The Obsidian Quest [Search for Earthlight Trilogy Book 1]

by Laraine Anne Barker

  As he spoke there was a visible movement of the air, which resolved itself into the prostrate figures of two boys, disheveled, dirty and exhausted. Two pairs of round, terrified eyes scanned the strangers standing around them, the terror in them increasing. Nostradamus quickly placed chairs for the boys.

  Merlin addressed them all. “While the boys recover from their ordeal, I think it might be a good idea for me to explain the purpose and tradition of the Twelve Chosen of Earthlight.” He cleared his throat as though going to make a speech.

  "Since the world began there has been an Evil abroad. Christians call it by various names: Satan, Lucifer, the Devil, to name the most common. What it is, quite simply, is the combined forces of all the evil in the world—everything that is bad in every person on this earth. Call it what you will, it becomes more and more powerful as the population of the world increases. In this century it is more potent than it has ever been. You've only to look at our two world wars. The evil deeds committed by humans against their fellow beings are well documented. Sure, mankind has been horrendously brutal to its own kind in other centuries; but in this one we have weapons such as were never dreamed of in the past. Think back to the Gulf War. What was that but a rising of the Forces of Evil? Somalia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and more recent wars were the same."

  Merlin paused, scanning every face in turn. “It is your purpose—the present Chosen Ones—to stop the Forces of Evil that are engulfing our century. It is my purpose t o help choose the Chosen and to assist them in their mission, replacing each one as his life on earth ends. Unfortunately,” he turned briefly to Peter, Jamie and John, “my choices at the present time include three who are still only boys. They all turned thirteen on midsummer day—midwinter day in the old hemisphere. All the Chosen are born on that day—it is the Law. We have a policeman, Thomas; two fishermen, Phil and Andrew; a priest, Matthew; a farm worker who carves in wood and bone, Simon; two farmers, Bart and Thad; a chemist, Jim; and three boys: Jamie and John, brothers, and—the most important of the present Chosen—Simon Peter FitzArthur. He is one of the Chosen—the most important—by birthright. If you notice anything unusual about those names,” Merlin finished dryly, “I can assure you that, because of the apparent increase in evil in this century, it was intended."

  He stood looking at them with fierce, bright eyes while they digested this information. It was Peter who broke the silence. “That's only eleven. You said twelve."

  The fierce eyes snapped. The angular face, which in anybody else might have earned its owner the nickname Punch, became ruthlessly austere. “Twelve there were in the beginning—and there was betrayal. To avoid betrayal in this uprising the twelfth Chosen is not a man—” He raised his arm and brought it down in a sweeping gesture, pointing at Peter's left side.

  And there was Dreyfus, standing to attention with his dark eyes fixed on Merlin. Merlin patted the animal's head and turned back to the astonished group before him. His gaze swept their faces again, his eyes deep, dark pools of agonized memory. “There is never treachery among dogs—either to their own kind or to their human masters. So Dreyfus is commanded to be Peter's guide and protector, and to take my place—to a certain extent anyway—when I can't be there."

  "Why are there no women amongst the Chosen?” asked Jim the chemist, who was married to a doctor of considerable reputation.

  "Simply tradition.” Merlin's mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “It is the Law—a law that makes my task extremely difficult and which I hope will one day be changed. Working according to the present Law, it is near impossible for me to find twelve men—or eleven, in the present case—worthy enough. Hence these three boys.” He paused briefly, gesturing at Peter and his companions. “We do, however, have the Lady,” he continued. “The Lady is ... perhaps ... the very essence of the Earthlight. She is our lodestar—our guiding light. She is more powerful than any of us will ever be. Like myself, she has a part to play in every generation—sometimes more than one. She is also outside certain of the Laws so that, for instance, she is able to give aid beyond time and space. Which is just as well for our century because the Evil One has managed to stop her taking her place for this present uprising. Since I can't help from a distance I have to traverse both time and space, using much vitality and power."

  He turned to the desk, where Nostradamus had been silently listening, his gaze occasionally wandering toward the Obsidian Orb.

  "It's time to fulfill part of the prophecy—the moment for the Orb to give up the secret for which it was refashioned."

  He walked to the front of the desk, facing Nostradamus, who folded his hands in his lap and raised his head to watch the wizard as he again took the globe from its silver stand. Lifting it with both hands, Merlin held it at arm's length. Like a priest performing the Eucharistic rites, he turned to face the Chosen. Slowly he brought the orb closer to his face until it filled his whole vision.

  His grasp on the ebony sphere visibly tightened. The room darkened noticeably, although the sun still shone. Something discernible and yet not fully visible hovered around Merlin, the evil emanating from it almost tangible. Peter felt it pierce his mind with terror. He saw it was the same with the others, paralyzing them all. Merlin's eyes became fixed and staring. The globe shook in his hands, his knuckles turned white.

  "You shall not have it! You shall not have it!"

  He threw back his head and called out something that nobody understood, a single ringing, challenging cry. But the struggle continued. Merlin called again, and this time it sounded like a summons. Then everybody heard it—a bar of music, eerie, haunting, bell-like in its resonance and yet unbell-like in its melodic flow. They all yearned after the sound—none more than Peter, who had to force himself to stay still and silent.

  Gradually the partly seen menace vanished and the terror dissolved in the hearts of the Chosen, leaving them feeling strangely weak. Mist curled around the Obsidian Orb, shutting it from everyone's view but Merlin's. His fierce gaze seemed to bore right into the globe, commanding it to yield its secrets.

  The mist slowly dispersed. But the surface of the sphere revealed wasn't the highly polished one Merlin had held out for them to see. It was dull and matte. Only the part facing Merlin still had its original mirror-like finish. From the gleam in Merlin's eyes, it was obvious to everybody that he could see something in this surface. Scarcely breathing, they waited to hear what it was. The silence lengthened until the Chosen became so tense most of them were holding their breath.

  Merlin's voice finally came out in gasps. “The conflict ... appalling ... buried—alive! I can't breathe! I can't breathe!” Dreadful rasping sounds emerged from his throat. In his fight to regain his breath his grasp on the Obsidian Orb relaxed. He had to clasp it to his breast to keep from dropping it. Having calmed down, he again held the orb out at face level and his eyes greedily devoured what it revealed. The horror on his face increased.

  "No No! A whole country—devastated! An entire city destroyed! More than half its population—in one blast! My friends! My friends—all killed!” Unshed tears brightened the dark, deep-set eyes. “They sought to help me—and so were slain.” Grief distorted his face. “I didn't know—had no premonition.” He threw back his head. His voice became so hoarse it was barely more than a whisper. “How is it I had no knowledge?"

  With great effort he pulled himself together. He turned his eyes on the Chosen.

  "The power of the Evil One must be tremendous for him to be able to hide such deeds from me. My friends, it is worse than I thought. We are surpassed at every turn."

  Peter found himself acutely aware of cold horror gripping the hearts of the Chosen—of the defeat staring them in the face before they had begun their separate battles.

  Merlin turned his gaze back to the Obsidian Orb. His eyes moved rapidly back and forth and he muttered incoherently to himself. Even the occasional, clearly heard word was meaningless to his audience.

  Nostradamus spoke quietly and patiently, stemming the
torrent of words. “Tell us what you see, my friend. Your companions cannot be expected to help without knowing what is expected of them."

  The gaze of Merlin's wild dark eyes swept from the astrologer-philosopher to the Chosen.

  "I see nothing but death and destruction,” he replied hoarsely. “If the Lady and I, together with the present Chosen, can't stem the evil tide that threatens to swamp the world, there will be total destruction of the Earth by nuclear war—and we in this most isolated of the world's developed countries won't be spared by our isolation."

  "Is that what the Obsidian Orb tells you is going to happen—or is it merely showing what may happen if your mission is unsuccessful?” asked Nostradamus patiently.

  Merlin cleared his throat. He lowered the Obsidian Orb and covered it with his cloak. “What may happen, of course. You must know that obsidian, in whatever form it's used, is not strictly clairvoyant. By law it's able to calculate only what will or may happen if certain actions are not taken, or if certain things are done or caused to happen. In spherical form, it's at its most powerful and is also able to show things that have happened, and to give guidance. However, I may not disclose its instructions at the moment because it's possible the Enemy is listening in—maybe watching my anguish,” he ended bitterly. “My defenses have been sadly weakened. I sense I'm no longer welcome among those friends who have lost their loved ones—and in many cases their entire families. Those who are still alive and able to help me will be withholding their assistance because they blame me for the vengeance wreaked upon them."

  He withdrew the orb from under his cloak and held it up again. He was calm and resolute as he gazed into its depths. Minutes passed that seemed like hours to Peter.

  "The orb tells me I'm not observed at the moment and will be warned if the Enemy tries to exercise his power from afar. I am perhaps the only one, apart from the Lady, who is able to use obsidian for such a purpose. The orb also tells me I must go to my friends, taking at least the First Chosen with me, despite the fact that I shall be told in no uncertain terms I am no longer welcome.” He paused. “It's clouded over: I think we have learned everything it has to tell us."

  Merlin slowly lowered the globe. He was about to return it to its silver pedestal when something drifted across the orb's surface. Everyone saw it but no one could make out what it was. Merlin snatched the sphere up again. The ashen strain returned to his face and his mouth set in a grim line.

  "Treachery! Betrayal!” The words rang out like an accusation in the quiet tension of the room. He all but slammed the Obsidian Orb into its cradle before whirling to face the Chosen, who gaped, aghast. “We are doubly played false! As we stand here, we are betrayed, or have been betrayed. There is not one this time but two!"

  Merlin's last word was virtually roared out. He strode over to the Chosen and stood in front of each. His rage was terrifying. They all cowed beneath the intensity of his gaze. Each was commanded to look into the sorcerer's eyes and told he had nothing to fear if he was honest. One by one they endured his mind reaching into theirs, searching, probing. Peter was last and, watching as the others went through their testing, he became more and more terrified that he would be found wanting.

  When his turn came, he saw the Enemy as he had witnessed him at the foot of Mount Eden—a great swirling black cloud with the hint of a huge spider inside. It blotted out the sixteenth-century room around them, swallowing all sense of time, and appeared to contain all space to itself. Peter could see nothing but the eddying cloud. Although it made no attempt to touch him, he couldn't stop himself stepping backwards.

  Out of the shifting blackness, light struggled through—gray and murky, shot with sparks of silvery-blue. A form took shape within this menacing light. Peter sensed it was drawing all the light to itself to create a visible manifestation, and immense power came from the light source. He felt as though it could have struck him dead by sheer force of will.

  His heart gave a lurch and started to hammer. As he stood, gaze riveted unwillingly on the apparition, it took on human appearance with a feminine quality. Without seeing anything substantial, Peter received a mental image of the mother he had never known.

  A soft voice—like a mixture of Aunt Angela's and that of the Lady—spoke into his mind, entreating him. “Please, my dear son, think hard before following this man. You have heard how his actions caused the devastation of a whole country, killing most of its citizens. You can see how ruthless he is, how enraged at the idea of someone daring to betray him."

  "He has a right to be angry if those he trusts betray him!” Peter cried voicelessly.

  "Ah!” said the other voice, sadly, “That may be so—but he will deal mercilessly with anyone who does betray him. Also, someone who cares about others does not expose to danger the lives of those he professes to love. No kind and compassionate man would put anybody's life at risk, let alone the lives of three innocent children."

  "He isn't forcing us to help him.” As he spoke, Peter could hear, as though the apparition brought the scene into his mind, Merlin's voice stating that he, Peter, was by birthright the most important of the Chosen—and such birthright would allow little choice in the matter.

  "There are different ways of using force, Peter,” the soft voice continued. “The ways of Merlin are ingenious. Those over whom he exercises his influence have no idea they are being used. His are the actions of a self-seeking and pitiless man, who serves only his own glorification."

  "He's only trying to save the world from the Evil ... the Evil—” Peter found he couldn't finish his sentence. The idea of evil coming from that sad and gentle figure enveloped in the dark cloud was ridiculous.

  "From the Evil that is me?” The voice sounded as though reproaching Peter for thinking such dreadful thoughts of its owner. “Do I look and sound so monstrous? Come, Peter; you know better. You know who I am.” More and more, the voice sounded like that of the Lady—the Lady who had been so kind, who had saved him from the fiery volcano.

  "This man,” the voice continued, “is a very powerful and dangerous sorcerer and his whole purpose is to rule the earth and enslave its people. Sorcerers are not good people: those with so much power are always evil. Power inevitably corrupts. Don't be blinded by this one's promises. He will keep all the power for himself. No magician in his right mind will show others how he performs his marvelous tricks. Ask yourself: has he given any power to you? Haven't your wonderful experiences so far been all of his doing? Whose stupidity almost got you thrown into the volcano's heart? Who saved you then?"

  "It was the Lady! It was the Lady!” In his distress, Peter spoke aloud.

  More and more, the vision took on the appearance of the Lady. Without any words being spoken, either aloud or into Peter's mind, Peter became increasingly sure that someone was trying to make him believe that he was seeing the Lady.

  "No! No! It's a lie! You're not the Lady! You're not the Lady! I don't believe a word you say!” He yelled with full lung power, which seemed the only way he could convince himself that what he was seeing was a fabrication of someone else's imagination.

  "Steady! Steady!” A deep voice broke in gently—and the vision disappeared in a blaze of blue and silver fireworks. Peter blinked dazedly into Merlin's deep-set dark eyes beneath their bristling eyebrows. The eyes were kindly, but there was gentle mockery in them. “There's no need to blast our ears off. The Evil One doesn't need to be shouted at to hear you. He hears things far beyond human range."

  Peter let out his breath explosively. “Was that really the Enemy? Or was it you?"

  "It was I. And the effort has exhausted me.” Merlin's shoulders visibly drooped.

  Looking despondent, he turned to include the rest of the Chosen in what he had to say. “I find no treachery in anyone's mind, either past or present. Yet the Obsidian Orb says the betrayal is in motion and can't be reversed by the most potent magic in the entire universe. It also tells me I'm not betrayed by accident—my own choices have dictated the form o
f both deceptions. I seem to have endangered our mission before it's started. And the worst of it is I don't know how."

  His eyes rested in turn on Peter, Jamie and John with infinite sadness, as though pleading for their forgiveness.

  Chapter 9

  A Wizard's Downfall

  AS HE LOOKED piercingly from one to another of the Chosen, Merlin was the picture of despair. Then, abruptly, he pulled himself together. His tall form grew taller, until he made everyone, even the thickset Maori and the burly farmer, feel small. “I'm not accustomed to being baffled like this. It's a good indication of how much strength the Enemy has gained since I last confronted him. Though none of the Chosen is ready, I want Peter and Dreyfus—and Jamie and John if they feel up to it—to accompany me on the first stage of our quest."

  "John and I will do anything to get revenge on that horrible man who kept us prisoner,” cried Jamie. Unlike his much quieter brother John, Jamie never shrank from speaking his mind. “He was babbling about how if he kept us until after our birthday we would be powerless—that before letting us go he would destroy all memory of what had happened—but in the meantime he wanted us to experience everything to the full. Once our birthday had passed he was reluctant to let us go."

  "Ah—a sadist! That was his undoing. If he had succeeded in erasing your memories you would indeed be powerless to help the cause of Earthlight. His Master overlooked or was unaware of his servant's incompetence because I cast a spell of protection at your birth, as I did for each and every one of you. I anticipated the Enemy might be able to work some mischief to stop you coming into your inheritance. It was the first time I had used such a spell and I couldn't be absolutely sure I covered everything. Abduction was something I didn't anticipate."

  He turned to Nostradamus. “Before we all go back to our occupations or to our first step in the Earthlight quest, the Prophet of Doom has in his keeping a Token of Power for each of the Chosen. Although they all look the same, each token is specially fashioned for its user, containing powers suited to the needs of its keeper."