Chapter 3 – Thesa
Deep beneath the vast white marble Temple at Thesa there was a warren of passageways. Through these wandered Liath, priestess and reluctant seer, who had no business whatsoever being there.
She'd never come this far down before, and judging by the accumulation of featureless dust on the floor, neither had anyone else: not for a long time. Nor had she ever suspected that the hollow roots of the Goddess's house reached so deep into the earth.
What had begun as a simple errand to locate a certain old scroll in the archives had progressed from record-filled rooms and well-lit, smooth-walled corridors, to gloomy, narrow rock-hewn passages – little more than tunnels, but which obviously had some purpose, other than to lure an over-curious young priestess who should have been studying, not exploring.
And that raised the question – why had no one else found their way down here?
Daily, countless people – native Anraunians and those from other worlds – used the archives and the small study rooms. Surely, at least a few of the archivists who worked here must have wandered far enough into the oldest section and found the narrow sliding door, which admittedly did look just like the rest of the paneling. But had none of them ever leaned against it and felt the slight give in the thinner sheets of wood? Or pried and poked around until they had found the release catch?
Regardless of complaints from her empty stomach, Liath had paused long enough to conjure up a were-light to guide her, then stepped through, sliding the door shut. The light, a small sphere the size of her fist, moved smoothly along the passageways a few feet in front of her, stopped when she did, and hovered in the air until she started walking again.
“What can possibly be down here?” she asked herself for the fourth time, easily resisting any temptation to peep into the future and see what lay at the end of her wanderings.
The sphere suddenly bobbed to a halt, illuminating a fork in the passage. Liath stopped beside it and studied the two new tunnels in turn. The light was limited, but gave the distinct impression that the right-hand fork sloped gently upwards again, while the left one led down. A slight breeze tickled her cheek; a faint earthy smell did the same to her nostrils.
“That way.” She pointed towards the left hand fork and followed her finger down it.
This tunnel was narrower, a little more forbidding than the other. The ceiling was low and the floor uneven, thick with dust, walls close enough to touch without stretching her arms out too far. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she grinned.
Familiar with the magi's work, Liath recognized the aura of power down here; woven into the rocks, drifting on the air, rising in the dust she disturbed in passing. The subtle suggestion of fear and unease was strong enough to discourage an accidental stumbler into the passage, but not palpable enough to send her heading back to the archives; yet.
Just as she was beginning to feel uncomfortable, and seriously considering a little foreseeing to find out what the magi wanted to keep hidden, the were-light suddenly recoiled off something and bounced against the wall. Liath stopped, frowned at the glowing sphere, then at the tunnel ahead.
It didn't look any different to the section she'd just come down, but something had halted the were-light. Reaching out her hand, she took a wary step forward, then another.
Yes – an obstruction, like a soft, invisible cushion, stretched across the passageway. She pressed, and met with resistance. The harder she pushed, the greater the opposition.
Puzzled, the young priestess stepped back and leaned against the wall – almost invisible herself in the black tunic and pants of her order.
The theurgical barrier was a simple enough obstacle, but it had been there for a long time. To produce such a lasting effect would have required a considerable amount of energy. Why expend so much on this one when there were various other options the magi could have used to create a barrier?
Obviously there was something down here which wasn't meant to be found. Gold, jewels, outlawed books, artifacts? Maybe even relics of Akashii civilization, plundered from their capital city before it was destroyed.
Her stomach growled, loud and eerie in the stone confines, reminding her that there were other things in need of attention. Straightening up, Liath brushed herself down and thoughtfully re-traced her steps, glancing back over her shoulder every so often. Plagued by curiosity, she was determined to meet this challenge using only her wits, without looking into the futures to see how this mystery was solved. To Liath’s everlasting chagrin, she was a gifted seer. Her greatest desire was to be a healer, like Druin, her father. To compound matters, she also had the talent to be an outstanding healer. But since there were many healers in her father’s order and less than 20 seers, it was to that last order she had been requested to go.
Yet even studying for both disciplines, life did get a little boring at times, and this was exactly the thing to liven it up; but after a good meal. She lengthened her stride and tracked her footprints back, surprised at the distance she had travelled.
When finally she arrived back at ground level and sneaked out of the deserted archives, lamps were lit, the sun just set and the evening meal over with. Following the lingering aroma of food, she headed towards the kitchens to see what could be scrounged from the cooks.
“There you are, Lee! Where on Earth have you been?”
Liath turned at the familiar voice and smiled at her friend and fellow seer.
“Annushi's been looking all over for you,” the blond priestess added.
“Oh no, I forgot!” she groaned. “I was supposed to assist her at evening worship.”
“It's all right,” Ianna replied, hooking her arm through Liath's as they began walking. “I stood in for you.”
“Thanks, Anni, I owe you one. I'm just going down to the kitchens, are you coming?”
Ianna smiled. “I'm meeting Maric, so I'll only come as far as the ramp.”
“Oh, really,” Liath grinned, raising her eyebrows. “Again! That makes the fourth – no fifth – time this week!”
“Yes, again. I really like him.” She sighed dreamily and gazed into space, “His eyes are so... beautiful...”
“His eyes! Is that as far as you've got?”
“Haven't you ever noticed them, Lee, they're such a deep blue and so...so...”
“Beautiful?” Liath offered.
“Yes. Nothing like yours of course...”
“Never mind that,” Liath dismissed the reference to her amethyst and gold colored eyes with a wave of her hand. “I'd have thought you'd have progressed a little further south than that after five evenings. To his waist at least!”
“Oh, yes...way past his waist. Those parts are in excellent working order, too,” the tall young blond confirmed as they stopped by the short sloping corridor leading down to the kitchens.
“Good, I'm glad to hear it. In fact, you can tell me all about it later, but at the moment, I need food. And I'm sure if Maric's a typical bard, you'll get what you're looking for too.”
The pretty girl laughed and hugged her friend. “I'll call in around midnight and tell you how perfect he is! Oh, by the way, Rajan was asking where you were.”
“Oh? Why?” Liath asked warily.
The Nightlord, a seer like the two girls, was three years their senior, and thought by many to be one of the most beautiful men in the land. Liath wholeheartedly agreed with that, but there was a sharp streak of cruelty in the Darkworlder that surfaced at the slightest provocation. And she did not wish to be the one who provided that provocation.
“He just asked if you were going down to the Hanging Dog this evening. Said he wanted to talk to you, but he wouldn't tell what about, and he smiled at me all the time he was speaking.”
“Very strange. Is that all he said?”
“Yes... are you going down to the Dog?”
“Probably not,” Liath replied.
“Good. I don't really trust Rajan – especially when he's being nice. Ah, there's Maric. See you later,
Lee.” Ianna smiled and strode off to join her lover.
The young bard waved to her, spared Liath a smile, then took Ianna's hand and they strolled out into the vast gardens that surrounded the sprawling temple and attendant buildings. Liath turned away, tucked stray tendrils of dark red chestnut hair behind her ears and continued down to the kitchens.
A quarter of an hour later, armed with a dish of cold meat, cheese, fruit and bread, the young priestess went up to her rooms in the Seers Tower and mulled over what she had found – or not found – in the maze of subterranean passages.
There had to be something down there, otherwise it wouldn't have been blocked off like that. Any cave-in should have ordinary written warnings and normal barriers. Besides, the air circulating in the passages had been reasonably fresh. Maybe the Temple plans down in the archives could help. All she had to do was avoid arousing suspicion in getting hold of them.
Crunching an apple, Liath checked her schedule for the following day. Early worship, breakfast, then a morning of foretelling, lunch and early afternoon studies with academician, Master Jaran – the philosophies of Sun – again. She groaned aloud. Then she had studies with Rowena, the Healer Prelate, until evening ritual and dinner. After that, at least two and a half hours of freedom – plenty of time to find the Temple blueprints and decipher them. Just as she finished the apple, there was a knock at her door.
“Coming,” she called, tossing the core into the empty dish.
A tall, silver-haired woman with jet black eyes stood outside the door when Liath opened it.
“Oh, Annushi!”
“Good evening, Liath. I thought I'd call and see how you were.” The head of the order of seers smiled and waited for the girl, who had never been sick in her life, to reply.
“Oh, er, fine now, thanks, Annushi. Just a headache,” she said, rubbing her forehead beneath the mop of thick, untidy waves, wishing she'd remembered to ask Ianna what excuse she'd given.
“Oh dear, and on top of stomach pains, too,” Annushi sympathized.
Liath shrugged, and gave a feeble smile. “You know how it is.”
The older woman nodded. “Yes, I know,” she replied. “But should you be smitten by this odd affliction again, please do come and tell me. And maybe record it in the healer journals.”
“Yes, of course,” Liath promised, starting to move back into her room.
“I'd almost forgotten, Lee, there's a letter for you. Here, from your father,” the seeress smiled, handing the younger one a slim envelope. “I'll see you at morning worship.”
In the privacy of her own rooms two doors away, Annushi chuckled out loud. Liath ap Dubve may be the most promising seer in the order, but she couldn't lie to save her life; which made her wonder what the young woman had been up to this time.
Unlike the other 19 men and women that made up the smallest of the seven orders, Liath could see her own futures and those of her fellows. Overall, she was a friendly and lively 20 year old, but occasionally there were possible events in the futures that upset her. And that usually meant most of the other Temple inhabitants were affected, too, which made her a little hard to live with at times. Luckily, she’d learned to restrict 'seeing herself, and now rarely looked more than a day ahead.
All the seers, Annushi included, were a strange and powerful group of people. Able to control the elements, 'walk' to different worlds, see into other dimensions, sometimes bend the will of others to their own, and perform a host of different deeds best known to the seers themselves, of them all, Liath was perhaps the strangest. Although not surprising, considering her lineage, and her talents, had circumstances been different, she could have eventually become Healer Prelate at least.
Her father was Druin ap Dubve, Head of the Healers, who worked in Delgannan as a member of the High Lord's household. He was an enigmatic man, highly skilled in his own craft, yet having a profound knowledge and interest in the other six orders. His twin sister was Demora, the High Priestess; their elder sister, Casel, was the head of the Academicians; they had relations in all the other orders, and could trace their temple genealogy back to its inception.
Every so often, the healer would disappear for days or weeks on end, telling no-one where he was going, nor when he was likely to return, a lifelong habit that caused much concern to his family, colleagues and friends. Yet despite, or because of this, his knowledge and learning were vast and comprehensive. On one occasion, just over 20 years ago, he had returned to the Temple with a tall, heavily pregnant woman. Young, beautiful and ethereal, she was an Akashii. Druin called her his wife.
A month later a child was born, her amethyst eyes gold-flecked. Two months after that, the eldritch woman died, leaving him with the small baby to fill the great hole her death had ripped in his soul. For a time, life at the Temple was strained and uneasy, not just for those close to Druin, but for all who lived and worked in the vast complex, until he came to terms with his grief.
Liath grew up as talented as her parents – and as potentially dangerous. No one knew for sure what the Akashii had been capable of, and no-one had yet found Druin's limits.
The high priestess at that time had been Moiror, mother of Casel, Demora and Druin, previously a member of the magi, and very disturbed by the whole thing. Surprisingly, she found Alaneah, the Akashii, to be totally alien and was unable to harbor the slightest affection for her son's 'wife', even though she came to love her granddaughter. A year after Alaneah's death, she retired from office, naming her younger daughter as successor. After lengthy, stringent tests and assessment, Demora took over as high priestess, while Moiror returned to the magi until her death four years ago.
Chapter 4 – To the Isle of Akashii
The journey from Varen's keep to the island of Akashii was long, transversing Anraun, but not strenuous. A little over a month after setting out, the lord and Omell arrived at the western shore.
“The spring rites are not much more than a week past,” Varen said, halting his horse and letting Omell ride up beside him. “Yet here, so close to Thesa, I can still feel the energies flowing in the air.”
Omell glanced to her left, in the direction Thesa lay, as though she could see the white temple city.
“We will spend the night in Larcon,” Varen continued, “and find a boatman willing to ferry us to the island in the morning.”
“What of the night seer?” Omell asked as they made their way along the cliff top road. “Where will we find him? Or her?”
“I think the seer will find us.”
It was late afternoon when they reached the small harbor town, and while rooms were simple to find, getting someone to take them on the two day boat trip to the island was not. However, Varen eventually persuaded the owner of a small sail boat to take them, and to return a week later to collect them.
“Won't be easy,” the old man stated. “The island's cursed, they say, and can never be found on the same heading twice.”
“You do the sailing,” Varen told him, “I shall tell you the direction to take. Payment will be made on our return to Larcon.”
“And what if you don't return? Or I can't find the island a second time?” the sailor asked.
“You will. And we shall,” Varen replied with the utmost certainty.
The man spat over the side of the wharf into the lapping sea waters. “Be here by first light in the morning. Bring your own food and bedding, and remedies, if you don't sail well.”
Varen nodded and strode away, Omell at his side. Ever since her first glimpse of the Arconian Sea she had been fascinated by its colors, its movement, its vastness, even its smell.
“Where is the island?” she asked, eyes scanning the horizon.
“You will not be able to see it from here. It's doubtful any of us will be able to see it until we are almost upon it. Centuries have passed since most Akashiians fled to this island, and yet the magics still remain strong, cloaking the place from view. Besides,” he added with cold humor, “did you not hear the old man say
it's cursed, and never to be found in the same location twice?”
But Omell was no longer beside him. He stopped and glanced back. She stood at the sea wall, staring out across the calm blue expanse. Varen moved quietly back towards her.
“I can feel it,” she whispered, and would have stepped over the low wall had not Varen dragged her roughly back.
“Good. Now come on!” he snapped, pushing her along the path in the direction of the small hostel where they had rooms.
That night, Omell hardly slept, spending most of the dark hours staring out of the window at the sea. At dawn, she was ready and waiting for Varen, impatient to be on their way. And it was Omell who guided the sailor unerringly towards her ancestral home. The man, who after one look at her gold-flecked eyes realized she was at least partly of that ancient race, became increasingly nervous of her presence, and took to making signs warding away evil whenever she turned her starred gaze on him.
When they reached the island, it was without warning. One moment, there was open sea, evening sunlight dancing off waves: the next, a fog bank: the next, an island so beautiful that even the old sailor drew in a breath of wonder. Yet he would not set foot on the beach, would not consider spending the night there, preferring to risk being dragged off course by the strange, unpredictable currents he could feel were waiting. Varen and Omell were forced to carry their belongings through the waves and surf onto the golden sands.
“One week, sailor!” Varen shouted, as the man made ready to depart.
“Aye,” the sailor grumbled, “one week. But if you're not here on this beach waiting for me, then you'll stay here for the rest of your lives!”
Varen turned away. “And yours, old man, will not last much longer than our return trip to the mainland,” he promised. “Gather wood for a fire, Omell. We'll camp for the night on the beach. In the morning we travel to the heart of the island.”
Passing through the palm trees and near-tropical vegetation along the beach, it took them four days to walk to the center of what had been a sanctuary for the Akashii. There were no roads, or signs there had ever been any – none of the tame landscapes of civilization; just the bits of rough path at rare intervals to direct their feet. And these may simply have been animal tracks to and from water or favorite grazing.
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