He struggled to gather together his bemused wits and think of ways to outwit his formidable foe. Before he had noticed the extent of the man’s unpleasantness he had thought to tell him that he himself was not a priest, but that his sister Kyra, although not yet a priest, was at least a candidate on her way to training.
Now he realized he must protect Kyra and somehow deal with this man himself. His heart felt heavy. Not only was his own mind befogged by the wine, but his adversary was obviously a trained and unscrupulous magician.
Karne tried to remind himself that it was he, Karne, who had finally outfaced Wardyke, the false priest who destroyed their friend Maal and took over their village. But it had not been an easy victory, and he had had the help of Kyra, Fern and the Lords of the Sun behind him.
As his thoughts raced to find a way out, his senses brought him something else to worry about. Kyra and Fern were with the villagers, and the dance and music he had been vaguely conscious of as part of a festival occasion, he noticed now had the same cruel undertones as the voice of the priest before him. It would not take much for Kyra and Fern to become prisoners of these people.
‘Speak,’ the fat priest said now, smiling again, knowing that he had made his point and could afford to hide the barb of his threat once more under his ingratiating manner.
Karne could see a bowl of water to the left of the tent.
He rose and boldly took it in his hands.
The man watched warily, the hand with the ring tensed for action.
But Karne showed no sign of threatening him. Standing as tall and commandingly as he could, he lifted the bowl of water high over his own head and then tipped its icy contents over himself.
The man was puzzled, but said nothing. He continued to watch him like an animal watching its prey.
The shock of the cold water had done what Karne hoped it would do: clear his mind, freshen his body and sharpen his wits.
‘You know as well as I,’ the young man said now as sternly as he could, ‘our brotherhood is sworn to secrecy.’
‘But not among ourselves,’ the man was quick to reply, leaning forward eagerly, knowing that the vows had been instituted to prevent the quite considerable power of the Mysteries from falling into the hands of those not ready to see their full implications and use them wisely.
Karne looked at him coldly, standing tall above the bulky but seated figure.
‘What is it you wish to know?’ he said at last.
The man leant forward, his eyes for the moment failing to hide his real feelings. It was clear to Karne his host needed some specific piece of knowledge very badly, and would kill to get it. His face was twisted with a mixture of greed and anxiety.
‘Of late it has become difficult for me to ... contact ... certain ... people...’
He was trying to choose his words carefully, but every moment Karne was more certain that the man was now the suppliant and he the one in the position of power.
As Karne grew bolder, the fat priest Yealdon grew less sure of himself. Karne remembered what he had learnt – the crux of all power is belief and confidence.
‘What people?’ he said sternly.
‘The Lords of the Sun,’ Yealdon muttered the words so low it was as though he hoped Karne would not hear them.
Karne’s heart leapt. This was good news.
One of the skills a priest was trained to have, vital to his work, was the ability either himself to ‘spirit-travel’ across the world to seek the help and communion of other priests, or in times of stress to call upon the great Lords of the Sun, who were the highest in the hierarchy of priests and who moved most freely about the world in spirit form, most knowledgeable in the Secret Mysteries.
Karne felt almost sorry for the man. A priest who could not communicate with other priests and the Lords of the Sun was cut off in his own isolated village, among people with whom he could not exchange thoughts and ideas, particularly as in this case he had taken no trouble in the past to educate them to any kind of companionable level.
Karne’s own people were simple enough farmers but they were not ignorant savages. The rapport between the old priest Maal and his people had been good, and he had kept the vital elements of priestly wisdom continually renewed and refreshed by contact with his peers across the world. When they were in difficulties and Wardyke had usurped his place and ruined their ancient way of life, Kyra, a mere child, but with training from Maal and a natural aptitude for priestly powers, had called upon the Lords of the Sun for help, and they had generously given it.
‘And what...’ Karne said boldly, ‘will you trade for my help in contacting the Lords of the Sun?’
Yealdon almost crawled forward. He began to look more and more like a toad. The boy could feel the balance of power in his own favour. The man was crawling to him. He needed to know what he thought the boy knew, more than anything else in the world.
‘I can make an enemy die,’ Yealdon said eagerly, ‘by nothing more than the use of this ring!’ And he took the one that had so disturbed Karne off his finger and held it triumphantly aloft.
It glittered balefully in the firelight.
Karne swallowed imperceptibly. He had not conquered his fear of this man completely, though so far he had it well hidden.
‘You mean you will trade your ring for the knowledge I can give you?’
Yealdon smiled and his eyes were evil. He cradled the ring within his hands, holding it close to himself as though it were the most precious thing in the world.
‘I will trade anything you ask,’ he purred, still cradling the ring.
‘I ask the ring!’ Karne spoke loud and clear.
There was a deathly silence between them for what seemed to Karne like a very long time.
‘Certainly,’ Yealdon said at last, but Karne knew it was a lie.
‘First the knowledge, and then the ring.’
‘No,’ Karne said, his heart beating loud against his ribs. ‘First the ring, and then the knowledge!’
‘But how do I know that you will not cheat me?’ Yealdon almost spat out the words.
‘How do I know that you will not cheat me?’ Karne replied.
Deadlock.
The two eyed each other warily.
‘You may take my knowledge and then kill me with the ring thus keeping both!’ Karne said.
‘You may take my ring and kill me, and so save yourself the trouble of giving me the knowledge,’ Yealdon countered.
‘Why should I do that? Would a priest of the Brotherhood do that?’ Karne asked.
‘Would a priest of the Brotherhood do what you suggested I would do?’ Yealdon snarled.
Again the two watched each other silently.
Apart from the heaviness of the old man’s breathing it was uncannily quiet. The serving girls had left them alone.
Karne became aware that even the sound of stamping and singing had ceased from the direction of the huts.
How he longed for Kyra’s strength to help him at this moment.
He had no plan. He knew only he must keep the balance of power as it was now, and stall for time until he could think of a way of dealing with the situation. He had no secret knowledge to give the man, nor would he have given it if he had.
Karne realized that his own belief that the ring could kill was adding to its power. If only he could doubt enough that it could harm him, he would be safe from it. But the glint of the dull and unusual metal, the acrid smell of some strangely potent herb that was burning in the brazier, the heavy, staring eyes of the man before him, all helped to dull his mind, and primitive fear was gradually undermining his control.
To break the influence of the priest, surrounded by his tricks of power, Karne forced himself to move with a last and desperate effort of will.
‘I will give you the knowledge you ask for, and I take your word as sworn upon the Tall stones of the Temple of the Sun that you will use no treachery,’ Karne spoke at last. ‘Now, follow me.’
‘Where are yo
u going?’ Yealdon spoke sharply and uneasily.
‘To the Sacred Circle,’ Karne said as calmly as he could. ‘You must know that knowledge of this kind can only be passed within the Sacred Circle!’
Yealdon was not pleased. He had hoped to find out what he needed without leaving the protective ambience of his house. But he took a rush light from its holder and by its low and flickering flame the two found their way to the top of the cliff where the tall stones rose darkly against the grey surge of the sea. The sky was still overcast but the clouds had thinned considerably in places. A faint and eerie light emanated from the moon behind them, not enough to make the silver path upon the water that had so bemused Fern, but enough to make the land and the stones of the circle darker than the sky or sea.
The village lay silently behind them, the fires reduced to embers and no sound coming from the dark huts. Karne wondered if Fern and Kyra were safely asleep. He knew they were extremely tired.
How he longed to be far away and safely sleeping too!
* * * *
As they approached the circle, Karne was faced with another problem.
In his community it was an ancient law that no one but the priest, or at special times designated by the same law, village Elders, could enter the circle. It was full of power that ordinary men were not trained to handle or withstand. Kyra had been afraid but she had so far progressed in her apprenticeship that she could enter safely and use its ancient forces.
Karne had no right to tamper with the mysterious forces in the circle.
He was afraid.
But what was he to do?
In despair he called to Kyra for her help, and in that moment of desperation believed implicitly that she would come.
‘Why do you wait?’ Yealdon cried impatiently. ‘The night will not last forever!’
Of that at least Karne was glad.
‘I must first consult with the Lords of the Sun,’ Karne said, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. ‘They may not wish you to have this secret knowledge. There may be a reason they have withdrawn themselves from you.’
Karne caught the glint of the deadly ring as Yealdon raised it warningly.
‘And if I die,’ Karne said loudly and clearly, though in his heart he was feeling very far from bold, ‘my knowledge dies with me!’
He called again for Kyra deep inside himself. Why did she not hear? She had the power to enter men’s minds and see their thoughts. Why did she not now see his?
‘Push me no further, boy!’ Yealdon said with anger in his voice. ‘I have waited a long time for this knowledge, and I can wait a while longer.’
He too was trying to control his face and voice. He did not wish Karne to sense his eagerness and impatience. He did not want to wait longer! How many winters and summers must pass before the sea threw up another priest upon his shore. Maybe never, and he had grown too fat and lazy, used to comfort and routine, to endanger his life by travelling on the sea or through the dark and savage forests that ringed his hunting village to a depth no man had ever measured. For some while now he had not been able either to leave the place in the flesh or in the mind, nor could he reach out to other priests in the world on any spiritual level. He had absolute power in his own small community, but in a sense he was a prisoner there. This was the first contact he had had for a long, long time with anyone outside his village. It was a kind of miracle. He might never get another chance.
* * * *
Kyra came out of her faint (or was it sleep?) in the dark interior of a foul smelling hut. She could see nothing, but heard snoring and heavy breathing all around her. Her first thought was for Fern and she whispered her name, but received nothing back but further grunts and snores. She tried to still her fears and concentrate as Maal had taught her to, to sense with her inner senses where Fern might be.
She sensed nothing from Fern, but kept half seeing at the corner of her eye in the dark an image of Karne. When she turned to look directly at him he was gone and it was only the dark blankness of the hut she could see.
It seemed as though he were trying to tell her something.
But what?
Fern?
She must find Fern.
She sensed danger but whether it was to Karne or to Fern she could not make out.
She was sure neither of them were in the same hut as herself.
She must crawl out of it somehow.
She must have air.
She almost choked on the staleness of the smell.
It seemed to her as her senses gradually became used to her surroundings and the dark that the hut contained far more people in a more confined space than ever would have been allowed in her home village. The roof was low and as far as she could make out the only opening was a small hole to one side, through which she would have to crawl. No one could go in or out of this noisome hut except on hands and knees.
The task of reaching the hole (she refused to call it a ‘doorway’) was not an easy one. She was surrounded by gross and noisy sleepers and she dared not wake them.
Tiny movement by tiny movement she prepared to make the journey, pausing every moment to check that the general level of the sleeping noises had not dropped in any way. Luckily for her the excitement of the night and the potency of the root ale had made the rude sleepers sleep heavily and deep.
Her head was aching and her thinking was not as clear as she would have liked, but at least she was conscious and was making progress to the hole.
At one point while she was climbing over a man’s body, his arm came up to hold her down to him, his lips muttering something to her. Her heart almost stopped beating and she lay against him as still as stone, feeling the dead weight of his muscular arm upon her. But after a while by the limpness of his limbs she realized he was still asleep and she carefully released herself from his embrace and continued creeping to the hole.
At last she was outside!
She took great gulps of air.
And as her head cleared she heard Karne’s cry for help quite distinctly within it.
At the same time she saw Fern sitting on her haunches before the last remnants of a fire, rocking backwards and forwards on her heels, rubbing her arms and trying to warm and comfort herself.
‘Oh, Kyra,’ she sobbed when her friend put her arm around her shoulders. ‘I have been so frightened and alone. I thought you were dead when they carried you off, and I cannot find Karne anywhere.’
‘Did they kill anyone?’ Kyra asked anxiously.
‘I do not think so. It was a mock hunt. The ones with antler-masks fell flat when the spears flew, but I saw them get up afterwards. I have been so frightened! These people are not like our people. I insisted on staying out here by the fire. They wanted me to sleep with them in those horrible huts, but I would not. They could not understand it and were really rough with me.’
‘Are you hurt?’ Kyra asked quickly.
‘Only a bit bruised, I think. I finally made them understand and they left me alone. I think they were too tired to keep it up for too long. Oh, Kyra, I am so thankful you are all right! But Karne! Where is Karne?’ Her voice was desperate.
‘He is in danger, I fear. I can sense a call from him. Come, we must go to him.’
‘Where?’
‘Be quiet a moment. I must ‘feel’ the direction of the call.’
She stood still, concentrating, and felt the flow of Karne’s anxiety coming to her from the Sacred Circle on the cliff top.
Compared to the inside of the hut, the night was relatively light. She and Fern stumbled many times, but nevertheless made their way swiftly to the source of his danger.
Within the circle they could make out the figures of two men, one slender and tall and one bulky and gross – her brother and the priest.
Kyra sensed great evil and danger surrounding her brother and stood in the shadows unseen by the men trying to locate the centre of the menace. She held Fern, who wanted immediately to run to Karne, and indicated to her to keep silenc
e and be still. Fern obeyed, though it was painful for her to do so.
Kyra felt the priest was greedy and unclean, but somehow weak. She did not sense the strength in him that Wardyke had had.
No, the menace was not coming entirely from the priest.
What then?
Something the priest wielded?
A dagger perhaps.
She had seen cruel daggers forged of bronze and sharpened to a deadly cutting edge.
No.
Something else.
She heard Karne’s voice raised unnaturally high and saw his hands rise up above his head.
‘Lords of the Sun!’ he was declaiming.
What is he doing, she thought with horror! He knew he had no right to be within the circle and certainly no power to raise the Lords of the Sun.
Had her brother gone mad, and was this the menace that she sensed? Karne had always longed to have the powers she had!
She drew nearer, trembling with anxiety.
‘Continue!’ she heard the fat priest’s voice commanding Karne.
‘You, Lords of the Sun,’ Karne repeated and hesitated again.
Yealdon moved closer to him and lifted his right hand with something that glinted in it, but which Kyra could not make out from this distance.
‘You, Lords of the Sun and spirits of the many worlds that lie within our world! ... Come to the aid of one who wishes to preserve your ancient laws against the one who would betray them!’
His voice was loud and ringing.
Kyra caught the message, and in that instant saw with great clarity what the priest held over Karne to make him do what he was doing.
She shut her eyes and formed a mental picture of the ring he held towards her brother. She felt the malevolence of its power and she visualized it shattering in a thousand pieces. At the same time she joined her voice to Karne’s, leaping into the circle and repeating loud and clear the prayer he had just prayed.
Yealdon screamed as the ring he held above his head seemed to burn his fingers. He dropped it, shrieking with the pain, and as it hit the stony ground it shattered and splintered into a thousand fragments, some of them striking his cheeks and causing them to bleed. Tearing at his own face as though it were on fire, Yealdon further ripped his own flesh, convinced the ring had turned against its master.
The Temple of the Sun Page 3