‘We took the crystal containing the evil to the centre of the then vast dead and stagnant lake,’ Thaddrick continued as if talking to himself. ‘It was carefully wrapped it in clean white linen and placed it in an iron box to protect it from the fall through the dirty thick waters and we dropped it in and watched as it fell through the murk never to be seen again. When we returned to the site of the wall we rejoiced, the wall had held despite the break in the casting and we finished the barrier spell turning the flimsy and transparent temporary shield we had created into a barrier of love and strength. We hoped the wall was strong enough to hold back the void and any other beings or creatures that, should we fail to find a way to close the gateway, would surely try to make their way into our world following the bright banner of life, just as the evil that had caused my brother’s son to die had done.’ Thaddrick stopped speaking and stared into nothing.
During Thaddrick’s story Varan had remained silent, keenly interested in the tale of his homelands origins but as Thaddrick had continued to speak, he began to feel decidedly sick.
‘That crystal, Thaddrick,’ he said as the old man stared blankly, lost in thought. ‘Was it six sided with an elongated point at the bottom and tipped with silver at the top?’ Without waiting for an answer he stood, turned his back on the old man and raised his shirt revealing the once more perfect tattoo, ‘and did it look like this…?’ He asked.
Chapter 31
The Sentient Crystal
Rhoàld, along with Thaddrick gasped aloud, the last time Rhoàld had seen the tattoo was the day his beloved Bastian had died, then it had been hanging in its gilt frame in Gath’s bedchamber in Devilly. Thaddrick stared, unable to believe his eyes.
The magic had worked on Varan’s badly scarred back just as it had on Lemba’s tongue. As soon as he stepped through the gateway onto the hilltop, he had felt the itching and then as he walked to the edge of the knoll the intense pain had brought him to his knees. His back had burned as if tongues of flame were licking his skin, as if his tattoo was being stripped from his back once more, peeled slowly piece by piece, only this time in reverse. He could almost feel the knife as it sliced at his body, replacing the skin it had harvested.
Thaddrick paled as he stared, he looked at the representation of the stone chamber drawn into Varan’s back; the two-dimensional tattoo became three-dimensional in Thaddrick’s mind. Twelve pale columns with a stone altar drawn in the centre and on the altar stone itself stood a depiction of a hexagonal elongated crystal, the top of the crystal was dark, indicating a cover or a tip. Varan heard rather than saw the old man gasp, he lowered his shirt and turned once more to face him.
‘It was seen again my friend and it is still sentient, it is worshipped by the creatures of the Bleak. Slaves are offered to it for sacrifice, blood sacrifice...’ he said, adding, ‘and it is very powerful.’ Quietly he returned to his chair not noticing how Rhoàld flushed red as his gaze passed over him.
‘By the Journey’ this changes things,’ whispered Thaddrick, as he wiped his brow and emptied the beer glass before him. ‘How long has the crystal been… um, above the water line?’ Thaddrick asked Varan quietly.
‘There is no longer a water line as there is no longer a lake.’ Varan answered, looking stoically at the old man, ‘there is just a vast dried up reed bed and the crystal was found many, many years ago, I know not what happened to the box but the crystal is in the temple carved into the mountain where the Bleaks’ inhabitants worship it. As a boy, I and a few other prisoners were taken in a raid to be a blood sacrifice to it.’
Varan gazed at his brother who was sitting pale and still across the table from him; Sonal quietly stroked an old scar that ran down his jaw line, a living reminder of how Varan disappeared through the torn veil of the barrier.
‘That’s the reason why there are raids upon people living near the Bleak,’ he said as if he was trying to ease his brother’s guilt. Looking back toward Thaddrick, he said, ‘as part of the sacrifice ceremony, each of those destined to die are given the crystal to kiss, offering their very souls to it before they are bled. The priests tell them that if they comply and offer their souls freely, their families will be kept safe during future raids and by the time I was offered the crystal I thought I could proudly die alongside so many, knowing that I kept my family free.’
Sonal reached across the table and took his brother’s hand in his for support and grateful thanks and Varan turned to stare into his eyes as if he were the only person in the room before he continued.
‘One by one we kissed the crystal and spoke the words Sonal, one by one we died as our throats were sliced open like ripe fruits, so many men… so many women and children!’ Varan stopped speaking as he desperately tried to hold back his emotions, ‘all too soon it was my turn…’ He continued to stare into his brother’s eyes seeing his own past swimming before him. ‘As I took it into my hands Sonal, I swear I prayed it would accept my soul and keep my family, keep you, free of it, free of the crystal. I held it so tightly between my fingers that I could not feel how icy cold or how sharp its edges were and it sliced through my skin but I didn’t feel it then, as I brought the crystal to my lips it began to glow. It pulsed with colour, purple and black swathes of rich vibrant colour, ribbons of a… a newfound life. I touched it to my lips not realising I had inadvertently smeared the blood from my fingertips across my mouth. The blood on my lips felt hot, so burning hot, I lay them on the cold crystal once more to cool the heat and to stop the dreadful burning.’ Varan withdrew his hand from his brother’s clasp and held it empty and open before him, he looked down onto his palm as if he could still see the cuts on his fingertips, silent tears fell from his eyes leaving tracks of silver running down his face and he was almost whispering as he continued.
‘The priests got very excited and couldn’t decide whether to slit my throat then and there or to save my sacrifice for another festival, such a thing had never happened before. The high priest immediately removed the crystal from my hands and I never spoke the words that I believed would free my family from further torment. At once, the crystal dulled and turned black and again this was something that had not happened before, so hastily the high priest returned the crystal to my hands where for a second time it began to glow. I had been spared and my life changed.’ Varan’s tears now seemed inconsolable he wept openly, beseechingly.
‘I became a priest; a living representative of the entity within the crystal, the crystal itself had chosen me as a servant. The tattoo I bear now is the mark of the high priest.’ Once more Sonal reached across the table to offer comfort to his brother. Varan pushed his hands away gently. ‘Sonal’, he said, ‘I watched our Grandfather die… I, I killed him.’ He added, so quietly the sound was below a whisper.
Sonal paused for a moment, unsure of what his brother said.
‘Did you not hear me Sonal? Grandfather died at my hands.’
‘I don’t understand, what do you mean, you killed him?’ Sonal asked quietly. Varan shook his head as he spoke.
‘Grandfather was taken in a raid, he was old and ill and he was brought before me amongst a group of men who had also been taken. As high priest, part of my role was to select sacrifice for the stone and I deemed the frail old man not worthy to kiss the altar let alone the crystal itself. I, I did not realise who he was...’ Varan’s voice dropped once more causing all the listeners to move forward slightly. ‘I don’t think I would have cared if I had known,’ he added, ‘during the selection ceremony, the captives selected for the crystal are taken away and kept in seclusion and their blood is taken to clean and feed the stone. The rejected men, women and sometimes children are hung… he, grandfather, was hung high on a stone altar, the altar stones guard the entrance to the chamber, I believe they were once upright columns’ but over time they’d fallen to a degree that had become useful…’ Thaddrick immediately saw the entrance to the large chamber of justice he and his fellow colonists had painstakingly cut from the rock. Large col
umns cut from the living rock to represent justice and peace for the twelve schools of Arotia; he shuddered to think of the atrocities that had defiled the once sacred domain.
‘There are grooves cut into the rock so when a man’s wrists or throat is cut the blood flows slowly along the groove and falls into a collecting chamber, once the corpse is empty it is destroyed by fire and the blood is taken to the site of the gateway.’ Varan paused in his tale and looked squarely at Thaddrick. ‘The gateway is venerated by all and once there the blood is placed in a bowl on a similar altar to the one that holds the crystal, a priest then watches over it as it slowly becomes part of the void itself, sent to act as a beacon to find others like the spirit within the crystal.’
‘By the Journey…’ Thaddrick whispered to himself, ‘I should have found a way to destroy the entity not just throw it into the lake and wash my hands of it. Tell me Varan; why do I detect no evil in you, nothing like the being whose presence I felt in my nephew so long ago.’ Varan smiled weakly in reply.
‘My grandfather saved me, he recognised me and said nothing in case it endangered me, then as I prepared to slit his throat just like I had the others he spoke to me…’
Varan saw the scene once more in his mind as he told his tale, seven of the other captives already bled out and dead, two more whose blood was slowly dripping along the grooved rock ready to fall into the collecting bowls and himself reaching up to the neck of another old man a ceremonial knife in his hand. He was singing a spell for confusion and pain, something to capture the old man’s soul as it departed and became one with the entity. The old man looked into Varan’s eyes showing no fear, only love and forgiveness, surprised, Varan hesitated with his knife.
‘Varan, the Journey Wills, as it will,’ the old man said painfully, the words sending a paroxysm of shock and recognition through him. ‘Remember your brother’s oath, the Guardians oath. I love you boy, I always have, now then, slice deep so I die quick.’ He added, leaving Varan unable to move as he recognised his grandfather and finally he remembered just who he was and remembered his brother’s oath, the oath he was never born to take but had so many times with his twin each time they traded places and clothes on the mountain as children.
‘Cut deep boy,’ he heard his grandfather hiss, as the watching priests became aware of the change in the ritual and began to take notice.
‘I can’t grandpa, forgive me, I can’t,’ he whispered as the tears of regret and shame at what he had become built in his throat threatening to fall as tears. Forgiveness filled his grandfather’s eyes once more and Varan felt his love.
‘Kill me now boy, before they kill you too, the Journey wills us all along our path, find your brother,’ he said. Varan had been about to speak again when one of his fellow priests had called up too him.
‘Are you well?’
‘Perfectly, thank the crystal,’ he answered and with pain in his heart he pushed the knife deep into his grandfather’s throat. He watched as the flesh parted and the blood began to fall freely tracing its path, winding toward the ornate collecting bowl and the altar servant ready to carry the offering of blood.
‘I know not why but from that moment I was free of the crystal’s influence, I planned my escape with meticulous care and trusted no one. I arranged to go on a raid near the pass and I remembered a small cave where Sonal and I had often changed clothes, as we became each other, I hid there until the raiding party had passed back through the barrier once more. Over the years, the barrier has weakened very significantly and periodically one can predict where it will break down completely for a short periods. If done correctly, one can avoid the message and the sickness,’ he said quietly.
‘What sickness, I don’t recall a sickness or a message?’ Sonal said, clearly puzzled and looking up at his brother for the first time since he had revealed the details of their grandfather’s death.
‘The message is passed on through contact with the barrier’s fabric, in some subject’s it causes conflict within the soul, if the soul is inherently evil the conflict causes the person to become ill and usually they die, torn apart from within. I believe I didn’t die from the sickness because my heart was no longer evil and I prayed to the Journey to protect me, to let me live as I passed through.’
Sonal stood and rounded the table his face full of sorrow; he took his brother’s hands into his own once more. ‘Forgive me Varan, I should never have asked you to be me, the burden should never have been yours to bear,’ he said.
‘There is nothing to forgive, as grandfather said, the Journey wills as it will. You must forgive yourself my brother.’ Varan replied and stood to accept the arms that encircled him, tears of love and regret washed through both men as the others watched.
Mayan, slightly embarrassed by the tears of the two grown men turned her face away as Thaddrick spoke. ‘If the crystal has risen from the lake and Gath gets to it, he may not need Gideon, he may be able to open the gateway alone,’ he mused, his own face full of concern.
‘Thaddrick,’ Mayan smiled suddenly, ‘that’s a good thing isn’t it?’ She said, relief forging a smile. She did not like the idea of Gideon or Jed, her brother going to the Bleak any more than Gideon’s father did.
‘No my dear, If Gath reaches the crystal before Gideon, he may well be strong enough to open a gateway alone but I believe he will open it into the void and not onto Arotia. If the gateway is opened to the void, all life as we know it will die, and sooner, rather than later.’ Thaddrick paused in his speaking; his thoughts seemed suddenly to be miles away as Gideon spoke.
‘Thaddrick,’ Gideon said again a little louder this time, his father touched the old man on the arm.
‘Blue, Gid be asking yer a question.’ Jed said as Thaddrick shook himself to clear his thoughts.
‘I said,’ Gideon began again, ‘he won’t reach it first will he, the gateway I mean, he’s still here outside the forest where ‘e, sorry, he, was yesterday, remember, you said, ‘time played differently for us ‘ere.’ Gideon had listened intently, still not happy about the amount of death or sacrifice being bandied about like gifts at the winter festival but he listened, knowing it was his duty to do what he could to help the old man.
Thaddrick looked at the members of the small group around the table. ‘I believe time is running out, as I have said time here is different, not stopped and, as Varan told you the spells are wearing thin, wearing out. Alone, I don’t have the power to remake either the wall or the barrier around the Bleak.’
Mayan shivered and yawned, suddenly very tired, unbeknownst to the small group, night had long since thrown her blanket of darkness over the world and the room had slowly emptied of most of listeners even though the story had not finished.
‘Well if I’m ‘the one’ ‘ow can I ‘elp… er, how can I help if I can’t even get outside the forest without killing someone or making myself sick?’ Gideon exclaimed, ‘but if fer one moment you think I am travelling all the way to the Bleak in me… sorry, my granda’s coffin you have another think coming.’ He added referring to the wooden box made of Green Home wood he had travelled back from his grandparents’ house in. Thaddrick hid a small smile behind a hand as he noticed Gideon continually correcting his own speech.
‘Oh, I heard about that that,’ Thaddrick chuckled quietly, again hiding his smile at Gideon’s ever changing speech in the idea of the wooden travelling box. ‘I’m sure the others made it as comfortable as possible… under the circumstances,’ he smiled again, as Mayan and her brother turned their faces to the floor, not quite able to hide the grins that turned their mouths up at the corners.
‘Anyway,’ Thaddrick added, coughing politely, ‘it’s very late, indeed not long until dawn,’ he stood quietly, his face serious once more. ‘Whilst you are here Gideon we will endeavour to teach both you and young Lemba the control your magic requires. Rhoàld I think you should attend some of the lessons too,’ he said adding to the group, ‘if you had been born on Arotia you would all have been scho
oled from infancy to control the forces your blood calls to and it would by now, seem as natural to you as breathing but you will soon learn. For example Gideon, do you remember using magic yourself before you became ill in the woods?’ He asked as Gideon also stood.
‘No, never have,’ Gideon replied looking a little surprised at the question. Sonal looked at Gideon strangely.
‘Gideon, my own command of the magic has always been stronger when you are around, for example do you remember the time we, no, you, made the holes in the stones you wanted to give the twins as gifts? Remember how I struggled to maintain the magic, it was only when you took over when you touched the roots yourself that it could be accomplished. You bored the holes using the magic, not me. Do you not recall that I was surprised at the lack of a balance needed?’
Gideon looked back at the time he had studied rocks and stones with Sonal. Sonal was right he had had a hard time trying to bore the holes until he had touched Sonal’s arm to gain his attention to suggest another way of cutting through the rocks, perhaps using something other than magic. He had suddenly felt one with the rock; he had seen the way the cuts were to be made and when Sonal had moved away from him he had watched as the holes had become real, not just a thought in his mind. The particles of rock seemed to melt under his gaze as the holes had formed and he had thought Sonal’s magic was a wonder to behold; not realising he was using the magic himself.
‘Were that me then?’ Gideon asked, surprise evident on his face and his tight control of his speech slipping in the shock. ‘Can I really do magic?’ He asked bemused, ‘d’yer hear that Jed,’ he looked toward his friend, ‘I can do magic!’ Jed in turn stood up and pointed his finger threateningly at his friend.
‘If I ever find out yer cheated an’ used magic ter best me at skimming stones across the Beaut, I’ll…I’ll throw yer in,’ he laughed suddenly at the look of consternation on his friends face. Joining in with the laughter both Varan and Gideon’s father stood and moved away from the table and Jed held his hands out to a small fire burning merrily in the grate.
The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One' Page 28