The Temple Read online

  “Can she see us?” he repeated.

  It was Elivain who answered. “I don’t know. I’ll go left, you all go right. Halas, up the center. We take her at the same time. I don’t…” But he was interrupted. Raazoi’s voice hitched deeply, and a chunk of rubble above the staircase broke free. It cascaded down toward Halas, who watched, rooted to the spot. There was no time to react.

  But the Temple saved them. Forty feet above their heads, the rubble erupted into a million little bits of gravel to rain down harmlessly with no more force than mild hail. Halas realized what the witch had in mind; she was going to bring down the Orhill Caverns and crush the Temple.

  “Go!” Elivain hissed, and darted off. Halas followed suit. He couldn’t remember drawing his sword, but it was in his hand, gleaming in the blue. Raazoi turned to regard them, calm as can be. They may as well have been trying to make polite conversation over tea and cakes. Elivain hurled his spear like a javelin. It skipped out of his hand and splintered. Elivain crashed to the ground and skidded to the altar. Desmond swung his blade, but it burst into flame and exploded, searing his palms. Des screamed. Halas’ heart wrenched at the sound. Aeon moved to charge, but Halas put a hand on his chest.

  “Don’t. She’ll kill you.”

  “He’s right,” Raazoi said. “I will. You’ve no idea how much power this place is imbuing me with. I’ve never felt anything like it before. You cannot stop me. No one can.”

  “We can,” Aeon said.

  “Bringing down this tower will do you no good,” Halas said. “The Temple is protected. Can you not feel the barrier?”

  “All barriers can be overwhelmed. Even this.”

  “You cannot do this.” Halas looked at Elivain, by the altar. The man was stirring. Halas just had to stall until he regained his senses. If anyone could get them out of this, it was Elivain.

  His boots were suddenly wet. Halas stepped back toward the stairs, but it was only water, seeping up through the stone at his feet. Halas had never seen anything like it. It trickled down the walls from above. We must be near the ocean. Are we underwater? Then, I’ve traveled from the southernmost edge of Ager to the northernmost. Wouldn’t Conroy be proud?

  “If you do this, you’ll die too.”

  She closed her eyes and clenched her fist. Halas could feel the power radiating through her in waves. “Possibly, but I can think of no better cause to die for. This is the salvation of my people. Now shut up and let me finish.”

  “No!” Aeon exclaimed, genuinely taken aback by the nonchalant tone of her command. Before Halas could stop him, the boy crossed the room and swung his blade. It shattered, blasting metal splinters back into his body. He cried out and fell. Halas screamed and ran to his side, sliding in water that was already over his boots. He lifted Aeon’s head out of it, and looked for his friends. Elivain was on his hands and knees; Desmond had sat up against the altar, cradling his hands weakly before him.

  “This is what you fight to protect, princeling,” Raazoi said. Her mouth did not move, and the voice seemed to come from all around. “This is how you end.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Halas asked. It was weak, but he felt he had to say something. Never had he expected to fail so miserably. He’d felt the power of the Temple, but it was gone before he could make any use of it. All the time spent on this mission, all the lives lost—and this was how it ended? They’d not even been able to put up a fight.

  “For my people. We’ve been prisoner to you for long enough, and now it is time to turn the tide. It is time to break from our cages, to overthrow you pigs and establish our own kingdom. Humanity is over. We shall purge this place of your kind, and we shall live in peace. No more shall we be plagued by your ignorance and bigotry. No more shall we be tortured and killed for no purpose!”

  Her voice deepened, and she seemed to grow taller. An angry wind came suddenly and whipped her gown about her knees. “We did nothing to you! Yet you hunted us wherever you could! You’re animals! Dirt!” She spit; the water sizzled and steamed where it landed. “You burned…murdered…” She seemed to fade then, and fall. Her voice came out in bits and pieces as she continued her rant. Halas could not understand what she was saying. He glanced at Elivain, who groaned. A chunk of rubble struck the barrier, and this time more gravel came through than before. The flash of light was weak.

  “I did not do any of this,” he said. “My friends did not. No one here has done your people harm! Surely you cannot harbor us any ill will, for Aeon the Great lived two thousand years ago!”

  “Aeon the Terrible,” she corrected. “He was a scourge for my people. All of you were, but for one man. You killed my Nolan, human swine! I loved him and you took him from me!”

  Raazoi lunged at him and dug her fingers into his face. He screamed. Instantly, thoughts of gold and jewels came into Halas’ head. Riches beyond his dreams. Immortality. Raazoi writhing in ecstasy. A towering palace of crystal and ice. The gold haze surrounding these visions turned a deep purple. He saw Nolan, drifting in the water. Conroy resting in a field of flowers. A friendly voice cackling with malice. A crowd of worshipers as far as he could see, all chanting his name. A mountain of diamonds.

  Then he saw Cailin. The haze melted away. She was sitting on a stump at their knoll, her hands pressed between her thighs. The sun illuminated her beauty, turning her hair a beautiful dark brown that made Halas’ heart leap. She looked up and smiled at him, and her teeth were pearly white. “Hey there,” she said. She held up a strange looking object, almost like a melon, with a warped face carved into it. “I got you this. Neat, huh?”

  And then she died.

  Halas saw a blade pierce her gut. He watched her eyes flicker and go dark. The creature that stood behind her was taller than a man, encased entirely in black armor. “NO!” he screamed, and snapped back into reality.

  Raazoi stood before him, her face twisted impossibly with rage. Halas’ vision turned red. Blood trickled down from his eyes. He tried to pull away, but could not. He kicked, splashing weakly in the water, helpless in her grip. Is this how Tormod died? Please, do not let me suffer that same fate. He clawed at her arms. She was so strong. How could someone her size be so strong? He coughed, spraying blood. His mouth was filled with it. One of his eyes had swollen shut. She leaned in closer, and whispered in his ear.

  “I will make this come to pass.”

  Halas snarled. He reached up, took a handful of the witch’s hair, and yanked her down.

  Right on to Silvia.

  Raazoi inhaled sharply. She tried to pull away, but Halas held on, twisting the broken blade, moving it back and forth inside her belly. He was on fire then, and he flew back, skidding across the chamber. The others were simultaneously released from her spell. Elivain kicked Raazoi in the knee, but she did not fall. Halas seemed to be in a stupor. Everything moved slowly.

  He watched Aeon rise. The prince stumbled toward Raazoi, growling through his teeth. He pushed aside her arms and wrapped his hands around her neck. Halas noticed how small they were: like a child’s hands, because the prince was a child. He was but fifteen years of age. Halas tried to get up to assist his friend, but could not. Aeon, still growling, squeezed. Raazoi reached up and took him by the wrists.

  The world was black then, quickly turning several colors at once before going back to jet. The blue of the Temple changed to white, two pure silhouettes wrestling in the newfound brightness. Raazoi let out a bloodcurdling shriek that made Halas’ head hurt, right down to his teeth. Rock fell from above, and Halas could see the sky. Lightning flashed. The water churned. It was up to Halas’ chest. He pulled through it, found Desmond, and dragged him to his feet. They clung to the altar. A storm appeared, seeming to be centered on the conflict between prince and princess as they wrestled over the gleaming broken blade that had once belonged to Halbrick Duer.

  Aeon cried out and fell. Raazoi gripped Silvia by the handle and tumbled backward, into suddenly still waters.

  Her body made no spl
ash. “Desmond, are you all right?” Halas asked. Des nodded. Halas pushed off and yanked Silvia free. The blade was clean and the hilt was hot. He jammed it into its sheath.

  “We’ve got to go!”

  The water was pressing him down, but he fought, grabbing Aeon under one arm and Des with the other. Desmond pushed him. “I’ve got it!” he cried.

  But when Halas touched the prince, he stopped moving. Everything was a blur, but only for an instant. The next second, Desmond struck him across the face. Halas fell backward into the water, dropping Aeon. He reeled. Des pulled the prince above the surface. Halas grabbed him.

  “Stairs! Get topside!”

  Confused, Halas struggled against the current, toward the stairs. Aeon was a heavy burden, but he would not drop the boy, even though he was likely dead. No, don’t think that. Do not think that! “Hold on, Aeon. Just hold on.” He didn’t know he was speaking. He could not hear himself over the roaring water.

  They reached the stairs and fell into Desmond and Elivain’s waiting arms. Elivain hauled the boy up and out of the water. They hurried up along the wall. A piece of the stair chipped under Elivain’s boot, but Des caught him before he could fall. Halas tried to get a good look at Aeon as they ran. He didn’t know if the boy was alive or not. Was he breathing? He could not be sure.

  The water was far below, but rushing quickly to meet them. Elivain led them through the door, but Halas grabbed his arm before he could continue. “You have to wait here,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll only be a minute.” He spared Aeon a pained look, but still could not tell if the boy lived.

  But there was no time. He smiled at Des, turned, and hurled himself into the water.

  Already frozen, the sudden impact did little to hinder his progress. He could not swim, but he would not have to. For this final goal, Halas Duer only had to sink. He angled himself toward the dull blue glow and pulled himself down. He had to know if the Temple of Immortals had been destroyed. He could see the glow, but it wasn’t enough. If the Temple was gone, then everything had been for naught. Tormod, Brennus and the crew of The Wandering Blade, Dale Crowe…Aeon. Many men had given their lives for this thing, and Halas was not going to let their sacrifice be in vain. He sank like a stone. A wicked numbness spread through his body. From what he could see, his hands and forearms were a blistered red.

  For the first time since he set out, Halas realized that there may be no rescue.

  But still, he swam. Waves and ripples in the water fanned him along. He came to the Temple. The stone pillars beckoned him like a welcoming hand. Halas tried to grip one, but his own hands were frozen and useless. He kicked along, but his legs were failing. It was all so cold. Halas felt a sharp stab in his gut and cried out. An air bubble popped on his chin. He was running out of breath.

  The Temple was all right. The stonework around the altar had cracked and splintered, but the altar itself was untouched. It thrummed powerfully in the water, rippling and pulsing, pushing Halas away. The force of the Temple twisted him away from the pillar. He was suddenly disoriented. Up, up, I have to reach the surface. Which way is the surface?

  He tried to find Raazoi, or the altar, or even the wall, but could not. Everything was beginning to dim. Is this the end?

  With that thought, he tried to pivot around, to no avail. His limbs had ceased to cooperate. With that came a sort of rising panic. Raazoi had said it best. If there is anything worth dying for, it is this. The salvation of my people.

  But I don’t want to die. Please, don’t let me die! I’ll do whatever you ask! I’ll stay, I promise! Please! He put a foot against something and tried to push up, but could not. He’d seen people swim before, and tried to emulate that, but could not. His body was breaking down. It felt as if his skin was peeling off, bit by bit. The water stabbed at him from all directions, burning with cold fire. He cried out in pain, and suddenly it was in his mouth, rushing down his throat, into his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe. He thrashed, trying to push the water away, trying to escape, but all that did was cause him to sink even more, and he was at the altar, clutching it, in more pain than he’d ever been in his life, scared, dying, drowning in the dark.

  Desmond felt numb. Not because he was cold, but because his friends were falling all around him. Aeon lay across his lap, rasping for breath, breath that came sparingly. When Halas had gone into the water, Des had tried to follow, but Elivain stopped him. “You’ll freeze!” he had said, and jumped in.

  “But you won’t?” Desmond asked the empty air. He went back to Aeon and pulled him close. Now the boy was coughing. Desmond ran a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay. Just hang in there.”

  He coughed too; it was infectious. Aeon was shaking. “It’s not,” he whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s not. I think…I think they passed it to me.”

  Desmond didn’t know what the boy was talking about, nor did he care. But when someone was wounded, you were supposed to keep them speaking. “Passed what?”

  “Responsibility.”

  “For what?”

  Someone screamed off to his side. Desmond looked up. Elivain scrambled through the doorway, Halas in his arms. Desmond looked down at Aeon’s sullen face. “Responsibility for what?” he asked again, unsure of what to do. Everything was happening so fast; he was having trouble taking it all in.

  Aeon didn’t respond. He’d stopped breathing. Desmond shook him, but still the boy said nothing. He stood up and went to Halas and Elivain. “Aeon’s not breathing,” he muttered.

  “But Halas is. Come on, we have to get him away from here. These caverns are warm.”

  “I’m not leaving the prince.”

  “There’s no time! That water is rising quickly. Come on!”

  “I’m not leaving him!”

  Elivain snarled, and disappeared. Only a bit of light was cast in the tunnel from the wreck up above, but that faded quickly. Desmond, too weak to do anything else, took Aeon’s wrists and began dragging him, following the sound of Elivain’s footsteps. Soon they had left the roaring of the water behind. Desmond could see nothing, but he kept walking, until Elivain called a halt.

  “We shall rest here. Help me warm him.”

  “How did you get him out?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “How did you get him out?” Desmond repeated.

  Elivain sighed. “I took the form of an animal and swam him to safety.”

  “Oh.” That sounded normal enough. So Elivain was a Shifter. Desmond remembered the stories. “Is Halas going to be all right?”

  “If we can keep him warm. Here, huddle close.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Change.”

  And Elivain did. Desmond could see nothing, but he could still hear, and the sound of it was terrifying. Elivain crunched and crackled. Skin tore and something wet squelched. Desmond could not help but flee. Elivain yelled, but it was cut short. Everything was silent for a time, and then the corridors were filled with deep, animal breaths. It sounded similar to the Deyrey Baaish, too similar. Desmond scrambled away in a panic. The fight with the Deyrey Baaish seemed long ago, but Desmond realized it had only been a few hours before. They’d killed it. This breathing had to be something else. It occurred to him that it was only Elivain. He came back. Des wondered what animal form he took, but it didn’t really matter, did it?

  He pressed himself against warm fur and fell asleep.

  Halas opened his eyes, unsure of what had happened. His last memory had been drowning in the Temple. Was this the afterlife? Had the thing that appeared as Conroy whisked him away back to that awful in-between world? No, it cannot. That being is finished with me. He coughed.

  “You’re awake!” someone exclaimed. Halas started and reached for his sword, but it was only Des, embracing him. “Oh Halas, I thought you weren’t going to make it! Elivain was not worried, but—it’s so dark in he
re, and you were so cold. Don’t do that again!”

  But Desmond was laughing. Halas embraced him back. He could see Des clearly, and the poor man looked dead on his feet. They sat against the wall, close together. Elivain stood nearby, nearly naked. “What happened to you?”

  “Elivain is a Shifter,” Desmond explained.

  Halas frowned. “Why did you not tell us this before?”

  Elivain shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re all safe now. It’s time we got topside. I wish to see the sun again.”

  Halas looked at his friends, and a feeling of pure relief washed over him. Desmond, his face haggard and low; Elivain, naked but for a bloody cloak, and Aeon—where was Aeon? “The prince?” Halas asked. Desmond coughed.

  “Halas…Aeon died. Raazoi killed him.”

  The words hit him hard. He put a hand to his chest, trying to massage away the tightness that had gathered there. “Dead?”

  “I’m afraid so. He…I’m sorry.”

  “Where is he?”

  But as soon as Halas looked, he knew. Desmond had brought the boy’s body along. He lay nearby, a tangle of limbs. It took quite a bit of willpower to stand, but once Halas did, he walked to Aeon and collapsed again. When Halas touched him, he could see the boy prince’s last few moments, cradled by Desmond, cold and afraid.

  “Responsibility,” he whispered, and just like that, Aeon had stopped breathing. He did not turn to dust like Gilshenn, he just…stopped. His chest rose and fell one last time. A small gasp escaped his already purple lips. His eyes rolled back into his head and mercifully closed.

  For a moment, Halas saw the prince as he would turn out to be. This was not an ugly sight, like it had been with Gilshenn. No, Prince Aeon looked kind, wizened, yet strong and beautiful.

  He looked noble.

  Halas put his head to Aeon’s ruined chest, a chest that had, mere hours ago, been full of life, and wept. He heard Desmond dragging himself through the tunnel, felt his arm across his shoulders. “We won, Halas,” he said. “We won.”