Setting the bread on the table, Corvan climbed the circular stairs after Gavyn with a growing sense of déjà vu. Reaching the top, he realized why. Gavyn was crouched beside the small door leading onto the ledge over the High Priest’s Hall. It was right here where he had first met Jorad.
“Do you want me to go out there?” he whispered to Gavyn. The boy nodded but when Corvan put his hand on the latch, Gavyn shook his head, covering his ears and wincing. He was reminding Corvan that this was a creaky door. There must be people on the other side, but Corvan knew how to defeat a squeaky hinge. Leaning hard on the latch, he eased the door slowly and quietly open.
A voice floated up from below. Gavyn nodded for him to go out but stayed close by the door as Corvan crawled onto the ledge.
Where the mother plant had been, a chandelier with glowing orbs now hung from a tied off rope, low over the great table. Six men were visible below; three in white cloaks, two in the green cloaks of the priests, and one in a hoodless black tunic, mostly hidden by the hanging lights. Everyone’s eyes were focused the far wall beneath the ledge, towards the tapestry and the hidden entrance.
“No doubt the Chief Watcher had that piece destroyed,” said one of the priests. “We will never know the message it contained.”
“It is for the best.” Jorad spoke from somewhere under the ledge. “We have wasted far too much time and energy searching for the Cor-Van to come help us. I think we should use what resources we have at hand to work together and bring peace and prosperity back to Kadir.”
An older man in white turned to Jorad. “So, you no longer believe the Cor-Van exists, Jorad?”
“The scrolls and tapestries all describe the Cor-Van as a great leader,” Jorad replied, “someone who speaks the truth and rules with authority. I no longer believe those sacred words point to a specific person, but rather to the office of the Cor-Van, a leader we can all follow. Tarran was such a leader. He was a great man.”
“Who brought us the lost hammer,” a thin man in a green robe interjected.
“And who saved Tyreth from the karst,” added another priest, “paying for his brave deed with his life.”
Jorad walked into view and leaned on the table. “All of those are examples of a Cor-Van, a true leader. That is the point of the scrolls. Our leaders are already here among us, whether in the priests or among the people of the city. We have only to open our eyes and we will find the Cor-Van we require. Tarran was one and his sister Tyreth is another.”
The oldest priest snorted and shook his head. “Our people will never follow a young woman, even if she is the High Priest’s daughter. With the Rozan rebels threatening to tear Kadir to pieces, rumors of more of the Rakash at large, and reports of Broken gathering in secret caverns, we need an older man to bring us through these troubled times.”
The last man in a white robe finally spoke up. “As the youngest member of the city council, I believe it is time to change our attitudes about who is allowed to be a leader in Kadir. After today, there is not a person in our city who does not believe Tyreth is capable of leading us.” He pointed at Jorad. “She was certainly more courageous that all the priests who cowered in the stands.”
“It is not up to the people of the city,” the old priest retorted and the other two men in the white robes sat up straighter. “It is up to this council to decide together.” Heads nodded. “I consider Tyreth to be too headstrong, just like her father. He put his foolish plans with Morgan and Tarran into action without the knowledge of the city council. We lost good men from both the priests and from the city because of his foolishness.”
Jorad folded his arms across his chest. “Her father is dead and after today’s events, I believe that if we do not appoint Tyreth to the palace, Kadir will rise up against us. This would tear the city apart and leave us open to attack from the rebels or the Broken or even from . . . Him.”
The old man in white waved Jorad off. “You have just said that the Cor-Van is not a specific person, why would you not believe that the evil ruler of all the Cor is now just a legend as well. Are you trying to frighten us into agreeing with you that Tyreth should lead us?”
Jorad walked back under the ledge. His voice floated back into the room. “If I were to be appointed the new High Priest and Tyreth were to govern from the palace, would a marriage between the two offices dispel your fears?”
The old priest grunted and pursed his lips. “Are you certain she will accept you?”
“Tyreth and I have been close since we were children. She has no one else in her life to consider. Everyone she loved is dead.”
The man in the black tunic spoke out. “Your plan has merit but perhaps this is not the right time.” Everyone around the table turned to look at him. Corvan recognized the voice. It was the captain they had met at the city of the dead. “Many are still suspicious of the priests, but everyone trusts Tyreth. Now that she possesses the hammer, she will embody the truth. If she had someone at her side to manage the political sides of leadership, we may create the stability we all require, including the soldiers.” He stressed the final word as he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and stared across the table to where Jorad stood out of sight below. There was a long moment of silence.
“Let us at least take the first steps,” declared the old priest. “Jorad shall be appointed High Priest, and Tyreth will be ruler of the Cor. In a short time Tyreth will be of age and permitted to marry, then she can make her own choice. The we shall celebrate the first marriage between government and religion.”
“Or government and the military,” the captain said as Jorad came back to the table with a deep frown on his face.
The old man in white clapped his hands together. “This may yet prove to be a prosperous time for us all.”
The men pushed back from the table. The man in black spoke again. “There is one other matter we must discuss and that is what to do about the opening my men uncovered in the Cor shield at the Molakar settlement. It has been reported to me that there is an open passage beyond the break, leading upward.”
“It must be closed,” Jorad stated emphatically. “No doubt the Chief Watcher was using it to bring the Rakash and other creatures like the one that died in the karst through to Kadir. We should not wait for more evil to enter; we must keep ourselves separated from whatever is out there if we hope to rebuild and survive.”
There were nods of agreement around the table but not from the man in black. “Take some of the priests with you tonight,” the old priest said to Jorad, “Close it if you can and then destroy that cavern. Remove the lumiens and the people and then seal off the Molakar settlement. We shall pass a law banning anyone from going that way again. Now that we have the hammer back, our laws will be judged much more swiftly and severely.” He pounded his fist three times on the table.
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The men stood and made their way to the front door, but Jorad and the old priest remained by the table.
Corvan inched away from the ledge, keeping his eyes on the two men below. Without Jokten the passage beyond the crack in the Cor shield was his only hope of getting Kate home to safety. He had to beat Jorad and the priests back to the settlement.
The old priest pointed at the tapestry. “You must also destroy what is left of the great tapestry. Without the key in the center, it is useless anyway. Partial knowledge is more dangerous than you know.” The old priest left the room and as soon as door closed behind him, Jorad walked toward the tapestry, nodding to himself.
“It is useless, but not if you hold the key to where it leads,” he said to the empty room.
Corvan slid back farther on the ledge. He could recall the Chief Watcher cutting out the center of the tapestry, but the creature had left it on the chair, the same chair that Jorad had been sitting on after the lizard left. Jorad was not telling anyone else that he was in possession of the piece of the tapestry.
As he moved farther back where Jorad could not see him, Corvan’s feet brushed the door and it let out a muted squeak. He looked back but Gavyn was nowhere around. Retreating through the small door, he left it open and quietly descended the stairs.
Gavyn was back in the storage room, nibbling his way around the table like a fussy mouse.
Corvan quietly shut the secret door and secured it with the three wooden pegs. “Gavyn,” he whispered, “I need to get back to the Molakar settlement as soon as I can.” Gavyn did not seem to understand where Molakar was located, so Corvan drew out a map of the Kadir cavern in the dust on the table, pointing out Molakar and telling the boy why he desperately needed to get Kate home before she died. “The only way out is through that crack in the wall the soldiers discovered.” He made an X on his dust map. “But I have to get there before Jorad does.”
Gavyn added some of his own markings to the map, drawing strange figures around the falls. A tear splashed into the dust as Gavyn touched his chest, shook his head, and pointed to the broken bridge, then the places beyond. More tears welled up into his eyes.
“Are you saying you can’t go with me past the bridge?”
The boy nodded.
“I’m sorry, Gavyn, but I have to go. Kate needs me. Can you take me as far as the bridge?”
Gavyn nodded and his eyes brightened. He moved around the room, filling a small cloth sack with his choice of the various items in the baskets on the table. Drawing the string tight, he handed it to Corvan and beckoned him to follow him back down to the garden room.
As Corvan followed he wondered how long it would take Jorad to get his men together. If they shut the crack before he could take Kate through, she was as good as dead. Even if he could find someone to open the portal door leading to the labyrinth, he did now know how to get back that way and had no idea where Tsarek was, even if his friend were still alive.
The journey beneath Kadir took them through various tunnels and what seemed to be dried out sewers. Gavyn did not seem to be in any great hurry to get to their destination, and Corvan kept urging him on.
Finally, they emerged out onto the streets. There was no fog, but the darkness was almost complete and with his keen eyesight, he saw no one as they passed through the ruins. Eventually, they arrived at small gatehouse near the lower bridge.
Gavyn tugged on his sleeve then pointed out over the river and shook his head. Corvan knelt down and Gavyn touched his forehead to Corvan’s. The boy made a noise in the back of his throat as if he were trying to say something, then he threw his arms around Corvan’s neck and cried silently on his shoulder.
“I will miss you, Gavyn,” Corvan whispered in his ear. “You’re like a little brother to me.”
The young boy pulled back, a pleased smile on his tear-stained face. Reaching inside his tunic, he pulled out the star-studded holster and held it out to Corvan.
“No, Gavyn,” Corvan said. “I want you to have it. I don’t need it now that Tyreth has the hammer.”
The boy pressed a familiar weight into Corvan’s hand and when he snapped it open he found the black hammer inside. How could this be? He pulled it out. There was no glow, and it was a lighter than before and not quite as smooth. Gavyn had whittled a replica from a block of dark wood. Corvan put it back inside the holster and closed the snap. “It’s beautiful, Gavyn. I will always carry it with me to remind me of you.”
He buckled the holster back in place at his side wishing that he had something to give Gavyn in return, something meaningful, valuable . . . he did have a gift like that. He fished out the pouch with the red seeds. The seeds from the mother plant and Tyreth belonged here in the Cor, not in his world above. Nobody would appreciate their worth more than Gavyn. “I want you to have these, Gavyn, so you won’t forget me.”
The boy tugged on the cord and a red glow lit the tracks his tears had traced down his dusty face. He looked at Corvan in awe. Pointing to the roof of the cavern, he traced a wide arc with his hand, then took only one of the pulsing red tears from the bag and tucked its glow inside his tunic. Pulling the pouch closed, he handed it back to Corvan as if it contained all the wealth in the world.
As Corvan reluctantly returned it to his pocket, his hand fell on the connected pieces of broken mirror glass. Pulling them out he held out the two halves to the young boy. Maybe Gavyn could find a use for them. Gavyn touched the circle the two curved sides split apart from each other. A smile broke over Gavyn’s face as he touched the white side to his heart, then closed Corvan’s hand around the blue one and pushed it up to Corvan’s chest.
“For us to remember each other?” Corvan asked.
The boy nodded, studied Corvan’s face intently, then reached into his own robe and tugged a slender silver chain over his head. Pulling Corvan back to his knees, he pushed the chain under Corvan’s hood and around Corvan’s neck.
Hanging from the end of the chain was another silver medallion, identical to the one that Kate carried except that it did not glow when he touched it. Gavyn must have carved this gift as well. “Thank you, Gavyn, I will never. . .” He looked up but the boy was already gone. A mournful tune from the pan pipes floated from the ruined city.
Corvan turned away. As he approached the bridge he was surprised to find the metal plates had been replaced and tightly bolted down. He crossed over, half expecting to see Garek and the gray men but there was no one nearby. Overhead the few remaining lumiens were getting lighter and the thought of Jorad rousing his men to get out to Molakar quickened Corvan’s pace. Jogging around the bend in the river road he approached the dam and followed the aqueduct across the fields.
One the far side he began to ascend the settlement trail. At the steps on the first corner of the switchbacks, Corvan looked back at the city. He had to get back to Kate, but strangely he was finding it hard to leave Kadir behind. He was saying good-bye to people who were now a part of him: Tsarek, Rayu, Madam Toreg, Gavyn, and especially Tyreth. He had not felt this lonely since his journey began. His father was right. To love others was to embrace pain, at times enough to break your heart.
Climbing a set of stairs, he passed the scarecrow with its painted eyes and thought of the Rakash. He knew all too well, they could not drown so were they still on his trail? He looked back over the valley. Nothing moved on the ground, but high overhead a small shadow on dark wings swooped past the blue lumien moon.
He crouched quickly behind the wall and waiting until the rebel leader’s rantel headed back to the crags on the other side of the river. Had it seen him? He pushed the thought away. One thing he’d learned on this journey was that he didn’t need to focus on the fear of what might be around the next bend. He just needed to take the next step. He looked at his feet and moved one in front of the other. “Okay, Corvan, that’s one. How about another?” He moved his other foot forward. “Good enough. Let’s keep going.”
Where was he going? He was going to take Kate home. How would he get there? He wasn’t sure but what mattered was taking the next step. His heart lifted and his head came up. He was not going to give in to fear. Stepping past the scarecrow, he whistled his father’s tune and someone else began to whistle it with him.
He was not alone after all.
A ghostly gray figure was walking beside him.