Chapter 1 - The Search
Twenty years after the fall of the Temple:
Where the Temple once stood was considered cursed, and the stone blocks that still stood bore the marks of the great fire that had burned the entire complex down.
She didn’t know why she had come here by herself, except she knew she was looking for something. Long-lost answers to her past, perhaps? Or maybe she was searching for a connection with her father.
All she knew was that she had felt restless lately, and trapped in the life of a paladin knight. She wanted adventure, love, and the great unknown.
Lise Armond tossed her black hair over her shoulder, her hands brushing against the gray enameled armor she had dedicated her life to earning.
She was a paladin knight, and like her father before her, bore the magic in her blood. But after her father had destroyed this Temple, the knighthood had strayed from its religious underpinnings.
Perhaps that was a mistake. She thought as the wind howled through empty arches and broken rooms. Looking up at the remains of the huge Temple, she felt a shiver down her spine.
Her father had grown up here, sent to the Temple by his family, to learn the magic. It was a religious order back then, and he had sworn up the cross that he would take no wife, hold no lands, and serve his God and Kingdom faithfully until his end of days.
But he had broken his oath and fallen in love with King Corcoran’s daughter Viola. Lise sighed, thinking of her dear sweet mother, who loved her children so deeply. She knew her mother wished she had not taken up a paladin’s sword, and instead married a Prince of Duvall, or of Cheshire.
But she loved knowledge, and that is why she was here. Certainly, her mother, who had taught school children for many years, could understand that. She had heard her father speak of the library here, full of knowledge of magic and spells. Perhaps it was foolish to think it still existed, after two decades of decay and ruin, but she wanted to see for herself.
She entered the ruins and smelled of rot and decay. Her feet rang on the flagstones under her boots. A bat flew out of a room to her left, and she nearly jumped out of her skin as it flew over her head, pulling her sword nearly out of his sheath, before taking a deep breath and sliding it back away.
Turning toward the room the bat had flown out of, she walked up three worn stone steps and into what was once been a great cathedral. The wooden pews sat silently where they had sat for centuries, the backs and seats visibly worn from use. The ceiling had partially collapsed, and many had been damaged beyond repair. It was right here before the now silent and empty altar, where her father had taken his oath. And here, where he had been punished, and his tongue taken.
A huge rose stained window was remarkably still intact, but dirty with age. Dim light still shone through it, partially illuminating the interior. Everything had an otherworldly quality.
There was a sound of a footstep behind her, and she pulled her sword and whirled around, the metal ringing into the empty cathedral.
“It’s me,” she heard a familiar voice say, and the pale face of Oliver appeared around the corner. His sandy blond hair was pulled back, and his blue eyes looked brooding. He had just recently returned from a very long trip across the sea, and she was surprised not only to see him here, but to see him at all.
“You scared me.” Lise said, clutching her chest.
He shrugged, and stopped a few feet from her, his royal blue cloth swirling around his feet. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You followed me,” she accused him, glaring at him. “Why did you do that?”
“Your father ordered me too,” he said coldly. “You were asking questions about the Temple last week, and he thought you might sneak away. He’s just worried about your safety. This place is haunted, you know.”
“It’s not haunted. That’s only stories told by the fireside by old crones,” she scoffed, but she had to admit, the place was incredibly spooky.
He raised his hand and filled it with light that lit up all the dark nooks and crannies. “I grew up here, you know. I was the Master’s heir. I replaced your father when he had his tongue taken and made a pendant salve.”
Lise nodded. She didn’t remember her father’s voice; she had been too young when he had gone off on an adventure and never returned. He had been captured by the Master of the Temple, Simeon. The punishment for oath-breaking was not only having one’s tongue cut out, and a brand applied to one’s left shoulder, but having to serve the rest of your life as a slave to the Temple. Her father had been enslaved for many years, before he led a revolt that freed him and many others.
“What was it like?” She asked, curious. Her life had been filled with learning, training, and magic practice, but it had also been a happy one spent with her family. Her brother was the heir to Eastmere, and her parents had been named regents. When she was still young, she had unexpectedly found herself a princess, much different from her simple young childhood in Duvall. Rory was now King, and her parents retired. Her mother spent many happy days taking care of her grandchildren, and her father served her brother and the throne as a trusted advisor.
Oliver’s face went dark a moment. “I was a slow learner, but earnest and willing. I was a good leader of the others, and I think the Master knew I could be molded. It was an unhappy childhood.”
“And my father trained you while he was enslaved as a pendant?” she said, recalling the story her father often retold.
Oliver nodded, and his face brightened. “Rordan was a father figure to me.”
Lise thought perhaps Oliver had more memories of her father than she did as a young child. She wished . . . . and then shook her head. Wishing would do no good, she should be happy he had been freed, eventually, and they had lived happily after that.
“What are you looking for, anyway?” Oliver said, “I knew this place like the back of hand. Maybe I could help.”
“Just some old books,” she shrugged, kicking a loose piece of wood aside.
“Old books,” Oliver laughed, “Just like Lise, going to look through some old ruins for books.”
The jest smarted. She had always been a smart one, burying herself in pages of history and sums. “Magic books,” she insisted.
“Well, this was the cathedral. If you’re looking for books, you’re going to want the library. Although if you want GOOD books, we should go upstairs, to the Master’s old chambers, and see if we can find the forbidden ones,” Oliver said, wiggling his fingers.
“Of course I want the forbidden books,” she said with a laugh. “All the books from the Temple library we have copies of at Eastmere. At least, that’s what my father says.”
“Yes, I think so. I remember the lower-ranking priests copying the books and sending them to Eastmere,” Oliver said, moving to the left, towards a set of decrepit looking stairs.
“Where are you going?” Lise asked, following behind him, watching as he made footprints in the dust.
“The Master’s apartments were upstairs. That’s where we have to go.” Oliver said, motioning towards a dark doorway just above their heads.
“Those stairs don’t look very safe,” she said hesitantly.
“Well, how else are we going to get up there? Fly? If we go one at a time, we should be fine.” Oliver said, putting his foot on the wooden bottom step.
She watched him climb gingerly up the now decrepit steps. They groaned and creaked. He placed one foot after another, one board breaking under his weight. He hopped to the next in the nick of time.
Finally, he reached the top. “See, it’s fine. Come on up.”
“Fine? You nearly fell off at that step that broke,” she exclaimed, but fearing he would call her a coward, she put her foot on the first step, holding her breath. The structure seemed to sway under her weight alarmingly, and she made her way up ever so carefully to the top.
Lise blew out a breath as she took her last step. “I didn’t think I was going to make it.”
“So dramatic. Come on, the Master’s chambers are right here.”
“What happened to him, anyway?” Lise asked, looking into a very dim room. Only one broken window provided light, and it was nearing dusk, and the shadows were growing long. She snapped her fingers. The light blazed, filling up an inner room with light. It was a study, with a desk near the broken window. Birds had been nesting on the bookshelves, and the floor, which was once covered by a rich carpet, was stained white with bird droppings.
“I’m not sure. I think your father killed him somewhere near the old barracks, and then his body must have burned in the fire. It was so immense you could see it burning for miles. It took out the top floors and the roof, but this palace is stone, and the lower floors survived,” Oliver said.
“It’s too bad the birds have destroyed the books,” she said, her hopes crushed. Books lay on the floor, covered in bird excrement, and the books that had not been destroyed that way were torn apart, the pages littered everywhere.
“Not to worry, those aren’t the books we came for,” Oliver said, striding over to the bookshelf. He looked over it, with his hands behind his back, rocking back on his heels. “It should be here,” he said, touching a carved rosette on the wood bookshelf.
Lise heard a click and watched as Oliver struggled to move the bookshelf. It looked like it was on hinges, but all the debris on the floor kept it from opening smoothly.
“Here, these are the books you will want. Your father studied them, as he was the heir before me, and then taught me what he could, without his tongue, of course.” Oliver said as the bookshelf swung open, revealing a space filled with books.
Her mouth dropped open, and she moved to the hidden niche, her fingers running over the worn leather tomes. Titles such as Advanced Elemental Magic, Mythical Creatures of the World, and Magic of the Westlands beckoned to her.
She was considering what title to pick when they heard an ominous sound. It was the peeling of a bell, low and mournful.
Jerking her hand away, she felt for her sword and glanced at Oliver, who licked his lips and looked out the window with concern. “That’s the bell in the tower. How does it still work? I thought the bell tower was burnt, and the bell melted.”
It peeled again, and Lise heard a voice that sent chills down her spine. It sounded like it was next to her. “Who dares to disturb my eternal rest? Is it you, Rordan? Come to dance on my grave?”
Lise snatched the book closest to her, and slammed the bookcase shut. Maybe one day she could come back. “Let’s get out of here.”
Oliver’s face was white. “Yes, this place IS haunted,” he said, turning back toward the rickety steps. “I’ll let you go first.”
“Thanks?” She said, with a nervous laugh. A feeling of coldness came over her, and she hurried down the steps as fast as possible, trying not to shake them off the wall. What would she do if Oliver became trapped up above?
But she made it down. But she hadn’t never reached the bottom when Oliver glanced behind him, and let out a scared shriek. He started down the steps, and dust fell around her alarmingly as the stairs groaned and shimmied.
“Oliver! I don’t think it can hold both of us!” She said, and ran down the last five steps.
But something was behind Oliver. It looked like a lurking black shadow, a formless mist of inky darkness. Whatever it was filled the doorway, but didn’t want to step out into the greater light.
As Oliver hurried down the stairs, he wasn’t as careful as Lise, and with a terrible noise, the stairs parted from whatever last bit of rusted nail or mortar that was holding them up. He jumped, landing on his shoulder and rolling, as Lise ran to get out of the way.
The wooden stair crumpled around them, boards breaking into splitters and a massive cloud of dust filling the Cathedral, leaving them covered in the fine dirt and coughing.
Oliver looked up at the room again. The inky blackness had retreated into the room, and an evil laugh seemed to echo off the stones. “Tell Rordan the shade of Master Simeon sends his regards.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Oliver said, looking over at her clutching her book. “I don’t like this, not one little bit. I fear we have awakened a monster.”
Ⓒ2023 Hot Mess Express Publishing
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