Chosen

by Jolea M. Harrison

  An altar stood surrounded by black pillars and chained to one of the rough hewn stones was a woman. When she looked up, her blonde curls hanging dank around her face, Alurn knew her.

  “No,” he said, his voice constricting in his throat. “It isn’t possible. I don’t believe you. She escaped. She’s with our children right now.”

  “I have her,” Adiem said. “She didn’t make it through after you left her here. As usual, you were too easily deceived.”

  “It’s not true,” Alurn said, staring at his beautiful Fadril and trembling at the misery he saw etched in her face.

  Alurn didn’t want to believe it. The day he died played over again – falling in the old Temple up in the mountain, Fadril standing over him and then staggering back after she somehow managed to kill Adiem, but mortally wounded herself. They’d found themselves awakening again in a strange, terrifying land where the monsters they’d only dreamed of were real. They realized they were in the Between, the well of souls, neither living, nor dead. Not in the Blessed Realm with the promise of eternal peace, but not quite in the demon’s lair. Another battle for their soul’s survival ensued.

  Alurn remembered the High Bishop, the first one of the new age, coming to save his soul, and he thought his wife’s too. At least that’s what Alurn always believed, but he remembered the confusion and chaos that surrounded them, the hounds of hell that leapt and gnashed at them. The children weren’t there at the gateway to the void. They’d been saved, but Alurn realized he didn’t know how.

  “You never did think of anyone but yourself,” Adiem said, reading his thoughts. “So it’s no wonder you don’t know.”

  Alurn looked again to Fadril, terror filling his mind that she really had been taken. Alurn knew he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her there. But Adiem couldn’t be trusted either. He stood torn between fear that his brother was lying and fear that he was telling the truth.

  “She gave up her soul for her children,” Adiem said. “Your children, who you utterly failed to protect. She is the one paying the price for your stupidity and arrogance. There’s nothing you can do about it either. After all this time, I wanted you to know.”

  Adiem stepped back and Alurn thought the portal would close, sealing him away from the only woman he ever loved. “You bastard!”

  He lunged forward, wanting to rip the smirk from Adiem’s face, wanting to destroy him, and felt fingers close around his neck. He heard the gateway snap closed behind him.

  Adiem laughed, an iron hard grasp wrenching Alurn’s hand away. Pillars surrounded them. Fadril threw her head back, laughing, her face melting away to become another copy of Adiem, one of the six versions of him that existed.

  Alurn stared at her after-image, plunged into sudden, awful realization. Adiem laughed and the other five joined him.

  “Once a fool,” they said.

  ~*~

  Chapter 5

  Maralt Adaeryn listened to the intoned prayers of the High Bishop of Cobalt echoing through the vastness of the Sanctuary Temple, caught and cast by the vaulted ceiling. A cleared throat, a soft word, the whisper of a gown being adjusted, all seemed magnified. The smell of burning wax drifted through the heavier scents of perfume and holy oil.

  Maralt stood behind the last pew, swathed in the brown robes of a monk, at the back of the Temple in a line of similarly clad initiates, though he wasn’t one, careful to keep his mind shielded, and his thoughts to himself. The hood he wore was drawn closely enough to cover his eyes and cover his head. No other monk in the building - most of whom were old men - had long, black hair so his would give him away if the High Bishop happened to glance his way.

  “Who am I kidding?” he said to himself. “He probably knows we’re here.”

  Carryn stood some distance away, wearing the same thing, also trying not to be noticed. They weren’t supposed to be at the service where the alleged savior of the universe, the anointed one, the keeper of the sacred flame was taking a vow to forgo having sex until he was married.

  Maralt doubted he’d fulfill that one.

  There were fears, maybe valid ones, that meeting the two princes before the appointed hour might cause some kind of calamity, but the old man seemed more frail than usual. Maralt and Carryn decided to ignore the edict to stay away.

  Dynan couldn’t see anything but the back of the apse anyway. The Prince knelt before the altar and the giant seal covering the wall. A yellow firestone blazed in the sphere’s center. Seven stones, representing the seven Gods and the seven tenets, orbited in a field of color. Blue prevailed over green and white, slashing outward in powerful bands. By some means no one knew, the seal glowed from within.

  Purifying one’s soul took a lot of time. There were lengthy prayers for forgiveness of sins Maralt doubted Dynan even thought of committing. Not many people knew the High Bishop suggested this ceremony to the King, which meant there was some greater significance to the vow that Gradyn didn’t intend to share. Maralt wondered if maybe there was some benefit instilled from it, some protection the High Bishop felt was necessary perhaps.

  As he watched the service, Maralt questioned again if he believed the things he’d been told nearly the whole of his life. The idea that their worlds, all of humanity, were locked in some sort of time loop wasn’t an easy concept to accept. It would continue until a specific set of events happened, or were prevented as the case may be, breaking the cycle and restoring the true Gods. Maralt wasn’t so sure he believed in the Gods. He wasn’t certain he believed that Dynan and Dain Telaerin, who were just boys after all, were the ones who would save the world or fail in the attempt.

  Maralt wondered too, why Dain’s participation in this service hadn’t been suggested, other than the fact it was too late for him.

  “He’s going to need the protection of the Gods even more than his brother,” Maralt said in another muted whisper.

  While Dynan knelt at the altar, Dain sat in comfort in the first pew. Maralt could hear Dain telepathically helping his brother get through all the responses. Dain wasn’t exactly speaking for him, but he was right there with him, telling Dynan the words when he stumbled and couldn’t speak. Maybe that would be enough.

  A blaze of white light surrounded them both, as if two small versions of the sun had landed right on the planet. That was easy enough to believe in. Maralt wanted to explore that radiance and discover why it was. It was hard to deny there was power there.

  There was something else that that lay on Dynan like a shadow. Maralt saw it and felt it, but couldn’t figure the cause and wanted a closer look. It was a sensation like flying, moving with only the power of his mind down the long aisle toward the altar. An ember of darkness resided inside the glowing light, but Maralt still couldn’t see what made it.

  Dynan tilted his head then, glancing sidelong over his shoulder. Maralt backed away, and put up a stronger mental shield to block him. Dain didn’t have any constraints about turning around and searching for the source of disturbance. He would have kept looking, but the King leaned in and whispered to him. Maralt swore softly under his breath, concentrated harder and willed them both to go back to paying attention to the service.

  Carryn stood close beside him then. She was slightly shorter than he, looking at him with gray eyes that in certain lighting sometimes seemed white. Her hood was back more than it should have been.

  “Dynan almost saw you,” she whispered. They couldn’t risk communicating telepathically with each other with the twins this close. They’d probably hear it.

  “He hardly noticed,” Maralt said, shaking his head at her tendency to over-react.

  “You aren’t supposed to listen in like that,” she said in his ear.

  “Would you relax? Nothing will come of it.”

  A monk standing near them cleared his throat quietly, and Maralt became aware that silence blanketed the room. The High Bishop had stopped talking. Dynan didn’t speak.

  For this ceremony, there was a series of responses. A lot
of them. The last reply neared an hour ago. They were close to the end of the service where Dynan actually had to take the vow.

  “Tell him you’ve changed your mind and he’ll have to figure a way out of the rest of it,” Dain said to his brother.

  “Not very supportive of him,” Maralt said, smiling when Carryn punched his arm.

  People shifted in their seats, but Dynan wasn’t paying attention to them. He was looking up at the High Bishop.

  “Dynan, it’s the end of the ceremony. Get on with it. I’m not saying this part. I already told you I wouldn’t. I don’t want my soul rotting in hell. I mean, it’s not like I really believe it, but—”

  “There’s something wrong with the High Bishop.”

  Maralt straightened, looking closer and realized Dynan was right. Even at this distance he could see Gradyn seemed suddenly disoriented.

  “Maybe you better get this over with,” Dain said. He glanced back over his shoulder again, but Maralt ignored him. “He looks like he needs to sit down.”

  “In sight of the Gods, in the presence of my King, and these honored guests who have gathered as witness here in the sacred Temple, this vow I freely take.”

  Dynan said the words quietly, and faster than the gravity of the ceremony called for, but the next instant, he jumped to his feet in a rush. The High Bishop crumpled. Dynan just barely managed to catch him.

  He couldn’t hold him up though. Dain was there before anyone else could react other than to gasp, and together they helped ease the High Bishop to the floor. He looked dead.

  “Sir? Eminence?” Dynan said. He hadn’t yet learned how to disguise his emotions and looking from Dain back to his father it was easy to see he was worried. The hall erupted into noise and motion.

  “Maralt, you can’t,” Carryn said and grabbed his arm to restrain him when he meant to go to Gradyn’s aide. “You can’t.”

  There were a number of people already moving to help, Eldelar Elger, the Chief of Palace Medicine among them and his daughter, Geneal, who was also a doctor. Several monks too, clerics and priests, converged before the altar.

  A cloud cut across the sun, extinguishing the brightness of the day, and a shadow rolled from the Sacred Seal to the back of the sanctuary where Maralt stood with Carryn.

  “That can’t be good,” he said. On this pristine day there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  Maralt hesitated and then went through Dynan again to make sure the High Bishop was all right, closer than he’d dared before. It was like standing in a ray of sunlight on a warm summer day.

  Dynan turned to look over his shoulder, but the High Bishop drew his attention back. “I’m all right,” he said, glancing through Dynan right at Maralt, who was only touching Dynan’s mind enough to use his eyes. Gradyn was the only one with the skill to see him.

  “Are you sure?” Dynan asked at the same time Maralt did.

  “I’m sure of it,” Gradyn said. “We should go on with the service.”

  “You mean it isn’t over?” Dain said, and his voice carried farther than he intended.

  Gradyn chuckled. “Almost. Dain would you get that clear vial that’s on the altar for me.” He grimaced when he thought to straighten and then changed his mind. Dynan still supported him with an arm behind his back. “Everyone go sit down again. Please, Your Majesty. I’m quite all right.”

  Ambrose didn’t seem inclined to agree. He didn’t obey, though the monks around them shuffled back to their places. Dain came back with the vial of holy oil. Gradyn gestured him down beside him again with Dynan. He opened the vial and dabbed his finger. He drew the sacred seal on Dynan’s forehead, a circle with a dot in the center and then to Dain’s astonishment, did the same to him.

  “May the Gods go with you both,” he said, as he recapped the vial. “Now, we’re finished.”

  Maralt eased back, not certain what had just happened, but knew there was more to it than Gradyn fainting. Back with Carryn, he took her by the arm and drew her through the side doorway out of the Temple with him. There was something wrong and there was only one place he knew to look for a problem.

  “The Room of Orbs,” Carryn said and Maralt nodded.

  They waited until they were out of sight to hurry down the outer hallway. The corridor moved by in a blur, following the line of the sanctuary and then a series of short halls, turning right, left, and then left once more as they rushed from the Temple.

  Maralt didn’t know what to expect. He’d seen the High Bishop in the room on occasion, but couldn’t go in himself. He’d been warned, a number of times, it would mean his death if he dared it.

  He and Carryn stopped at the entrance. A strange, low-pitched vibration came from the room. The crystals weren’t clear any more but nearly filled with roiling black, like storm clouds accelerated in their formation. Even as they watched, a coiling band detached from one orb and joined another.

  “How is that possible?” Carryn said, breathing hard more from fear than the rush to get there.

  Maralt responded by pulling her behind him, and putting an arm in front of her. She looked around him to see the room when he wanted to take her as far away from this place as he could.

  “The Six aren’t contained anymore,” he said, trying to fathom how that could have happened. There wasn’t any other explanation for what they were seeing. “They aren’t here in the world. Yet. I don’t know what’s stopping them.”

  An undulating band came from the center most crystal, and shot forward to the entryway. For a second, Maralt thought it would keep coming, breach the tenuous barrier and enter the world. He tensed, wondering what he could do to prevent the next catastrophe.

  It came right to the plane of the entryway and held there as if it was looking at them.

  Carryn pulled him by the arm, making him take a step back. “What could cause this?”

  “I can think of a few things,” Maralt said, watching the coil pulsing as if testing for weaknesses. It looked like the same dark bands from Carryn’s vision.

  “The talisman is the only...” Carryn said. “You’re talking about the talisman? Dynan has it?”

  “I don’t know.” Maralt pulled her back from the room. He didn’t like the feel of it. “We should go.”

  Carryn agreed and they retraced their steps back toward the Sanctuary, but didn’t feel any lessening of the sense of evil. They rounded a corner and the veil of dread lifted abruptly. Maralt looked around for the cause, confused since they were alone, until he heard voices approaching. He saw the blaze of light advancing toward them.

  “Your hood,” he said to Carryn, and pulled on his own.

  Carryn yanked the hood down to cover her face and stuffed her hands into the sleeve of her robes to hide the fact that she was a woman. They both put their backs to the wall a second before the King’s entourage came to the corner.

  Maralt could see through the weave of the fabric that the High Bishop was with them, surrounded by other members of the Palace household, and trailing a line of monks. Gradyn walked with Dynan on one side and Dain on the other. Each held an arm out for him to lean on and they moved with slow care.

  While he seemed all right, Maralt thought Gradyn was just holding on until everyone left. It was difficult to tell because of the glowing white light that enveloped him. Standing inside that nimbus was probably the only reason he was still on his feet.

  “Forgive me for the distraction,” Gradyn said, “and the disruption. The reception would have been the most enjoyable part of the day.”

  Dynan shook his head without looking up from the floor though he did smile for a second. Maralt could feel his relief.

  “We don’t mind, Eminence,” Dain said for him. “Really, we don’t.”

  “Of course. I suppose the best part is having it all over with,” Gradyn said with a dry laugh. He patted Dynan’s hand. “I think today, I completely agree. Thank you again for your quick reaction. You saved me quite a bruising. Both of you.”

  “Are you sure
you’re all right now?” Ambrose asked as he stopped at the intersection of halls. “Dr. Elger can stay if you want him to.”

  “No, no, that won’t be necessary. It’s passing. Eldelar doesn’t have a cure for old age anyway.”

  “Not yet, though I do keep asking him to work on it,” the King said with a slight smile. “All right then. We’ll leave you to a much more restful afternoon, and don’t worry about the reception. We’ll have something in a week or two at the Palace. You can come over for that. If you’d like.”

  “I’d like it very much, Your Majesty. I appreciate your understanding.”

  Dynan and Dain let him go and at their father’s nod left the building through the side door. The hall seemed suddenly plunged into darkness.

  Maralt waited for all the pleasantries to conclude and for the rest of the Royal exit before moving to Gradyn’s side, sensing that he was at the end of endurance. The door closed, cutting off the warble of the transfers pulling away.

  Maralt wrapped his arms around Gradyn as his knees gave out. He dismissed the other hovering monks with a wave of his hand, holding the High Bishop up.

  “What is it?” Maralt asked as Carryn moved to help on the other side.

  Gradyn couldn’t speak, though he tried to, clutching at Maralt without effect.

  “The Room of Orbs—” Carryn started to say, but Gradyn cut her off.

  “He’s gone,” he said.

  Maralt tightened his grip as the High Bishop collapsed unconscious. Carryn looked with bewildered eyes as Maralt leaned and picked him up. He hardly weighed anything at all.

  “Who?” she said. “Who’s gone?”

  ~*~

  Chapter 6

  Maralt knocked softly at the door to the High Bishop’s bedroom and then didn’t wait for an answer to look in. Carryn sat in the small room by his bedside and she shook her head in response to the unasked question. They’d taken turns through the night watching over him, but Gradyn hadn’t stirred. He was breathing. His heart beat as usual. A Temple physician had checked him again and found nothing wrong.