Ring of the Or'tux, page 17
“No further explanation than that?” questioned Father Biern.
“Nothing,” replied Father Thomas. “From what Hunter has told us, he has no military experience, no skills with which to aid us in the fight against the Ullentites.”
Just then a servant entered with a tray of pastries and another bottle of wine. The one Father Biern had on hand when they arrived in his rooms had been all but empty. Barely sufficient to offer even a small quantity to his guests.
As the servant placed the tray on the table, Father Biern said, “Thank you Edward. That will be all.”
“Yes Father,” the servant replied. Then with a bow, the young man turned and left the room.
“Please,” Father Biern said to his guests as he gestured to the pastries, “help yourselves.”
“Thank you,” Hunter said after receiving the translation. Selecting one that was filled with a dark red jelly, he bit off a corner. Sweet and full of berry flavor, it melted in his mouth. “This is wonderful.” Indeed, it was the first of what his grandmother used to call ‘comfort food’ he had tasted since coming to this world.
Father Thomas forwent having any of the pastries while Larus grabbed two. As Father Biern took up a pastry and began nibbling, Father Thomas asked, “What do we do now? There must be a reason why Hunter was brought to us.”
“Not us,” Father Biern replied. “Rather he was brought to you.” While nibbling off another small section he gazed to Father Thomas for a moment in quiet contemplation. “The Qyaendri came to you and said for you to aid him.”
“But what am I, or we, to do?” he asked. “I do not have a clue as to where to go from here.”
“Pray,” offered Father Biern. “There is no where else in the world where prayers are more likely to be answered than within the High Temple.”
“I have been,” asserted Father Thomas.
Turning his eyes to Larus, Father Biern asked, “Have you?”
Surprised by the question, Larus was about to answer then stopped. Finally, he replied, “I am not one of Casdralla’s followers.”
“You said you wished to be,” Father Thomas said.
“That is true,” he affirmed.
“If you still wish,” continued Father Thomas, “we could perform the ceremony right now.”
Father Biern looked from Larus, to Father Thomas, then back again. “I do not think that will be necessary,” the priest said. “Ceremony or no, what is in your heart is what matters. If it is directed toward the Lady, She will hear.”
Larus met the priest’s gaze. Or at least those Qyaendri in attendance would, he added silently. Would they take charge of a prayer by one such as me? He wondered. Then he saw a strange look in Father Biern’s eyes, a look that he couldn’t quite figure out.
“It is entirely up to you of course,” Father Biern said. “Should you desire to, perhaps the Silver Leaf Room would prove a suitable location. It is out of the way and seldom does anyone go there.” He cast a questioning look toward Father Thomas. “It would prove an ideal place to find quiet, and solace.”
“I know where it is,” he assured him.
“Very good,” the Father replied. Reaching to the wall behind him, he pulled on a long, decoratively embroidered rope. A moment later the servant who had earlier brought in the pastries appeared.
Hunter noticed the appearance of the servant and asked, “Are we leaving now?”
“It looks that way,” replied Larus.
“Edward will show you to your rooms,” said Father Biern. “I will study upon your situation. And with guidance from the Lady, perhaps together we can devise a course of action.”
“I sincerely pray you are correct,” Father Thomas said as he came to his feet.
“Excuse me for not seeing you to the door,” Father Biern said, indicated his broken leg.”
“We understand,” Father Thomas assured him. “Thank you Father.”
Larus nodded and again, he received what felt like a penetrating stare from the priest. Feeling slightly unnerved, he hurriedly followed Edward from the room.
“This way if you will,” Edward said as he turned and headed down the hallway.
“Not much…,” began Larus when Father Thomas silenced him with a shake of his head.
“Not here,” he said in a barely audible whisper.
Larus kept silent and nodded that he understood.
The room to which Edward brought them was not very far from those of Father Biern. Down the hall a short distance then a hundred feet along a side passage and they were there. Edward opened the door and preceded them into the room.
“These are for you during your time with us,” he said.
As it turned out, they had been given a suite of rooms. On the other side of the door was a large sitting room with two short hallways extending to the right and left, each with two connecting bedrooms.
Edward indicated an embroidered bell rope similar to the one Father Biern had used, though much plainer. “Should you require anything, simply ring and one of the servants will come.”
“Thank you Edward,” Father Thomas said.
Giving them a bow, Edward turned about and passed back through the doorway, closing it behind him.
Hunter looked around the room. There were three separate couches and two tables, each with a pair of plush chairs. Adorning the walls were several pictures, and even one statue depicting the goddess. “Nice,” he said. “I could learn to like this.”
Father Thomas grinned at him after Larus translated. “Guests are treated very well here,” he explained.
“I can believe it.” Then a yawn escaped him and fatigue suddenly reared its ugly head.
Gesturing to the branching hallways, Father Thomas said, “Go ahead and rest if you like. We will be here for some time.”
“How long?” asked Hunter.
“I really do not know,” he replied. “Throughout the night at the very least.”
Another yawn and Hunter nodded. “That might not be such a bad idea,” he said. Heading for one of the short hallways, he entered and saw two doors, one to the right and another at the end. Opening the one on the right, he found a bedroom with a large bed containing thick, downy covers.
“Oh man,” he said as he hurried over and sat down, sinking several inches before coming to a stop. Quickly removing his boots and outer clothes, he was soon snuggled beneath the softest covers he had ever encountered. The unintelligible sound of conversation drifted in from the outer room as sleep quickly overcame him.
“What now?” asked Larus. Crossing the room, he took a seat on one of the couches.
Father Thomas came over and sat in a chair opposite him. “I think we should heed Father Biern’s advice,” he replied.
“What, go and pray in the ‘Silver Leaf Room’?” Larus looked skeptical about such a course of action. “Why shouldn’t a prayer be just as affective in here as opposed to there?”
“Ordinarily I would say that it would not matter where one prayed,” he replied. He paused a moment then added, “But we did come here looking for guidance in what to do with Hunter.”
Larus nodded as he thought of the matter. Finally, he said, “You told Father Biern that you knew where it was.”
“That is correct,” asserted Father Thomas and then grew quiet as he waited for Larus’ decision.
Having been on the other side, Larus knew that where a prayer was said had no bearing on anything. If there was a Qyaendri present, it would be taken to the Chamber of Decision where its merit would be judged and decided upon. Though he couldn’t see any, he knew that this place of all places on this world would have the greatest concentration of Qyaendri in attendance. And once a prayer was started, it would draw the nearest Qyaendri just as light does a moth. So, why would praying in one room be preferable over another?
“It wouldn’t,” mumbled Larus.
“What?” queried Father Thomas.
“Hm?” Larus asked. Then he realized that he had spoken aloud. “I was just thinking that this room is quiet and would be perfect for the saying of a prayer.”
Father Thomas gave him a slight grin as he met Larus’ gaze. “It may be prudent to remember that had Father Biern not broken his leg, then he would even now be accompanying the High Priestess on her way to Xith.”
“Meaning?” Larus asked.
“Just that…,” Father Thomas paused a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “Just that maybe the breaking of his leg was not entirely… accidental.”
“The goddess broke his leg so he would remain behind and thus be available to guide us to the Silver Leaf Room?” concluded Larus.
Father Thomas shrugged. “It was a thought.”
Larus grew quiet again as he considered that idea. “Is there anything special about the room?” he asked.
“Not that I am aware of,” replied Father Thomas. “It’s a small room on the second floor set all the way in the back.” Growing silent for a moment, he drew on his memory for any and all details of the room. “The only time I had occasion to enter the room was during my time as a novice. One of the venerable Fathers requested for me to meet him there for some reason, though exactly why escapes me.”
He glanced surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye to Larus before continuing. “I recall there being but a single small bench set against one wall, and when the door shut, it was absolutely silent. I remember feeling that it would be a great place to commune with our Lady.” After Father Thomas grew quiet, he remained thoughtful until finally shaking his head. “That is all I recall,” he said.
From the room where Hunter slept, the sound of his snoring drifted out to where they sat. “What about him?” asked Larus, meaning Hunter.
“Oh, I doubt if he will awaken before morning,” Father Thomas assured him. “Even if he did, where would he go?” Then the significance of Larus’ question came to him. “You mean to go then?” he asked.
Larus nodded. “It isn’t like we have anything else to do right now,” he replied.
Father Thomas gave him a grin. “Excellent,” he said, coming to his feet. “We best be on our way before Hunter awakens.”
Rising from the couch, Larus concurred. Following Father Thomas from the room, Larus shut the door after them and they proceeded down the hallway back the way they had come. They eventually came to the stairs leading up and were soon traversing another hallway on the second level that appeared to run the length of the Temple. Candles burning in individual holders at ten foot intervals provided ample light with which to see.
As they made their way through the Temple, they encountered several servants scurrying about on various errands, and one priest. The priest was so engrossed with his own inner thoughts that he didn’t appear to take notice of them as they passed.
The Silver Leaf Room was situated at the very end of the long hallway. In fact, the door leading to it was the only egress from the hallway during its last twenty feet. When they came to the doorway, Larus immediately understood why it was called the Silver Leaf Room. The door was embossed with a wreath of leaves worked in delicate silver filigree.
“It is quiet down here,” observed Larus. Reaching for the handle, he gripped it and opened the door.
Inside was dark. Father Thomas retraced his steps down the hallway to the last candle they had passed. Picking up the candle holder, he returned with it to where Larus still waited in the hallway. “I shall wait here until you are finished,” he said as he handed him the candle holder.
Larus took the candle holder and nodded. Turning back to the room, he could see where the candle’s light revealed the bench Father Thomas had mentioned earlier. As he entered the room, he discovered the walls and ceiling to be painted in meticulous detail showing various aspects of a priest’s life. Closing the door, he crossed over to the bench.
It was small as benches go, barely wide enough for two men to sit side by side. The top was padded and looked to have been made of the finest velvet, but use over the years had worn the material. To one side of the bench was a small wall niche, large enough for the candle holder he carried to fit comfortably. From the soot scoring the top of the alcove, Larus knew the niche had held many candles over the years. Crossing over to the alcove, he set the candle holder inside.
“It really is quiet,” he said to himself. Try as he might, the only sounds to be heard were those of his own making.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m here.”
Looking around the small room, he halfway expected someone or something to materialize or otherwise make itself known. He was surprised at the relief he felt when nothing did.
Perhaps he would have to pray first. It felt odd for him to be on this end. Throughout his existence, ever since first joining the ranks of Casdralla’s Qyaendri, he had been one of those who either took charge of a faithful’s prayer, or saw to its implementation.
“My Lady,” he said in the most reverent tone he could muster. “I have great need of your aid. I know I have made grievous errors, but I beseech you now to allow me to atone for them. The Chosen One has come and I fully accept complete responsibility for his lack of preparedness.”
Nothing.
“I wish to see him through in his mission, whatever that may be. Your people are in dire need. Great Casdralla, help us!”
He grew silent as he slowly rotated in the middle of the room. Eyes scanned for the hint of anything which might reveal the presence of a Qyaendri. He then turned internally for the sense of peace that comes over those whose prayers have been answered. Just like the Qyaendri, it too failed to materialize.
“Come on!” he said to the air around him. “I know you are there!” There had to be at least one Qyaendri in attendance within the room. There had to be! “Tell Daeson that I am sorry and that I am working to see the Chosen One fulfill that which he must do. But I need help! We don’t understand his purpose.”
Still, there was only silence and no sense of peace came to settle over him. His prayer was not being answered. The thought occurred to him that he may be currently incapable of having his prayers answered since he was not technically a follower of Casdralla’s. Or it could be that such was the contempt her Qyaendri held for him that they would allow his prayers to wither and die before taking charge of them. All too well did he remember the looks cast his way by those Qyaendri in attendance when Daeson pronounced judgment upon him.
Downcast and forlorn, Larus went over to the bench and sat. He hoped things would be better. Raising his head, he looked heavenward and cried in anguish, “I’m sorry!” Then he dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.
All the pain, weariness, and loss overcame him as emotions long held in check rose uncontrollably. He didn’t know how long he sat there, wracked with uncontrollable sobbing, before they finally began settling down.
Unwilling to leave the room and face Father Thomas with red rimmed and puffy eyes, he remained within the room for some time to allow them to return to normal. While he waited, he turned his gaze to the paintings adorning the walls.
Directly in front of him a priest was walking among numerous people, each with joy radiating from their faces. As his gaze moved around the walls, the scene changed to one of a priest aiding the injured, another of a priest traveling upon horseback, and still another of a priest facing death at the hands of an enemy.
His gaze lingered on the grisly scene for a moment. Standing straight with the look of acceptance and determination, the priest was shown exhibiting great courage. Around him were a dozen soldiers, one of which had his sword drawn and looked to be about to strike the priest’s head off.
“Strength in belief,” he said to himself. “That must be what it is trying to say.” His gazed remained on the priest about to meet his fate for another minute or so before his head tilted upward to gaze on the scenes depicted across the ceiling.
The scene upon the ceiling depicted one army storming the stronghold of another. The attacking side appeared to be the stronger of the two, so had to have been forces of Casdra. For the artist would hardly have painted a scene showing Casdra’s soldiers suffering a defeat.
Intrigued, he panned across the battle until he reached those defending the stronghold, or now that he was giving it more attention, it looked more like a very formidable temple. There were definite lines in the architecture that were common to that type of building.
The faces of the defenders seemed not quite right but in the poor light of the single candle, he couldn’t make them out clearly. So removing the candle holder from the alcove he stepped up onto the bench and raised the candle for a closer look. With the burning candle now much closer to the mural, he could see that the men defending the temple bore the aspects of demons. Slit eyes, fangs and pointed ears with a slight loop, the artist had done a masterful job in demonizing Casdralla’s foes. Such demonization of ones enemies was quite common. Larus had seen it before on other worlds, in other temples.
The temple wall had been breached and what had to be the leader of the attackers was wielding a mighty sword with which he had just cut a foe in two at the midsection. Moving his gaze to the face of the leader, he could barely make it out beneath the helm. There was something about that face…
Raising the candle higher, he strained to make out the leader’s visage more clearly. When recognition came, Larus was so startled that he lost his balance and stumbled from the bench onto the floor. He barely avoided dropping the candle holder as he came to rest against the side of the room.
“It can’t be!” he exclaimed to himself as he hopped back onto the bench. Once again moving the candle closer, he confirmed what he had originally discovered. The leader was Xi!
Larus was amazed at the likeness of Casdralla’s supreme Qyaendri. How could the artist have known? The answer was quite simple, ‘Divine Guidance’. During its creation, the painter had been ‘inspired’.
If the leader was Xi, then what was being depicted was a Qyaendri assault on a rival’s stronghold. Such an action was rare in the extreme, but if such was the case, then Xi would have been the one to lead it. With that thought still fresh in his mind, he turned his attention to the rest of Xi’s Qyaendri. Maybe the artist had captured the likenesses of others, others Larus would know.
