my dear one.” A soft green glow gave way to the same beautiful face that Marzi had remembered.
Why didn’t you help me? Why didn’t you do something when that other thing came? Marzi pleaded.
“If I could have appeared, I would have.”
So now, I guess they’re going to kill me. I didn’t do anything wrong.
“No, you did not do anything wrong. I know that and, before this is over, they will all know that as well. But you must be strong right now. You will have several more challenges before it is over.”
Marzi wiped her face with her sleeve. I don’t want any more challenges. I don’t want to save your world. I want all of this to be over, and I want to go home. I want to see my brother and hug my mom and dad. The tears continued to flow.
“Marzi, listen to me and listen closely. This seems unfair, and for that I have regret. But a great weight is upon your shoulders and it will fit on no one else’s. Soon Elondiel will come to you. He has a good heart and he does not wish you harm. But he represents his people and must consider them. He will do what he can, but you must help him. Listen to what he says. This is important. You must focus solely on listening to his words. And avoid speaking. At present, there is nothing you can say that will change anything. I believe that the answers will lie in his words.”
The Azyrean sniffed and wiped her nose again. Why weren’t you there when all this happened? She had asked the question once already and gotten no answer. But if she was going to have to listen, the first thing she wanted to hear was an explanation from this goddess who always seemed to show up either too early or too late. The least you can do is tell me why.
“That is a fair request, Marzi. That being that appeared tonight, that was Dredwyn. He is at the heart of all the evil. Back in Caravast, the land of the humans, he is known as King Wyndred. A clever play on words, is it not? For reasons I know not, he has the ability to block me temporarily. So, when he appeared, I tried to contact you, and I even tried to materialize to confront him but was unable to enter your dimension, in word, thought, or vision. Once he left, the door reopened for me.”
That was the king? The one the humans talked about? But you called him Dredwyn. What is he?
“He is a god gone bad—now a demon. He once served a race now extinct. And, if he wanted to, he could have adopted another, newer race. But instead, he became obsessed with extending his power, absolute power, across this entire world and out into the universe beyond. If he is not stopped, there are no limits to the worlds he might conquer, including your own.”
Why is it that all of these hard things come to me? Why not Rintaur or Elondiel or one of the other adults. These aren’t things that kids can fix!
“First things first, Marzi. You must first find your way with Elondiel. He will be under immense pressure to have
you executed. As I said, he does not wish it, but he will need your help. Listen to his words. Listen.”
That’s stupid, how will listening help?
But there was no answer.
Valyn? Are you there?
Nothing.
Figures. The only evidence that Valyn had been there was the remnant of her scent. At that moment, she heard soft footfalls coming down the passageway. The next instant, Elondiel stood at the door to her cell.
“I would speak with you, Marzi.”
He looked around him and sniffed the air for a moment, then he joined her in her cell. The two sat together on the hard bench in silence. Finally, the frost elf spoke, “Marzi, I ask that you trust me. I know, given what you saw upstairs, that it will be difficult. And I wish I could promise you that no harm will come to you. Indeed, I will do everything that I can to prevent it. But we are in a strange state. Things are not as they seem, of that I am sure. But the challenge is to know what is true and what is not. And for that, I will need your help.”
For once, what Valyn said seemed to ring true. Rather than speaking, she nodded and focused on listening carefully to every word Elondiel said.
“You know, and I know that what we saw upstairs was not Valyn. I am certain that your companions know it, and I believe that the other frost elves, in their hearts, know it. Valyn was never the goddess of anger and death, threats and retribution. She wove a tapestry of balance and hope among our people. She taught us about living in harmony with all living things around us. That is what it means to be an elf. The different groups, the frost elves, cliff elves, and elves of the Bough, we have gone our own ways in many respects. But at our core, we seek harmony and balance with all around us. What we saw upstairs was pure hatred.”
Despite her intention to remain quiet, a question sneaked out, “What was that awful smell?”
Elondiel chuckled. “That, my young friend, was burnt sulfur. It is common in the land of fires and is associated in our culture with death. I would expect that Valyn would not exude that aroma.”
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