.
Part IV
Morning of Primoris, Sixth Day of Duskmoon
Cedric monitored the Heron's engine all night long to ensure his fuel would last the whole trip. He was practically on his last lump of coal when his instruments registered the coordinates for the Minoan village. Eager to leave the stuffy engine room and look for a place to land, he took to the deck. Almost immediately, he received an influx of familiar smells. The sweet scent of quality hay wafted to his nose, along with earthy aromas of freshly turned soil and floral fragrances of grape and apple blossom.
They brought back good memories. Some of his earliest, in fact. Long before his father founded his successful shipping business, Miles Curtis had roamed the Northern Continent as a nomad, unemployed and homeless. Even so, he always made sure his son had a roof overhead.
Some days, he worked the fields for local farmers in exchange for a night in the barn. Young Cedric had always felt most comfortable on those nights. The alternative, of course, was odd-end jobs in the city. Urban pay was better, but Cedric had always found the people there to be rancorous and surly. Poverty-stricken neighborhoods and soiled surroundings bred crime and sickness, and the crowded hostels made such a young boy feel unsafe. But, as long as he was in the quiet environment of a barn, even among subtle scents of rot and manure, he could sleep soundly.
He supposed that was why—to this day—he could tolerate those smells while the rest of Angkor's snobby elite would have turned green at the first whiff. Cedric had always been different from them, even as he caught up to their wealth and prestige later in life. Then again, he never thought the mansions or clothes made him who he was.
He smiled as a sunbeam warmed his face. It was almost summertime in the southern hemisphere, and farmers were busy tending their fields. As he hovered over Minoa's rolling plains, he searched for empty plots, hoping for something far away from crops or wandering livestock. However, the process was taking longer than expected, and he was still conscious of the fuel situation. It seemed that Minoa's farms had sprawled haphazardly, covering every scrap of arable land.
He supposed it was to be expected. The Minoan priesthood was notoriously lax on regulations and had no desire to perform the role of government. Their village was formed by refugees that had fled the Northern Continent, forming a community without advance planning or consideration. The clergy had naught to offer but Gaia's teachings on compassion and humility, but they left their flock to govern themselves. As a result, the people divvied up land based on a common set of fairness principles, and the results spoke for themselves.
Cedric had never been to Minoa, but he had learned all about it from reading books. One of these was a catalogue of distant regions written by a world-renowned traveler and author. The craftsman had always wanted to visit these far-away lands, but as ironic as it sounded for the inventor of flight, he had always been too busy with work. His job consumed every moment of his time, and the only way to keep up with politics and current events was to read published works.
He had just finished the latest in the series about a month ago. It had once stood prominently on a shelf in his study, ready to be referenced if he ever found himself in an adventurous mood, late after work with a brandy in hand.
Although, now these books laid at the bottom of a ditch, along with his manor house and the rest of Angkor's Inner Sanctum. It was another melancholy reminder of his old life, which he was happy to set aside, now that he was part of Bram's team. His new journey finally gave him his long sought-after chance to travel. All he needed was to survive the upcoming ordeals of monsters and demons long enough to enjoy it.
A sigh escaped his lips. Survivability was not always within his control, and he did not want to spend much time thinking about it, either. What mattered now was landing his craft within the maze of fields and dusty roads. When he looked over the Heron's railing from his height of a thousand spans and squinted just right, he saw tiny ant-sized villagers performing their daily chores.
For a moment, he worried they might remember Bram's first trip to Minoa and be frightened. It was not that long ago that an Angkorian airship and its Gnostic Knight captain landed in their fields and wreaked havoc.
But, much to Cedric's surprise, his fears were unfounded. When the Heron finally did land, Bram's crew was met with a surprisingly warm welcome. A friendly envoy of villagers had gathered around the ship's exit ramp wearing eager smiles, as if they knew precisely whom to expect.
Before Cedric had time to wonder, the crowd came face to face with their Knight and Savior. Sure enough, Bram looked the part. The sunlight fell on his bright silver armor, creating a wide halo along the ground. And the villagers fell in awe the moment they saw it. Before long, the crowd doubled, then tripled in size.
Cedric wished he could have captured the look on the Knight's face as they showered him with attention. Bram … the man who had stolen their sacred artifact and murdered their people was now a celebrity. Of course, the Knight had since transformed into their Sunstone Protector, and many accepted him as the only man capable of defeating the Ahrimen. As such, they wanted to give him a hero's welcome.
Cedric had expected Bram to feel more awkward than flattered. But, rather than shying away, the modest warrior seemed to take nourishment in the attention. The more the villagers piled it upon him, the more the Knight loosened up and devoured it. Perhaps, after all his recent grief and heartache, Bram was a simple man who needed to feel appreciated once in a while.
The villagers did not let up. Not even for a moment. As they directed him into town and toward the great Minoan temple, they pummeled him with questions about his adventures, begging for stories as if he were a traveling troubadour.
Had Cedric been in Bram's boots, he would have balked at such requests. He had been at the Knight's side for much of the past two weeks, and the reality had been neither glorious nor heroic—certainly, not the family-friendly content of a bard's tale. Multiple times, Bram had escaped with barely his life and soul intact. And even then it came with terrible losses. The great wizard Matthias had lost his life, beautiful Rosa ended up Marked, and even Bram's own brother ….
Despite all that, the Knight answered their questions happily. He was not paralyzed by awful memories, but rather retold the stories in a way that accentuated the positives. After all, he had succeeded in recovering Minoa's own Pisces Stone plus one other, escaped from King Richard's and Arcesilaus' evil clutches, and even managed to destroy the villain's base of operation.
Alas … poor Zounds …. No one would offer Cedric accolades for his most accomplished work. Not that the craftsman cared more for a machine than for those who had lost their lives, but Zounds was still very special to him.
People would never understand. It had been a labor of love—a child that only he could have conceived. Most never got a chance to be put on such an ambitious project, but Cedric was its progenitor, and he believed his technology could have changed the world. He had sacrificed countless hours and set aside all other ambitions, but in the end, his life's greatest achievement had become a damned tool for the enemy to squander. No one would give him credit for that.
Meanwhile, Bram was living in the limelight. More than the rest of his crew, anyway. Behind him, no one noticed Rosa's bleak look. Her expression was absolutely miserable. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sallow, making Cedric worry that the curse had finally gotten to her.
Then again, it was probably not the sunstone's fault. After all, Rosa and Bram had been fighting, and tensions between them were obvious to everyone on board. It was most apparent after Kane's interrogation and Bram's subsequent meltdown. The Knight had put his lover into an insufferable position.
Sure, Rosa believed in Kane. That much was obvious. But it still did not mean she felt comfortable defending his past. She wanted others to understand the circumstances and make up their own minds. But, instead, Bram's fire and insistence had forced her to step in and cover for Kane more than she would have liked.
It was not just anger or frustration that pushed her over the edge. Rosa was hurt more because she believed that Bram would stand by her side and support her. Instead, he belittled her in front of everyone, calling her naïve. It was a betrayal of her trust, not to mention the loyalty on which the pair had built their relationship.
At least, that was Cedric's impression.
The resulting chill between them was heartbreaking. Cedric only hoped that, sooner or later, things would thaw and both would realize what the other had sacrificed. All else being equal, Cedric expected that to happen naturally. Unfortunately, he worried that the sunstone might interfere with Rosa's emotions, or possibly turn them against her. She needed a cure before it was too late. That was one of the many reasons why Cedric hoped this trip to Minoa would prove fruitful.
As for Kane … the former Templar was relatively upbeat as he strolled behind his new—and old—best friend. Of course, Cedric knew there was plenty more beneath the carefree surface. Kane had been dragged through the Burning Pits and back, and no man could put on a happy face after what he had been through. Though Kane had largely been exonerated of his crimes, memories of what he had done still remained strong among the crew—especially with Quon.
The Kenju Master had confided his skepticism to Cedric. He believed that men like Kane could not change. Even if Rosa supposedly cured him of a mental disease, what Kane had done had tarnished his soul. In Quon's eyes, the Templar had no honor, and he did not deserve to be part of the crew. Quon only tolerated his presence out of respect for Bram. As he put it, "The snake might shed its skin, but it is still a snake underneath."
All and all, it meant that Kane was on his own. Bram might have forgiven his childhood friend—or possibly set aside his reservations based on their history—but the wounds were still fresh. They would easily reopen if Kane faltered, even once. Rosa had gone out on a limb for him, too, and she would not likely do so again. As for the craftsman, he also planned to keep an eye on Kane. There was just too much at stake to trust in a wildcard at this point.
Cedric suspected that Kane realized this, too, which explained his upbeat behavior. No other man would be so nonchalant after what had happened. Kane was no doubt self-conscious of every minute, hoping to appear happy and well-intentioned, like a productive member of the crew. Even so, underneath he was probably just as miserable as Rosa. He would have an easier time walking on hot coals without getting burnt. Cedric sympathized, of course. But in order to trust Kane … well, only time would tell.
Before long, the Minoan temple entered into view. Cedric fell in awe the moment he saw it. Architecturally, it was incredible. Bright white spires glowed in the morning sunlight, set upon delicate flying buttresses. It easily put the cathedral in Angkor to shame—at least, the one that had existed before the Inner Sanctum collapsed.
Two white wizards met them at the gate, eager and ready to usher their Savior inside. They were so quick, in fact, that Cedric and the rest of the crew almost got lost in the shuffle. Just as the craftsman reached the threshold, a rapidly closing set of mighty wooden doors nearly hit him in the face.
Bram—now aware that his friends were getting left behind—resisted the path and appealed to the two wizards. "Wait, please. I won't go any farther without my crew."
The priests stopped dead in their tracks, mumbling apologies. "Forgive us, Sir Morrison, but … our accommodations are constrained as it is."
Cedric heard the excuse and shook his head. There had to be enough room inside such a mighty structure.
Fortunately, the Knight stood his ground. "Look, I don't know what your Elder has planned. I sure did not announce my arrival beforehand. Whatever it is, I insist he make room for us all. I refuse to follow without my friends at my side."
Cedric practically blushed. Bram had never referred to him as a friend before—at least, not loud enough for others to hear. The word was foreign but comforting. Perhaps after so many years alone with his wealth, Cedric had accepted the notion that he would never live life in the company of others. Certainly, he had never suspected that Bram Morrison—the Gnostic Knight notoriously known as Deathbringer—would ever regard him as more than a professional acquaintance. But now, Bram-the-Grigori-Knight had given Cedric a place on the team. Perhaps it was just silly mawkish feelings, but it pleased him nonetheless.
The priest bowed deeply. "Of course. If the Savior wishes it, we'll accommodate."
The doors reopened, leaving room for Cedric and the others to enter. They filed in after Bram, leaving the crowd of star-struck villagers behind.
The priests led the group straight through the nave. All the while, Cedric's eyes were transfixed to the beautiful stonework and hand-molded details. Bright amber light filtered through stained glass windows, creating a golden pathway across the cream-colored carpet. The splendor was magnificent.
At the front of the nave, the priests stopped before a man in plain brown robes who was conversing with a woman dressed in black. Cedric could tell by the way the priests bowed their heads that this humble man was very important. He had to be the Elder.
As Bram approached, the man excused himself and turned. A face that was neither old nor young, with almond shaped eyes, a bald head, and salt and pepper beard suddenly grew doleful as his eyes fell upon the Knight in gleaming silver armor. Sadness crept upon his face, and he and Bram seemed to converse without words. Perhaps it was magic, but they seemed to understand one another in silence. Soon, a similar downtrodden look befell the Knight, and Cedric finally understood.
The last time Bram left Minoa, he had brought along a young priestess. Cedric had only met Mica briefly before her ill-fated end. The young Koban girl had been rich in faith and courage. Even after battling one of the greatest evils Gaia had ever known, she still had the spirit and desire to do more.
When the tunnels at the bottom of the Substratum lost the last of their support, she chose to act to prevent others from being buried alive. Her final words cast a spell that turned her body to stone and kept the collapsing tunnel secure. The act went beyond mere bravery. It was selfless and pure, a gift to those she knew had to survive for the Ahrimen to be defeated.
Cedric had asked Matthias about it later. He learned that certain magical transmutations could not be undone. Magic could bend the human body, take flesh and bone, and rearrange it into all forms of living matter. Unfortunately, it could not create complex structures out of nothing. When Mica chose to turn herself to stone, she did so knowing that rock could not be remade into flesh.
Even so, when Bram had confronted her transmutation deep within the substratum, he believed his Grigori powers could save her. Only a few moments earlier, he had used them to successfully regrow Cedric's feet—a miracle that even wizards thought to be impossible.
Sadly, he did not have the time. The rest of the tunnel had eventually given way, forcing Bram to retreat. Worse, Cedric doubted that Bram would ever return, given Angkor's continued hostility, not to mention the Knight had recently backed off from using the sunstone due to the Ahriman's temptations. At least for now, it seemed that Mica's fate was sealed.
Cedric was heartbroken as he watched both men deflate in their wordless conversation—and he was not the only one. The rest of the crew seemed to have an inkling of what was transpiring. Even the nearby priests seemed to tear up. The desolation was contagious.
But then, at last, the Elder spoke. "We must be strong, Sir Morrison," his voice cracked. "It was Mica's wish that you survive to carry out her will."
Bram's eyes were shimmering pools. "But, Elder, I …."
The priest's voice was soft but decisive. "We shall speak of it no more. We will instead honor her memory by moving forward and ending the Ahrimen's reign of terror."
The Knight's dour expression remained, but he seemed to understand. "Yes, and I thank you for the warm welcome. I assume you foretold our coming?"
The Elder looked to either side, noticing that the priests from earlier were still there, standing idle and waiting for further instruction. He dismissed them before answering. "Not quite, Sir Morrison. In fact, we were forewarned of your arrival by our colleagues in Vineta. They contacted us earlier this morning."
Bram went rigid, but not before Quon stepped in with a mixture of alarm and disappointment. "You mean the clerics? It had to have been Madeline. She gave us up!"
The Elder waved away his concern. "At ease, my young Koban friend. The clerics do not aim to prosecute."
Judging from Quon's expression, the Kenju Master was still skeptical. Cedric certainly did not blame him. The craftsman was injured through most of the drama that went on in Kish, but he was told later how vindictive the clerics had been.
Even so, the Elder maintained his stance. "I understand your doubts, and by the clerics' own admission, they put you through terrible ordeals. However, please believe that they have since been enlightened. And I'd say, perhaps, even apologetic. So much has happened these last few days, Mister … well, um … let's just say we have much to discuss."
Bram must have just realized he had not made proper introductions. He cleared his throat. "Your eminence, forgive me. The man with whom you speak is Quon Nan, the famed Kenju Master of Koba."
The Elder brightened considerably. "A rare pleasure, Master Quon. And please, call me Christian. The rest of you are welcome to do the same. Anyone willing to put their life and soul on the line should not be subjected to formalized titles."
Quon shook the Elder's hand and then stepped aside to give Bram room to introduce the rest of his crew.
"Christian, this is Cedric Curtis. He was once Richard's Grand Craftsman, and he remains a brilliant airship engineer."
Cedric was flattered by the introduction and extended his hand confidently. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir. I've read so much about the Gaians and your fair community."
The Elder smiled, offering a hand that was surprisingly warm and soft. Cedric could not find a single callous or blemish anywhere. Had he not known better, he would have sworn the Goddess herself had blessed it to transfer peace and comfort at the touch. He almost did not want to let go.
The Elder then moved on to the next crewman. Bram announced his old friend with a smile. "And here's Kane Harding, a well-trained Templar and longtime friend."
Kane seemed a little stiff, as if not quite sure whether to salute or shake hands. He froze midway through both actions and then finally went with his hand. The Elder shook it without hesitation. Surely he noticed, but out of politeness did not draw attention to Kane's fumbling.
Bram hesitated before introducing his final crew member. It was almost as if he did not know quite how to do it. In the past, he would have referred to Rosa as his fiancée. But now, given their recent falling out, he was stuck between overstepping his bounds and being careful not to under-appreciate her contributions.
"This is Rosalyn Reynolds," he finally stated, "the most capable and … um, compassionate white wizard I have ever known."
"Just call me Rosa." She stepped forward and extended her hand as if wanting to get it over with. But instead of taking it, the Elder practically jumped backward—as if Rosa had drawn a weapon. A few passing priests stopped and stared with curiosity. Bram of course was half-surprised and half-mortified that the spiritual leader of the Gaian faith would suddenly treat the woman he loved with such repulsion.
"Christian, what's wrong?" His voice was as severe as his expression.
"Forgive me," the Elder's cheeks flushed, but he kept his distance. "I sense this woman carries the Pisces Stone. Is that true?"
Bram instantly fell mute. His lips moved, but no words came out. Cedric felt his muscles tense, since the first thing that went through his mind was the Mark of the Ahriman. But, surely, the Elder could not have known … yet, it was written all over his face!
"I do," Rosa answered stiffly, her guard fully up. "Although, I suspect from your reaction that you know more than the mere fact that I possess it."
Her face had darkened, brows low and lips downturned in an angry scowl. She looked like she was ready to brawl over it in front of everyone.
All around the Elder, priests and priestesses stopped dead in their tracks to stare at the strange conversation. But like a pro, Christian deflected the attention with a hearty laugh. "Oh, yes, quite right! You got me!" A few more chuckles. "Now, please, come this way so we can speak further." He curled a few fingers in a gesture meant for Rosa and the others to follow.
But Rosa appeared unwilling to play along. "Where are you taking us?" she demanded.
A bit of rouge appeared on the Elder's cheeks. "Merely to a place where we can converse in private." Despite signs of nervousness, he still upheld the act of a jovial host.
"Rosa, let's go," Bram urged. "This conversation does not belong in the open."
Hesitantly, she agreed, though Cedric heard her whisper something on the way out. "I'm tired of people telling me what to do."
It was unusual for Rosa to take such offense. Cedric worried what it meant as he followed the rest of the crew down a hallway on the south side of the temple.
The Elder once again waved them forward with his hand. "Our sacristy is just around the corner. It ought to be empty this time of day."
Cedric noticed a number of curious eyes trail them as they marched. The conversation had gone from welcoming to awkward so quickly. And Rosa angrily stomping her feet certainly did not help the situation.
Eventually, the Elder slid into a small room with closets on both ends and chests full of vestments and holy symbols. Once everyone was inside, he closed the door.
"I demand to know what this is all about!" Rosa's anger had grown. Her eyes flared with a mixture of fear and bile.
The Elder looked sympathetic. "You're safe here, my dear. You must try to free yourself of those negative emotions. They'll only grant it strength."
"Then you know!" Cedric blurted. He could hardly help himself. The Elder had voiced precisely what the craftsman was thinking.
The old man smirked. "It's not just because I'm a Sunstone Protector," he admitted. "The fact is I've studied the sunstones for more years than you've been alive, dear craftsman. I'm both sensitive to Minoa's sunstone as well as familiar with the Mark of the Ahriman."
Chills swept through Cedric's body. Bram and the others looked tongue-tied, fearful of what the Gaian leader might say next.
"Don't worry," he assured, correctly interpreting their anxious faces. "Rosa's secret is safe with me. But before word spreads, I must know as many details as possible."
"Why is that?" Quon asked. "What would happen if your followers learned of this?"
Cedric wondered the same thing.
The Elder sighed. "For the most part, my children look to me for leadership. However, as with any group of diverse backgrounds, there are some who might assert their own strength if I show weakness."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Cedric demanded, worried for Rosa's safety. "Would they harm her?"
"You don't need to refer to me as if I'm not here," she scolded.
This was certainly not Cedric's intention, but before he could say, "I'm sorry," she spoke over him. "Yes, I've been Marked, but it's none of your business. And if it's going to be a problem, I'll just wait by the Heron!"
"Here, try this." The Elder spoke a few words and a purple haze descended over Rosa. She breathed it in, and in moments she looked like she had just woken from a dream. "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I don't know what came over me."
"It's like I said," Christian explained. "The Ahrimen gain strength with negative emotions. Fear, anger, anxiety … it's almost like a feedback loop, in which these emotions grow more intense with each passing moment. You must be conscious of this and not allow yourself to get riled."
"What kind of spell did you cast on her?" Bram wondered.
"Just a simple calming charm," he answered. "That should be enough, at least for now."
"But what about the priesthood?" Quon insisted.
"Yes, about them …" the Elder took a deep breath. "They are simply frightened. They know what happened to King Richard, and I can't predict what they might do if they learn that one of you has been compromised. Fear of the unknown can drive men to do crazy things. So let's just avoid the rumors or speculation for now until we've armed ourselves with the facts. With that in mind, Bram, please tell me about your journey since leaving Minoa."
The Knight blinked a few times, as if needing a moment to process everything the Elder had just said. A moment later, he began his tale.
The Elder wore a subdued expression as Bram laid out all the details, eventually culminating with his confrontation with Libicocco. He spent extra time describing how Rosa had caught the Gemini Stone while the Pisces Stone was still clenched in her other hand.
When the story was finished, the Elder stewed a bit before responding. "I see … so Abaddon asserted its Mark, even though Libicocco's sunstone was touched second. I'm afraid it's a sign of great malice, my dear Rosa. Usually, it's not the sunstone already in hand that leaves its Mark. If I might ask, have you felt any other symptoms?"
Rosa thought for a moment. "Actually … I've been hearing things … voices, I think."
Bram's eyes went wide. "Rosa! Why haven't you told me?"
She scoffed. "It's not like I've kept anything from you. It started shortly after we arrived in Minoa. Besides, the words don't make any sense. It's almost like a faint memory. At first, I wasn't sure if it was real or just my imagination. But … it's been happening a lot now."
Bram looked to be in agony.
Cedric empathized. He asked the obvious question. "But what does it all mean, Christian? Should we be concerned? Are we running out of time?"
The Elder sighed and rubbed his hands together nervously. "Keep in mind that it's been ages since anyone has actually observed the Mark of the Ahriman in practice. Even so, the symptoms are thoroughly consistent with what I've researched. Those voices are just the beginning, my dear. It's difficult to say what form of temptation might manifest later, but you must resist no matter what. Eventually, you will feel compelled to use the sunstone. But if you do … even once … the demon's grip on you will be almost impossible to resist."
Cedric felt sick to his stomach. "But … can't we prevent it, somehow?"
The Elder shook his head. "I'm afraid it's useless to take the sunstone away from her. Should you attempt it, Rosa will be forced to stop you, even if she doesn't want to hurt you. And you would only succeed in making things worse."
Bram's face drained of color. "Christian, if you had only prepared me before sending me off to Angkor, this might have never happened."
Cedric was shocked by the unexpected criticism. Indeed, even the Elder looked wounded. "I sent you knowing that King Richard was poised to release one of the Ahrimen. I had no idea that you would run into a second of these demons before returning to Minoa."
"Even so," Bram challenged, his voice laced with irritation, "you could have prevented this if you had told me more about the sunstones. Yet you sent me off completely unprepared!"
"And the results are lamentable, clearly!" the Elder acknowledged. "But it was only because I understood the price of failure if Richard had unleashed Abaddon before you arrived. The repercussions … they were incalculable! The demon would have grown in strength quickly. And it would have put measures in place to protect itself—and, any advantage you would have had would be gone, no matter how well I trained you. So, no … I do not regret sending you off quickly."
Bram accepted this, but Quon was not yet finished. "You could have at least warned him not to battle a second Ahriman," he reasoned. "You would not have delayed his voyage long to offer some basic knowledge of what he was up against."
Christian winced. "Please understand, Master Nan. Bram was about to enter a battle against an unholy demon the likes of which this world hadn't seen in a thousand years. He was foretold to be our Savior, so I had to trust that the knowledge he needed would be made available when the time was right. I did not want to over-prepare him, lest he choke at the eventual confrontation. I believed the best path was simplicity and expedience, so I instructed my acolyte, Mica, to bring Bram home as soon as he recovered the sunstone. I never expected that she … that she would …."
The Elder choked, leaving a moment for Bram to approach with comfort. By now, the Knight's irritation had transitioned to empathy. "I understand your reasons, Christian. And, someday, I swear I'll find a way to bring Mica home. As for her counsel, I doubt it would have helped. As soon as we defeated Abaddon, Samuel set up his bargain for the Capricorn Stone. He and Virgil exploited my weaknesses, because they knew I'd go after them before returning the Pisces Stone to Minoa."
Cedric saw a glance from Rosa. She looked at Bram with longing, but only for a moment. Indeed, Bram had put everything on the line to save her. Hopefully she realized that. But, strangely, she turned away as if unwilling to let Bram notice.
Meanwhile, guilt flashed across Kane's face. He must have realized that as Bram sacrificed for Rosa, the Templar had played the part of the villain. Such guilt would not go away so easily. Perhaps that was why he ended up speaking out.
"Elder … Christian … how much time does Rosa have left? We came to Minoa in search of the moonstones, and we believe they are part of the cure. Can you help us to find them?"
The Elder repeated the term, as if needing to hear it a second time to jog his memory. "Moonstones … ah, yes, I remember. It was a long time ago, when I was a much younger wizard."
"You mean back when you were Maurice Vance's apprentice?" Quon asked.
Christian cringed. "I prefer to think of us as colleagues, though you could say that he also acted as my mentor at times. The point is, I recall some of his research that pointed to a set of artifacts similar to the sunstones, except they had the power to nullify the Ahrimen's powers."
"That's right," Kane agreed enthusiastically. "So, do you know where to find them?"
Christian shook his head. "Unfortunately, I do not. We searched for the moonstones for a while but eventually gave up and decided it would be easier to experiment on the sunstones directly. That's when Maurice decided to research the Capricorn Stone."
Multiple shoulders sagged. "But we came all this way," Bram lamented. "Could you at least summarize what you learned when you went off searching for them?"
Christian opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it and sighed. "It was just a bunch of dead ends. The documents we used at the time were very old, almost disintegrated, and very difficult to translate from the old tongue. It's not clear if the information is even valid anymore."
Cedric was curious. "Which old tongue was it?" He had spent quite a bit of time studying defunct languages. History was one of his many hobbies, and he had collected quite a few books on the subject. In the modern age, global travel and standardization had caused many regions to lose their native languages in favor of the common tongue.
"I refer to the language of the Ancients, my dear Cedric. The ones whose civilization had once confronted the Ahrimen and suffered terrible losses."
"You mean the people from whom I descended," Bram suggested. "The predecessors of the Gaians …." He looked disappointed. "That must mean the records are about a thousand years old."
The Elder looked sympathetic. "I'm afraid so, Bram. I've seen neither text nor tome that has referenced the moonstones since."
"But, wait …." Kane began a new train of thought, pausing until everyone gave him their attention. "What about Virgil? With Bram's brother now dead, the information must lie with him."
Quon folded his arms, his expression dark. "Yes, about Virgil … we learned from Madeline that he had once gone by the name of Galiver Givry and served as another of Vance's apprentices. You must have known this man, is that not right, Christian?"
The Elder stared back in disbelief. "Galiver? But that's impossible!"
Bram explained the connection, including how Virgil had used the pseudonym while confronting them in Angkor's underground tunnels.
"Virgil has been behind this since the beginning. We think he has both a moonstone and the real Capricorn Stone, which explains how he has access to special powers without exposing the Ahriman's corruption. We've run through multiple scenarios, and this is the only one that makes sense. Otherwise, Lord Zagan would have escaped, and we would have all known it."
Christian looked like he was still trying to absorb the new information. "If what you say is true, then you are surely unprepared to face that kind of power. Lord Zagan is by far the most devious and vicious of the four Ahrimen. The demon's power is immeasurable. You mustn't go looking for Galiver until you have the moonstones to protect you."
"But, how?" Bram was exasperated. "If Virgil is the only one left who knows anything about them, how would we prepare ourselves beforehand?"
The Elder stood with his mouth half-open. He looked desperate to say something, yet he still hesitated. "Bram … there might be a way. I will surely regret telling you this, but—"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Christian, what is it?" Bram pressed. But the Elder waved his hand—a gesture for silence—until he had a chance to answer the door.
An eager-looking priest awaited on the other side. "We've been looking everywhere for you, Elder. The incantation is almost ready."
Christian nodded. "We'll be there shortly. Continue preparations."
The priest nodded and left.
Bram kept pressing. "Christian, please tell us what you had in mind before we were interrupted."
The Elder shook his head. "Not yet. We've been preparing all morning for a long-distance communications window with the clerics, and it appears that it's just about ready."
"All morning?" Rosa asked. "I realize that Kish is quite far away, but surely there are enough capable wizards in both locations to cast the spell."
The Elder sighed. "I had hoped to cover this earlier …." He then described how the strength of magic had been reduced all across Gaia. Even a simple communications portal required his top priests, along with sigils and circles of power to strengthen their magic.
"So far, our communications have been limited to passing runes back and forth, which is laborious and slow. Besides, with you here, we have the perfect opportunity to share vital context and information. We can't miss it."
Rosa stepped backward. "Now that you mention it, I've been feeling a weakness in my own magic since waking up yesterday. But I had assumed it had something to do with the Mark."
The Elder nodded. "Now you know. We need to head down to the laboratory right away. If we don't learn more about this issue, it'll be even harder to confront the Ahrimen."
Bram sighed. "Very well. We'll speak with the clerics and find out what happened. But then, Christian, you need to finish telling us about the moonstones."
The Elder nodded. "I apologize for being evasive, but I promise it will all make sense later. For now, though, let's hurry downstairs."
...
Bram followed the Elder back through the halls of the temple, summoning his patience to quench an intense curiosity burning inside of him. The Elder had very nearly revealed the first significant clue about the moonstones … until he was interrupted. Bram wanted desperately to know what it was. It could have been his first and only lead, but only Christian truly knew the answer. Bram just hoped the Elder would follow through on his promise and reveal it later.
Although, perhaps it was good to take a break from the urgent to learn about some new threats. All around the temple, wizards were whispering frantically about the sudden weakness in magic. It was clear that this was a major problem, but Bram wondered how it would affect his journey.
Then again, he was still apprehensive about joining a conversation with the clerics of Kish. Not long ago, Jeremiah's fury had resulted in Bram being tied up and thrown inside an old wizard sanitarium. The old cleric had been entirely unwilling to listen to reason, and now it seemed impossible to think that a man like that would suddenly change his mind.
Besides, Bram was not so sure he wanted to forgive him. Jeremiah's incompetence had nearly thwarted his chances of finding Samuel's base, of rescuing Rosa, or of bringing Kane back to the side of good. If the old cleric now expected Bram to swallow his pride and move on, it would not be so easy.
True, there was no point in holding grudges, but something about the prideful old wizard made Bram's blood boil. The way he threw his weight around and used only the facts that suited him … it was a disgrace, and Bram would not let it slide again. If Jeremiah dared to let his ego balloon during the upcoming discussion, Bram had a few choice words that he would unleash to deflate it.
He just wanted it over and done with, so he could get back to his conversation with Christian. Whatever the Elder had to say, it was likely far more important to his journey. Not to mention that time was running short. If Rosa was already hearing voices, Bram had to find her a moonstone quickly!
Bram still loved her deeply, despite the friction between them. And he knew that she loved him, too. Back aboard the Heron, mentally weary and exhausted from a day of drama and turmoil, he had finally summoned the courage to apologize. Fortunately, Rosa had granted him one last chance to explain himself. He did, of course, but he also used the time to reveal his many struggles with controlling his emotions.
Fortunately, his humility was well received. Rosa accepted his apologies, but she explained she needed more time before things would be back to the way they were. In the meantime, she asked for space. Unlike previous fights, this one did not involve making up and starting over. This time, Rosa wanted Bram to prove that he was capable of making real changes. And she wanted him to start by examining the way he treated others. After all, if he could not be respectful to friends and allies, she could not expect him to treat her the way she needed.
He took every bit of feedback to heart, wondering how he could reach out to his crew and encourage teamwork. First, he thought of Quon, probably the least likely to need help. The Kenju Master was already the most disciplined on the Heron, self-sufficient, and confident in his role. Kane, on the other hand, was the most difficult. He just needed time before the rest of the crew trusted him—a lot of time—and there was little Bram could do to accelerate the process.
Then there was Cedric.
The craftsman was hard to read, but Bram had a feeling that he questioned his role in the team. Bram praised him now and then for his brilliant deductive skills and excellent piloting of the ship, but it seemed the craftsman needed more. Bram thought about what else he could do to make him feel welcome as he descended a long spiral staircase in the back of the temple. At the bottom, he passed through a stone arch and realized that he had arrived at his destination.
The Knight's eyes swelled as he scanned the many magical instruments strewn about the stone chamber. In its center, the priests had cleared a large space, on which they had drawn circles with white chalk. These were sigils of magic, and they were filled with arcane symbols and topped with pungent spell components. A mixture of sweet and peppery herbs hung in the air. Along the perimeter, no less than twenty priests and priestesses stood with their hands raised and lips whispering inaudible syllables. Clearly, the Elder was not kidding when he claimed they had taken all morning to prepare the spells.
Christian addressed Bram's crew. "We're right on time. Once the portal opens, we need to get straight to the point. There won't be much time for small talk or chatter." He directed each of the heroes to a specific place on the floor. "Please sit in the following assigned circles, which will help my priests to maintain a stable flow of magic."
Of course, Bram's circle was fairly small, so he had to sit with his legs scrunched to fit comfortably. The Elder placed him on the opposite end of the room from Rosa, perhaps to avoid their sunstones from interacting.
As soon as everyone was seated, the chanting began. A din of undecipherable syllables coated the air. Bram felt a rush of adrenaline, and his body swayed with an unseen energy. It was almost like the gentle waves of a tide pool lapping upon his body. Then, along one side of the room, sparks sizzled in a rectangular shape. The lightshow continued until the stone wall at the end was replaced with a view of a second room of people.
"Greetings," an older woman welcomed from the other side. Bram was relieved to see that it was Madeline. "I must congratulate everyone on a job well done. This incantation involved some rather experimental techniques, but the results speak for themselves."
"Indeed, I can see and hear everyone clearly," the Elder commended. "It's a rare opportunity to speak to the revered Circle of Eight. I regret that our relationship has been tenuous over the years, even in the best of times. However, I look forward to putting our differences aside to focus on the greater good."
"Well said, Christian," Jeremiah praised from Madeline's right. The old cleric seemed quite a bit more relaxed than the last time Bram saw him. "In the spirit of expedience, I suggest quick introductions. For those who don't know me, my name is Jeremiah. To my left is Madeline Beaufort, who has taken the place of our former One Voice. Some of you might remember Allura, but she has recently retired. I ask that you respect her privacy and do not attempt to contact her moving forward."
Bram raised his brows. He did not know who this old bloviate thought he was kidding, but Allura and Madeline was the same woman. Of course, the more Bram thought about it, he wondered if the lie had been Madeline's idea. After all, she had taken on the guise of a younger woman for many years in order to overcome misogyny in her line of work. Even so, few people in the world would truly understand her reasons. Pretending that Allura had retired might actually save her lengthy explanations, not to mention shame and embarrassment among the court of public opinion. Still … it was strange to think of Jeremiah as someone who would go out of his way to protect his peer and rival.
The elder cleric continued. "I'd also like to point to another special visitor." He gestured to a woman sitting on Madeline's other side. "This here is the famous Lady Black of Kitezh. She's been kind enough to lend us her expertise and was pivotal to connecting our end of the portal."
Bram wondered what Lady Black was doing outside of Kitezh, but then he saw Prince Józef and Konrad seated behind her. He was relieved that the heir had survived the tsunami and was looking a lot healthier than the last time Bram had seen him. It also it made sense that Konrad had traveled to Kish to help his ward return home. Bram hoped it would finally lead to some stability in that part of the world.
Jeremiah concluded by introducing the six remaining clerics: Isaac, Simon, Jacob, Noah, Aaron, and Matthew. They were mostly older men, but the last two looked to be about Cedric's age.
Jeremiah handed the stage back to Christian, who introduced himself and some of his top priests and priestesses. He then moved on to Bram and crew.
Once introductions were finished, Madeline spoke. "Sir Morrison, I do not want to delay us from our agenda, but I feel it's necessary to offer you our utmost apologies. We put you through excruciating …."
She trailed off when Jeremiah raised his hand in a polite manner. The former One Voice granted him the floor.
"Madeline, thank you," he offered in a humble voice, "but I think Sir Morrison needs to hear this from me. With all due respect."
Madeline nodded with a smile, but for Bram, something about the old man still churned his gut. He figured he ought to give Jeremiah the benefit of the doubt, but it was not easy. At least the elder cleric appeared contrite.
"I'm not proud of how I acted, Bram." The old man's brows scrunched together so hard they looked like a wooly caterpillar. The Knight was not yet convinced that it was true repentance, but it sure did seem genuine. "I was under a lot of pressure to answer for the safety of our sunstone, and I had true concerns over how it would affect the credibility of our order in the future. But, as it turns out, I was wrong about you. Just as I made the same mistake years ago when it came to Maurice Vance."
The man's name created a din of chatter among the Gaian priests. Jeremiah cleared his throat to get their attention. "It's time to come clean and reveal the truth about what really happened thirty years ago."
Sure enough, Jeremiah admitted to casting aside the evidence that would have proven Vance's experiments were successful. Had the clerics conducted a thorough investigation, they would have learned that Vance's apprentice, Galiver Givry, had stolen the Capricorn Stone and replaced it with a convincing fake. But, due to Jeremiah's failure, the world remained ignorant of the Ahrimen for thirty years, thus squandering all opportunities for preparation.
The Gaian priests were in an uproar, but Bram had never felt more vindicated.
"Please," Jeremiah pleaded, "please allow me to finish."
The room quieted.
"I made a huge error by valuing my pride over the truth. But now, the evidence is incontrovertible. I must conclude that our treasured Capricorn Stone is in the hands of the enemy and Sir Morrison had nothing to do with its disappearance."
Amid a roomful of angry glares, Jeremiah finally concluded. "We, the Circle of Eight, have therefore decided that I should step down. From this moment forward, Madeline Beaufort will lead the clerics in my place."
A collection of gasps erupted. Bram was stunned. Indeed, the past few days had made all the difference! If ever there was a time for grudges, it was over. With Jeremiah out of the picture, Bram had a chance to repair the damage and forge new relationships within the Circle.
The cleric named Simon broke the silence. "I just wanted everyone to know that I've worked alongside Jeremiah for more than forty years." He turned to his former colleague. "It's been an honor, Sir. My only hope is that your legacy of achievements not be overshadowed by your handful of faults."
"Indeed," Jacob added. "Many of us should have shared in your blame. You were not the only one who doubted Sir Morrison's story. We all voted according to the facts available to us. Only in hindsight do we now comprehend the grievousness of our mistakes."
Bram felt it was important to say something, too. "Jeremiah … others … I am disappointed that we couldn't have joined forces sooner. However, I also acknowledge my own part in this mistake. I kept my motives hidden, because I believed they would be misinterpreted. But in so doing, the worst of my fears still came to pass. So I can't place all the blame on Jeremiah. In fact, I think it's time we stop looking for one person to be responsible and instead all unite in the stand against the Ahrimen."
Madeline smiled. "Thank you, Bram. Your capacity for forgiveness is admirable. As for Jeremiah, he'll still aid our cause, but only in an advisory role. By the way, I do not want to presume, but did your Elder brief you on our situation in Kish?"
Bram was confused, but Christian clarified. "We only had a few minutes to converse prior to the conference, but I'm afraid Sir Morrison knows nothing of the recent tragedies."
Chills coursed through Bram's body at the mention of tragedy. Madeline detailed how a mighty object had crashed into the Great Ocean, creating a tsunami that wiped out multiple villages along the southern coast, including Kish. Twenty thousand were dead or displaced.
The only survivors were those who made it to higher ground, or those sequestered in the main wing of the Nexus. Thankfully, the hospital wards were spared, in large part due to Madeline's and Jeremiah's leadership. The two clerics had led a force of wizards that successfully diverted the tsunami before it reached the building.
Bram cringed. He knew that he was part of what had caused this tragedy, and it made him ill just thinking about it. But the look on Cedric's pale face suggested that he felt a much stronger sense of guilt.
The grief-stricken craftsman spoke with a shaky voice. "It was Zounds … it had to have been! I created the airship that fell into the ocean. All those lives were lost because of me!"
The room gasped, and Bram felt that he needed to step in. "No, you mustn't hold him responsible. Let me explain."
He received many angry glares, but it was his duty to defend his crewman. "Zounds was a massive airbase project commissioned by King Richard more than a year ago. Cedric designed it, but he was certainly not the cause of the crash. Samuel Cortez was responsible. He had stolen the aircraft as soon as construction was finished and used it as his base of operation. We infiltrated it to go after the sunstones, but the resulting battles caused irreparable damage. We were forced to abandon ship, but by then the wreckage was already on a collision course, somewhere off the coast of Dorestad. So you see … Cedric cannot be blamed for any of it!"
Bram hoped his speech would deflect the attention away from Cedric, but it seemed the craftsman wanted the blame. He shook his head vigorously.
"No, Bram. You don't understand. Zounds wouldn't have existed, if not for me. Richard commissioned it after the War was over. Angkor had no need for another war machine, so I should have turned him down. But I didn't. I wanted the challenge … a chance to top my previous achievements, even when faced with the ethical concerns. I never considered who would be hurt. I just wanted the glory. And had I refused … Zounds would have never been built."
Bram understood Cedric's reasoning, but he did not agree. So he set the record straight using a gentle yet authoritative voice. He wanted to teach, not recriminate.
"Cedric … we all had different lives before we embarked on this journey. And for many of us, those lives came with regrets. I used to be Richard's sword. Because of me, many innocents were cut down, including men and women from this very temple. I don't deny the blood on my hands … our hands … but it doesn't change who we are, or that we're here to do better and repent for our past mistakes."
The craftsman still looked unconvinced. "It just hurts to know that I was so motivated by greed that I ignored the value of life. That's not who I am. My reasons used to be selfless. I wanted air flight to change the world, make travel easier, improve commerce, and enrich people's lives. But at some point, it got to my head. I outdid myself only for self-gratification. Even earlier today, I was bitter because you were getting attention for your valor … while I'm nothing but a washed up Grand Craftsman."
Bram related to Cedric's explanation. After all, he had once joined the Gnostic Knights for noble reasons, only to discover that his motives grew more selfish over time. The need for self-gratification overpowered his original desire to protect the farmers of the western provinces. He wanted somehow to tell Cedric that he was not so different. But the craftsman had more to say.
"I'm not a soldier, Bram. Not like you. I tried to be brave, but when we went after Arcesilaus, it nearly got me killed. Even so, I never stopped wanting a pat on the back for my life of hard work, until I realized … not only do I not deserve one … but my creations only ended up causing the deaths of thousands of people. So now, all I want is to take it back. But I can't. It's too late. Those people are dead because of me, and I can't change it."
"You're right," Rosa chimed in, "but so is Bram."
Her voice was sweet and melodic. Just when Bram thought he had no more words of comfort, the beautiful wizardress stepped in to support him.
"We all make mistakes, Cedric. Sometimes, we follow the wrong principles or are led astray by our own ambitions. But the wonderful thing is that we always have a chance to start over and do better."
"That's right," Christian agreed, adding his own support. "We're imperfect beings—all of us. And sometimes our best isn't enough. But, in spite of your mistakes, you've chosen to stand against the Ahrimen. And there's no cause nobler than that. I am proud to see this fine crew standing up for one another. It creates the kind of strength that I'm certain the Ahrimen fear."
Bram smiled. The words he needed were now obvious. "Just remember, Cedric: you're part of the crew now, and we can't save the world without you. Based on your unique skills, your brilliance in engineering, and your strong deductive mind, you're bound to be an asset for us moving forward. You don't need to be in the middle of battle to earn your place on the team."
For a moment, Cedric was speechless. His cheeks grew rosy, and he just sat there looking embarrassed. And then, at last, a smile crept upon his face.
"Thank you, Bram. I … I think I needed that."
Bram noticed the same smile appear on Rosa as well. She seemed pleased with what he said, and he knew that she had been right when she told him that true leadership meant respecting and understanding his crew. Only when the whole team was healthy and strong could he be as well. He only hoped that by achieving this unity, he could rebuild the trust with the woman he loved.
For now, though, the warm moment had ended. The conference needed to move forward before the spell ran out. It was a good time to segue to what had caused the degradation of magic that was plaguing all wizards.
"Madeline, I believe I know what severed the connection between wizards and their magic. I believe it was Apocalypsis."
The term got the attention of both rooms, but more so among the Gaians. The Elder had to step in to put an end to the chatter. "Sons and daughters, please show respect to those speaking. This is the moment we've been waiting for. Let's hear what the clerics have to say."
"Thank you, Christian," Madeline spoke. "To explain further, I'd like to hand the floor over to Lady Black, whose theories go a long way toward explaining the problem—and, hopefully, lead to a cure. My Lady, please explain your analysis regarding the Zohar."
The clamor among the Gaian priests resumed. Clearly, they were not pleased to hear an explanation that was built on the basis of their adversaries' religion. The Elder spoke over them again, this time with more fervor.
"Silence! This is not the time to debate dogma. Lady Black is a neutral party. You have no reason to doubt her as a source. Sons and Daughters, I implore you to open your minds and listen."
This time, however, the priests ignored their Elder's pleas. Bram was shocked. In all other instances, Christian had a strong hold on his followers. But now, when it came to a potential controversy with their fundamental beliefs, the Elder had lost his grip.
Even so, Lady Black quenched the murmurs with her resounding voice. It was captivating and clear, demanding the room's attention. "Call it what you will," she professed. "The term makes no difference."
She then laid out her theories on high density magic, and how it could damage the fabric of the Universe. She included a compelling analogy.
"Consider a pipe, which can be opened or closed to manage the flow of water. This is like the fabric of our Universe. But, instead of water, it allows for the flow of magical energy. The natural production of manna in our bodies allows us to regulate that flow, like turning the spigot. However, high-density magic is akin to increasing water pressure. Once it becomes too strong, the pipe will burst, and no more water will flow."
Rosa perked up, looking curious. "So you're saying that spells like Apocalypsis can rupture the pipe?"
"Correct," Lady Black commended. "But for now, it is not yet ruptured. It is more like a slow leak. Magic still flows, but with less strength than before."
Her statement was followed by numerous private discussions among the priests. Clearly, they were eager to think through the implications.
Madeline spoke above the murmurs. "Your attentions, please! Lady Black has more. Apocalypsis is only one of the dangers in harming this fabric."
The room returned to silence, at which point Cedric added his own point of view. "You refer to the Ahrimen, correct? We've known that their magic is extremely powerful. It must be because they use high density magic."
"Well done, Mister Curtis," Madeline responded. "For a layman, your observation is most astute."
"I remembered our previous conversation," he explained. "You had told us about your fear that the Ahrimen could disrupt the Zohar. At least now we have a practical explanation."
Bram also remembered that conversation, and the danger went far beyond just a weakening of magic. "Madeline, didn't you theorize that the Zohar controlled the flow of life as well? What would happen to Gaia if the Ahrimen continued to use their powers?"
Madeline turned to the famed black wizardress. "Lady Black, it's time you revealed the details of your vision."
The famed Diviner approached the portal with words that were as grave as they were chilling. "Sir Morrison, I traveled a long way to speak with you this day. I came to Kish not just to chaperone Mister Rommel or to look after Prince Brandt, but to deliver a very important message."
Bram caught a sideways glance from Konrad. No doubt the Primary Minister was also curious about Lady Black's motives.
She continued. "It concerns a vision that came to me several weeks ago. Although I did not realize it at the time, I now know it was a particularly rare form of vision known as … a Divine Premonition."
Bram was unfamiliar with this term, but Christian seemed to understand it all too well. "A Divine Premonition? Are you sure?"
Bram interjected. "Wait. What is it, and how is it different from a typical Diviner's vision?"
Christian did not respond at first. He seemed to be in a daze. His eyes were wide and glazed with an almost dreamlike look. "They are messages, Sir Morrison. Except, unlike regular visions, which appear to certain wizards sensitive to past, present, or future, a Divine Premonition goes beyond the scale of our mortal world. It is … by definition … divine."
"You mean a message from the Goddess?" Bram asked.
He was answered by a member of the priesthood. "It must have been the Goddess."
Others joined in the speculation.
"Gaia bestowed a vision to the Diviner."
"Blessed be Lady Black."
"She's a Prophet!"
Lady Black spoke over the choir of voices. "Perhaps I am … or perhaps not. Either way, I have a message that must be delivered. So heed it well, Sir Knight."
Lady Black described her vision. It involved a thin and impossibly tall tower that reached to the Heavens while the world around it was reduced to ash. All life had been extinguished, and all of the basic elements were thrown out of balance.
"Earth, wind, fire, and water," she went on. "All disappear along with the Zohar. Sir Morrison, you must reach this tower and stop the Zohar from being disrupted. Otherwise, if we allow the dismal future of my vision to happen, then all life on Gaia will be at an end."
The statement resulted in an uproar. Multiple priests called her theory crazy, while the clerics stood up to defend the venerable wizardress. Gaians and Kybalics alike were at each other's throats.
"Silence!" the Elder roared. The man who had thus far been an icon of calmness and humility was finally at his wit's end. "Sons and Daughters, you shall heed me at once!"
It got the desired results, but not without a few angry glares.
"Show some courtesy," he urged. "We are all working toward the same goal. If you have doubts, then raise them with the respect that is due."
"I've heard enough, Elder," one of his priests challenged. "These nonbelievers have proven nothing. All they do is hurl scare tactics and theories that pressure us to act without due deliberation."
"But what reason have you to doubt them, Malcomb?" the Elder contested. "Does Lady Black's reputation mean nothing to you?"
"I agree with Malcomb," a nearby priestess asserted. "There's no such tower on Gaia that matches this vision. As for Divine Premonition, we have no proof of that, either. It could have been a bad dream, for all we know."
Another priestess piled on. "And, let us not forget Gaia's teachings: The elements of life come from the Goddess. Yet these heretics speak of the Zohar and fabrics of the Universe. Even someone of Lady Black's stature should present commensurate evidence before we consider changing our beliefs!"
"We have been patient with their theories," another priest insisted, "but they border on heresy. We should spend more time positing on the weaknesses in magic ourselves, and cross-check our theories with scripture."
"Sons … Daughters … please." The Elder tried his best to rein in his followers, but it seemed to be a losing battle. Bram feared the conversation would soon get shut down before he learned anything of value. Unfortunately, he worried more about getting in the middle of a religious argument. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse. Instead, he froze as priests and priestesses bickered among themselves.
"Lady Black? Lady Black?" A brave voice cried out from the crowd. It was Kane's, and his insistence cut through the other arguments. "What was the name of this tower?"
Bram was grateful to have his friend step in. Lady Black answered. "Its name is Axismundi."
Once the priests heard this word, they went deathly silent. Then, one by one, their faces turned toward the Elder.
The one named Malcolm spoke first. "Will you tell them, Christian, or shall I?"
The Elder shivered as if Malcolm had doused him with a bucket of cold water. "I'll say what must be said."
He approached the portal and explained. "Axismundi is the name given to the Tree of Life. It's a sacred part of Gaian canon, but the word itself is a closely guarded secret. For centuries, only the most senior priests were allowed to know of its existence. We consider it blasphemous for outsiders to even utter its name."
"I don't know much about Gaian canon," Kane told him, "but I know that Samuel Cortez sought a tower of the same name. And I don't think it's a coincidence."
"Wait," Cedric interjected. "You say tower, while others say tree. But which is it?"
Christian answered. "Mister Curtis, we call Axismundi the Tree of Life, but it's not a literal tree. In fact, from a distance it might resemble either a tower or a tree."
Bram was growing weary of the nitpicking. "Either way, what is Virgil's interest in it?"
The Elder turned to Kane. "Mister Harding, think back to what Samuel told you. Did he say anything specifically regarding Axismundi?"
Kane looked anxious at being put on the spot, but he composed himself and answered. "I … I don't remember the exact words, but he said it was the final place of his plan. He said … now I remember … he said it would open up a path to the Heavens."
All of a sudden, the Elder looked faint, prompting Bram to say something. "Christian, are you alright? Do you need help?"
"I'm fine," he assured. "Stay in your seats, all of you."
A few of the priests gathered to give him support, but he waved them away.
"Thank you, but please. I know it goes against our teachings, but we must tell them about Axismundi."
Malcomb stepped in front of the Elder. "Father, are you sure?"
"Yes, my son," he assured. "Please, step aside. These truths must be laid to bare, or else these heroes have no hope of confronting the Ahrimen."
Malcomb returned to his place along the wall, but he did not look pleased.
The Elder paused with his hands folded, as if gathering his thoughts. "The Tree of Life is our origin story. Our predecessors believed—as do we—that this planet started as nothing more than a lifeless rock. However, our Goddess visited from Her place in the cosmos and created Axismundi as a mechanism for producing life. That's why we refer to it as the Tree of Life, because everything we know had once originated from it."
Madeline posed a question. "You state that you still believe in this doctrine, but does it not contradict the well-researched and commonly-held belief among wizards that life began as single-cell organisms? If you truly believe that all life originated from Axismundi, then you must reject the notion that it evolved based on simple organisms changing over the millennia into the complex plants and animals we know today."
Christian waved his hands defensively. "We do not dispute well-researched wizardry," he clarified. "As Gaian priests, we cross-check new research against scripture on a regular basis, all while searching for a better understanding. We conclude that the Tree of Life is real, and it created the right conditions for those first single-cell organisms to form. Eventually, those organisms evolved into the plants and animals we know today. Therefore, Axismundi did not birth the entirety of life, but it did form the genesis of it."
Bram scratched his head. "I don't understand, Christian. How can this tree … or tower … be responsible for producing actual life?"
The Elder tried again. "Consider our understanding of single-cell organisms. Magic is able to magnify these creatures, which are so small we can't see them with the naked eye. However, because of magic, we know that even the simplest organisms are incredibly complex, consisting of thousands of smaller structures. Wizarding theory states that under the right conditions, with the right raw materials and enough time, those complex structures can form on their own. However, no one has proven this through observation, even though many wizards have attempted such experiments in their laboratories. Researchers have laboriously reproduced all of the same conditions as theory, but none have yet observed even the simplest organism form on its own."
"Even so," Cedric argued, "that doesn't disprove the theories. Perhaps it simply takes longer for life to form than any one wizard has observed."
"That's the prevailing argument," the Elder admitted. "However, it requires that you believe in existing theory without proof. In other words: on faith. And if you wish to put your faith in one theory, why not also believe in the Tree of Life? After all, you had asked why our enemy seeks its powers. If Virgil believes that Axismundi will open up at path to the Heavens, then he too must believe in our Goddess. After all, scripture tells us that Gaia hid Her powers within Axismundi, and that must be what Samuel Cortez was after."
Bram was stunned. All of a sudden, it all made sense. Just as his journey began with the sunstones being regarded as nothing more than religious icons, and the Ahrimen as bedtime stories meant to frighten children into behaving for their parents, now another piece of folklore was about to be proven true. Even the Zohar was once considered a baseless part of a pagan religion, but it just became the basis of advanced wizarding theory. Bram wondered if the Goddess might also become a meaningful part of his journey.
Unfortunately, others in the room were not as convinced. "I don't see how any of this helps us with what to do next," Jeremiah complained.
Malcomb responded angrily. "That's because you heathens scoff at things you don't understand. Most of the world mocks us Gaians, but one day you hypocrites will learn what it means to live in sin. Someday, you will receive Judgment!"
Jeremiah raised his hands defensively. "I'm not trying to deny your scripture. All I'm saying is that we need to understand what this Tree of Life means for us and where to find it."
"You'll learn nothing from us, Heathen!" Malcomb spat.
"Malcomb, stand down!" Christian demanded. "Gaia does not grants us the right to judge others, just because they don't believe."
Malcomb bowed his head and stepped back, but it was clear that tensions remained. Bram tried again to make sense of it. "Let's say that Virgil believes that reaching Axismundi will grant him access to the Goddess's powers. We still need to find where Axismundi actually is. It's either that or go back to collecting the sunstones and moonstones."
Speaking of moonstones, Bram realized it was his chance to find out what the Elder had tried to tell him earlier. He could either demand the answer now or risk Christian delaying the topic indefinitely. Bram decided to make his move.
"Christian, it's time you fulfill your promise and tell us about the moonstones. Please. You must have some idea of where to find them!"
All eyes fell on the Elder, whose face looked drained of blood. He lowered his head. "The information I hinted at earlier was supposed to be held in confidence, Bram. I had intended it only for … when the time was right."
Bram did not understand why the Elder held back. "Please, Christian. No more secrets. I respect your vows and your faith, but just as with the Tree of Life, you mustn't hold back."
The Elder clearly struggled. His face contorted as he worked his mouth. "You're … you're right, Bram. Admittedly, this news will come as a shock to many gathered here today. And you should know … I am taking a huge risk in revealing this information. I took a vow of confidentiality."
Bram pled with him. "Christian … you should understand by now what will happen if I or my crew is left unprepared. We must have as much information as possible if we are to face the Ahrimen. We talked about this."
The Elder shook his head. "No … it's not that …."
Jeremiah cleared his throat. "My old friend, I'd urge you to go ahead and spit it out. I'm told by my colleagues that this portal won't last for much longer."
It seemed to do the trick. Christian winced as he dropped his firebomb. "I understand. What I'm trying to say … is that my old teacher and mentor … the one you all know as Maurice Vance … is alive!"
Even Bram gasped at the news. People on both sides of the portal loosened their jawbones. Jeremiah almost leapt out of his chair, his eyes as wide as saucers. "What? Where is he?!"
The outburst must have come across as hostile to the Gaian priests. They leapt from their posts to defend their Elder, and pretty soon the room was in chaos. Sadly, it affected the portal, which wavered and fizzled on the wall.
Lady Black cried out as the image slowly faded. "Sir Morrison. Sir Morrison, please! You must prioritize Axismundi. If you are unable to reach it by the next time the Zohar is disrupted—"
Sadly, her final words were cut off as the image blinked out of existence. Bram scrambled to his feet, but he was blocked by multiple priests who stood in his path. "Christian! Christian, please. I must speak with you!"
The Elder elbowed his way to Bram. "Sons! Daughters! You have no need to protect me from Sir Morrison."
After a bit of hesitation, the priests allowed their Elder to stand before the Knight. He leaned close and whispered in Bram's ear. "I spoke with him ten days ago, shortly after you left for Angkor. He's at the Library of Tanis, but not for much longer."
As soon as he finished, Malcomb stepped in front. "Your Eminence, we are worried about the disclosures today. We must deliberate in council at once."
The Elder nodded. "Of course, but first I must conclude a few things with Sir Morrison."
"I don't think you understand," Malcomb insisted. "This information is highly sensitive, and if word gets out, it would be a direct threat to our core values. We must convene and discuss possible remediations. Just look around! There are too many priests present, and word travels fast. If our people were ever to question their faith …."
The Elder glanced around the room at the two dozen priests and priestesses who were all noisily discussing what they had seen and heard. "I see your point," he admitted. "Bram, you must go immediately. Otherwise, you risk the trail running cold. Keep in mind that he might be disguised as someone else. You'll need to be resourceful to find him."
Bram held up his hands. "But, what should I look for? I don't even know what he used to look like!"
"I'm sorry, but I can't help," the Elder admitted. "All I can say is that Vance will have changed his appearance to blend into society. You won't find him by name, either, nor do I suggest you mention him to anyone! Just … remember what I told you. And good luck!"
"Elder!" Malcomb pleaded with urgency. Bram understood that he would get no more of Christian's time. By now, Cedric and the others had gathered as well.
"We need fuel," the craftsman called after the Elder as he was being dragged away.
The Elder yelled out a few words as he was one foot out the door. "I'll instruct one of my acolytes to help you refuel. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
Quon looked very displeased. "Did everyone here forget why we came? When did we become last priority?"
Bram sighed. "I don't think they have much more to tell us. The Gaians are more concerned about defending their belief system."
"So what do we do now?" Kane asked.
"We find Maurice Vance," Bram told him, while conveying the Elder's last message.
Bram felt another presence from behind. He knew it was Rosa by the way his sunstone vibrated from inside its satchel. He needed to find a moonstone quickly, yet now there was one more barrier to overcome. Not to mention Lady Black's warning about Axismundi.
Even so, he was comforted by the sound of her voice. "Where do we find him? Did Christian tell you anything?"
"He gave us a place to start," Bram answered. "We must go to the Library of Tanis in Malden. Then we just need to look for someone who's resourceful … with powerful connections. We know he has a vested interest in the sunstones, so we might look for anyone researching ancient history, myths, or similar subjects."
"He also has a keen interest in you," Kane added.
Bram was intrigued. "What makes you say that?"
The Templar explained. "Christian said that Vance had contacted him shortly after you left for Angkor. It's obvious that you were the subject of conversation, which means that he's been following your exploits."
"Actually," Bram clarified, "Christian only said that he spoke with Vance. He didn't say that Vance contacted him."
Cedric chuckled. "I'm with Kane. It's not like Vance would have given Christian the power to contact him. And if you believe otherwise, Bram, I might have a fleet of airships to sell you."
Bram grinned at Cedric's jab. He and Kane made some excellent points. "Alright, fair enough. I agree. Then I suppose we're off to Malden." He paused, noting the anxious look on Rosa's face. "Rosa, what's wrong?"
She sighed. "It's nothing. I'm just frustrated that we have so little to go on. I had hoped that Christian knew where to look for the moonstones."
Bram was crushed. He understood her concern all too well, but there was little he could say to comfort her. Then again, perhaps there was. He just had to believe.
"We'll find a cure," he promised. "Vance will help us, Rosie. I promise. And who knows? If he's as powerful as everyone thinks, perhaps he already has a moonstone."
Bram certainly did not know this for sure, but it felt like the right thing to do to offer Rosa some hope. Fortunately, it seemed to cheer her up.
"We should go," Quon suggested, pointing to the scores of priests and priestesses shuffling about the room.
Bram agreed. "Cedric, see if you can find someone who can help with refueling the Heron. If they give you any trouble, just tell them the Elder sent you. He'll back you up if they ask. Kane, see if you can help him out."
The craftsman nodded, and he and the Templar started asking around.
"Rosa, Quon, let's find somewhere where we can talk in private about how we're going to track down Vance."
The three left the downstairs laboratory. The next leg of their journey awaited them.