The Sword

by Bryan M. Litfin

  The excellent horses had confirmed Teofil’s strategy of heading north on the ancient road. Using one as a packhorse and two as mounts, he decided to move out of the outsiders’ lands once and for all. Secretly, Ana had been reluctant to go north. It seemed they kept moving away from Chiveis instead of closer, as if some invisible hand were propelling them in the wrong direction. But Teofil explained that a map in Rothgar’s tent had indicated the presence of a bridge to the north at a spot marked as a “lost city.” The captain preferred to sneak across the bridge rather than risk a difficult river crossing with three encumbered horses. Besides, an immediate crossover would have put them back in enemy territory. Teofil said it was better to press hard to the north, cross the river at the bridge, and make a wide circle around the outsiders’ lands.

  They had ridden until dusk, covering perhaps thirty leagues. After setting up camp in the beech grove, Ana cooked a stew of dried venison and leeks while Teofil cared for the horses. A skin of good ale had been recovered from the outsiders’ belongings, and the captain was happy to wash down his meal with a drink. Ana didn’t normally enjoy the taste of ale, but after the day’s taxing events, she was willing to make an exception. Now she felt sleepy, and her head was a little light.

  The campfire burned low. From her bedroll, Ana watched its embers fade, then brighten again as the night breezes chanced to blow over them. Teofil slept on the other side of the fire, his body turned away from her. A remarkable man, she thought as she stared at his back. Today he had confronted four mortal enemies and defeated them all. His strength shielded her; in fact, it had saved her life. He was a warrior, a man at home in the world of brave and heroic deeds.

  “I will protect you, Anastasia,” he had said. “Trust me.”

  Ana believed if she could trust anyone in the world to win a physical contest, it was the man who slept across from her. But what of the other battles a man must face? In those he was still unproven.

  Ana’s mind drifted from one thought to another as the warm evening and the rustling trees lulled her to sleep. She thought of her parents back in Chiveis—her wise father and her tender, joyful mother. How sad they must be, not knowing what had become of her! She longed for home—to feel their embrace, to tell them she was alive and well. Tears came to Ana’s eyes, and her lower lip quivered.

  Fearful thoughts invaded her mind. The faces of the evil men who had threatened her seemed to threaten her still. She thought of disgusting Rothgar, with his cruel streak, his offensive smell, his leering grin. She had killed him, yet revenge brought her no joy. She had only done what was needed. Even so, the sight of his dead body on the ground, with an arrow protruding from his chest, filled her with horror. Ana began to cry in earnest, the tears running down her cheeks, her shoulders trembling.

  Teofil rolled over and sat up on one elbow. Ana didn’t want to look at him, so she wiped her tears with her hands and sniffed.

  “Can I do anything?” His tone was soft.

  “N-no. I don’t think so.” Ana shuddered in the way that often happens after tears. “I just feel so—oppressed. There’s been too much evil directed at me. I can’t bear it all.”

  Teofil didn’t answer right away. “You’re right,” he said finally. “There are many evildoers in the world. But, Anastasia, you aren’t alone. You have a friend to bear the evil with you.”

  Ana turned her head then, looking directly at Teo. He had a gentle expression. “Thank you, Teofil,” she said with genuine gratitude. “I’m glad for that because I’m feeling very lonely tonight.”

  “Do you want me to come over beside you? Sometimes the presence of another is a comfort.”

  Ana found herself longing to say yes, for she knew she would indeed be comforted by his nearness. Yet she was afraid to accept the invitation, though she couldn’t quite say why. Perhaps it would be an acknowledgment of something she wasn’t prepared to accept. Whatever the reason, she declined the offer. Teofil nodded and settled back into his bedroll. At last Ana fell asleep under the wheeling stars. No nightmares disturbed her dreams that night.

  The next morning they were on the road at dawn. Teo led the way, with Ana riding behind him as they passed through dense forests and ruined villages of the Ancients. Around noon, Ana noticed that the ruins had become more numerous.

  “I think we’re approaching a city,” she remarked.

  “The distance is about right to be reaching the lost city I saw on the map.”

  “Then let’s find that bridge and get across, so we can go home.”

  As they came over a small rise, Teo reined in his horse so sharply that Ana’s mount almost collided with it. “We’ll find that bridge soon,” he said. “But I think you may want to take a brief detour. Look.”

  Ana followed Teo’s finger, and what she saw rising before her through the trees took her breath away. It was a building—a building whose size and grandeur were like nothing she had ever seen. The structure soared from the forest-encrusted city like an artificial mountain, impervious to the ravages of wind and rain and the many passing years. Its color was reddish brown, and it rose in multiple stories until finally a single spire ascended from its roof to unimaginable heights. The building was a work of spectacular beauty. It spoke to Ana’s soul across the centuries in a language of the heart that transcended time and place.

  Teo tilted his head. “What do you think it is?”

  “It can only be one thing,” Ana murmured. “A temple. The home of a mighty god.”

  “Let’s check it out.” Teo prodded his horse forward. In her excitement, Ana slipped ahead of him and wound her way down the rise toward the great edifice.

  They were truly in a lost city now, one whose tenacious buildings had tried to resist nature’s attempts to reclaim them. Nevertheless, the handiwork of man had lost that epic battle. Trees grew in the streets, shrubs sprouted from the roofs, vines draped the signs and poles. An eerie silence clung to the place, denying the reality of the bustle that must have occurred here long ago. Ana thought the buildings’ empty windows stared at the city like great, sad eyes grieving for the loss of a life that once was. Yet one place remained alive: the magnificent temple had refused to succumb to a lonely death.

  Teo caught up with Ana as she crossed a stream on a bridge with pointed towers. Apparently the temple sat on an island in the midst of the city. As they got closer, the surrounding buildings of crumbling plaster and black timbers obscured their view of the temple. But when they rounded a corner, Ana let out a gasp. They had arrived at the temple’s base, and it was even more splendid than she could have imagined.

  Though weathered, every surface was covered with intricate carvings. The stonework was as light and airy as lace. Human figures and heavenly beings vied for their places on the sandstone walls. High above her head, Ana marveled at the round, rose-like window that anchored the temple’s main facade. Pointed arches and miniature spires soared everywhere, drawing the eye—and the soul—into the heavens.

  Three magnificent doorways gave entrance to the temple, each recessed into portals decorated with statuary and reliefs. In the center portal, a queen with a timeworn crown held an infant at her shoulder. Ana longed to know who all these stern and saintly people were. Their mythic stories must have formed a grand saga. Sadly, she realized it was a story whose contours she could never know.

  Teo nudged his horse next to Ana. She sat with her neck arched as she gazed upward, trying to comprehend the wondrous scene. Bringing her eyes back to earth, she looked at Teo. “What kind of god deserves worship like this?” she breathed.

  “I don’t know,” Teo answered, dismounting. “Let’s go inside and find out.”

  CHAPTER

  7

  The temple had been sealed for centuries, locking its treasures inside. When it was opened, what mysteries would be discovered? While Teo picketed the horses nearby, Ana stood at the temple’s base and gazed up at its unfathomable heights. A lingering sense of trepidation disturbed her—not fear of mort
al danger, but fear her world was about to change forever. Perhaps that’s a good thing, she reasoned.

  “Ready?” Teofil held up his ax.

  “Not yet.”

  Ana knelt on the overgrown brick plaza before the temple’s entrance. She lifted her eyes to the sky and held out her hands, palms upward, in the Chiveisian posture of prayer. “God of the Ancients! We beseech thee to do us no harm for entering thy holy place. We would learn of thy wisdom. Let it be so.”

  Teo shifted his feet and sighed—somewhat cynically, Ana thought.

  “You aren’t religious, Captain?”

  “I do what’s required. Or at least I did. I’ve recently become an atheist.”

  Ana was disappointed by Teo’s nonchalant attitude. “Don’t you want to know the god whose temple is so beautiful?” Her tone sounded more confrontational than she had intended.

  “Actually, I’m just as anxious as you to get inside the building, but for different reasons. You seek personal devotion, Anastasia, and I find that very sweet.” Teo’s expression was honest. “But as for me, I want to know about religion. I’ve come to believe it’s something a scholar should seek.”

  “So scholars are religious seekers?”

  “Not normally. We’re taught to be practical. But I’ve decided to seek religious knowledge.”

  “Why? Will it make you more virtuous?”

  “It’s not really about my virtue—I’m plenty virtuous already. The scholar doesn’t need to seek wisdom for his own use, but for the good of his fellow man. If I can learn something about the philosophies of the Ancients, perhaps I can help the people of Chiveis. The outsiders aren’t the only sinners in the world. We still have plenty in our kingdom too. If possible, I’d like to help them live an improved moral life.”

  “And what about you? Don’t you need any spiritual wisdom? I mean for yourself, not just for your fellow man.”

  Teo seemed surprised by the question. He ran his hand through his dark hair, searching the distance for an answer. A cocky grin came to his face. He squeezed his right arm with his left hand. “Here’s my religion,” he said.

  Ana’s face fell. Different responses flitted through her mind, but she uttered none of them. Her mother had often said to her, “Ana, my love, a woman has to be willing to shake up a man’s thinking. Sometimes men just don’t see things the way they really are.” Ana was tempted to grab this particular man by his jerkin and shake up his thinking, but her intuition told her that now wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t ready to hear. She lifted her eyes to Teofil’s face—handsome, brassy, utterly sure of himself.

  “Perhaps you could apply your religion to the door’s lock,” she said.

  The captain was happy to oblige. The temple’s middle door was made of bronze, but the adjacent ones were constructed of wood weakened by age. Even so, Teofil had to hack the lock several times with his ax. Shards of wood flew with each stroke until the latch finally loosened and the door could be pushed open, groaning on its ancient hinges. Teo stepped back from the entrance. “I’ll give the spiritual seeker the honor of first entry,” he said.

  For a moment, Ana wondered if Teofil was mocking her, but a glance at his face told her he wasn’t. Whatever else one might say about him, he wasn’t an unkind man.

  Ana peeked inside. A musty coolness blew from the temple’s interior. She slipped through the crack, and as she did, her breath caught, and her heart melted. She exhaled at the astonishing sight that met her eyes. “Oh, Teofil, come see! Come see this wonder and share it with me!”

  The temple was a vast hall lined with two rows of columns, whose tops formed arches that supported the distant ceiling. The columns were like timeless oak trees carved from stone, still strong after so many years. Yet it wasn’t the stonework that amazed Ana most—it was the windows. The iridescent glass was ablaze with color as the afternoon sun glowed through, splintering its light into a heavenly rainbow on earth. Many of the panes were broken, but that only heightened the surreal effect as dusty sunbeams pierced the windows and played upon the floor. Where the glass was intact, Ana was confronted by a panoply of mythic scenes whose meaning she knew not, but whose beauty she fully comprehended. In this place the sky met the earth; the sublime had descended to become physically manifest.

  Teo came to Ana’s side. “Impressive. The Ancients really knew how to build.”

  “They must have had a good reason to invest so much in a building like this. Do you think we can discover the meaning of this place?”

  Teo put his hand on Ana’s back and leaned close to her, pointing toward the far wall of the temple. “Look!” he said. “Do you see that cross? I know that emblem—it’s a sacred sign of the Ancients! Let’s go see if we can figure it out.”

  Teo hurried toward the rear of the building, but Ana trailed more slowly, not wanting to miss any aspect of the temple’s beauty. She noted how the sun’s rays interplayed with the shadows and how the brilliant hues of the windows spangled the floor with color. Everything was still and quiet in the cavernous space. In the awful hush, her footfalls seemed to echo off the floor like blasphemies.

  At the far end of the hall, wide steps led to a raised platform. Ana joined Teo as he examined the gilded murals on the rear wall. The large colored window here was broken, and the ceiling had a few holes in it, so there was enough light to see the lofty paintings.

  “Look up there,” Teo said, pointing. “Notice the three rows of people wearing long robes. They have circles of light around their heads. That means they’re holy men. And then, on the top row, there’s the cross. I can’t see any higher than that.”

  “What does the cross mean?”

  Teo looked at Ana and shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It’s a matter for scholarly investigation.”

  “Maybe someday I’ll understand,” she said softly.

  “Okay, now come over here. Look at these two lower paintings. See how they’re set into niches, side by side? Obviously they’re important. What do you see as their common theme?”

  “Are you asking my opinion or teaching me yours, Professor?”

  Teo chuckled. “Never be too proud to learn, Anastasia. I have some expertise in matters like this. Study the two pictures. What are they about?”

  Ana examined the faded frescoes. Although they were situated above her head, they were low enough to be seen in detail. In the depiction on the left, two men stood on either side of a table marked with a six-pointed star. One man was primitively dressed in rough cloth, with his legs exposed, while the other man wore a rich, flowing garment. The first man held up a lamb, and the second offered a loaf in his outstretched arms. A heavenly hand reached down to accept both gifts.

  Ana walked to the picture on the right. In this one, a bearded man stood against the backdrop of a jagged mountain. He rested one hand on the head of a boy, whose arms were bound behind his back. The man’s other hand held an upraised knife, but a divine hand grasped the knife from above, preventing it from delivering the death blow. At the man’s feet was a ram.

  “Sacrificial offering,” Ana murmured. “That’s the common theme. The god of the Ancients was a god of sacrifice.”

  “Well done!” Teo laughed with teacher’s delight in a student’s learning.

  “I see you’re a man of brains as well as brawn, Captain. But what about in here?” Ana poked him in the chest.

  “That’s where I keep all my secrets,” Teo answered with a rakish grin. “No one’s allowed in there.”

  Ana glanced over Teo’s shoulder at the fresco on the left. Something had caught her attention. “Teofil, do you see anything etched in that painting?”

  He turned around to inspect it. “No. Why? What do you see?”

  “There—on the man’s sacrificial loaf.”

  Teo walked closer. “You’re right. There is something. What do you suppose it is?”

  “It’s an eye. Someone has carved an eye on the bread.”

  Teo rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Hmm. Indeed
. In our scholarly sources, we read of ‘the eye’ on numerous occasions. It’s an important symbol in the lore of many historic sects. The eye’s semiotic range can cover a wide array of referents. For example, it can signify illumination, which comes from an outside source. Or it can be decoded as insight, which might be—”

  Ana interrupted Teo’s learned discourse. “I think it just means ‘look here.’”

  Teo glanced at Ana with an annoyed expression. She bit her lip, gesturing with an upward nod of her head. “How about if you climb up and take a look?”

  “In the name of academic research, I will.” Teo went to the base of the wall and shimmied up a column, balancing uneasily on its capital next to the artwork.

  “Don’t break your neck in the name of academic research,” Ana warned. Teo rolled his eyes and threw her a look of pretended disdain, then leaned close to the carving.

  “Well, it certainly is an eye,” Teo called down after a few moments. “But I don’t see much else.”

  “Look around. There must be some hidden meaning to this.”

  “There’s nothing.”

  “Perhaps, since the carving is on the man’s offering, you should inspect the other one. See if there’s anything on the lamb.”

  Teo leaned on one leg, counterbalancing his weight with his other leg extended behind him. He gripped an outcrop with one hand, his nose to the wall.

  “See anything?”

  “Yes, there’s something here.”

  “Really?” Ana was excited. “What is it?”

  Before Teo could answer, he lost his balance and began to wobble on his perch, his hands waving madly. Ana shrieked as Teo dropped from the column to the floor. He landed lightly on his feet, wearing a broad grin. Ana let out a sigh of relief. “Very funny! How would I get home if something happened to you?”