by B L Barkey
But it had not been his brother. It was never Mikael. He now suspected it was a conjured being, similar to the dark one in the temple, set up to protect the second key. Positioned just to test Ammon’s resolve to make the right choice, even when tempted. It had drained so much of his energy.
After clearing his mind in the warm shade of a tree, Ammon stood up and started towards the temple. He was seeing double, his ears still ringing. He sat down several times to keep from passing out. He was fatigued and unbelievably thirsty. The outline of every object before him grew bright. The sands seemed to shift at his feet. He wondered if he should have left the underground cavern at all. At least I could’ve died amongst books. The thought was ridiculous. It scared him.
“Water…” he said to no one. He was so close now. One foot after the other. He came around the west side of the temple and passed the annex. He rounded the corner to the fountain. And yet, instead of water, he found only despair. The fountain was bone dry. He fell to his knees. It had been his last hope, to take one drink from those waters. Now hopeless, he felt empty. A husk, like an abandoned hermit crab shell. Empty, like the water fountain.
The utter truth of its emptiness seemed to punch him in the gut. He sat there for a minute, trying to accept the harsh truth. He then had one last spark of hope. He stood and stumbled to the temple doors. Up the stairs. To the left door. He leaned on its firm surface. Etched within were the same celestial bodies in the poem of the first key. A sun, moon. Stars and spheres. Ammon closed his eyes, squeezing the turtle in the folds of his robes, reciting the words in his head. In this way he held both keys, seeking entry to the final phase.
Let the light of the world shine within me,
water…
Enlighten my mind that I may see.
water…
Sun, moon, stars, and spheres,
…water…
Teach me the way that I …
……water……
…must…
…he breathed in, closed his eyes, then fell to the floor, unconscious.
Chapter XXXIV
Temple Center
Bastion’s creatures. His panda cubs in his home. Ying and Yang. They escaped and grew overnight, both climbing the mountain trail ahead. Ammon followed close behind, trying to catch them. He could imagine each step, see the eyes of the creatures watching him from the woods. The pandas grunted, echoing with unnatural resonance. They, too, chased something.
It was a green light up ahead. At first it danced as dust particles in the wind. But as Ammon focused on the light, it took the form of a large rock, which then took the shape of a third panda.
The mountain slope then rose. His efforts tripled just to keep up as the mountain grew steeper by the second. Small rocks toppled down the hill, followed closely by larger rocks and boulders. He fell to all fours, imagining himself as a young wolf cub, chasing the black and white creatures up the incline. It was nearly vertical now. His claws slipped on the stones as he struggled to hold onto Proelum. The three pandas looked back at him, as if nothing had changed from moments before. And yet, they understood him.
“You are on the path.”
He heard it from the trees, from the rocks, from the small creatures in the woods.
“Keep pressing forward.”
He heard it from the pandas’ gaping mouths, while their bodies remained still. The green light rushed towards his face, the third panda disappearing. The dark eagle was approaching. It wanted him.
“You are not alone.”
II
Ammon felt his body rejuvenate before his full consciousness returned. Water rushed into every pore, hydrating his very soul. He awoke to the sensation of pure joy unlike anything he had ever felt. His body had never been so deprived of essential elements. And now he was completely encompassed by that which brought him relief.
He was immersed in a dark body of water, yet his lungs were satisfied with bursts of oxygen. How is this possible? He reached up to his face, touching a small apparatus attached to his head. It was secured in place so tight it was almost uncomfortable.
Accepting his new gear, Ammon looked over the rest of his body. He had been changed into two pieces of white clothing, both an upper and lower garment. The light material floated around him barely touching his flesh. He felt warm, like the water was cradling him in ever-shifting arms. He moved his hands in slow waves. Water combed through his fingers like velvet. He spun his legs in circles, rising and sinking in place.
He looked around, quickly realizing there was little to see. Dark corners lurked in all directions. One point of light existed in the entire reach. It was far ahead, casting its rays an indeterminable distance.
Ammon swam from one adjacent wall to the other, feeling their texture. It was cold, clammy stone. Within the stone were smooth cracks, perhaps sketches. It was difficult to see without light, but as he thought this, a light appeared bright before him. Surprised, he looked around, a light now cascading in every direction he turned. He held his hands before his face, both of them appearing pure white and without blemish. The light was coming from his mask. How convenient, he thought.
Why had they put him here? What was he supposed to do now? Is this Phase Three? The confusion might have driven him mad in such a dark place. However, his curiosity over the sketches in the walls overcame his confusion. He swam closer to the walls, illuminating their deep grooves. Everything but himself was still and quiet. He could hear only his rhythmic breathing. It felt as if the silence would be shattered at any moment. Yet it remained so.
One by one, the lines interlaced, connecting into shapes. The shapes tied into larger figures, of which Ammon recognized immediately. The image before him was a woman, beautiful and uncovered. Surrounding her was a landscape of mountain ranges and rivers.
The woman was stunning. Ammon was unsure what it was specifically about her that gripped him. Yeah, she was naked, which was nice. But there was something else. The shape of her face? The deep look in her warm eyes? A slight smile on her lips. Did she look like someone he knew? She looked nothing like Sadie. And yet, as his eyes unconsciously traced over the rest of her body, he could feel himself blush. He wanted to be with her.
Ammon looked away, wanting only to look back all the more. To the left of her shape was smooth rock, followed by another woman. The same woman… he realized. She was now standing, walking further into the light ahead. She held his eyes, gazing over her slender shoulder with her long, wavy hair brushed to the side and flowing. He could almost see it moving in its grooves, falling down her soft back and hips, where dimples were etched with great care. He wanted to trace them with his fingers. To recreate her. To sculpt her in caressing the material that made her. He wanted to sing songs of her. To play music for her.
He started swimming with her towards the light. Another image of her appeared, drawing her elegant form running through an open valley. He sped up. Yet another image came, depicting her graceful curves as she splashed through shallow rivers.
Ammon could feel the splashes of her footsteps, even though his entire body was already saturated. Faster he swam, and more quickly she moved from one image to the next. Climbing an oak tree. Jumping off branches, over a cliff edge, and into a deep river.
She turned this way and that, showing every angle of her to be delightful. Suddenly she was swimming again, looking forward in one image, and then back at Ammon in the next. He wanted her. To hold her.
They both kept swimming. And then, a male figure was etched in the stone next to her. Far too close to her… Ammon thought with envy. The woman stopped and suspended herself before the man. Ammon drifted closer to their images. He traced his fingers over the grooves to make sure he was really seeing them. To see things with two senses was much more reliable. As he did this, he recognized the details of the man’s face. Impossible, he thought, shaking his head. The man etched in the wall looked just like himself.
Ammon pushed to the next image. The man and the woman were bo
th holding hands, looking right at him. There was life in their eyes. Life in his own stone eyes. As he stared, they seemed ever more real. At the same time, he felt more tired, wishing for a place to rest. He stared into his own eyes, capturing himself over and over again, like looking into two mirrors on opposing walls, capturing each other for eternity. It was endless.
Yet he pushed on with sheer will. He had to know what happened next. As he traced the wall further towards the light, the wall curved right, leading away into another tunnel. It was only slightly angled from the main tunnel, yet it was completely void of light. He couldn’t see where it would take him. But what does that matter? I can follow the stone woman.
Ammon traced the wall further down the dark tunnel. The water grew cold as he moved, soothing his passions. Soon he passed through an invisible field which dropped the water several more degrees. He shivered, then traced the next image on the wall.
There was a bed of leaves and sheepskin, built on a stone altar beneath stars. The man and woman looked at each other from opposite sides of the bed, desire aflame in their eyes. It reflected the same desire within himself. Ammon went further down the dark tunnel, the light on his mask leading the way. Colder. Almost thicker. The next image had the woman crawling on the bed towards the man, pulling him into her embrace.
Ammon returned to himself slightly, thought he still could not look away. I have to know what happens next. And the light is right behind me. I can go back whenever I want to. This was heaven compared to what he’d just been through.
He wanted the woman. Despite knowing this, something felt wrong inside him. His desire for this woman screamed loudly, threatening to take over all other priorities. It needed to be quenched. It was inevitable. It would happen eventually, no matter how long he resisted. So why not go now? Did he really even want to be a Guardian? Now that he thought about it, the life of a Guardian seemed dull and boring.
Another thought appeared in his mind. But what am I doing, really? Following a drawn, tempting image of a stranger? He questioned his actions against black-and-white, on a grayscale, knowing he would press forward anyway. Or would he? He could turn back. Right now, he could turn back. He could, but why… I’ll touch one more image.
He slid down the wall. The water was even colder. Darker. He could feel the tendrils of darkness on him now, holding him tenderly, cautious to be unnoticed, leading him further into the dark. But it was easy to resist, when he decided to. He could look at one more image, then fight the darkness and turn back.
The woman was now looking right at him, reaching out her arms. She whispered his name, barely suppressing her moans and whimpers. She wanted him too…
Something small and quiet appeared within him. It was another whisper, warm yet stern. The new whisper told him to turn back. With it came another word that formed as letters in his mind. Temptation. He paused. Yes, he thought. That’s what this is. Cephas, and I followed it here.
The severity of the situation suddenly dawned on him. The darkness was pulling him away from his dream. Without a single change in the stone woman’s expression, Ammon saw new meaning in her eyes. She was leading him away. She meant to have him. To eat you, my love. To take you within me. To consume all of you.
Fruits and pillows littered the bed, promising him comfort. Luring him away. He looked back towards the lit corridor. The light was faded from his angle, with slight waves of temperature change distorting his vision. I will go back just a little, then return. This satisfied him. He took a few strokes towards the light.
Just then, he felt a sudden tug backwards. Something is physically pulling me back, he thought in panic. He could feel its tentacles now, wrapping around his leg and groin. It grabbed both his body and spirit. He made several more strokes before another yank sucked him back. He was panting, straining for oxygen despite his rebreather mask.
The light from his mask flickered. Its charge was running low. He swam harder though he felt himself floating deeper into the cold. It was too late. He had gotten too far into the tendrils of darkness. He was lost.
Please help me. Giver of life, please help me. Oh Cephas, curse my stupid decisions and help me…
He rarely had such thoughts, to beg for preservation of his life, yet it sprang up within him like an old friend. Suddenly the pressure on his leg released and he lurched forward. His lungs were raw. Very little oxygen remained in the dying mask. His heart was pounding, seeking to escape the depths even if it meant breaking free of its rib cage.
Ammon approached the main tunnel, the water feeling warmer, though the chill in his bones slowed his movements. The frozen tendrils abandoned all discretion, ripping at his legs and mind. Don’t leave me, my precious boy! Come lay on the stone with me! You will never feel anything but my touch again! COME TO ME!
Frantic, he pulled at the water, clawing his way towards the light, swimming as hard as he could. The stone woman appeared to his left, now etched in the walls with red, an evil look in her eyes. Come back to me, my love. Or you will never have me again. You are nothing without me. You never were. I will get you eventually, so just come now.
Her teeth were sharp, resembling the older woman in the false temple. Ammon heard a scream as her stone hair shot in all directions, reaching out to grab him. But it already had him. The tendrils were hers, pulling him to his death. To his dark eternity.
He broke into the light of the main column. New strength flooded inside him. The tendrils were weakened, though ever-more desperate. His will waged war with the tendrils, giving up all else but the desire to survive.
Almost… there… He was clawing, kicking, fighting. Almost…
He broke through the barrier between water and air. His fingers touched stone. He clambered out of the darkness, dragging his limp body onto the warm, cream-colored floor. All while expecting to feel her claws sieze his ankles at any moment.
His lungs still screamed for air. He ripped at the mask, feeling for some sort of clasp. It loosened up with his writhing and fell from his face. He grasped the air, consuming it like the sweetest food known to mankind. After several deep breaths, he looked back, imagining thickets of hair covering the water surface. The turbulence in the water settled, and the woman seemed to settle back into the depths. He had made it.
Then she re-appeared, looming just over the water to glare at him. She wore a playful, scorning smile. Come back to me. I will take you into me. Don’t resist. It’s boring and futile to resist. Come to me. He closed his eyes, begging for the stone woman, the materialization of his temptation, to sink back into darkness.
He opened his eyes, barely resisting the urge to fall back into the water with her. She was gone. He felt disappointment before he felt relief. This scared him more than even her fangs and red eyes.
An icy fist seemed to release its grip on his chest, allowing him to take a full, deep breath. Relief flooded him, bringing him to tears and laughter. The feeling was incredible, and for a moment, he almost felt grateful for the trial he just went through.
The trial. It donned on him. That was the third trial. And if I have just finished all three trials, then I must be…
He looked around the room while remaining sprawled out on the stone tiles. They were almost hot, creating a thin layer of mist over the ink-black water. The room was perfectly cylindrical and symmetrical, reaching up twenty feet on every wall.
There was an outcropping at the foot of the wall, providing a low bench for those who for some odd reason wanted to take a seat in this place. To his right was an archway. It was perhaps the only exit from the chamber, discounting the corridor he had narrowly escaped from.
He wondered for a second what would happen if he jumped back in the water. Even for just a moment. Just to see… He shook his head with horror. How could I even consider that? He shivered, though not from the cold.
He then stood and stumbled towards the archway. He walked up a small set of stairs and down a short hall. The stones turned into carpet of the same color that
was both thick and plush, as if never walked on before. He took a step forward, feeling almost guilty. An image of walking on clouds appeared in his mind. He laughed in surprise as his foot touched the carpet, for it felt like almost nothing at all.
The sensation made it difficult to look up, yet his eyes gradually wandered about the new room. It was magnificent. Adorned mirrors lined every wall. A long table sat in the center, made of the liveliest of oaks and surrounded by a family of chairs. The ceiling rose another thirty feet or so, arching in the ceilings. A massive chandelier hung over the table with several smaller chandeliers surrounding it. The metalwork appeared as gold, though he had no idea how that much gold could exist in one place.
A handful of small coves branched off from this central room, yet he could see no other doors. How he would eventually leave was unclear, though he hoped against hope it was not back through the tunnels.
Vast murals of nature covered the upper parts of the walls and ceilings, depicting clouds and sunbeams, rivers and mountains, trees and boulders, plants and animals. He knew he could spend days looking at the paintings, admiring their meanings and intricacies.