The Temple Read online

  But they didn’t think of that, and so they stumbled upon the cabin.

  It was dark and old. Dim light came from the windows. Racks of tanned hide and drying meat stood silent sentinel before the doors. Halas also saw a rack of weapons. The roof was made of sod, and it looked newer than the rest of the building. Halas threw himself down and pulled Desmond along. Together they stared at the cabin. Someone was inside, they knew that much. There were footsteps from within, and shadows.

  Neither one wanted to find out who lived there. Halas’ mind wandered. Who would take up residence in such an evil place? Surely it could only be some dark sorcerer, feeding off children and death and anguish. He had heard tales of such men, but not since boyhood. They were mere fairy tales with no substance to them.

  But now, Halas was not so sure.

  Halas gestured back behind them, and Des nodded. They started to crawl, heaving themselves forward with their forearms. Halas realized that they had left the leaves and were back on the moss. He began to feel weary and, with great difficulty, clambered to his feet. He grabbed Desmond by the back of his jerkin and brought him up.

  “Bloody hell, Halas! Why?”

  “The moss makes you sleep. Just run!”

  And so they ran. They ran until they could not run anymore, and then they leaned against the trees and rested.

  As if it had been waiting for this, the world went completely dark.

  Halas nearly lost control of his bladder then, and he would have had the lights not suddenly appeared. These lights were not from the sun, but from an independent source. Halas was reminded of crystal balls Conroy had told him of. Blue. Yellow. Green. Purple. Many different colored orbs hovered above their heads, flitting about between the trees. They cast a soothing glow, painting the forest in a new, pleasant light. How could he have been afraid of such a place? It was truly wonderful to behold. Halas watched the lights with awe. Where had they come from? One second, it was dark, and the next—well, there they were. It was as if someone had flipped a switch. “Can you see them?” he asked Desmond.

  “I see them.”

  Desmond lifted his free hand, reaching up toward a white one. The only white one, Halas thought. He could see only the one amidst the myriad of colors above their heads. It hovered in place, as if waiting for Des. His finger touched it tentatively, and then Desmond sprang back as the white light darted away. “Ow!”

  “What is it?”

  “I think—I think it bit me.”

  “It bit you?”

  “I think it bit me!”

  A red orb spun around Halas’ head before darting back toward the trees. The others kept their distance, floating lazily through the air. “Just don’t touch them anymore,” he told Desmond.

  “I can’t help it,” he replied. “They’re so pretty. Come on, Halas.”

  Desmond was drunkenly shambling away, pursuing the white orb. Halas felt compelled to follow his friend, until one zapped his neck. He jumped into the air with a curse unbidden. A green light hovered in the air before him. Come with me, the air whispered. “So pretty…” Halas slurred. He saw no reason why he shouldn’t follow it. It was very pretty, after all.

  So he walked in the opposite direction, following the beautiful green light. He knew that wherever this light took him, great fortune would follow. It was so pretty. The most beautiful thing Halas had ever seen. Why hadn’t he done this before? Stupid, stupid! So intently did he watch the green orb, he didn’t pay attention to his feet, and fell on his face.

  Immediately, he realized what was happening, and yelled a louder curse. The lights! Halas got to his feet, feeling sleepier than before, and looked around. There was Desmond, off in the distance. “DES!” he screamed. “DESMOND! STOP!”

  Halas ran after his friend, leaping over twisted and gnarled roots. One of which was moving. It was moving! He jumped over it. The whole forest was alive now, the spheres buzzing around in angry little circles, the trees shifting in place, strange noises coming from everywhere at once. Halas felt the sting as another of the lights touched his skin, again and again. They were coming at him in swarms, like gulls seeking a meal. He swatted them aside, but only succeeded in singeing his hands and arms. “Desmond!”

  Desmond was close. Halas reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. “Halas? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you following the lights?”

  There was something terrifying about Desmond. It was his eyes. They were devoid of life, a dull, gray color. His skin had turned a pallid yellow, and little streams of spittle trickled down his chin.

  Desmond Mallon looked dead.

  Had Halas looked like that when he’d fallen? Gods, he hoped so. He cocked his fist back and hit Desmond in the face with all his strength, and that was what saved his life. The fire returned to Desmond’s eyes, and he glanced around with confusion.

  “Oh, damn it!”

  The things were attacking both of them now, darting in and out. Halas and Desmond ran, but neither of them had any idea of where they were going. One of the orbs struck Halas directly on the nose, knocking him on to his back. Blood pooled across his face, blurring his vision. Desmond sucked his hands up into his sleeves and grabbed the sphere, hurling it against a tree. The tree shook, but the light buzzed away, making a strange, moaning sound, almost as if it were grumbling. Halas was up, and they were running, hand in hand.

  This only seemed to anger the lights further. They increased their attack tenfold, whizzing about and darting in ceaselessly, pummeling Halas and Des with a previously unknown fury. Halas landed on his face and felt one burning into the back of his neck. Desmond grabbed him and hauled him to his feet before being borne down himself. One of the things pressed against the small of his back and purred softly.

  It’s enjoying this! Halas thought as he lunged and kicked it. The light refused to give ground, burning through Halas’ boot in an instant. He cried out and grabbed Desmond under the arms. Before he could lift, an orb struck him across the lips. Halas stumbled and fell over Des, landing on his bottom. The moss cooled him through his clothes, distracting him from the burns, even those on his face and neck. Another orb struck him on the forehead, and blood continued to pool down over his eyes. In that moment, for a brief instant, everything became clear.

  He felt them settling on his flesh. He heard them purring. He smelled burning meat. He tasted blood.

  He knew he was dying.

  And then a voice cut through the air. It was not that of a child, or a madman. It was a familiar voice, one that brought comfort to Halas’ ears.

  “Nagh lior kael jo! Leave them alone, lest you incur my wrath! Leave these two be!”

  Halas recognized the voice, though he had never heard it spoken so…elegantly.

  “Father?”

  The lights withdrew and the trees were still. Halbrick strode toward them. He’d never looked quite so elegant either. Halas could not think of a more adequate word to describe the man. Kingly, maybe. Heroic. A cloak fluttered behind him in the light wind. None of his skin was exposed, aside from his face, and even then he had his hood up. He wore a pair of faded green gloves with his sleeves tucked tightly into them. There was a sword at his hip and a bow in his hand. Halas could see the fletching of an arrow sticking up over his left shoulder. It all looked very out of place. Halas wrapped his arms around him.

  “Father!”

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded. Halas pulled back in surprise. He glanced at Des, who was looking over what he could see of himself. He was covered in purple sores.

  “I thought you would be in trouble. I’ve not seen you in weeks! You would fault me for thinking such things? No one comes in here! I was worried.”

  Halbrick’s features softened, but only for a moment. He looked around cautiously and then embraced his son. “Come with me. Hurry!”

  They emerged from the forest shortly after. Halas was beginning to feel incredibly tired. His limbs were heavy, and his head lolled on his neck. Halbric
k supported him and Desmond, ushering them across the field and into the cottage. Few of their neighbors saw them. Harri Cormack, a man Halbrick was frequently at odds with over prices, happened to look their way and scowled. Halbrick offered a weak smile. Halas, meanwhile, had lost control of his legs. He sagged in his father’s arms and fell. Halbrick cursed and scooped him up, lifting him gently and quickening his pace. Desmond followed behind, his hand clutching Halbrick’s shoulder. They cut through Dennis and Patty Carlyle’s field and hurried to the cottage, ignoring Patty’s yipping questions. Once inside, Halbrick sat them down and tore off his gloves, reaching into his pockets and withdrawing a small flask. “Drink this,” he said. Halas obeyed, as did Desmond. It burned his throat, but quickly turned cool and soothing. As it spread through his body, he felt warm, oddly enough, but awake. Minutes before, his body had been falling apart piece by piece. He’d not lost feeling, but his brain insisted on telling him his arms and legs were simply gone. Halas knew they were there, he could see them, feel them, but could not move them. Now he was regaining control. He shivered at the sensation.

  “Are you both all right?” Halbrick asked. Halas nodded. He still felt itchy, and imagined he was covered in the same blotches as poor Des.

  “Think so,” Desmond said.

  “Good. I am thankful. But what in Aelworth’s Good Graces were you doing in that forest?”

  “We were worried about you, Father. I should ask the same question.”

  “It does not concern you. Did Conroy not tell you I was safe?”

  “He did, but you were gone for three weeks! I could not believe his words any longer.”

  “Has he ever led you astray? Has he ever lied? Has he ever even been wrong?” He had not, as far as Halas could remember.

  But that was not the point.

  “I was terrified!” he said. “What if you had died in there? What if those— those things—got to you? And there must be other dangers in that forest.”

  “There are,” Halbrick said. “Beasts of unimaginable evil. What you saw were the willowisps—beacons of light created by the forest in an effort to spy on travelers and lead them astray. They are the least of your problems, should you ever return to those trees. Had you gone deeper in, you would encounter creatures that would rend you limb from limb with claws and teeth so sharp they could split even iron.”

  “Created by the forest?” Desmond asked, intrigued.

  “Yes,” Halbrick said. “The forest is entirely sentient. He, too, is dastardly. To cross one of his trees would be dire.”

  “Why were you in there?” Halas asked again. “For what reason?”

  Halbrick sighed. “My reasons are my own,” he said. “Perhaps, someday, you will come to learn, but until then this must remain a secret. What I do in there is extremely important, and I cannot have you going off and speaking of it. Just, please, do not follow me in there, ever again. When I pulled you from the Treeline, sopping wet and half dead, I…I would die with you. Such a thing would cripple me. When people ask about your blemishes, tell them that you stumbled upon the poison oak plant. Otherwise, do not speak of today again, even amongst yourselves. It never happened. Promise me.”

  “We promise,” they said in unison. Halbrick smiled.

  “Excellent! Who wants supper?”

  Sub Chapter Two

  The bed he awoke in was the softest he’d ever known. Nolan could smell fresh bread. His stomach was pleasantly full. Where was he? When had he eaten? He couldn’t remember anything past crawling through the gutter.

  He looked around the room and discovered he wasn’t alone. A beautiful girl sat next to his bed. She was the most beautiful girl Nolan had ever seen. Her hair was jet black, contrasting her creamy white skin. Her body was tight, and firm. Nolan could imagine himself doing a great many things to that body, but as great as it was, the girl’s best feature was easily her eyes. They were gleaming yellow, full of intelligent fire. Nolan took it all in, stunned into silence. She smiled at him, and all semblance of pain melted away. Nolan grinned.

  “Hello, Nolan,” she said.

  The girl, still smiling, faded into nothing. Suddenly Nolan was on a ship, on someone, could smell blood and decay, struggling on the ground.

  Nolan opened his eyes. He was still in the gutter.

  Chapter Three

  Greater Discipline

  Six miserable days later, the sores were just beginning to fade, and Halbrick had not returned to the forest. Halas was glad for that, though he suspected that his father would soon take up the mysterious errand once he was certain that Halas was all right. For Halas’ part, he had stuck to his word and not discussed it with Desmond, even though he was burning to do so. Desmond was clearly sharing the same desires, and the two had decided without words to not be near each other for fear of breaking their promise.

  Halas had never liked Desmond until now, but his brother remained oblivious to this fact. For several days, Garek did not notice the change. Then he began to wonder. After a week, he came out and asked. “Look at what he did!” Halas said, running his left hand along his right arm, pointing out the sores. “If he had not convinced me to go with him, none of this would have happened. As if I enjoy needing your help rubbing Mister Conroy’s salve on my back.”

  “Nor do I,” Garek chuckled, satisfied with the answer. Halas, of course, was not mad at Des, but what else could he say? He was actually a little proud that he was able to make up a story on the spot as he had.

  And the salve was very cold.

  “Garek, leave your brother alone,” Halbrick said as he entered the room. He had not heard the words, only the tone Halas had spoken them with. “He has enough on his mind without you pestering him all the time. Why don’t you make yourself useful somewhere?”

  “Sorry, sir,” Garek mumbled, looking at his feet. Halas frowned.

  “I want to speak to you about my father,” Halas said. Conroy’s eyes darkened.

  “I will not discuss his task in the forest.”

  “I understand that, sir. This has to do with Garek.”

  “Ah, all right then.” Conroy smiled. “Gnome, fetch us some tea.”

  “Of course, Master.” The gnome scurried out of the room.

  “Halas, please sit down.” He did. “What is it that troubles you?”

  “Father does not treat Garek as he should. He does not deserve to be looked upon as a delinquent, as Father does. I know the two of you are good friends, and I hoped that you might speak to him about it.”

  “I am afraid it is not my place, dear boy. Halbrick is a father and, for better or worse, he is Garek’s. Though I do disagree with the way he handles that boy, it is entirely within his power to do so. Nothing I say or do can change that, even if I wanted to put my nose where it does not belong.”

  “Then what is it you two are doing in the forest? Surely that is putting your nose where it does not belong.”

  Conroy sighed. “Please, Halas, do not involve yourself in this matter. Leave it be.”

  “I cannot! Every day, I do nothing but dwell on it. Do you know what it is like to have something this strange going on, and yet you are unable to do anything about it? It concerns my entire life! What if Father dies?” He whispered the last word. “All I can do to distract myself from it is try to help Garek. Would you deny me that?”

  “Yes, Halas. I would.”

  Halas stormed out, pushing past the gnome with his tea tray.

  He didn’t want to go home, but he could not stay near Conroy’s. Halas wanted desperately to reconnect with the man. He did not understand why his teacher was so forcibly pushing him away. He had nowhere else to go, so he went to The Jealous Duchess, and drowned his sorrows in the cheap ale.

  Halas slept late the next day, for no better reason than he did not wish to look at his father. He opened his eyes to a giant pounding an equally giant hammer into a just as giant drum. The songbird’s whistle was a piercing shriek. Shuffling into the kitchen, he cursed the bird.

>   Quietly, of course.

  Garek sat at the table next to a steaming bowl of porridge. Garek smiled. “Best way to cure a head-ache,” he said. Halas mumbled his thanks and slowly ate. His mouth was dry, but he forced it down. Having probably returned to that dreadful forest, his father was nowhere to be seen. Halas did not ask.

  Both brothers heard a knock at the door. Garek shrugged and rose to answer. Halas continued to eat, watching his brother. He wondered who was outside. No one knocked; everyone who knew the Duers knew that it was acceptable to simply walk in. Garek opened the door and was faced with five Agerian soldiers. They were dressed in fine silver chainmail, with gilded helmets. Buckler shields were strapped across their backs, and each man bore a sword at his hip.

  “Garek Duer?” one asked. Halas hurried to the door and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. A lump formed in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but could not.

  “Yes?” Garek answered. His voice wavered.

  The man unfurled a scroll, reading from the top. “Garek Duer, you have been appointed by King Melick’s court to serve a six month sentence aboard the naval transport, The Wandering Blade. You will report for duty to Captain Brennus at four o’clock in the afternoon on September the sixteenth. If you choose to desert, you will be hunted down and punished to the full extent of the law. Do you understand?”

  Someone had to say something, and it was not going to be Garek. Halas’ brother was speechless, his mouth agape. “What is this?” Halas asked. The pounding in his head picked up. He felt dizzy.

  “I am not speaking to you, sir, but to Garek Duer. He does not have the option of refusing. Mister Duer, do you understand me?”

  “September the sixteenth? That’s only eight days from now!”

  “I know full well what today is. Please, stand away. Garek Duer!”

  “Um.” Garek’s mouth was still open.

  “I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Yes, I suppose I do. September sixteenth?”