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Melvin made his way back to the Temple of Houses. He could always check out more of Nasreddin, but the city had lost its appeal. Now it was just a crowded, noisy, annoying place. He couldn’t wait to leave.
The temple was considerably more tranquil. No heavy foot traffic or carts groaning or people yelling, just the sound of water cascading down rocks and birds chirping. He found his room, home of the ugly pink bed.
Melvin collapsed on the bed and found no comfort. He was restless, unable to nap.
There was always the High Fane. Melvin left his room and began to explore the new and undiscovered areas of the fortress temple. He found one room that resembled a church, with rows of wooden benches and an altar at the front.
This must be where they talk about how great it is to detain travelers.
He found another room that looked like an art gallery. Many of the pictures were of the gods in epic poses. Nadi the cat was bounding from one tree to another in the jungle. Menanderus the squid was underwater, battling a giant shark with a two pronged spear. Yol was below ground, holding a collapsing tunnel up with his ant strength.
Melvin paused at one picture. The aian in the picture had no discernible animal traits. Instead, the aian was being eaten away by maggots, his body falling apart to rot. The sun was eclipsed behind him, the eerie light playing against a crumbling temple in the backdrop.
“The Fall of Onus,” a voice said behind Melvin. He turned to see Mors approaching. Mors stood beside him and looked at the picture as he talked.
“A powerful reminder of what it means to succumb to corruption,” he said. His neck scales gleamed in the hazy light of the afternoon sun.
“What happened with this guy?” Melvin asked.
“Onus wasn’t honest with himself or the others when he ascended,” Mors said. “He didn’t want to save aiankind—he wanted power. And someone who hungers for power will always stay hungry.
“Onus got the power he craved, but the corruption cost him. He is bodiless now, an evil force that feeds off his followers. The more followers he can add to his broken house, the more powerful he grows. That is why we are ever watchful of his influence.”
Melvin looked at the picture of Onus. His face was tortured. Sickening dead flesh prevailed in the spaces where maggots were absent.
“Who’d want to follow him?” he asked.
“You’d be surprised,” Mors replied. “Onus seduces with promises of power. He perverts the marks of the other houses, making them more potent but also more cruel.”
Mors took his eyes off the painting to look at Melvin. “That’s why Cephrin’s arrival in Nasreddin is so important,” he said. “The prophecy talks of one without a house, who will rise to reclaim the Twelfth House as his own and restore the broken pantheon.”
Again with the prophecy. Melvin was tired of this layover in Nasreddin because of some pie-in-the-sky soothsaying.
“I wish they’d hurry up and make a decision already,” Melvin said.
“They have made the decision,” Mors said. “It is no accident I found you here. I came to escort you to Indur, who would like to tell you the decree himself.”
They made their way to the audience chamber. Melvin’s instincts told him not to expect confetti and a big brass parade for Jason’s benefit.
When they arrived Indur looked like he was having a bad day. But he always looked mean because of that ridged reptilian forehead.
“We cannot substantiate whether or not Cephrin is truly the one of prophecy,” Indur said. “So we will execute him tomorrow morning.”
“What?!” Melvin cried. “How does that make any sense?”
“If we could verify his origins and appearance through the words of the prophecy, we would be able to welcome him and the new era he promises. But we cannot, because he claims lost memory, which means he could very likely be an agent of Onus. We cannot afford to take that chance.”
“But what if he is the one of prophecy?” Melvin asked. “You just can’t execute him!”
“You’re right,” Indur replied. “If he is the one of prophecy, we’ll be unable to execute him. He will be heralded as the Chosen One. But if he does die, then he was clearly sent by the Corrupter to deceive us.”
Melvin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If Jason died, which tends to happen at an execution, then he was evil. If he somehow miraculously survived being intentionally killed, then he was clearly prophetically chosen. “What kind of test is that?” he asked.
Indur looked implacable, as mean and cold as ever. “The only valid test we have.”
*****
REW MAJORA SAT ON RICH’S bed, enjoying the closeness sharing a book invited. Half the volume was on her leg, the other half on his. They read poetic passages aloud together, their fingers tracing the ancient language as they read.
“I would endure any hardship,” Rich said, reading the modern language. “Ben herang mushkul tahammul edibilirim,” he said, switching to the old tongue.
He looked up at Rew, amazement in his eyes.
“This is crazy! Every passage, with the old words and translations. Where’d you find it?”
“It was no small task,” she said. “If you notice, it’s not a book of magic. I had to thoroughly search the dustiest library shelves to uncover it.”
Rich looked back down to the book. He stumbled through the old language of the next line before saying the translation.
“These hardships would be my badge of love,” he said. He looked at Rew. “What kind of book is it?”
“It’s called ‘The Song of Ardor Swain’. It’s one of our oldest written tales, about a youth whose betrothed is kidnapped by a water spirit. He travels the world’s seas and rivers in pursuit of the water spirit to rescue his one true love.”
Rew closed the book and handed it to him. “Take good care of this, Rich,” she said. “There are a few copies in the old tongue and countless copies in modern language, but this was the only one I’ve found written during the Transition. It’s extremely rare.”
Rich took the book. “Thank you, Rew. Who doesn’t enjoy a good romance novel?” he asked smiling wryly.
He set the book down and grabbed her hand. “And thank you for showing me Nasreddin,” he said, his eyes dancing as he looked at her. “I had a great time with you.”
Rew returned his look and nodded. The thrill of this moment made her heart beat faster. Her blood raced with excitement.
Rich leaned forward, slowly closing the already short distance between them.
The door behind Rew burst open and shut with violent haste. It stole Rich’s attention, making him jerk back and look up with alarm.
Rew turned to find the warrior girl, ashen faced and panic-stricken.
“They’re gonna kill Jason,” she said.
“What?!” both Rich and Rew said in unison, alarm in their voices.
The warrior girl went into detail about her conversation with the Elevated of Sen. She spoke only to Rich, as if Rew was invisible.
“Can’t you do something?” Rich asked Rew. “Tell the High Fane he’s on official mage business?”
“I hold no sway here,” Rew said. “The Temple of Houses has always seen the Onesource differently from Seat Esotera. They see it as an entity, a god to worship. We see it as a force, like the wind, to be used for man’s betterment. These differing views have caused a rift that makes dialogue between the two towers less than ideal. A human mage of any status hasn’t a chance of telling the Council of Thrones what to do with an aian citizen.”
“We gotta do something,” the warrior girl said. “We can’t just let them kill him.”
Rew stood up. She drew the hood over her head and brought the folds of the robe up over her nose and mouth.
“I am here as a brown robe, a novice caster. I am no threat as it would appear. We have the element of surprise. Two highly skilled mages should be able to free Jason.”
“I’m not exactly a kickball team reject,” the warrior girl said, indignation on her face. She pulled out her sword. “I have this, you know.”
“My dear, your skills are our last resort,” Rew said. “Spilling blood in the Temple of Houses is one of their highest blasphemies. The Hierophane can apologize for a rogue gray robe and his novice accomplice, but bodies strewn through the High Fane would be nothing short of an act of war. Your edged weapon would only hurt our cause.”
Rew looked at the girl. The sword trembled slightly in her hands as she returned it to its scabbard. She was still so far from her true potential.
“Besides,” Rew said, “you are far from ready, girl. I see the fear of upcoming battle in your eyes.”
The warrior girl glared at Rew. “I’m not,” she said, gritting her teeth all the while, “a girl.”
There was no time for this. “And I am not here to discuss your nature or preferences, dear. Now, hurry to your room and pack your things,” Rew said.
She looked at Rich. “You too. As much as I delight in your new look, I think it’s best if you don the robe again. It is a primary tool for a mage in the heat of combat.”
Rich nodded. He had a focused determination in his eyes as he set his jaw. It was the look of a man ready for battle.
He unbuttoned his shirt and turned around to gather his robe. When he took the shirt off, he displayed the chiseled back muscles of a man half his age. A feminine gasp, barely audible, hit Rew’s ears.
She turned to the warrior girl. She was still as a doll, her eyes locked on Rich’s body.
“I told you to pack,” Rew said.
The girl dry swallowed, nodded, and fled the room. Rew stayed and helped Rich gather his things. When his bag was packed, she looked over his robe, adjusting it in places.
“Remember, Rich, bend the robe. Alter it. It is an extension of you, a primary material for you to exercise your will over.”
“I remember. A highly effective battlemage bends and alters.”
Behind Rich, the glowlights had come on and the waterfall garden carried the gloom of night quickly approaching.
She touched his face. “Stay safe. Now let’s save your friend.”
Rew opened the door. Without warning, she bent her robes. The sleeves shot out, smashing the two guards in the back of the head. She used the sleeves to pull the unconscious guards into the room.
Rich led the way to Melvin’s room. When they got there, Rich bent his robes, making the sleeves smack the guards in the face. The force smashed the backs of their heads into the wall. They crumpled to the floor.
“Be prepared,” Rew said as Rich and the warrior girl stowed the unconscious bodies. “It will not be this easy where we’re headed. No doubt they have Jason quartered in the Overwatch. We’d need the full force of the Hierophane to go against the guard directly. We must rely on subterfuge where we can.”
Rich and the warrior girl were fairly adept at keeping noiseless footfalls, making it easier to navigate around the roving patrols. Moving through the temple bred a high caliber of danger. The chameleon followers of Sen could blend to look like part of a deserted hallway. One look from a follower of Yol and their unauthorized presence would be broadcasted through the hive mind.
They took every new corridor and hallway with care. Rew didn’t know how long she had before either the unconscious guards came to or the roving patrols raised the alarm because the guards were missing from their posts. Either way, she knew time was growing ever shorter.
She peeked around the latest corner and her hopes for a smooth rescue dwindled. Five armsguards watched the ramp leading up to the Overwatch.
“House of Yol, three of them,” Rew said. “We can’t take the chance of them alerting the hive.”
Rich looked for himself. “I think I have something that’ll work. Get ready to go around opposite of my direction.”
Before Rew could protest or ask what his plans were, Rich cast illusionary fire on himself. He looked like he was burning, but it was a harmless trick for novices.
He ran out from cover, screaming and flailing his arms.
“Help me! Auugh!! It burns!” he cried, running into the adjacent waterfall garden.
Four of the guards set off after him, the fifth stayed at the Overwatch ramp, but even he got near the end of the ramp so he could see some hint of the action.
Rew and the warrior girl moved with the opportunity. They snuck past the remaining guard, who was looking at the other four hard at work putting out the fire blazing in the garden.
The two of them were now safely in the Overwatch, but how was Rich going to make it to them?
Just as soon as Rew asked the question to herself did Rich come running into view behind them.
“I knew it would work,” he said with heavy breaths as he tried to recover from the run.
“How?” Rew asked.
“A guy on fire’s bound to get people’s attention,” Rich said. “Once I had that, I killed the fire spell on me and lit up some of the shrubs. Aian eyes aren’t too keen at night. I figured they’d think the fire blazing in the garden was me. You know, the old bait and switch.”
“Clever,” Rew said smiling.
They rounded the corner and an armsguard from House Nadi sprang into action. Rew sent her sleeves at him, but the guard easily dodged them with his cat-like agility. The guard ran up the wall and jumped over Rich’s bent sleeves. He ran fast at them, sword raised and voice yelling alarm.
Rew began speaking a creation spell, a passageway through solid rock.
Rich was trying vainly to hit the nimble cat with his sleeves.
Rew focused on creating the passageway. She needed to build a tunnel from this room to the one below.
The armsguard lunged at Rew, his sword’s edge wicked and close.
The building material for the tunnel was her robe.
The aian’s sword met Rew’s robe as the robe collapsed, taking Rew and the armsguard with it as it reshaped itself into the floor. Rew, wearing the robe, was safely anchored. The armsguard wasn’t and found himself falling through. The temple’s high ceilings did not lend themselves to the aian’s plight as he landed with a crunch on the level below.
Killing her will to maintain the passageway, it closed, causing the floor to push Rew and her robe back up. Rich and the warrior girl looked at her with new eyes.
“Sweet!” Rich said.
“The alarm is raised,” Rew said. “We must be quick.”
The three of them ran through the Overwatch. The only factor to guide Rew to Jason was guard density. Between her and Rich, they were able to robe bend and alter through two packs of guards. Their large numbers in such a small space allowed the mages to grab the guards with their sleeves and use them as blunt clubs on the others.
They turned a corner to a ramp that ran upwards for several spans. A solitary iron door stood at the end of the ramp. Around that door stood five aians of the House of Demir, included the house’s Elevated. They made no move toward them, but rather stood their ground, waiting.
Jason must be in there.
“Hold trespassers,” a voice called behind them.
Rew turned and saw Ananna with a legion of guards. The last time she had seen the goddess was ten years ago at a nasran-aian peace agreement. Tonight the Queen of Spiders had a wrathful countenance.
“You humans think to overturn the will of Immortals? There will be no quarter for those who seek to profane this sacred hall with violence.”
One moment Ananna was aian, the next she was a monstrously massive spider. She was fearsome, with a bloated green, purple, and black body and venom dripping from her mandibles. The spider leapt.
Rich spoke. The look on his face was of sheer terror yet the words came fast, smooth, eloquent. Rew could only pick up parts of the spell, it was so intricately layered.
A destruction spell for stone, a creation spell for wind, altering spells for rock, all tied together throughout with binding spells and bending spells that hinted at length and height, density and distance.
At the end of his incantation, Rich pushed out with his hands and the walls of the High Fane in front of him literally broke apart. Rew watched in mute disbelief as Rich pushed the part of the fortress containing Ananna and her guardsmen off the mountain. The huge block of temple fell, disappearing into the darkness below.
Rew stared at the chasm that now existed between them and the remaining Overwatch. It was as if Rich had been a giant with a hot knife. He had carved out a section of the Temple of Houses like a piece of cake.
“Blessed Onesource,” she said.
Rich looked at her like he was an errant boy caught without an excuse.
“Get your heads back in the game,” the warrior girl said. “We still got the flyboys at the door.”
They closed the distance to the door, but none of the guards pulled their weapons. Instead, they bowed, led by the Elevated of Demir. Rew remembered him as Targhos.
“We prayed to the Onesource you would come,” Targhos said. “We stand ready to fly you all and the Chosen One to safety.”
“What of the decree of the Council of Thrones?” Rew asked.
“Their decree is that Cephrin be executed. If he is truly the one of prophecy, his premature death would be impossible,” Targhos said. “But the House of Demir believes ordinary people are the agents of miraculous works. You are here, are you not? Ready to bring the Temple of Houses down around us to rescue Cephrin. Your very arrival here is the work of miracles; the House of Demir is at your disposal.”
The warrior girl rushed past the aians and opened the door. Jason was there, in a room without roof or walls overlooking a severe drop to the ground below. A look of relief played across Jason’s features.
“God, I’m glad you guys are here,” he said. “We gotta bail, these jerks want to kill me.”
Rew and Rich entered the room, followed by Targhos and his guard. Rew looked at Targhos.
“Please, fly us to the Mage Delegation Tower.”
“At once, Hierophant,” Targhos said with a slight bow.
Rew instinctively felt the folds of robe covering her nose and mouth.
“Your cover is intact,” Targhos said. “But a novice robe doesn’t give directives when a mage of gray is present. Worry not; your secret is safe with House Demir.”
Rew nodded her thanks. She would have to trust Targhos, as she had little alternative.
Targhos raised his head to the night sky and he and the guards of House Demir unfurled their wings in unison. The feathery span of them all made the guardsmen seem bigger than the room.
“Epic,” Jason said in awe.
It was a quick, uninterrupted flight to the tower. Targhos and the guards set them down at the entrance.
“Safe travels, Chosen One,” Targhos said before he and his contingent flew away into the night.
Rew took down her hood and led the others into the tower. Inside, she created a bowl of water and held it out to Jason. Without any other prompting, Jason pulled off a bone finger and dropped it in.
“Northeast,” he said before the finger settled to reveal the direction. He had called it true.
“The Hierophane has only one portal northeast of Nasreddin,” Rew said, “the mountain pass town of Nev Shahir.”
She looked at the Breunan, the tower keeper. “Bring him a brown robe,” she said, pointing to Jason. The brown robe nodded and disappeared down a corridor.
“Nev Shahir sits at the only pass through the Eural Mountains,” Rew said. “It is trade lands, full of many different races.”
Breunan returned promptly, offering the brown robe in his hands to Jason.
“Put it on,” Rew said. “Keep your head down and your arm covered. Word of what transpired here will follow you to Nev Shahir through the House of Yol.”
Rew opened the portal to Nev Shahir. A fully robed Jason was the first to enter, followed by the warrior girl. Rich looked at Rew.
“You should come with us,” Rich said. “It’s not safe for you here.”
“I have portal waiting to take me back to the Hierophane,” Rew said. “Where I’ll be standing ready to apologize to the High Fane for a rogue gray robe and his apprentice.”
Rich hesitated as if he was searching for the right thing to say. He looked at the portal and back to Rew like he wasn’t sure how long the magic would last.
“Screw it,” he said.
He stepped forward. He grabbed her and gently, strongly, surely pulled her close.
His lips found hers.
Rew felt her body melt in his arms, his kiss weaving powerful magic in its own right. It turned a moment into something timeless.
Then Rich was saying goodbye and disappearing into the portal, taking with him something indefinable from Rew but leaving her with so much more.