The Awakened

by Julian Cheek

  Maqata had been carved out from the living rock centuries ago. The enclosing walls were smooth and polished by the winds that whipped through the gaps to either side. Beyond the main walls, the crowd could see some of the roofs of the complex within, poking up over the top. If Ngaire had expected a massive castle, she would have been disappointed. The citadel was fairly small as citadels go. Small, but exuding strength borne out of the starkness of its form and the impenetrable nature of its purpose.

  A few small windows could be seen dotted around the external walls, darkness within them like sightless eyes staring out over the crowd. Ahead of them, a stone archway at the end of the path cleaved through the solid rock. Within the archway, an ancient timber door could be seen, closed and uninviting. And lying down at the foot of the door, as if it had been waiting for them, sat the largest lion Ngaire had ever had the misfortune of seeing.

  It was watching them.

  The gathered people all took a collective breath when they saw this mighty beast ahead, obviously guarding the fortress from people just like them. A few on the sides started to edge slowly backwards but a slight twist of the lion’s neck in their direction, and the eyes casting an all-seeing watchful glance at the movement, stopped any further shuffling from within the ranks.

  “What now?” asked Hauka, as the three of them considered their next move. “If we turn and run, that beast will have us in a moment, and if we stay…” The rest remained unspoken.

  “Perhaps it is a test?” Tensa suggested, looking carefully at the animal, now licking its right forepaw.

  “You want to be the first one to see if you pass?” retorted Hauka.

  A stalemate almost existed between man and beast. To move forward would surely enrage the creature ahead of them and undoubtedly cause a horrible sticky end to befall whomever decided to make the first move. To go backwards, would have a similar outcome, if slightly delayed. By a second or two!

  Ngaire stayed silent through this discourse of her colleagues, her mind sifting through permutation after permutation. Her eyes scanning every opening and shadow of the silent citadel to see if there was any sign of life whatsoever.

  Suddenly, Hauka and Tensa heard Ngaire huff to herself in acceptance of what could not be changed, and looked on in horror as she slowly put one foot in front of her, followed by the next. “What are you doing?” they both cried under their breath, fearful that any loud noise would provoke the beast. “Shht!” came the quick response as Ngaire moved away from the crowd, her hand pushed out behind her, fingers pointed up. The universal symbol for “STAY THERE!”

  Ngaire, at this moment, did not feel even a little bit brave. Indeed, every pore of her body was screaming for her to turn around and hobble the hell out of the way of this creature, who now had his eyes fixed balefully on her slight form. Tongue licking slowly against massive canines. As she slowly approached, she still cast glances up into the openings over the animal, but, as before, only silence and emptiness greeted her. She thought, not for the first time, that somehow, she should have come up with a better solution than to march a troop of innocent civilians off over dangerous enemy ground and up to a citadel she had never been to before in the vain hope that some partly mythical monk might still be alive AND living here AND able to assist them with opening whatever portal there might be to enable them to get to Sam in his world.

  “Bloody idiot!” she said to herself, remembering the expletive Sam had sometimes used in her company. She laughed inwardly as she felt a humourous adage flash through her mind, of a wild woman laughing like crazy as a lion came and ripped her to shreds.

  She was now within a few metres of the creature. Close up, he was, if anything, even more huge and dangerous looking than from the relative safety of the gathering behind her, who, until this moment, had stood stock still for fear of upsetting “IT”. She took one last look back at her companions, which was a mistake!

  With head turned back to her people, she sensed and felt the ginormous beast rouse itself and could almost believe that its breath was now within a hand’s width of her face. The end, she hoped, would be mercifully quick and painless. She slowly, very slowly, turned her head back to look on her fate.

  The lion had now decided to sit up from his prone position and his head was now some two metres higher then Ngaire’s tiny head. His paws alone were the size of her torso and his claws raked into the dusty, rocky path as if flexing and stretching out any kinks remaining in his body prior to dinner. Its eyes were fixed on Ngaire. Its breath brushed her hair slightly and she felt the sheer power of this magnificent yet terrifying beast vibrating through the ground around her feet.

  She stopped and bowed her head, arms clasped together in front of her. Awaiting whatever fate had decided to pitch to her, here on a rocky path in front of a silent citadel housing a supposed monk who might be able to aid them in their most direst of needs, right next to the most fearful creature she had ever beheld.

  The door creaked open. Its swing causing a loud, screeching wail to echo through the canyon, up to the throng gathered at the bend. To Ngaire, the sound was as if the lion had decided to roar before springing on her and she naturally cowered into herself and screamed.

  Nothing!

  No feeling of huge teeth sinking into her neck. No sense of a paw lifting to swat her to the ground. Nothing! A few seconds past with Ngaire frozen in a cower, waiting for the end to come, before she opened her eyes under the cover of her arms and squinted out at the lion, who by rights, should have been polishing off her bones right now, looking for the next tasty morsel. Instead, the lion was not where it had been a few second before. It was now walking majestically back through the now open doorway, its tail swishing slowly from side to side. Every now and again, it turned its head to look back at Ngaire, then continued on its walk through the archway and into the citadel itself where it stopped, turned around to face her and then sat back down on its haunches, apparently waiting for her.

  Ngaire, with another look back at her friends, shrugged her shoulders at them and proceeded to follow the lion, passing through the archway and the timber door, and entered into the citadel to find out whether Fastana was still alive or whether dusty bones would be the only thing left to mark his existence.

  From within, the sense of proportion was completely out of this world. Walls were leaning in every which way, appearing as if at any moment they would succumb to gravity and collapse under their own weight. The buildings dotted around the enclosure were a mixture of heights and sizes. They all seemed to have been designed by a toy maker intent on creating strange and bizarre buildings to suit his or her particular quirkiness. The craziness of the buildings were heightened by their proximity and comparison to the surrounding citadel walls. These, from the inside, were of similar style to the external appearance. Smooth, polished stone walls disappeared up to the battlements above. A few old staircases notched into the walls could be seen spaced out around the circumference, leading one up to a thinly cut walkway overlooking the expanse beyond. Ngaire hesitated to have a guess as to how many people this place would have once held. But now, judging by the silence that greeted her, the inhabitants who must have once graced this place, were long since gone and forgotten.

  And yet. Her trained eye picked up that although the buildings were all dark and empty, and there were no lamps lit, still, the forecourt in which she stood, had been recently brushed clean, the fodder rack to one side was stocked with grass, and there was no sign of dirt or abandonment anywhere.

  Curious, she turned back to look at the lion who, until that moment, had been sitting there looking at her. Again, as if by command, it had turned and now it faced one building, bigger than the rest. It was looking intently at a staged area half way up the building, where the upper levels were stepped back, leaving a flattened viewing gallery. Its eyes and focus was now no longer on her, but on what was happening above and beyond it.

  Ngaire turned to follow its gaze.

  At first, there was n
othing untoward in that direction and Ngaire wondered what had caught the lion’s attention. She was just about to look elsewhere when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight movement up above the balcony area of the building towards which the lion now stared. A figure, difficult to pick out in the closing gloom of the early evening, shuffled slowly forward until it stood directly behind the balcony line. A pair of gnarled, ancient hands reached out from beneath a darkened robe, one hand moved out to grip the handrail, the other lifted up out of the robe, revealing a staff, incredibly bent and twisted. The figure raised the staff up into the air, the ends horizontal to the ground and, with an incredibly low and deep, almost guttural tone, proceeded to chant.

  The words and cadence were alien to anything Ngaire had ever heard. If this was a language, it was one long since lost to the Turangai. The chanting increased in depth and slowly, the ends of the staff held aloft started to glow, getting brighter and brighter until with a final flourish of the wrists, flames streaked out from the tips, hitting the various buildings dotted around her, lighting up the lamps and prepared timber pyres, until the whole area around her was lit with a warm and comforting glow, fires licking out from underneath bone dry tinder and the place transforming into a place she felt safe in, despite the fact that Ngaire thought she had just witnessed magic. And magic used as if this was an everyday occurrence here.

  “Ngaire.” Thrummed through the air to cause her to look back at the figure. “Ngaire, come up here. We have been waiting since the stars darkened to see you. You, and your kin who wait outside. You have come looking for Fastana, the last monk of the Anahim. You have found him and despite his appearances, he still lives.” And with that, Fastana turned back and walked away from sight. Ngaire, looking back, was surprised to see that the gathering had sneaked forward and had been peering in through the archway, and, on seeing the pyrotechnics, were all ready to hot foot it out of this place and back to their relatively safe houses in comparison.

  Tensa and Hauka rejoined Ngaire and there was some relief and hugging that took place at seeing the other still alive and in one piece. The crowd moved naturally out into the quadrangle, exploring this weird looking place, their Padme flying or flitting to various cracks and crevasses to wait for further instructions and, for some, to preen feathers and sharpen claws. It was not too long before some had found food ready for cooking in one of the buildings and the heady smell of meat cooking over an open fire started to waft over the group, bringing a sense of relief to the party that the first chapter of this ordeal was now at an end, particularly now that the lion beast had disappeared up the stairs to go and sit somewhere else, away from the tiny people who had stood before it earlier.

  Ngaire, Tensa and Hauka, with a last look of pride back at the group of rag-tag people who had chosen to follow them to a place never seen before, turned as one and headed off towards the stairs, taking them up to the balcony and at long last, to meet with the one who, they prayed, would be able to assist them, where no other could. Sam was needed, and time was disappearing fast.

  To enter is to perish!

  They arrived on the balcony to see Fastana disappear into a dark archway ahead of them, buried into the side of what could only be described as the great house. The roof was split into a number of lofty turrets and steep sloping tiled areas. Holes were dotted around in places, showing that some disrepair had occurred. At the foot of the arched doorway through which Fastana had left, a few stone-carved steps were visible, badly weather-beaten. The view, however, from this vantage point, was even more impressive than what they had experienced previously. Off to the east, the two moons of Adelphi were already rising. Bright red and virulent green, they shone in unison as they travelled through space. They were particularly bright that evening and their reflection was intensified both off the veil of mist lying below them and through the reflection off the distant ocean waves, barely visible from here. But the stars! Bright, vibrant, almost within arm’s reach, they peppered the darkness like so many millions of night bugs, all clamouring for attention.

  Ngaire’s Padme, Seria, screeched from the top of the tallest turret above her. All was safe from her vantage point. With one last longing glance towards the distant ocean sparkle of the night’s reflections, they turned once more and climbed the few short steps, following Fastana into the gloomy darkness.

  Inside, rather than expecting to enter into a grand hall, the archway led them into a darkened passageway, a few torches held in stands fixed along the wall giving some illumination. Of Fastana, there was no sign. They halted at the threshold, wondering what to do next.

  “Hurry up!” they heard from within the gloom ahead. “Keep up and don’t forget to keep to the right.”

  Ngaire looked with a questioning face at Tensa, who, on shrugging his shoulders, exclaimed, “Keep to the right it is then.” And he proceeded to move down the passageway.

  They soon came to a fork in the corridor, the obvious route seeming to continue on as if nothing was different. An even darker and smaller corridor branched off to the right. They turned right, weaving their way between some tree roots sticking out from the foot of the surrounding walls. They sensed that this path was slowly descending but other than that, all other sensory perceptions were lost on them. Again, they came to a branch in the path, and again, the fork to the right appeared even smaller than the one they were in and more unstable. With looks all around, the three dived right, hoping that this little game would come to an end soon so that they could discuss their concerns with Fastana once and for all.

  This time, the path spiralled down and down and even the roots from the trees above them, were now only visible in the roof area. They were deep underground, or so they thought.

  Ahead, Tensa stopped, his hand raised. “Do you hear that?”

  At first, both Ngaire and Hauka could only hear the sound of their own laboured breathing, and yet.

  A distant thrumming could be heard, echoing up towards them. A strange noise. Almost as if the very rock they were buried under, was breathing. They continued on slower now.

  As the spiralled path slowly flattened, they could hear for the first time that the sound was not of a mountain breathing, but the pounding and sighing of waves crashing onto rocks. They came at last to an area which ran straight and true to a natural barrier. Ahead, the pathway disappeared amongst a number of large and very wet boulders. Beyond that, they saw that it was indeed waves from the ocean that were now crashing into the rock pool, now receding, sighing as they departed. The pathway had opened out into a well lit cavern, the roof high up above their heads. The waves of the ocean crashing through a gap in the rockface ahead of them, allowing the water in. The rock pool was huge! Easily thirty metres across, this natural bath was obviously a rock pool at the foot of the mountain they had just climbed. They had, effectively, walked straight through the naked rock and exited on the other side, at water level. With unspoken commands, Ngaire, Tensa and Hauka sent their Padme off to inspect the environment and they all shot off in various directions, scouting for any danger.

  The cavern was well lit with a number of lamps and candles. To one side and sitting down amongst the wet rocks, the self same lion was present, its tongue flicking out every now and again, as if testing the air for another meal. Ahead, and sitting at the very mouth of the opening out into the ocean, his face turned towards them, sat Fastana, the last known monk of the Anahim. He was studying them curiously.

  The three didn’t know how to start the conversation and they all looked at each other with embarrassment, none of them having considered just how to broach the subject. Their decision as to who was to talk first was made for them.

  “Have you noticed how very misty this place has become?” Fastana mused.

  An obvious question and one not really considered by the others as being anything else other than within the realms of ordinariness.

  “Did you notice when it arrived?”

  This question caused the three to tur
n to one another, trying to come up with a feasible response.

  “I think it happened a few weeks ago,” said Hauka, tentatively.

  “Twelve days,” Fastana replied. “How many days has it been since Sam disappeared to face Lord Elim?”

  This, the trio needed no time to reply to. “Twelve!” they all exclaimed collectively, the penny thrown into their midst, certainly dropping if not fully dropped.

  “When The One disappeared,” began Fastana, “it was marked by this entire system being encased in mist. The mist will stay as long as Sam does not disturb it, but his passing has been noted and the mists receive and part for him. He still is whole, but his mind is not.”

  The trio were at a loss as to where this conversation was going, as they had intended to go down another line of questioning. This had them stumbling to express their important reason for the visit. Again, they needn’t have worried, Fastana seemed to know and sense everything.

  “You have come seeking to enquire whether I know if a way exists to bring you to him,” Fastana began, shocking the trio into amazement.

  “How did he know that this was the sole reason for travelling here?” they said to themselves.