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[Synopsis] [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

CHAPTER FOUR

      Before the first graying lights of pre-dawn, five unsure guests made their way to the table they sat at before. Ignoring the bar, and the complementary first rise meal of white cheese and brown bread, they ordered hot tea. With fingers wrapped around the warm mugs, they listened to the crackling fire from the pit. Through an open doorway they watched orange streaks of first rise touch the horizon. A man blocked the frail stream of light filtering in the doorway. The unarmed guard, dressed in light gray, with a black dark gray, almost black sash tied at his waist walked to them.
      Iritha, half awake, glanced up at him and whispered. "Well, they don't want us ta get lost. Do they?" The guard ignoring her, motioned for them and the cat to follow.
     The guard led them through the twisting cobblestone streets. Talbor expected to see merchants setting up their stalls and yelling for passer-buyers stop. But the streets were nearly vacant. They followed the stone street in silence. Outside the main city the cobblestone street became a dirt road. Skirting the rear wall and small castle the road led them to a small house. The house's appearance gave the impression being carved from a single massive stone.
     Standing by the open doorway, their escort pointed. "Behold the House of Truth and Judgment. Once leaving, all who hath entered its walls art spellbound. Though capable of remembering, they art unable to reveal what 'twas said or written to those who hath not the need to know."
      Their escort extended his left arm to the open door, but remained outside the threshold. Entering, the five discovered the main room was larger than expected. The room was brightly lit without the use of windows, torches or lanterns. Each assumed a spellbinding of illumination had been invoked. Casaron felt the power surrounding the room. He knew spellbinding created the building itself.
     A large table dominated the room. At the far end of the table sat two figures. A woman, dressed in pale blue robes trimmed in silver. Her pale, almost white complexion made her appear ageless. Beside her sat a man in light gray. His dress and mannerism gave the impression of royalty. As with the woman, his physical appearance gave no clue to his age. The seated figures were introduced as Baron Eathel and Tara, the High One. Watching the five, the man gave Talbor a slight bow.
      Behind the seated figures stood three guards, dressed similar to their escort. Behind the guards, stood a giant ebony skinned man dressed in black. He held a single bladed ax to his chest. On each temple, a bluish dagger was tattooed. Without moving, he acknowledge Girmer. The sight of another Aszian caused memories of past legends to flood Girmer's thoughts. Unlike the males of her home land, this male did not appear passive.
      The five looked around nervously when they were told to sit on one of the stone benches lining the wall. There was a feeling of uneasiness, as though all that took place was watched and controlled. The High One rose from her seat. Spreading her fingers on the table, she started speaking in a soft but commanding voice. "Of all that my powers hath permitted me to see, thee five hast the greatest chance of successfully completing this challenge. If completed to our mutual satisfaction, thee shall receive more than mortal wealth and power. Part of the minstrel's foolish song, if not greatly exaggerated, t'is based in truth. I owe thee an explanation as to why I summoned thee.
      "Long before full knowledge of my powers came to me, a young warrior of royal blood took me for his bride. After the birth of our child and the loss of my beloved's life force, I studied with a passion, learning all I could from books and life. Since I had no time for a child, my daughter was't sent to the Abbey of Losta. There she was't to be raised by the sisters until she came of age. At that time she was't to learn of her mother and if born with the power, I was to train her.
      "Shortly after my daughter passed her twelfth cycle she was taken from the protection of the abbey's walls. I knowth she retains her essence. Those who warship Darcon demand retribution for my past deeds. They taunt me with this knowledge. I must know her true moral choice."
     Looking tired, and troubled, the High One continued. "Thee art to find her. Ye canst not be spellbound but must go of thine own free will. Travel with care. Once thee leaves Quasta, the dark ones will be watching. However, whilst within these walls I canst give thee advice. Remember, I canst assist thee only once after thee hath left the protection of this realm.
     "Thee canst say nay. If thee doth however, thee shall be held accountable for disregarding the laws governing this domain during the festival. We, Baron Eathel and I, ask that thee remainth here for two hours before making thy decision. Talk among thyselves, for all must abide and act as one in this. Thee canst talk without fear, no one, not even I canst see within these walls. The choice is thine. If thy answer is yes, each of thee canst enter the room of weapons. Chose from any box, crate or bundle and keep what thee hast found. Ye canst chose only one item, and ye must enter alone without the help or advice of thy companions. Perhaps ye shall find something useful to thee on thy quest." She raised an eyebrow slightly. "Choose wisely."
      As the Baron and Tara started to leave, Iritha asked, pointing to the Baron. "What did he have ta do with anythin'? All he did was sit."
      Smiling, Tara answered. "Thee was't sent to me, not me to thee."
     At the doorway Baron Eathel added, "Each of you are running from your past. These fears and emotions are your hidden strengths. First you must recognize them for what they are and make them work for you. After this is done, perhaps each of you will earn the respect and trust, mostly trust, of your companions." Baron Eathel looked at Iritha adding, "Even those with your talents have a place in life, especially if their pretty." He then gave her a wink. Placing his hand on Tara's shoulder, the High One, Baron Eathel, and their guards walked toward the door.
      At the door, Tara turned to the group. "Tell the guard when thee hath come to a decision." Ordering one guard to remain outside she started toward the dirt road. The guard closed the door.
      Talbor glanced at his new companions. He knew the Baron was right. He suggested they weigh their options and find out what made them unique. The Aszian warrior was easy. She and the cat was something unseen even by those who traveled the back lands of Jarno. As for the User, those who possessed mystic powers were always strange with their dress and language. Everyone knew their actions made good entertainment at an moon rise fire. Healers healed regardless of moral status, but there was something strange in this one's speech and mannerism. Women like Iritha were not known for their honesty. Why did she say she would never turn on those she called friends?
      Each of them had been maneuvered to this place for a quest that was yet unclear. The big man wondered if he and the ebony skinned woman could or would work together.
     For several minutes no one spoke. Each remained silent absorbed in their own thoughts. After most the allotted time had passed, it was agreed this quest was probably the only way to end their horrifying dream and the problems the aftereffects created. None had realized the dream and its haunting after effects had ceased since entering Quasta.
      Iritha, opening the door yelled at the guard. "Hey, go an tell yer mistress we've decided ta do what she wants. We ain't got no choice."
      Tara walked through the doorway. Only the ebony skinned man dressed in black and armed with a single bladed ax accompanied her. She pointed to one of the pivoted hinged doors. "Who shall be the first to enter?" Tara nodded her head both amused and disappointed when no one volunteered. She touched Talbor on the shoulder. "The mark of a true leader is one who willing faces the unknown first."
      After Talbor was called, his pride wouldn't permit him to decline. All he could do was enter. Entering the room, the door silently closed. The dimly lit room smelled of age and storage. Talbor found himself asking how long the room had been closed to natural light. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw several boxes, crates and bundles scattered about. He remembered the High One saying, 'chose wisely'. He closed his eyes. Let me make the right choice. I now have the means to prove my worth.
      Letting his instincts guide him, he dismissed the newer crates, in search of one long forgotten. Many older weapons possessed mystic powers that the strong of will could master and control. If such a weapon revealed itself, Talbor hoped he would be the master, not the slave. His search ended when he was a broad sword with an ornate silver hilt. The hilt was forged in an upward position. When he held the weapon's ornamental handle, the sword's hilt grasped his wrist and wrapped itself around his arm. The sword became an extinction of his hand and arm. With sudden uneasiness, Talbor realized a subtle battle of domination had begun. One he would have to win if he was to keep his sanity Talbor knew instinctively physical strength would have little effect on the sword. His mind would have to order the weapon to release its grip. Recalling the discipline of childhood, he practiced the power of mental command until the weapon submitted to his will. After a few minutes, the weapon released its hold. He knew he would remain the master, only so long as he could control the sword.
      Walking from the room, some of Talbor's pride was gone. Seeing his choice of weapons, Tara nodded before commenting. "To command a mystic weapon of such power, the holder must have complete control or be lost to the power it possesses. The weapon of thine's choosing hast seen endless battles. It uses this knowledge to improve not only its ability and that of its holder. It t'is also said this weapon protects the life force of its holder, if the holder hath proven his or her worth. However, remember well, once grasped, ye must remain in control of thy weapon. Least thy life force be surrendered to the power the weapon possesses."
      Tara nodded at Casaron, motioning that he was next. Casaron folded his arms across his chest and raise his head. Refusing to move, he told her defiantly. "I may have been ordered here, but I will do no more than is requires of me."
      Raising an eyebrow slightly, Tara lowered her voice to a muffled whisper. "Listen unto me worm. Pride and false power canst be a dangerous thing. If ye wishth to engage in advance testing or combat, do so. I canst and shall remove thy mark. Then witness as thy life force slowly drains from thy body. I hath not the time for foolish games or rank amateurs. If ye hath all thee requireth, say so."
      Casaron jerked his head up to challenge her. Tara raised her hands to her chin in defense. The pupils of her eyes changed slightly. They were now almost crescent shaped. "User, I now give thee warning."
      Watching her, Casaron remembered a friend and teacher's last whispered words. 'Beware of those whose with forgotten powers. Do not anger them'. A shiver went through him. He lowered his eyes and whispered, "High One, it is not that I do not require anything, only that, it is difficult to understand what you have said. I submit to your request. I humble in your presence and beg forgiveness. I request that you permit me to enter and choose what may be of use."
      Her eyes narrowed warning him to remain silent. Bowing his head, he placed his left hand over his right. This form of acknowledgment or submission also revealed which house placed the mark of power on a novice User. His actions were repeated by the High One. However the length of her robe's sleeves prevented him from seeing which of the nine known marks had been placed on her. Before entering, Casaron knew he had neither the knowledge or desire for a combative weapon. A sturdy walking stick that could be used in defense was all he needed. Remembering the High One had said she could and would remove his mark, made his skin grow white. Only one known User had that kind of power, and her life force moved on to the Seventh Land cycles ago.
      Alone in the semi-lit room, Casaron leaned against the wall. He wondered who Tara was. What had she meant when she said she gave him notice? How had she made her eyes changed without uttering an incantation of spellbinding? What had he seen in her eyes that made him submit? His pride had never permitted him to do that before. Was she all that powerful? What was her connection with the Dream Master? These questions would probably never be answered. Dismissing these thoughts, he began looking around.
     There it was. A tall simply carved staff with no real design. The kind that would hold no thieves' interest. Within seconds of grasping the staff a slight tingle pulsated through his body. Trembling, he realized this was the legendary staff of tireless walking. He recalled stories of the mysterious User who supposedly created it. He wondered how the staff got in this dark dusty room.
      According to legend, the staff enabled the possessor to walk over fifty kilometers without tiring. When used in defense, it would adsorb the stamina of its attacker. After absorbing the force exerted by the aggressor, the staff then release an equal, if not greater defensive blow. It was rumored, this force often resulted in the temporary if not permanent loss of strength. It was also believed the staff could cause the loss of the aggressor's life force.
     Casaron's attitude improved when he rejoined his comrades. Tara nodded at him in approval, but remained silent as she motioned for the Aszian warrior to enter.
      Girmer signaled for Star Danc to follow. Tara Glanced at her guard. The ebony skinned man held his hand to the cat. Star Danc obeyed the giant man's silent command. Girmer started to speak, but Tara shook her head telling her, "Thy cat hath no need of mortal weapons. He shall remain here. There is no need for mistrust. Though thee art his mistress, the first of his kind were created near this realm."
     Girmer glared at Tara and her ebony skinned guard, but remained silent. Under protest, Girmer entered the room without Star Danc. Searching for a suitable weapon, one she had been trained with, she scanned the dimly lit room. Under several molded animal hides she saw a small open chest partly exposed. Inside, she found a short bow and a quiver of twelve arrows. This, she could use to defend herself or companions. The short missiles were more accurate at a distance than her boot knife or sword. The missiles were also simple to make and easily replaced.
      The High One, again, nodded in approval. "Thee shall thy quiver useful, but thee must discover in what manner after thee hath left this realm." Tara's approval told her she had made the right choice.
      Iritha was half way to the door before her name was called. Tara gave her a motherly smile before saying, "Remember child, take only one item and what thee canst use, not what thee canst barter with."
      With a half nod, Iritha left. She needed something small, easily hidden, but simple to get at. Curiosity took over when she saw a small leather pouch laying in a far corner. Inside the pouch, she found a pair of hollow, needle shaped daggers with removable handles. One was gold the other onyx. Holding them in her hands, they felt evenly balanced. As Iritha balanced them on her fingertips, she remembered the healer saying something about having knowledge of plants. Perhaps, he could teach her which were poisonous.
      Before leaving, she looked around for anything else that might be useful, but the High One's words prevented her from touching anything else. She realized the pouch containing the daggers were placed so she could find them.
      Walking out, Iritha gave Tara a sheepish smile as to say, 'We chose?' But said instead, "I hope ya call a pair one."
      Talbor looked at Iritha and said sarcastically, "Leave it to a thieving trollop to choose a coward's weapon."
     Tara, seeing a mixture of hurt and anger in Iritha's face, ordered Talbor, "Do not judge what t'is not understood. Her choice may well save thy life force."
     Knowing healers seldom took a life force, and those of the Small-one sect never did, Tara told Fen-Rod, "It t'is not necessary, nor shall I request that thee enter the room of weapons. However, do not condemn those who hath."
     Tara looked at the small group saying, "My complements in thy choices. Thee hath shown both wisdom and foresight. Thee shall now be escorted back to the Inn of Lost Souls. Rest, thee hath one rise to prepare for thy quest. A guide hath been provided. He shall remain with thee until reaching the Caverns of Mansdraw. There thee shall be shown the face of she who t'is my daughter. Let not her appearance of youthful innocence mislead thee."
      Talbor glanced at Iritha. "At least your talents will be of some value. Legend says, Mansdraw is no place for mortals without the protection of Canthija."
     Talbor tied to apologize for the interruption, but Tara chose to ignore him. Raising her hand for him to remain silent, she continued. Thee must use thy cunning and hidden talents. Keep thy guard at all times. This is not an easy quest I send thee on. Thee couldst witness mystic powers and destruction beyond mortal understanding."

* * * *

      At first rise the small group was escorted to the city's gates. Just inside the gates the High One and Baron Eathel waited with a man dressed in common tan traveling clothes. Tara gestured in the man's direction. "This t'is Antheas. He shall guide thee. He shall answer thy questions if they art asked. As a representative of this domain, he t'is incapable of false truths."
     Girmer glanced at the man. She felt the High One could have made a better selection. The man stood just under two meters in height, and weighed maybe sixty-five kilograms. His built was average for the lower region of Garpis. She felt the guide's child-like face and smooth hands made him a liability in battle.
     Tara interrupted Girmer's thoughts. "Thee hast until the end of the next cycle of new life to complete this quest."
     Not knowing how to ask, Casaron stammered. "Ah - -err, how will you know if we need your help?"
      Watching him, she answered. "Thee shall summon me."
      As they started toward the grasslands, Iritha turned to watch Tara. A sad expression fell across the High One's face. Tara nodding, her head laid it in the Baron's shoulder. Iritha over heard part of a private conversation between Tara and Baron Eathel.
      ". . .art what is required. Canst they survive what shall await them?"
     "Time grows short my dear. The Dream Master would not have sent them if they were incapable of this task. You must of seen something in the User's eyes, otherwise you would not permitted him to . . . " As Iritha strained to hear more of the conversation, the city started to shimmer then disappear. "Hey, stop. By Darcon's dwellin', will ya listen ta me?"
      Talbor stopped. "Look at wha. . .? W- -where in Canthjia's name is Quasta? What happened to Quasta? How will," He pointed to Antheas, "return? There's nothing to return to."
     Antheas glanced in the direction where Quasta was before giving a knowledgeable smile. He looked past the scrub grass and rocks before saying, "We travel north. There is a long journey ahead. Time is not on your side."

[Synopsis] [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]