Ascension Watchers

by Amy Proebstel

  Realizing he was probably nearing his destination, mostly because the samara’s signal appeared even stronger than ever, he began to focus more on the areas around him, looking for signs of people or industry. It would not do to get careless at this point. Just as he had this thought, he rounded the bend in the road and spotted a ragtag group of beings.

  He hesitated to call them people because some of them were so large, he could hardly imagine what species they could be. The leader of the group stood nearly as tall as two tall men combined, a woman with gray skin spotted by patches of green moss, shockingly hair white pulled back into a ponytail, with large tusks jutting up from her thick lower jaw, and oddly human grey eyes set in her stony brow, swinging a massive hammer at her side.

  Others in the group, appearing to be in charge of the human prisoners, were very large, slightly smaller than those like the leader. They also had gray skin and smaller tusks coming from their mouths. These men carried lethal-looking rough-hewn, flint-tipped spears as well as enormous swords. Also, among the men, women, and children who appeared to be prisoners, there were a couple of beings that were completely blue-skinned.

  Debbon’s experience had not prepared him for such variances in sizes and colors of humanoids, he had a hard time maintaining his shadow as he tried to process what he saw before him. In all of the scenarios he had imagined for this mission, never once did he think he would be up against anyone much different than himself, making him doubt himself as well as the other plans he had created.

  Looking ahead of the mass of bodies, he gasped as his eyes beheld the walls of a great stone structure; surely, that had to be the monastery. Unfortunately, this strange troupe stood between him and his samara, and it also appeared to be their destination. Debbon began to doubt his success upon seeing all of the obstacles he would have to circumnavigate. He had to slow his pace to remain distant enough to remain unnoticed.

  Once the group came to a halt, Debbon wondered what could possibly be happening. Then he started hearing singing, an odd sound considering the nature of this world. The singing increased in intensity, and Debbon felt the elemy around him begin to shift. Only then did he realize the people within the monastery were using the song to move the elemy to open the gigantic gates for the group waiting outside. Debbon needed to make a quick decision, remain behind and possibly get left outside or move closer and risk getting caught.

  The samara finally decided for him, seemingly assuring him of his success. Feeling terrified, Debbon brought himself close enough to the giant in the rear to be a part of his shadow, luckily the angle of the sun made it so he did not have to be right next to him.

  The crowd filed past the gates, through a long interior tunnel, which merely reinforced the reality of the massively thick exterior walls, before milling around nervously within the expansive courtyard. Debbon had to hustle as the gates began to descend overhead. Seeing the spikes on the bottom of the gate did not make him feel any easier about this place in which he had willingly entered.

  Debbon stayed inside the tunnel, not wanting to be out in the sunlit courtyard. From where he stood, he could see almost all of the activity within. When the ground trembled, Debbon realized it had been because the woman had set her massive hammer on the ground.

  Feeling even more uncertain of his mission, he accessed more elemy, allowing himself the ability to hear the conversation of what had to be the leader of the ragtag group which had entered. The grotesque giant of a woman, who he heard was General Esmela Silverhewer, spoke with a man in regal robes very similar to Debbon’s own ceremonial robes who she addressed as Overseer Fi Cheen.

  There appeared to be a disagreement regarding her need for a new brigade and some shaman. The other man who had remained silent next to Fi Cheen, evidently someone higher-ranking considering how the first man bowed to him, finally spoke up. Debbon’s patience was rewarded when Silverhewer addressed the man as Archbishop Diyune.

  Debbon held his breath as he heard the woman demand more soldiers for the upcoming battle. Diyune argued that he would need another two weeks to wait for the harmonic resonances to be suitably aligned. Silverhewer would hear none of it and demanded the ceremony be performed that night.

  Debbon realized this meant he would have to find the samara soon. He would need to have it in his possession when this group planned to move out again. Otherwise, he would have no way to exit the fortified monastery. This was not a place in which Debbon wanted to spend any extended amount of time.

  His mind had been so distracted by all of the strangeness around him, he had to chuckle as he recalled his escape plan never included returning to the cave from where he had begun. No, as soon as he had the samara in his hands, he would translate himself directly home with it, just as the person from the journal had done. No longer did he have to worry about whether or not he would succeed, rather he had to decide how long it would take him before he could get home to his wife.

  Now Debbon just had to figure out a way to access wherever the samara was being held. He could feel the crystal off to his left, probably in the large dark building with the tall stone steps. Moving along the edge of the tunnel wall, he used more elemy to hide himself with the shadow as he stepped around the corner. His heart raced as he realized a guard stood not more than a couple of feet away from him. To get to his planned destination, he would have to walk past him. Feeling his heart hammering away in his chest, he could actually hear each beat clearly in his ears, distracting him from his task, yet also fueling his desire to get this over with swiftly. How pitiful would it be if he made it all this way only to drop dead of a heart attack brought on by his fear?

  Debbon took a step on faith, literally, and realized the man did not even shift his eyes. Looking closer, he noticed the same blank expression as the woman from Fizer. With a shiver of revulsion, Debbon walked quietly along the edge of the courtyard, careful to move slowly, in keeping with the darkness around him. He waited for an opportunity where he could cross unheeded to get to the building he had marked in his mind as the best location to check first.

  His moment came when the Overseer contorted in pain and falling to his knees just before the group began to be herded off toward another building, and all eyes were on their movement. Hearing Silverhewer’s booming laughter sounding behind him, made him feel like running, yet he held his slow pace. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to the walkways between any of the other buildings.

  Even as he furtively moved, heart still racing, he began to take notice of his surroundings. The pervasive feeling inside the monastery held a dark heaviness unlike anything he had ever felt before. The weight seemed to grow stronger the closer he came to the building he chose to investigate, the place where the feeling of his samara called him.

  Standing at the base of the stairs to the main temple, as he believed it to be based on its central location within the walls and also because of its immense size, he counted many soldiers. These men were not blind-eyed as the others had been, they were alert and on watch to prevent any intruders. Debbon would have to time his entry carefully.

  Several paces away, Debbon spotted a tree surrounded by sparse shrubs. Deciding that location would be as good as any other for lying in wait, he made his way over to it, seating himself on the ground where the space between the plants allowed him to keep watch over the main entrance.

  Keeping the obscuring shadows pulled around him, he brought the satchel into his lap and dug through it for something to eat. Even though his disguise had been easy to maintain, the hours of folding the distance beneath his feet had left him ravenously hungry. The glawlets tasted like ambrosia, making him feel as though he could still be back on Tuala, although the negative energy surrounding him kept reminding him of the danger he faced every moment he stayed on this world. He paused in his eating to watch another four guards march up the steps and take positions next to the previous two sentries.

  Debbon had no idea what this might mean, he groaned inwardly as his samara con
tinued to pull at him. He wished, more than ever, that he could simply call the crystal to him, as Ahn had done, and then translate himself home without anyone the wiser. Unfortunately, this still remained out of his reach as his call went unanswered and his hands only beheld the food his wife had sent with him.

  Time moved slowly, darkness fell, and all remained silent, making Debbon wonder if he should make an attempt to sneak into the building. Just as he started to move away from the scant protection of the shrubs, he heard shuffling sounds of many feet coming toward him. Holding still, hardly breathing, he watched as another two guards flanked four people, ushering them up the stairs.

  Not wanting to miss this opportunity, Debbon rushed forward, light on his feet, to follow these newcomers as closely as possible. In the darkness, he had not realized one of the people had been the blue-skinned, female captive from earlier. There was also a tall, regal man who had dark smudges all over the front of him, being held up and guided by a younger man. There were two other boys, one older than the other, yet still very young.

  As the group neared the top of the stairs, the first sentries turned and opened the double doors, holding onto the handles until they had all cleared the entrance, before sealing them shut in their wake. Debbon had to do a quick double-step to avoid having the massive door clip his heels. He felt fortunate for the darkness he found within the building, many shadows created by the flickering of the candles lit all around what appeared to be an altar.

  His relief was short-lived as he felt the oppressive, dark energy pulsing up and around him. It made him feel physically nauseous, enough so that he wondered how the others did not seem to take notice. Following the group just a little longer, he could see several pillars rising up from the floor. Each prisoner was taken to separate pillars where they were chained individually to their own section of the room. Debbon stayed on the edges of the room, fearfully watching the people, fully believing this could not end well.

  The acrid smell of crushed herbs assaulted Debbon’s senses, making his eyes water slightly and making his throat feel constricted. He longed for the fresher air from outside, yet could feel the presence of his samara coming closer. Men began filing in creating five rings of monks who kneeled, heads bowed, whispering barely audible incantations, four sets of four at the cardinal points ringing their bells at appointed times in the chant in an odd, jerky rhythm shifting around and obscuring the order and reason of it.

  Debbon’s heart raced as he felt the power beginning to form around him, not knowing if it were because of the incantations or his own samara. He watched in horror as the prisoners began to whimper in pain and fear, the collars around their necks pulsing with energy. Finally, Debbon’s eyes were averted from the horrific scene in front of him to witness the Archbishop Diyune enter the room, floating above the floor as if he did not wish to disturb the crushed herbs and powders set down in such an odd fashion.

  Feeling an increasing sense of urgency, Debbon broke his gaze away from Diyune, who now held an amulet up in the air in his left hand, beginning to call out his own chant beginning from a low murmur until his voice rose in volume up to a shout. At the sound of his voice, the amulet appeared to open, revealing an eye, the likes of which Debbon hoped never to see again. In that same instant, it felt as if the floor were falling, Debbon did not want to get caught up in whatever this dark ceremony might entail.

  Searching around desperately, he realized all eyes were on the people within the circle. He moved away from his post, frantically following the pull of his samara. Almost half-way around the room, Debbon could feel his crystal was somewhere very close by, yet he had a hard time seeing since it appeared as though the candles no longer allowed any light to shine from them, leaving everything almost in blackness.

  Following instincts alone, Debbon stubbed his toes and fell to his knees, jarring himself as he landed hard on the stairs before him. The samara called from above somewhere close. He crawled up the steps, feeling the coarse texture of the stones beneath his hands as he went. Up further still, he reached the top of the stairs, the screams sounding louder behind him urging him to act before his only opportunity disappeared.

  His hands quested blindly, feeling another stone effigy in front of him, carved with strange symbols, feeling cold and foreboding. If it were not for the promise of his crystal, he would have snatched his hands from the stones, which felt as though they could suck the life from within him just by his touch. Finally standing, Debbon’s hands felt the edge of a platform, and he sent out a plea to his samara to present itself so he could be free of this haunting place.

  As if this were the action needed, his samara, once black as night, began to glow with an inner light, deep purple turning into a lighter blue. As he finally laid eyes on the samara created for him, which had been taken and used in such an evil fashion, Debbon almost cried out in despair for it. Hoping it had not been corrupted beyond redemption, Debbon reached out to take hold of his prize, hands almost touching the smooth stone surface.

  As if he had been shocked, he pulled his hands back. In his haste, he had almost made the biggest mistake, almost doing the one thing which would assure his failure. Chelesa had reminded him to be mentally prepared before touching his samara.

  Clearly hearing her voice right beside him, she said, “Be sure to have a clear mental picture of what you want before you touch your samara. If you don’t, you’ll be enthralled right where you are and then you’ll be caught. Remember to have the coordinates for home in your mind as you touch your samara. Promise me you’ll do this!”

  He focused his eyes on his samara, hands still outstretched yet not making contact. The colors within the crystal skull appeared to be returning to black, which scared Debbon, distracting him from the task he needed to complete. Putting into practice the concentration skills he had perfected over the anons, he began to piece together all of the coordinates to get him home. As an added incentive, he also created an image of his wife and son to augment the direction so there would be no mistaking his intentions.

  Just before the samara returned to complete blackness, Debbon was ready. His fingers curved inward until he could feel the pulsing energy from the cold stone. Drawing in a shaky breath, he seized the samara intending to head straight home. The blackness seemed to surge through his body, entering his hands and falling down him until it reabsorbed back into the earth. Debbon threw his head back, screaming at the pain of the blackness, denying its entry into his soul, focusing his mind and inner vision on what he wanted.

  The chaos began around him, screaming, and the sounds of tearing. Debbon opened his eyes to see the glass ceiling of the building begin to crumble and fall around him. He realized Archbishop Diyune had been heavily drawing on the power of his samara. This power had suddenly shifted, giving Debbon everything and disrupting Diyune’s ceremony, causing his cursed ritual to break down and become uncontrollable.

  Before Debbon’s eyes, shadows of spirits began to rise up from the floor, squirming and crying out in agony. He had already witnessed more evil than he believed possible, Debbon wanted to leave, desperate to save himself from whatever hell had opened before him.

  “Take me home,” he screamed, closing his eyes on the wickedness, feeling the blessed nothingness finally surround his body. The image of Chelesa appeared in his mind, the coordinates of his final destination repeating continually, almost indecipherable in the speed in which it passed through his thoughts.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  LUCINDEN TAPPED HIS fingers rhythmically on the arm of his chair, contemplating his next move. His plan had worked out perfectly, Diyune had managed to corrupt the samara to his own purposes. It had been a simple matter to let Che-su know that her missing prize had been relocated to Earth and arrange for Yama'anks to steal it back to the Shrian Empire. Lucinden admired the Empress’ ability to control so many people with her dark powers using the elemental energy, something which he would have to begin employing more of in the future.

&nb
sp; When Debbon had taken the bait and gone to the World of Chaos, Lucinden had practically danced with glee. The idea that Debbon would have gone to Shria just when Lucinden had shown Diyune how to access the crystal’s power, thus entrapping Debbon into that dark world, had been perfect. Without the thirteen samaras gathered together, it would be impossible for Jehoban to win the battle he had begun so many declans before.

  Unfortunately, Lucinden’s contact in Debbon’s estate had informed him of Debbon’s return from the Empress’s world. He had no idea what had gone wrong or how Debbon managed to escape from the carefully laid trap, but he needed to come up with something else immediately or all of his careful plans would be lost.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Chelesa sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair away from Debbon’s forehead, willing him to come back to her. Accessing her healing center, she tied into Debbon’s life-line, assuring herself of his strength and health, yet not able to bring him back to consciousness. His chest rose and fell with perfect regularity, his heart beat strongly, yet he remained lost somewhere within his own mind, unable to respond to any stimuli.

  “Is he awake yet?” Willian asked from the doorway, a hopeful expression on his face.

  Keeping her eyes on her husband’s face, she answered, “No, nothing yet. We need to give him time to heal and refresh himself.”

  “Mom, it’s been three days since I found him on the floor of the Gate room. Who knows how long he’d been like that before I got there. We need to ask for help!” Willian came up beside the bed, looking down on his father’s still form, wishing he would simply wake up and tell them what had gone wrong.