“By the Burning Balls of Sigrid, if anyone other than me talks,” the Battle Cleric’s glare could have evaporated rock, and most of the heat was directed at Arjun, “or even so much as moves his lips, I’m going to skin him alive.”
The meaning of that glare wasn’t lost on him. “Guess I got a little carried away,” Arjun mumbled, red-faced.
Sometimes, he was a bit too curious for his own good. But the stonehorn’s reaction had been a bit more extreme than anyone could’ve imagined. Who in their right mind behaves in such a manner with guests, or even enemies? Regrettably, judging by the echoing shout that could still be heard through the door, they were definitely going to be treated as the latter.
Approximately thirty blinks after the shrieking soldier had exited the chamber, Arjun felt a faint, barely discernible vibration through his boots. Due to some unknown reason, he couldn’t even hazard a guess as to the number of the people approaching their location. The sensation was akin to the ever-present sense of hollowness the surrounding rocks have been exuding since they’d entered the outer corridor of the temple, but to a much greater degree. Earlier, he’d hardly even noticed it. Now, it was almost suffocating in its pervasiveness.
The walls and ceiling of the small room were made up of a gray rock, similar to basalt, but with strange veins of jet black rock with glowing bits like mica in them. It felt like a natural formation that had been artificially enhanced through the centuries. His gut told him the veins had something to do with the feeling, but given his current mood, asking the Cleric about it didn’t seem wise.
“Entrance is small. We can take them.” Eve doggedly planted her feet and squared her shoulders, poised for battle in the span of a heartbeat.
“I’m not going to be the one to jeopardize the peace that took a millennium to establish. Follow my lead. We deal with this diplomatically.” James glowered at Eve until she gave a grudging nod. Arjun was starting to wonder if she wasn’t a bit too eager for battle all the time.
All of a sudden, the inner door leading to the stonehornish city banged open, and a heavily muscled stonehorn in full plate armor stepped through, with over thirty stonehornish soldiers visible behind him, all looking even more eager for battle than the girl beside him. Fortunately, all but ten stayed in the corridor outside, the room being too small to accommodate them all.
From his confident demeanor and militaristic garb, which consisted of leather trousers, woolen shirt, and leather vest under his armor, Arjun deduced the leader must be an army captain or commander. Or the stonehornish equivalent of them. Even though at just over four and a half feet, his head barely came up to Arjun’s chest, he felt dwarfed by this intimidating stonehorn’s presence.
His glare was quickly replaced by a smile when his eyes fell on James.
“Well bless my beard, if it isn’t our wandering Cleric,” he said in heavily accented Common. His “r” and “d” were rolling and sounded harsh, but his Common was far better than most stonehorns Arjun had met. Not that he’d met many.
James smiled, releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Gabil.”
The two shook hands, clasping each other’s forearms, Battle Cleric style.
“So how in Bramka’s blessed name did you find your way into the old temple of Jukatis?”
“It’s a long story. To summarize, we had to leave Shillang in a bit of a hurry, and the gates were barred. So we had to find an alternative path to Arunia,” James said with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Bless my beard, did you now?” The smiling stonehorn stroked his prodigious beard, which by all appearances was indeed blessed. So was the stony backward curving horns jutting out from the mass of auburn hair. They looked sharp enough to be able to spear a wild boar. His whole demeanor conveyed a sense of quiet competence and deadliness, and his emotions felt pure, direct, and genuine. Arjun instantly liked the man.
“While we count both Arunia and Aiminia among our allies, relationship with Aiminia has turned uncommonly frosty in the last few years. As a result, as long as the Aiminians can’t prove you were aided by Balgistin stonehorns, we’d be more than happy to facilitate your passage through the city,” the old stonehorn said, eyeing their eclectic group. “Who are your fellow travelers?”
“This is Arjun, Eve, and Aisha. We’re headed to Jivanpur.” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “To the holding chamber?”
“Yes. If only you’d come alone.” Gabil turned and gestured for them to follow. “Even if you can vouch for these three, we can’t. You’re familiar with the law stipulated in the recent treaty.”
As the group, escorted by a squad of well-armored stonehorns, headed out of the door, Arjun moved over to the Battle Cleric’s side and whispered, “What treaty? Are they imprisoning us?”
“Treaty of Garbal, between Arunia and Kailash Mountain stonehornish cities. Do you know nothing of history?” James replied, a touch irritated.
“But…but…that was over a decade ago,” Arjun sputtered. “He said recent.”
“That’s because it is recent. To him. He’s a hundred and eighty-three years old.”
Arjun blinked a few times, rapidly, as his Crown Chakra tried its best to process the information.
Once again he’d fallen into the trap of thinking in terms of human timescale. Gabil had specks of gray in his otherwise lustrous auburn hair, but he hardly looked to be almost two centuries old.
The door opened onto a wide corridor made of the same gray stone as the entrance chamber. Within a couple of steps, Arjun’s breath started to fog in front of him, as the air was absolutely freezing. Unnaturally so. The hard stone floor wasn’t much better, though there was no sign of snow anywhere, much to his disappointment, a fact that reminded him he still hadn’t gotten a proper glimpse of the snow-capped peaks.
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Immense iron-bound heavy oaken doors, all barred and closely guarded by at least one pair of guards, led to other parts of the city, only a tiny fraction of which he could sense because of the ubiquitous interference. That strongly suggested the stonehorns were responsible for the pervasive sense of hollowness that seemed to be increasing with every step he took. A sideways glance revealed James was neither surprised nor bothered. The great big scowl on Eve’s face implied her senses were affected as well. Aisha was also worried, but for different reasons.
Soon the bare and austere corridors gave way to hallways decorated with relief paintings of stonehornish history and mythology. While James talked to Gabil up ahead, the young trio stared in wonder at the incredibly detailed paintings. The strangely bright lamps high up on the wall that illuminated the corridor revealed works of art that wouldn’t have been out of place in the Snippets of Time, the legendary museum in the heart of Aimingar. The stonehornish soldiers who’d thus far been showering them with silent but clear resentment and hostility seemed to approve of their enthusiasm, and didn’t make any moves to stop them as the three of them stood before the ancient paintings, expression dumbstruck.
One showed a being with four arms blessing supplicating stonehorns, another showed a creature with the head of an elephant giving a stonehornish king a ball of fire, then teaching him how to forge weapons using that fire.
Soon the scene changed, to one of a battle with two strange tall humanoid creatures, one male and the other female. In one large panoramic vista, the male was tearing up the earth, bringing forth fire from deep beneath the ground. Stonehorns in anguish, trying to save their land, their homes, were shooting flint-head arrows and axes, but the female was holding her hands high, creating a semi-transparent hemispherical globe which prevented any weapon from harming the duo. In the night sky – one conspicuously devoid of any smoke or cloud – only the greater moon Chandra and a single constellation, the constellation of the Hunter, was visible.
Arjun felt a tingle down his spine.
Creator in heaven!!!!
This showed the First Conflict. The very first time stonehorns fought aditarus and humans, only at the time of the First Conflict, according to the Lore, there was only one human and one aditaru present. Aimin the Allfather and Anantika the Allmother, Creators of human and aditarun kinds. His father had made sure he was familiar with the Lore of Creation as stated in the Lore of Legends, even though Dualism was banned in Aiminia.
Judging by the reverence of the soldiers, he was standing before an actual representation of that infamous battle. The unmistakable sense of age given off by the painting implied it was created not long after the First Conflict. More significantly, it provided a unique context, as Arjun had never stopped to think what those poor stonehornish forefather’s might’ve gone through just after the Cataclysm. The scene confirmed what the Lore taught. It was indeed a massacre. But why would the stonehorns draw and then painstakingly preserve such a stark and beautiful reminder of their first conflict and defeat?
After about a quarter bell of brisk walk, Gabil and James suddenly stopped in front of a large door, one with four pairs of guards. Between the guards stood another commander, one with a decidedly less friendly disposition than Gabil.
“Thank you for escorting our guests, Commander Gabil,” the man said. Then, the small beady dark eyes moved to the Battle Cleric, his posture turning tense and rigid. “I’m afraid given the manner of your entry into Balgistin, there is an additional step required before you could enjoy the full measure of stonehornish hospitality.”
Gabil frowned but didn’t contradict his colleague, though his body language suggested he wanted to. As for his kernel signature, it was oddly hard to read, though it was only marginally harder than the rest of the stonehorns Arjun had met thus far. A racial advantage he was aware of from his previous short interactions with their species, but it was still a bit of a shock. Thankfully, they all wore their emotions on their sleeves. Proudly, or as in the case of his particular commander, obnoxiously.
“Of course. We’re your humble guests,” James said, still relaxed. Both the young women standing beside him had instantly become leery of the strange commander who hadn’t bothered to introduce himself. “What is the next step that you mentioned?”
“Transparency Procedure,” the man continued, after sizing up the other members of their group. “Just a formality, to make sure no object was mistakenly brought in or out of the temple.”
What followed was, without doubt, the most humiliating experience of Arjun’s life.
He was searched bodily, and thoroughly, by a stonehornish soldier with his buddies looking all but ready to draw their axes. Seems they’d assumed even before the search had begun that the three and a half humans were world-renowned thieves like the White Ghost. Gritting his teeth in rage and shame, Arjun complied. Not that he had any other option.
Once the search concluded, the interrogation commenced.
It took a good three bells before the disbelieving commander grudgingly accepted the fact that none of them had sneaked into their precious city for the express purpose of defiling a few more of their sacred temples. After that, still flush with fury, Arjun, along with the others, were led by a squad of soldiers to a large chamber guarded by a mere three guards. Both Aisha and James seemed to have no residual feelings of anger, while Eve looked ready to commit genocide. But their assigned room intrigued her enough that her eyes lost some of the murderous intent.
The guest suite was fit for a king. It consisted of a large sitting room whose walls were made up of the same gray stone, but had far more veins of black mineral in them, the mica-like particles glittering like thousands of stars in the night sky.
The furnishings were simple, elegant, and very well-made. A small divan, four tables, two armchairs, six other chairs, four of which had leather cushions. Doorways in the right wall led to four bedrooms, complete with king-sized beds. Surprisingly, there was even a small bathroom at the back, containing a stone tub that took up half the space. More astonishing still, carved into an alcove in the left wall was a bookshelf, containing almost fifty volumes.
Well, at least our prison won’t be uncomfortable, or boring. A tired sigh escaped as Arjun collapsed into one of the leather-cushioned chairs.
The goosebumps in Eve’s arms suggested she was just as affected by the cold as Arjun himself, though she hadn’t lost the spring in her steps. The fury in her eyes had once again been replaced by wariness. Aisha’s wariness he could understand. Eve’s felt like it hid a danger beyond anything contained within the walls of this city. Which made sense since she definitely was running from someone, a conjecture that led to the obvious question.
Was Arjun also running from the same person, or the same group? If so, why would the Order be interested in her?
She might, of course, not even know why. Arjun himself certainly didn’t have a clue why, other than for killing that aditaru. They couldn’t possibly be after him for Healing the boy, could they? Someone of considerable influence had undoubtedly wanted him dead, going so far as to hire an aditarun assassin capable of Enfolding. A retired Ranger perhaps?
The subject of so much speculation finished her cursory examination of the room, and regarded the Battle Cleric with an anxious look.
“Are all stonehorns this nasty, or are these peeps on edge because we entered through the backside of their temple?”
The Cleric didn’t reply immediately. “They have their reasons. Some of them good. All of them understandable.”
This prompted a snort from the short girl, one mixed with disgust and exasperation. “So, what now?”