Ring of the Or'tux, page 29
“Good,” Hunter quickly agreed, turning his back to the temple. Bending over, he picked up a fallen branch and then moved to gather another.
Larus replaced his packs behind his saddle then gathered wood too. There wasn’t much, the plateau being mainly barren stone. What there was had fallen from trees growing along the heights above.
Once every piece larger than a twig had been gathered, they carried their scavenged bounty back down the road and around the bend. When the temple could no longer be seen, they made camp and soon had the beginnings of a fire going.
Hunter’s uneasiness subsided in the glow and warmth of the fire. The normalcy of the crackling and snapping as the wood was consumed did much to alleviate his feelings of dread.
“Any ideas on how we’re going to reach the other side of the chasm?” Hunter asked.
“Not right now,” admitted Larus. “In the morning we’ll discover a way.”
“Then what?” When Larus glanced toward him, he said, “We still don’t know what we’re here for.”
Larus translated for Father Thomas who replied, “The spider you found in the Grotto is important somehow. Once we have reached the temple, then we will need to search for why it is important. You were not given it for nothing.”
“How can you be so certain?” argued Hunter. “Maybe I just picked it up in passing? After all, I have no recollection of what transpired within the Grotto. Not until you two found me that is.”
Father Thomas was quiet for a few moments before replying. “You are our Lady’s champion, her chosen one as it were,” he began. “You would not have been brought here to our world and allowed to stumble along blindly. That is why you were given into my care, and why Larus travels with us too. He and I are here to interpret the signs, guide you along the way. And we both agree that the fact you were found in possession of the spider means we need to find a way inside this temple.” He glanced to Larus who was translating and received a nod in agreement.
“Alright,” Hunter said. “We need to get into the temple. But why?”
Grinning, Larus shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. My guess would be that we’ll learn once we get in there. Such is the way with these things.” He knew Hunter wasn’t satisfied with his and Father Thomas’ explanation. But there wasn’t anything else for them to go on. How could be possibly explain to him that this was exactly how mortals were directed by Qyaendri in doing their god’s work. Signs, portents, uncommon happenstances, and other incongruous means were the methods by which they guided those working on behalf of their god. Those such as Hunter, and by association, himself and Father Thomas.
“You should try and sleep,” Larus told Hunter. “Tomorrow may be a long day.”
“Very well,” agreed Hunter. Though how he was going to fall asleep exposed to the chilling wind as he was he didn’t know. He moved over to where the road met the cliff face and wrapped his blanket tight around him. Still close enough to feel the warmth of the fire, he laid down and tried to get comfortable.
The part of his body closest to the fire remained comfortable while the other half froze. It seemed as if the protection Larus had expected did little to shield them. The wind continuously cut right through the blanket, sapping the warmth from him. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the surface of the road he lay upon sucked what little warmth the wind left him. Miserable, he tossed and turned for quite a while before finally managing to doze off.
“Larus isn’t getting it is he?” asked Ftheril.
He and another low ranking Qyaendri were in attendance on the ancient road where the three mortals sought the comfort of fire and blankets.
“No,” agreed Aell. Like Ftheril, he too was one of the Qyaendri beneath Daeson who worked closely with mortals. “Are we going to implant another dream?”
Ftheril shook his head. “No,” he replied. “We don’t dare.” Mortals tended to react negatively when their dreams were altered. One alteration here or there wouldn’t affect them very much. But ever since his arrival at the High Temple, Hunter had been bombarded with visions almost nightly and his mind wasn’t taking it very well.
Each mortal reacted differently to a Qyaendri’s incursion into their subconscious, though always negatively. After the first couple incursions, Hunter had grown violent until they backed off and gave his mind a chance to stabilize. Ftheril was the one charged with implanting the visions, and he knew that Hunter’s mind was close to the breaking point. He had to allow him time to repair the imbalance caused by the incursions. In the past, there had been Qyaendri who pushed too hard and caused a total collapse in the subject’s mind, some to the point where sanity never returned.
Ftheril wasn’t going to allow that to happen. There was still one vision that must be implanted, and Hunter’s mind had to have a couple more days to heal before the attempt was made. If only Larus would have caught on by now, the last couple of visions would not have been necessary.
“What do you plan to do?” Aell asked.
There were other ways to influence mortals. Turning his eyes to the horses, a plan began to form.
“Can’t sleep?” Larus asked. Father Thomas was sitting up and looking in his general direction.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. A glance over to Hunter revealed he was still sleeping by the fire. Coming to his feet quietly, he wrapped his blanket tightly about him and walked over to where Larus stood gazing out over the moonlit landscape of the gorge.
They stood quietly together for several minutes, the only sound disturbing the stillness was the crackle and pop of their fire. Breaking the silence, Father Thomas said, “We have not done the Ritual of Dedication as yet.”
“What?” asked Larus.
“When we first met, you mentioned wishing to dedicate yourself to Casdralla,” explained Father Thomas. “Do you still wish to so dedicate yourself?”
Larus turned his gaze from the darkness and glanced toward the priest. “It might be best to wait until this is all over,” he replied. In truth, he didn’t believe it would be all that necessary any longer, especially after the revelations unearthed in the High Temple.
“I understand,” Father Thomas said. “Often during moments of hardship, a man wishes to become closer with something greater than himself. Then once those times are past, feels the need less.”
“It’s not like that,” Larus assured him. “Nothing is more important to me than the Lady.” When Father Thomas remained silent, he glanced over toward him and saw a knowing look in his eyes. Just what the priest was ‘knowing’ wasn’t clear, though he had a pretty good idea. If Father Thomas suspected he was a Qyaendri in human guise, he failed to voice the question, much to Larus’ relief.
Then from the part of the ancient road where the horses were positioned, they heard one of the horses snort, then another.
“I better go check on them,” Larus said. “Might be one of the local predators looking for a meal. Stay here and keep an eye on Hunter.”
Father Thomas nodded before returning to the fireside.
The horses were huddled together not far up the trail just within the outer fringe of the campfire’s glow. Larus could see all three were gazing down the trail in the direction of the Or’tux temple. Whatever was spooking them was coming from up there. “What is it boy?” he asked, coming up alongside his mount.
Laying a hand on his horse’s neck, he could feel the beast trembling. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly. Patting him on the neck twice, he moved away from the horse and headed up the trail.
He went several yards into the dark before coming to a stop. Search as he may, he couldn’t see the source of what was upsetting the horses. Then from behind, came the sound of terrified neighing. Pivoting fast, he saw one of the horses rearing on its hind legs. Eyes rolling white in terror, the horse let out another screech of terror, the other two reared up as well.
As one, the three horses turned and bolted toward the camp. “Watch out!” Larus shouted an instant before they tore through the camp.
Father Thomas barely jumped out of the way and tripped over Hunter. Stumbling, he heard Hunter shout what had to have been an obscenity as he regained his balance. “What is it?” he shouted to Larus.
“I don’t know,” Larus shouted back. Remaining where he was, he kept his back to the campfire and stared into the darkness. “I’ll check it out. You and Hunter get the horses.” A brief glance behind showed the horses had already passed beyond the campfire’s light. “You better hurry before their terror makes them run off the side of the cliff.”
“Right,” Father Thomas agreed.
“Hunter,” Larus shouted. “Go with the Father and get the horses.”
“What happened?” Hunter asked, now fully awake.
“Something spooked them,” Larus replied. Turning back to the darkness, he held his sword at the ready then proceeded to walk up the trail.
“Hunter!” shouted Father Thomas. Hurrying after the horses, he glanced back to see Hunter still standing by the fire staring up the trail to where Larus had disappeared into the night.
“Coming!” Hunter hollered as he turned and followed.
Father Thomas found the first horse not far down the ancient road. The beast was trembling but at least was remaining motionless. From further down, he heard another neighing. Sending a prayer up to the goddess, he left the horse where it was and hurried after the other two.
Surprisingly, Hunter caught up with him fairly quickly. Unable to communicate, they ran quietly after the horses.
“Ahhhh!” exclaimed Hunter as his foot snagged an exposed root and tripped, hitting the ground hard.
Coming to a stop at Hunter’s cry, he glanced back and asked, “Are you alright my son?”
“I tripped on a root,” replied Hunter though he knew Father Thomas wouldn’t be able to understand him. That was when he realized he was but a foot from the edge of the cliff. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started climbing to his feet when the ground gave way beneath him. Screaming, he flailed about in an attempt to stop his fall when his hand brushed against something firm. Out of sheer reflex, he grasped at it.
His fall was abruptly stopped when the root he grasped grew taut. Eyes closed, knuckles white from the force of his grip, he dangled against the side of the cliff.
“Hunter!” Father Thomas shouted.
From somewhere just above him, he heard Father Thomas call his name. Opening his eyes, he glanced up and saw Father Thomas’ silhouette against the backdrop of stars. “Here,” he said.
“Are you okay?” asked the priest.
Hunter didn’t know what the priest was saying, but at least he was comforted by the knowledge help was just a few feet away.
“Can you reach my hand?” Father Thomas asked. Lying supine upon the ground, he reached his hand downward.
Hunter could tell by the way Father Thomas was positioned that he was trying to reach him. For a moment, panic held reign and he was unable to let go of the root, both hands clinched tightly in terror.
“You can do it, my son,” came the soothing voice of Father Thomas.
Another moment of indecision, then his right hand let go of the root and reached upward. In the darkness, he couldn’t tell where Father Thomas’ hand was and started waving his back and forth in an attempt to find it. When at last their fingertips brushed against each other he was filled with a great sense of relief.
Father Thomas stretched further to take Hunter’s hand. Just as their hands began coming together, he felt the root to which Hunter grasped, shift beneath him.
A primal scream of terror filled the gorge as the root broke free. Hunter was still screaming when realization sank in that the root had grown taut once more, stopping his fall several feet further down the cliff face.
“Hunter?” Father Thomas asked fearfully. A moment went by and there was only silence. “Hunter?” he asked again.
“Still here,” he replied, terror very much present in his voice. Both hands were again clinched tightly around the root and his eyes were shut. “I’ll never reach you now. Go get Larus.”
“Larus, right!” he hollered.
The sound of Father Thomas leaving the edge of the cliff and rushing back toward their camp gradually faded away until Hunter was alone, hanging in silence. He could feel the side of the cliff and for a fleeting moment thought about trying to find a handhold. But he was much too scared to make the attempt as visions of the root completely breaking free and plummet to his death continued coursing through his mind.
When the sound of returning footsteps began to be heard, he opened his eyes and saw a light coming toward him from down the road. Larus held a torch as he ran alongside Father Thomas. For some reason, the feeling that he had done this before came over him. Glancing to the darkness above the lip of the gorge, he watched as the light rapidly came toward him.
“Hunter!” Larus shouted. Scanning the edge of the cliff as he approached, he finally saw where the tautly stretched root emerged from the middle of the ancient road and went over the side. Coming to the edge, he held out his torch and looked over. Below he saw Hunter dangling above a sheer drop that disappeared into darkness.
“Kind of in a pickle aren’t you?” he asked with a grin.
“Do something!” shouted Hunter.
Handing his torch to Father Thomas, Larus bent down and took hold of the root. “I’m going to pull you up,” he announced. “Ready?”
“What a dumb question,” retorted Hunter. “Of course I’m ready!”
“Okay,” Larus told him as he positioned himself for best leverage. “Here we go.” Ever so gently he began pulling up the root, making sure to keep a steady tension on the root to minimize the possibility of breakage.
Father Thomas stood next to him where he gazed over the side and kept track of Hunter’s progress. “Halfway,” he said after a minute. Then when Hunter was only a foot from the top, he knelt down and extended his free hand down. “Take my hand,” he said.
Looking up at the sound of his voice, Hunter saw the extended hand and reached up to take it.
As soon as he had a firm grip on Hunter’s hand, Father Thomas added his strength to the endeavor. With a final heave, the upper half of Hunter’s torso crested the lip. Larus quickly grabbed his jacket with one hand and hauled him the rest of the way over the edge.
“Thanks!” exclaimed Hunter as he turned and lay on his back. Arms sore and trembling from having gripped the root for so long and so tightly, he just laid there.
“Are you okay?” Larus asked. When Hunter nodded, he said, “You stay here with Father Thomas while I round up the horses.”
“No problem,” Hunter replied.
Father Thomas held the torch out to Larus who shook his head. “You keep it,” he told the priest. “I’ll be back soon.”
As Larus moved off down the ancient road in search of the remaining two horses, Father Thomas wedged the torch in between two stones. “Praise the Lady you are safe,” he said to Hunter despite knowing his words would not be understood. Hunter glanced at him and nodded then laid back and closed his eyes, which for some reason caused Father Thomas to smile.
It took more than a few minutes for Hunter’s pulse rate to quiet down. First he closed his eyes and thought about how close the end had come. Then he realized focusing on his near death experience wasn’t helping much in relaxing him, so he tried to quiet his mind and think about nothing.
So well did he succeed in thinking about nothing, that he was surprised to be startled awake by the snorting of a horse. Larus had returned with the two frightened steeds.
“They were down quite a ways,” he told them. “Fortunately neither one had gone over the edge in their panic.”
“I am sure the Lady kept them safe,” stated Father Thomas. “She watches out for her people.”
“Are the horses her people?” Hunter asked when Larus gave him the translation.
“I think the Father was talking about us,” explained Larus. “That She made sure we would not be stranded high in these mountains without transport.”
“Oh,” replied Hunter. Nerves once again under control, he came to his feet and took charge of one of the horses as they began returning up the ancient road to their camp. He didn’t take more than a couple steps before catching a momentary twinkling out of the corner of his eye. Stopping, he turned toward the cliff face rising alongside the road but the twinkling was gone.
Larus took note of him standing in the middle of the road, staring at the cliff face. “What is it?” he asked.
Hunter shrugged. “Nothing I guess,” he said. Then as he turned to proceed up the road again, the twinkling reappeared. “There!” he exclaimed.
“There what?” asked Larus.
“Something…,” Hunter began, then stopped. “Bring the torch closer.” As Larus brought the burning brand closer to where Hunter stood by the cliff face, the torch’s light began to be noticeably refracted by a portion of the cliff face.
“It looks like quartz of some kind,” commented Larus. “Quite common in these types of mountains.” Beside him, Hunter had grown quiet. Glancing to his comrade, he found his expression to be unreadable.
“Give me the torch,” Hunter said quietly.
“What?” asked Larus, not sure if he had heard him correctly.
Turning to Larus, Hunter held out his hand and said with more authority, “Give me the torch.”
Larus gazed at his comrade a moment then relayed Hunter’s request to Father Thomas who handed him the torch. Then they both watched as he brought the burning end closer to the vein of quartz. When he moved the burning head of the torch into a cavity behind the quartz, they were bedazzled by the explosion of colored light refracting outward. The light lasted only for a moment before Hunter withdrew the torch and began running it along the rock face.
“What is he doing?” whispered Father Thomas.
Shrugging and never taking his eyes from where the torch moved along the rock wall, Larus replied, “I don’t know.”
