:: Chapter Four::

The silence that followed shouldn't have been possible in such a busy location. But even the technicians that had been hooking up a feeder hose to one of the Cruisers had turned to look, as the water priestess sat dazed in a puddle a meter and a half wide.
Stunned faces turned first to Qawoor, then back to John, but he didn't seem to notice. He was staring at his hand as though he'd just shot someone with a pistol, and no one moved a muscle until he turned his head slowly back to the group.
What was that? he asked in a tiny voice.
Mr. Fujisawa jumped suddenly and ran over to Qawoor to make sure she was all right, but not even he could seem to form coherent words.
Afura was the first to shake herself from her amazement. You, you must have reacted to her lamp, somehow!
Her what? John asked in the same voice.
Her lamp of Elemental Power. It's what gives her the power to control water.
He backed up a few steps and held his unsteady hands out if front of him in a slow-down gesture, and he looked straight at Afura. Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it. All you said was that she was a priestess of some sort. You never said anything about magic powers.
She blushed, and started to speak, but at this point Alielle stepped in. Um, maybe we should go sit down inside. I can get us some wine and we can all have a talk in the nice cool greeting hall. Come along, Fatora!
Well, perhaps it would be best if we explained things to you in a more relaxed setting, Rune offered. If you'll follow me?

Two hours later they were all sitting around a small table, sharing in some truly excellent wine from the Royal cellars. All except for Londs, that is, who remained at the entrance to watch over the entire party.
John had insisted on sitting between Nanami and Makoto, in case anything else untoward should happen with the three priestesses. He had listened to their stories recounting the events of the past few years they'd spent in El Hazard, and now he brooded silently as he tried to comprehend the enormity of what they were telling him.
So that's it, huh? he addressed the table, there's no way for me, I mean, us to get back?
Makoto stared into his wine goblet and sighed. Dr. Stalubaugh and I have tried everything, gone through every book and scroll and legend we could get our hands on, and our best chance to do anything went up in smoke. Instead of taking us back home, all I really got accomplished was bringing you here by accident.
It had been hard for Makoto to explain to everyone what he had tried, and why the royal family had been kept in the dark about it. Fatora in particular had been livid with him for keeping it a secret, but when Londs had explained to her the risks of anyone else knowing about it, she had calmed down a bit. That hadn't kept her from almost biting Makoto's head off, and Nanami and Shayla had nearly gone to blows to protect him from Fatora. But Afura and, to everyone's surprise, John, had intervened on Makoto's behalf, and now everyone was quiet again as the two guys tried to figure out just what kind of relationship they were going to have.
It was John who spoke next, and while he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, it was obvious that his statement was meant for Makoto.
Once, there was this girl. Jeez, he though to himself in amusement, how many stories have I told that started out just like that? I was never really sure what it was about her that made her so special, but, it seemed like that whenever I was around her, no matter what was going on in my life, I felt happy. Her whole presence was so, intoxicating, that I couldn't help but feel that way.
John toyed with his glass as his voice took on a husky edge. But I never told her how I felt. And for all these years I've wondered, what it would have been like if I'd been able to say it. So all I need to know, Makoto, is if you love her.
He turned his head to regard Makoto, and Makoto looked back at him for the first time through eyes that did not show fear. He still doubted himself too much to believe he could ever do it, but something important happened to him in that instant, when he realized that John didn't blame him for what had happened. It was time to move on, and the strength of conviction in response startled him.
Yes, I do.
John nodded and put his hand foreword to Makoto again. This time he took it without hesitation, and they shook as old friends who had found each other after years of being apart.
Then that's good enough for me, said John. So where do we begin?
Afura cleared her throat, rather louder than was necessary, and said, Well, there is still the question of why Qawoor's lamp reacted to you the way it did. Only a Holy Priestess has the training necessary to control it's powers.
That's right, Miz chimed in, there's never been anyone outside the Seminary who could use them. Maybe we should take him to the temple?
Yeah, I'll bet if there's anyone who can figure it out, Headmistress Moram could! Shayla added.
said John, and while we're on our way there maybe you could explain to me just what it is I'm supposedly controlling? I mean, it might be fun for a while, but I don't exactly want to walk around shooting water jet-thingies whenever I meet someone new.
Afura nodded to him, For now, it would probably be best if you didn't follow along too close to us, then she stood up. Well, are you ready?
John sighed. He had no idea what he was getting into with these who as far as he could tell weren't really all that holy. But if it had anything to do with why he'd come here, then it was worth following up on. Besides, John admitted to himself, anything that gets me involved with any of those three can't be a bad thing, now can it? His eyes hung admiringly on Afura's profile for half a second, but it was a half second too long, and she noticed his scrutiny. They both turned away, cheeks heating, and Afura spoke again.
It is a long journey, so we'd best not waste anymore time. Then she walked out of the room without saying another word, nose in the air as always.


Masamichi tossed the beat-up rucksack onto the back of the packmule he would ride out of the city, and Makoto dragged his own up behind him.
Sensei, remind me again just why we're going there?
Mr. Fujisawa's legendary passion for mountain climbing hadn't abated in the year and a half they had lived in El Hazard; in fact, it had grown in the face of a world whose mountains no earthling had ever climbed. And while the Royal Academy had accepted his reasons for postponing his recognition ceremony by a few days, they were quite disgruntled about it.
Now he looked back at Makoto, and told him, Well, the chance to climb Mt. Shiv at last was just too much to pass up. Plus, John is from earth, too. We should be there for him, since I'm sure you appreciate what he's going through. Come on, it'll be just like the class camping trip up Mt. Fujisan!
Makoto smiled at his old teacher's gruff enthusiasm, for he and Fujisawa were the only ones accompanying the priestesses and John. There seemed to be an odd level of secrecy surrounding the real reasons that John had been called to the holiest place in the land, and whenever Makoto had asked about it, the priestesses had clammed up in a hurry. But now, it felt like they were getting ready to go off on some grand adventure again, and he allowed himself the first feeling of near-happiness he'd had in a long time.
You're right, sensei, let's get going!
He picked up his own rucksack, and settled it into place on his mount, and the pair rode off into the sunset after their charges.

****


It has been a long time, child.
The Headmistress of the Muldoon Seminary, Mother Ritan Moram, spoke slowly but strongly, and looked frail enough to blow away on the slightest wisp of wind. Her gray hair was long enough to cover her knees as she sat in the small chair at the top of the steps, and the lights spilling from the stained glass windows behind her gave the whole scene the feel of an ancient mosaic painting.
Afura Mann knelt on the ancient flagstone floors, and tried not to think about how truly old the Mother before her was. Ritan Moram had been a high priestess in the Seminary when Afura's mother had been her own age, and had written the formal script which accepted Afura as an acolyte herself.
But if the Mother was old, then the seat which she occupied was ancient beyond legend. The two of them were alone in what had come to be called the Hall of Scriptures, a singular extension of the Temple Home - the base of operations for all the Holy Priestesses, including those of elemental magic - in the northern lands of Roshtaria. The hall extended east for two hundred meters off the main building, and running the length of it was a single stained-glass skylight one meter across. The hall contained every scroll, script, and book that had been written into the lore of the Temple, and had existed for as long as recorded time. The end of the hall fanned out into a dome of the same glass, and in the center of this dome was a small chair, the position reserved solely for the Mother, the head of all the religious institutions in the land.
It has, Mother Afura replied reverently.
A small chuckle echoed faintly in the otherwise silent hall. Come come now, Afura, look at me when you wish to speak. And for goodness sakes, try not to sound like you're suffocating yourself. Such kowtowing does not become you, great priestess.
Forgive me, Mother, Afura replied, shaken, but, the last time we met, you...
Moram smiled weakly. Oh, you're still brooding over that well-deserved tongue lashing I gave you before you left. Honestly, were you listening to me at all when I warned you about that attitude of yours?
Afura paled as the memory replayed itself in a flash. It had been the day of her confirmation as the next Great Priestess of Wind, and in gross violation of all the written ceremonial laws Moram had summoned her to his very hall to address her in private just before she was due to receive her lamp. Moram had never been known to dress down her students in public, but the naked contempt for Afura's barely-contained exultation in front of the other students when she had been named had shaken Afura to the core. It had also done more to humble her than her closer friends might have suspected.
At least, she had thought that Moram genuinely despised her. But it had been years since that day, and the Mother had summoned her in private again, despite the fact that she had to know why all three of the Muldoon Priestesses were really here. Did this mean that she now thought highly of her, or merely wanted to scorn her again?
she said finally. She hated the slight tremor she could hear in her voice.
Well, well, at least you've learned to be honest with yourself. That's a start. The Mother stood gingerly, and to Afura's surprise walked down the steps and stood in front of her.
She looks much older than the last time I saw her, Afura thought to herself. I wonder if the other rumors are true?
she said simply.
Afura complied, but still would not meet Moram's eyes.
She continued, Now, I know why you've come here, Afura. I know that you've stumbled across a boy, not unlike your other friend Makoto, who wields the unusual ability to use our magic. You've brought him here to see if he can be trusted with this ability.
Afura nodded a yes.
The elderly woman began to walk around her student in small steps. I suppose you realized that there has never been a male who could do this, except of course in legend?
Afura nodded again. In more recent history it had been confirmed that only a female could carry the gene that allowed spiritual interaction with the lamps which were used to control the magical energies of their world. But in the ancient texts there was lore of one of the ancient El Hazard civilizations that dwelled in the desert regions. They ordained priests, not priestesses to fill the positions that Moram was responsible for overseeing now, but they had existed nearly four thousand years ago.
It is an interesting puzzle indeed, and your request must be considered very carefully, Mother Moram walked over to the book shelf that was nearest to the beginning of the domed study, and ran her finger down the spines of the texts that adorned it. You may await my decision in the dormitories. I require the rest of the day to meditate.
It was clearly a dismissal, and Afura bowed deeply before turning around, and an air of confusion followed her out of the study and all the way into her sleep that night.


John wore the robes that all entering students were required to wear while on the Temple Home compound. But there were a few differences between his and the rest of the student body's. Where the standard color was a deep earthen tan, his were charcoal gray.
And secondly, he was the only male to wear one on a campus of almost 2,500 teenage girls and young women.
The Temple Home spanned an area at least two hundred acres on a side, and while the main campus was located on only a tiny part of that land, it was one of the few places where they had bothered to build anything at all. They were located in a particularly dense section of the Tinmar Jungle, similar in makeup to the Amazon rain forest back on earth. Which meant that it was like walking through a steam bath on the ground, where there were paths, and where there were none rope bridges ran from treetrunk to treetrunk dozens of meters off the ground.
John studied the map he had been given of the campus, and if he read it right there were seven separate buildings on the entire compound, all on differing terrains. The Main Hall, where the residencies were located and where he was starting from, was actually on top of a rocky mesa, whereas the Trainer's Hall was deep inside the jungle.
He'd been told that it was nearly unheard of for a man to be allowed onto the compound; Mr. Fujisawa and Makoto had been required to stay just outside of it in a small farming village. Shayla, Afura, Miz and Qawoor had taken John directly to the Main Hall, and he had tried very, very hard to seem disinterested as hundred of girls - all around his own age - stared and giggled as he walked by. But he was forbidden to talk to any of them until someone called the said it was all right, so he had been set up in a small, disused shack behind the primary dormitories and told to write down whatever it was he may need and hand it to the nearest acolyte.
His weird joy at being the only guy within half a mile of all these girls had soured quickly as his isolation from them was made plain, and it had been almost a whole day since he'd arrived in which he hadn't been able to say a word to anyone. He'd compensated by asking for and reading any materials they were allowed to give him on the that he was supposed to be able to work, and he was just about to go out for a stroll around the campus when Qawoor walked into his little hut.
Hi John, she said in her usual lilting tone, I thought you'd be here. I see they've given you something to do, at least.
He looked up from the map and smiled back at her. Yeah, I figured that if I'm going to be here for a while, I might as well read up on the place. He stood, placing the papyrus map carefully on top of the stack he'd been reading through, and asked her, What's going on?
she replied, I'm not sure exactly, but Afura told me that you've been asked to enter the Hall of Scriptures. I can show you where that is, if you'd like me to.
John waved airily out the door. Lead the way.


Five minutes later they approached the humongous wooden doors that barred entry to the Hall. Two guards, which John knew from the texts he had managed to read looked innocent but could easily take him apart with their bare hands, stood on either side of the door, and he couldn't help but notice that Qawoor looked truly nervous beside him.
As they'd made their way through the Temple, John had been aware of a steady thinning of foot traffic. It had been almost frantic with people at the entrance, but the further back they had walked, the fewer and fewer people they seemed to be passing. It had been almost two full minutes, in fact, since they had heard anyone else's footsteps, and a nervous feeling began to settle into Johns' stomach as well. It was clear that only the highest ranking officials ever made it this far without being decapitated. Or worse.
One of the guards on the right noticed their approach, and she closed her eyes for a second. John wondered what she was doing, but as soon as they stopped the doors began to creak open, and the guard opened her eyes again. Allright, thought John, it's official; I am FREAKED out.
The doors stopped their movement, and silence lingered for a few seconds before an almost inaudible voice beckoned from the end of the enormous hallway,
John shrugged slightly and began to walk foreword, and he got about ten steps before he realized that Qawoor wasn't following him. He looked back to her questioningly, but she stood still at the entrance.
This is for you alone to see, she said, and turned around. The doors closed behind her, and John noticed the gorgeous artistry hanging over his head. This place would have impressed Michalangelo, he thought, as he allowed himself a minute to stare at the intricate artwork in the ceiling glass. The fading daylight played over it and cast and ever-changing pattern of light on his face, and he shook himself as he remembered what he was really here for.
Beautiful, isn't it? asked the same elderly voice, and John walked towards it.
Yes, I think there's only one thing I've seen to equal it, he responded.
There is nothing else quite like it on all this world, but I am glad to hear that there is something close to it in yours. She stood now as John approached, and she stepped lightly down to the walkway he had taken.
Hello, John of Pennsylvania. I am Mother Ritan Moram, Headmistress of the Muldoon Seminary. She stuck her hand out towards him, and smiled. I've been told that you had a rather unique experience when you first came here.
John said sheepishly as he shook her hand with the utmost care, it was kind of an accident, really. I've never seen anything like it, but when I touched the ring Qawoor was wearing, it, reacted to me somehow.
Moram nodded. Your confusion mirrors our own, young man. Tell me, how much have you learned about our Temple in your short stay here?
he began, I know that in your religion you worship various elemental gods, who speak' to you through those lamps that everyone wears. These lamps are only given to a priestess who attains the highest level of communion with her chosen element, and...
So just the basics, Moram interrupted him.
I guess so.
That's good. But you must realize that there is much more to it that just religious doctrine. She waved at the reams of books that John had walked past on his way through the hall.
Yeah, you could spend two lifetimes just reading about all that, John said flippantly as he turned to look at the walls of history behind him.
I have, replied Moram, in perfectly serious tones.
Johns eyes grew wide as it registered with him. It makes sense, since she looks old enough to be my great-great grandmother. He turned back to her slowly, and she continued.
By now you must have realized that there are no other men in the Temple? John nodded dumbly, and she went on. That is because no man can control the elemental powers that are the basis of our religion. We have traced it to a gene that exists in about 2% of the female populace. There was a time, many millennia ago, when a man could be ordained as well, but never since then.
She examined him closely as he absorbed this incredible knowledge. His expression was dumbfounded, but Moram sensed the deep intelligence behind his purposefully lighthearted persona. That was good, she thought. At least he would be able to comprehend the enormity of what she was about to ask him.
It's not easy to become a priestess, she said, and John blinked at the apparent non seqitor. As I'm sure Afura or Qawoor could tell you, it takes years of harsh discipline and training to be able to control a Lamp of Elemental Power. That is why this ability you have gained surprised us so totally. It usually requires at least two years before a girl can even attempt what you did by accident'. I'm sure that you can understand our curiosity under these circumstances.
He nodded, and then he stepped back involuntarily as she closed her eyes. The domed ceiling they were standing under began to retract outwards, and a tremendous window opened out to look over the edge of the mesa they were on and into the jungle below. The sun was setting in front of them, and John shielded his eyes from the bright stab of sunlight that fell across him.
Too bright for you? Moram asked, and John blinked at her. She seemed to nod to herself, then closed her eyes again for a second, and when he looked up, the sunlight was dimmer somehow, as though he were looking at it through a good set of sunglasses. He reached up to his eyes instinctively, but there was nothing there. He looked at her again, and she smiled.
Yes, I am responsible for both feats. You see, there are more than three elements in this world that require our care. The priestesses who reside on Mt. Muldoon are there for the public to believe in, but our skills vary quite wildly. The element I chose to study was that of Spirit. I can see into your heart, young John.
John took another step backwards at this, but before he could say anything she continued.
I cannot read your mind, if that was your concern. What I can sense is the state of your emotions, and also your beliefs. And right now I can tell that you don't believe me.
He nodded quickly, and said in a quivering voice, I don't understand any of this. I've never believed in god' or any other supernatural power. How are you doing this?
She held her arms up, and her sleeves fell back to reveal two bracelets; one looked much like the lamps that Afura and Shayla wore, but the gem at the center of this one was the purest black Onyx John had ever seen. The other one, much more delicately constructed, was a thin silver band that had a perfectly clear round gem on it.
Each of us has an inkling, a tiny fraction of spiritual power that keeps us alive, maintains our consciousness. But this power is a drop in the ocean of elemental fury that this world is made of, and it requires great care to keep these forces in balance. You, through your journey to our world, have gained the ability to tap into these powers.
As she spoke, a smoky gray mist began to swirl out of the clear gem, and before he knew it John and Moram were enveloped by it, and then the scenery around them changed, and John knew that he was now observing a historical memory, an illusionary account of events past. If you had asked how he knew, he could not have told you. The knowledge was instinctual, on a level he could not touch yet.
They floated just above the perfect green grass, and the illusion was so complete that John could feel the soft warmth of the summer sunlight on his cheeks. He looked around himself at the countryside, and the farmlands stretched out beyond the horizon, beyond the range of his vision. There were no sounds besides the rustle of a gentle breeze through the wheat fields, and Moram spoke into this memory.
The skill which is required to manipulate these forces is beyond the comprehension of most people, but that has not prevented those with evil motives from attempting to learn our secrets. They made an example out of the innocent, to force us to bend to their whims, but there were consequences they did not anticipate.
The silence was broken abruptly by a large explosion just ahead of them, and John tried not to reel back as his mind shouted to his emotions that this was not real. But it was hard to believe that such a scene of tranquility could be disturbed so violently, and even as he watched an army of figures approached them over the horizon.
They were human, definitely, but John could not ascertain where they were from; their dress seemed archaic, even by El Hazard standards.
The figures were growing larger in the distance, and as they came John became aware of another, smaller band coming up from behind him. As he watched a group of no more than six women, all priestesses by their dress, ran across the fields with terrifying speed. As they passed one of them leapt up into the air, and John could feel now the strength of the winds they were all running on. The priestess who jumped flew through the air ahead of the rest of them, and then pulled up short and concentrated for a few seconds.
More explosions dotted the landscape before him as the attackers closed the range, and John could smell the acrid stench of burning foliage rush into his nostrils. The flying priestess completed her incantations, and reached both arms behind her, as though gathering invisible forces. Then she pushed foreword suddenly, and a terrible whirlwind formed in front of her. It gathered strength and speed, and it's fury lashed into the enemy as they came in range at last. The wind cut a path of destruction almost a hundred meters wide, but the vast formations held, and the army advanced around the bodies of their dead comrades.
The other priestesses had yet to speak, and now bursts of elemental fury intermingled with the mounting carnage of the enemy's own weapons. Another explosion, this one right in the heart of the enemy formation, tore at their ranks, but there were at least several hundred thousand soldiers in the lines, and John heard the screams of agony as they were burned alive by the hundreds. A section of earth buckled suddenly beneath their heavy weaponry, and then it rose up out of the ground into the air and shattered, and the weapons and their gunners fell to bury the corpses that lay beneath them as secondary explosions of unused ammunition rocked the rear of the formation.
With a tremendous clap! a lightning bolt of incredible power crashed down from above and cascaded through the troops in a chain reaction; a lucky few died instantly, but the rest of them victims simply burned up inside their own bodies, and the stench of ozone rose from the field. The bolts continued like the fury of God, as a vicious cascade of electricity was flowing around the priestess who created them.
The fighting grew more intense, and the front lines clashed with the tight-knit group at last. Two of the priestesses died instantly as waiting weapons took their heads off in a rush of blood. A wall of water encircled the two who remained on the ground, while a third rose in the air to meet the first. The waters grew in radius, and more soldiers were swept up in it and tossed around like rag dolls, but it could not be sustained, and even as the wall began to recede another volley of fiery death came down upon the battlefield, and wiped away another hundred lives.
The waters fell, and just as the soldiers began to advance again another tornado touched down upon where the priestesses had lain, and it moved across the soldiers like a vengeful demon. But it too could not last, and it eventually dissipated into nothing. When it did, the priestesses were nowhere to be seen, and the remaining soldiers - no more than two-thirds their original strength - grimly set about burying their friends before moving on.