The Temple of Fate, page 20
part #5 of Bander Series




“That was extremely stupid,” Bander said.
Mortam Rowe circled back into the main hallway and gave a half shrug. “We may be proceeding a tad slowly for Mr. Keave’s taste.”
“If he wants to get himself killed, that’s fine with me,” Bander said. “As long as he doesn’t take the rest of us with him.”
On the other side of the doorway, Keave held something up. “It is a bone. There’s a lot of them!” He tossed an upper arm bone back through the doorway and it clattered to the ground near Bander’s feet.
Valthar examined the bone. “Could be hundreds of years old.”
“The passage continues,” Keave called. “No traps.”
“Shall we?” Mortam Rowe grinned.
“There’s a reason those bones were on the other side,” Bander grumbled. But nonetheless he stepped through the passageway into a narrow hall beyond. The dirt floor was littered with the remains of four people—judging by the number of skulls. Their clothing had long since rotted away, but there was no sign of any weapons or metal objects.
“Prisoners?” Talessa Kreed asked. “Could this be some kind of dungeon?”
Valthar said, “I doubt it. Remember, we’re beneath a temple. There is some religious significance to all of this.”
Fifty feet to the west, the narrow hall turned abruptly north and then gently curved back west and then south.
“We’re descending,” Bander said. The hallway seemed to be a large spiral.
“That much is obvious,” Valthar replied.
The air grew colder and colder with every step down.
“What’s this?” Talessa Kreed held her torch close to the wall. It illuminated faint lines painted on the wall.
“Pictures,” Keave said. “They’re on the other wall, too.” He raised his own torch, and Bander could barely make out the image. It was a large mural depicting a mountain. Possibly with a river running along its base. He couldn’t discern much more than that.
“Valthar?”
“I’m no scholar of ancient art. Sward would have been able to tell you what this is—if you hadn’t allowed him to die on us.”
“Does anyone recognize that constellation?” Talessa Kreed asked.
“Constellation? Where?”
She pointed at a pattern of faint dots that could have been stars in the night sky, or just a splattering of ancient mud. But no one could identify the pattern.
They continued to wind their way down deeper underground, Keave leading the way and heedless of any danger. After seven full revolutions, they reached the bottom of the spiral and the passage straightened and leveled out.
There were no murals or paintings on these walls—which were made of plain dark stone blocks that seemed to suck up the light from their torches.
This passage ran due north and ended in a single large stone door, engraved with a glyph a yard tall. The symbol looked like two triangles stacked point-to-point, one upside down over the other.
“Now, this I recognize,” Valthar said.
“What is it?”
“Why, this is the symbol of the Nave of Time,” Valthar said. “We have arrived, my friends.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bander was surprised that the door opened so easily. He had been checking it for traps by prodding it along one edge when the stone door suddenly pivoted inwards—gliding soundlessly open.
“Careful!” Valthar said. “This is the most important room in this entire complex. And the most dangerous.”
“How do you know that?” Mortam Rowe asked.
“I have seen similar rooms in other temples—all over the world,” Valthar said quietly.
They all crowded into the doorway, craning to get a glimpse inside.
The first thing that Bander noticed was the glow. It seemed to emanate from the ceiling which was rough and uneven. Almost like it was covered with some sort of moss or dense plant. The soft light illuminated the entire space evenly so there were hardly any shadows. It looked odd and unnatural, to be sure.
The room itself was extremely long—stretching over a hundred feet to the north, yet it spanned only twenty-five or thirty feet wide. And all the walls were covered with murals. Unlike the images painted on the spiral corridor, these were vivid and lifelike. Bander had no problem making them out—although there was something peculiar about them.
The artfully painted mural on the left-hand wall depicted a rocky coastline surrounded by water. An island, to be sure. A low hill rose up in the distance and the detail was so great that Bander could discern a number of blocky stone structures in the distance.
The mural on the wall opposite showed a great expanse of sea, churning with the onset of a storm. Dark clouds rimmed with lightning swirled on the horizon. The effect was so lifelike, Bander expected to hear the far-off boom of thunder and feel the wind on his face.
To the north, the two murals seemed to converge. Bander could barely make out a rocky cave on the water’s edge—a hundred feet or more north of where he stood. It took him a moment to realize that the east and west walls were not perpendicular. They actually ran at an angle and converged at the north wall. Very strange.
“Do you see what I see?”
Valthar nodded, but didn’t say anything. An odd expression played over his features as he stared down at the ground.
Bander followed his friend’s gaze and saw the silvery rails, sunk into the ground. They looked like mine cart tracks running to the image of the cave on the north wall.
“What is this place?” Talessa Kreed asked.
Valthar turned to face the group. “It is a trap.”
“You said it was a treasure room.” Mortam Rowe’s expression darkened.
“I didn’t say what the treasure was. It very well might be our lives.”
“You are trying my patience, sir!” Mortam Rowe said. “Explain yourself.”
“I do not explain—I explore.”
Why was Valthar goading Rowe? It didn’t make sense.
“Perhaps we shall find out on our own,” Mortam Rowe said.
“Listen,” Bander said. “Sward warned us about the Nave of Time. The danger here is great.” He looked pointedly at Keave. “You can’t just rush in.”
“We don’t intend to,” Mortam Rowe said. “Do we, Mr. Keave?”
Without warning, Keave grabbed Talessa Kreed and pinned her arms behind her back. Bander reacted immediately—lunging forward with his spear.
“Hold!” Mortam Rowe yelled. He pressed a blade to Valthar’s neck. “Not a single step, Mr. Grannt. Or Valthar’s head becomes somewhat less attached to his neck.”
“Let me go!” Talessa Kreed struggled to free herself from Keave’s grip, but he held her tight and lifted her off the ground. Then he took a step toward the doorway.
“No!” Bander shouted.
But it was too late.
Keave flung Talessa Kreed into the Nave. She screamed as she stumbled a few yards into the chamber, right between the silvery rails. It looked like she was going to fall, but she seemed to catch herself and remained on her feet. As Bander watched in horror, she froze in place like a statue, a mask of terror on her face. Then she just seemed to melt away into nothingness, her final scream echoing as if it had come from very far away.
Rage boiled up inside of Bander. He spun on his heel towards Mortam Rowe who still held the blade to Valthar’s neck. “Let him go!”
“I think not, Mr. Grannt. You see—”
Keave slammed into Bander from behind, shoulder first—from the feel of it.
But this time Bander was ready.
As Keave made contact, Bander dropped the spear, spun to his left, and grabbed Keave’s arm. Using the ape-like man’s momentum against him, Bander flung him away. With a yell of disbelief, Keave bowled into Mortam Rowe and Valthar.
Bander kept moving. He rushed over to Keave and launched a savage kick at his kidney. If it had connected properly, the kick would have killed Keave—or at least taken him out of the fight. But Keave moved like a cat, rolling away into the dark brick passage that led to the Nave.
Mortam Rowe scrambled to his feet and flung a knife wildly at Bander’s midsection. It grazed his side and clattered to the ground, serving more to distract than injure.
But that was probably its intent.
Because, while Bander dodged the knife, Keave charged in from the side, moving fast. His arm shot around in a powerful roundhouse blow that smashed into Bander’s chest just below the shoulder. Bolts of pain shot through Bander’s upper body.
And Keave kept coming. Like a lightning strike.
He jabbed twice at Bander’s chest. One, two. Bander managed to deflect the first punches, but then Keave snapped a backfist strike into Bander’s jaw, knocking his head back in a spray of blood.
Bander’s vision darkened and he stumbled back towards the doorway to the Nave.
Keave was too fast. Too strong.
And then Keave exploded towards him, a grim smile on his face. Coming in for the kill.
Bander feinted right, like he was trying to escape, but once Keave was close enough, Bander smashed an elbow into the side of the man’s head. Nice and hard.
It was like Keave had run into a stone wall. He wobbled and blinked and then Bander hit him again. In exactly the same place. With the same amount of force.
Bang.
Yes! Keave crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
“Keave!” Mortam Rowe screamed. He jerked Valthar to his feet and pressed the blade against his neck.
But Bander had his boot on Keave’s windpipe.
A stalemate.
Valthar struggled, but Mortam Rowe held him tight.
“Let him go,” Bander said.
Mortam Rowe stared at him with dead eyes. “Where’s Belle?”
“Who?”
“My weapon.”
“Let him go and I will tell you. Otherwise, Keave loses his life.”
Mortam Rowe didn’t say a word.
“You know that Keave’s your way out of here,” Bander said. “If he dies, so do you.”
“I’d say the same about you.”
“I’m an old man. I don’t care if I die.”
That wasn’t true, of course, but Mortam Rowe didn’t know it.
“Stop it!” Valthar yelled. “Stop it.”
Both Bander and Mortam Rowe looked at him.
“There’s no treasure,” Valthar said. “It’s obvious now. Sward was leading us on a fool’s errand.”
“I don’t believe you,” Mortam Rowe said.
“You saw what happened to Talessa Kreed, you fool. This is a death trap.”
Bander watched as Mortam Rowe considered what Valthar was saying.
“Release the blade and I will prove it to you,” Valthar said.
“Your time to prove yourself has long passed,” Mortam Rowe spat.
All of a sudden, Bander felt movement beneath his foot as Keave snapped awake. He grabbed Bander’s leg and struggled to free himself.
But Bander wasn’t about to let his foe free.
“Yield!” he yelled.
But Keave slammed his fists against Bander’s leg.
Bander reacted instinctively. He pressed down and and began to crush Keave’s windpipe.
But as he looked down, he saw Keave’s body start to shimmer like a reflection in a pond. A second later his foe was gone—and Bander’s foot stepped through the cold air where Keave’s neck had been a moment before. The ape-like man had teleported away. Just like back at the Temple of Dreams in Irfals when Bander had witnessed Keave teleport away with Mortam Rowe as they fell through the air.
That meant Keave could be anywhere. Bander snapped his head up, ready to fend off an attack. But there was no sign of Keave.
Valthar must have tried to take advantage of the commotion because Bander saw him elbow Mortam Rowe in the gut and try to break out of the man’s grip.
But before Valthar could get more than a step away, Mortam Rowe plunged his blade up to the hilt into Valthar’s back.
Roaring in rage, Bander sprung towards them, but Mortam Rowe was quicker. He flung Valthar at Bander, turned on his heel, and sprinted away into the darkness. Bander caught his friend and eased him to the ground.
“Valthar, hang on.”
“Put me in the Nave,” Valthar croaked. Blood burbled from his mouth. The knife had hit a lung.
Valthar would die.
“The Nave!” Valthar coughed and more blood came out.
Bander didn’t know what to do. There was no way to save his friend, and he didn’t understand what would be gained by trapping themselves inside the Nave.
Valthar’s eyes quickly became glassed over and the veins on his neck began to bulge. He didn’t have much time.
“Please…”
Bander took a deep breath and carefully picked Valthar up in his arms. He glanced out into the darkness where Mortam Rowe had escaped to—but there was no sign of either Mortam Rowe or Keave.
Then Bander turned and took a step through the doorway into the Nave.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bander didn’t immediately freeze and turn into a statue as Talessa Kreed had. With Valthar in his arms, he took a step and then another step inside the Nave.
Valthar wheezed, struggling to breathe. His eyes were now wild. “Go…” he mouthed.
All the sound in this place was dim and strangely muffled. As if Bander’s ears were clogged.
“How are we not frozen?”
Valthar didn’t answer, but Bander knew it must have something to do with the aona his friend possessed.
Bander kept walking, slowly, step after step, between the rails inlaid into the earthen floor. Something lurched against him. It was Talessa Kreed. She had appeared from nothingness—but she seemed alive. She coughed and sputtered, trying to hold on to him for support.
“Talessa!”
Bander’s vision blurred and the walls of the chamber distorted—as if they were wax tablets left out on a hot sunny day.
He blinked, but was unable to clear his vision. If anything, it was getting worse—like double vision. But he wasn’t seeing two of everything. Not exactly. He was seeing the painted mural on the wall superimposed over a similar vista—only more real. Like he was actually on a rocky beach, with dark hills looming in his peripheral vision.
Bander stumbled and almost lost his footing. When he looked down at the ground, he saw that it had changed. Instead of the dusty floor of the chamber, he now walked on rocks and pebbles, soaked with water. Clumps of seaweed and bits of shells were everywhere. And a cold breeze brought the stench of salt water mixed with rotting fish.
“Where are we?” Talessa Kreed looked around wildly.
Valthar whispered, “Put me down.”
Bander eased his friend to his feet, and Valthar struggled to stand upright. He shut his eyes and began to mumble.
Bander strained to make out what Valthar was trying to say. It was a single word, repeated over and over.
Then he saw Valthar make a motion with his hands and Bander knew what Valthar was doing.
He was casting a spell.
The wind picked up suddenly, and Bander felt enveloped in icy cold. Then, in front of them, a glowing portal swirled into existence. Jagged bolts of magical energy danced around the spectral doorway which shimmered and faded in and out.
Bander couldn’t believe what he was seeing. From the first day they met, Valthar had professed to being a mage, yet in the thirty years that Bander had known him, Valthar had never cast a single spell.
“Take us through,” Valthar wheezed. His face was ghostly white, except for his lips which were sickly blue. Bander was amazed that his friend was still alive.
“Where does it lead?”
“My father…”
Bander lifted Valthar up and looked over at Talessa Kreed. Her eyes were wide with shock.
“I trust him,” Bander said. “This has to be the way out.”
With that, the three of them stepped through the glowing portal.
Bander lost his balance—briefly—and then stumbled out on to a rich-looking carpet in a well-lit hall. He caught himself and eased Valthar to the ground.
Where were they?
The hall was wide and long and definitely well-appointed; its walls were adorned with tapestries and artwork. A fire burned in a large stone fireplace and the air was warm and dry. Above the mantle hung a large gilt-framed portrait of a stern-looking man with a prominent jaw.
The man bore a striking resemblance to Valthar.
Before Bander could say anything, a scream erupted from behind him. He turned to see a woman dressed in odd-looking clothing staring at them in surprise.
“Help!” she yelled and ran back the way she came.
“Wait!” Bander called.
“Is this a dream?” Talessa Kreed asked.
Bander ignored her question. “Go after her. Get help. Now!”
Talessa Kreed ran off after the oddly dressed woman and Bander checked on Valthar.
He was still struggling to breathe and his whole face was blue.
“Be strong,” Bander said. “Kreed’s bringing help. You did it. We escaped the Nave. Although I have no idea where we are.”
“Home,” Valthar said.
It was the last word he uttered before he died.
THE END
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