"The Talisman of Darien Kaur": Book four : "Beneath the Golden Dome"

By R. James McCord

Ardan doesn't understand. He knows that momentous changes are happening both within and around him. He was born and raised a simple villager and yet here he is in the center of schemes and counter schemes. Though his father, Warrenk, tries to shield him, Ardan finds himself drawn into the vortex of competing powers for the control of creation itself. The talisman his father wears beacons to him and yet it inspires a fear from deep within. The only thing he knows for sure is the desire he feels for princess Johanna in this the final book of "The Talisman of Darien Kaur."

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. James McCord
• Release date: Feb 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311460554

Book preview

THE TALISMAN OF DARIEN KAUR

~~~~~

BOOK FOUR

(of four)

~~~~~

BENEATH THE GOLDEN DOME

by

R. JAMES McCORD

BENEATH THE GOLDEN DOME

R. James McCORD

COPYRIGHT R. James McCORD 2013

SMASHWORDS EDITION

CHAPTER 1

Latock and his mother sat close, leaning against each other on the couch. Warrenk wondered how the two could be so close after just having been introduced. There were certain things that Warrenk had to discuss with the lady that he didn’t want a priest of Kaull to know about. Part of Latock’s virtue was his lack of guile and Warrenk wondered how he could ever get out of the city without the rest of the D’Kaull finding out about the Lady Ghanelle and his master’s secret apartment.

Ardan, Warrenk whispered. Come and talk to Latock while I have words with the lady in the next room. Ardan nodded. Even though he didn’t know why his father was being so secretive, he followed him across the room to the couch.

Lady Ghanelle, would you look at something with me in the next room, please, Warrenk asked.

Ghanelle looked up quizzically. Why certainly, Lieutenant, she said, glancing back to her son.

I’ll stay here and talk with Latock, Ardan said. Warrenk helped the lady from the couch, leading her into the next room and closing the door behind them.

So, Warrenk, what is this you wish to show me? Ghanelle asked.

It’s more what I want to discuss with you, your Grace.. First of all, do you know what happened to my mother? The Lady gently shook her head.

I’m sorry, Warrenk, I just don’t know. We were so busy those last few weeks. We knew the Kaull were coming. My daughters and I assembled the best defenses we could for the city. At that time many of the civilians were sent south. I don’t know if your mother was among them. I hope she wasn’t captured. I ‘m afraid that a middle-aged noble woman wouldn’t fare well as a captive of the Kaull.

Nor has any of our countrymen, from what I’ve seen, Warrenk said. I’ve seen them herded as virtual slaves by the priests and soldiers.

I’ve seen groups being led into the temple, Ghanelle said. They never look healthy when they leave.

Latock says that they’re there for the ‘offering up’ ceremony, whatever that is.

That’s strange, the lady mused, that’s what we used to call it in the hall of meditation. Offering up was when we wished our unwanted thoughts on the Talisman, but that isn’t what you brought me here to tell me, is it, Lieutenant? she asked.

You are most perceptive, Lady Ghanelle. I didn’t know beforehand that Ardan was going to introduce you to your son. It was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you.

Yes; and? the lady asked, looking into Warrenk’s eyes.

Yes, well, you see, I’ve known your son for more than a year now. He’s a good man and I try to call him my friend, but he’s still a dedicated priest of Kaull, and there are certain things that I don’t want him to know about.

I see, the lady said. And what are these things you wish to keep my son ignorant of? Warrenk didn’t know if he liked the sound of that, but he continued.

To begin with, if my son is a sorcerer, as you say he is, I don’t want Latock to know about it. Since Ardan is a sorcerer, I can’t help but think that he’s here to help me in my mission.

To protect the princess? Ghanelle asked.

No. That is a mission of mine, but it isn’t my primary mission. The main reason I’m going to the citadel of Kaull is to rescue my master, Darien Kaur and to return his Talisman to him.

Are you sure he’s there? the lady asked.

Prince Dimitri saw him a few years ago. I’ve heard it said that he’s chained in an open pit in the Citadel, just as you were chained, Lady.

Yes, I’ve been told that before, but I never believed it. After the Kaull over ran Carlonis they paraded someone they called the king through the realm chained to a stake, but they would never let me see him.

I thought he had died at Mt. Nebok before I sailed away, but now I feel he’s calling to me. Warrenk told her about what the scout had seen when the orb fell from the sky at Mt. Nebok. But now my sword with the king’s rising sun has been returned to me from the ocean depths. That, and the Talisman has come alive after all these years. What else could it mean?

I don’t know, Warrenk. But this I know, Darien Kaur has always had the power to leave, to follow my sister Marias in death. It was with great struggle that he didn’t leave before. It may be a part of a plan that I know nothing of, but standing here before you now, I can’t think why the king would consent to being chained to the bottom of a pit for twenty-six years.

But my sword; and the chains fell from our legs there in the pass.

It’s a mystery to me, Lieutenant, and how you just happen to be traveling with my son.

Yes, that is strange, isn’t it, Warrenk mumbled.

Chance meetings are seldom really by chance, Warrenk. I learned from the king that there are powers at work among us that even he didn’t understand. I don’t know why Lanic’s here, or really why you’re here, but bless you for returning my son to me. I don’t know how much the Kaull have twisted him through the years, but he is your family too. You know that now, be good to him. I don’t know what his part is in all this, but thank you for being a friend to my son.

Warrenk didn’t know what more to say. Opening the door he escorted the Lady Ghanelle back into the common room. She sat on the couch next to her son and the two resumed their intimate communion. Some hours later Princess Johanna arrived, escorted by her brother. Dimitri immediately left to return to his men. When Johanna sat down opposite Lady Ghanelle and Latock, Warrenk and Ardan gathered around.

I don’t understand, Lady Ghanelle. He kept you there for twenty years chained in that pit. Why? Johanna asked.

Why didn’t he just kill me as he killed so many others? the old lady replied. Johanna nodded. The old fool. In his arrogance he fancied he could become a man of power, a sorcerer. Johanna looked quizzically at the old woman, not understanding. He knew that I was a princess in the house of Kaur, that I was born a woman of power. He demanded that I give him what power I had. The fool; even if I gave him power, such a low born knave couldn’t use it. It would be like pouring water into a broken pot.

But that was the old Bishop. Surely the new one…

Pah, they are both the same. If you could see his aura as I do, you would see it as a dark cloud. He is made of the same stuff as the old bishop. No, there was no change from one bishop to the next. The young whelp made a special show of telling me I would never live to see the top of that pit unless I granted him my power.

Power? Latock asked.

Yes, power. I will explain it to you later, son.

And your daughters? Johanna asked.

They died in the defense of the city, princess. They never lived long enough to be a temptation to him, she said sorrowfully. That was better for them. They didn’t have to suffer the torments, the humiliation that I did. Only my son was left me and the old bishop took him away and told me he had been killed. Ghanelle’s voice choked as Latock put his arm around his mother’s shoulders and held her tightly. A muffled sob escaped Ardan’s lips. Ghanelle turned to see tears running down the young sorcerer’s face.

"Do you weep for me already? Ghanelle asked.

My son is an empath, Lady, Warrenk said. He knows, he feels the emotions of others. It is the way of his mother’s people, on our island to the South.

Is she still there?

She died long ago, just after he was born, Warrenk replied.

I am sorry for your loss, Lieutenant. I am sorry for all our losses, but at least you had your father, Ghanelle said to Ardan. That counts for much. I remember you lying on the floor playing with your father, she said to Latock. It was he that named you Lanic, after his grandfather.

I don’t remember any of that, said Latock.

You were still young then, but old enough to receive the king’s blessing before he left that last time.

His blessing? Latock asked.

A rite the king performed for all the royal children, Ghanelle answered. When the child was old enough to receive him, the King would gaze into the young one’s eyes. Their minds were opened to one another and the child’s mind was ordered, organized in a way that would help him to learn and grow strong. A love of righteousness was instilled that would help the child take seriously the responsibilities of ruling. You and Warrenk both received the blessing of the king, Darien Kaur.

That explains it then, Warrenk said aloud.

What? Ghanelle asked.

Latock and I, Warrenk continued. We come from such different backgrounds. I mean, your son wears the robe of a priest of Kaull, and yet we are very much the same. We have both accepted the discipline of the sword and he carries a sense of personal honor.

All honor is personal, Lieutenant, but yes, you came from the same place. As you were growing up you used to visit me and my family often. I even remember you playing with Lanic when he was just out of his crib. He used to call you ‘Rink’ because he couldn’t pronounce Warrenk yet.

Rink? Warrenk said in a sudden dawn of realization. He and Latock looked at each other. You knew then. Back in Yamir, you knew.

No, even now I don’t remember it, Latock answered. Ghanelle turned to her son.

We used to call Warrenk your ‘uncle Rink’ when he came to visit, even though you were really cousins. He would play with you, though I suspect it was your older sisters he really came to see.

They were more my own age, Warrenk blustered. Ghanelle held up her hand and smiled.

You were the soul of propriety, Lieutenant. You were always welcome in our rooms.

~~~~~

Good afternoon to you, Brother Gaedock, the old bishop said. He leaned heavily on his cane as he walked into the hall. Brother Creydock said you wished to see me? Bishop Gaedock stood just inside the front door of the palace reception hall. He had been pacing apprehensively as he waited for Maddock to trudge through the halls, but now he turned and glared at the old man crossing the room.

Did Brother Creydock tell you why I wanted to see you?

He mentioned something about some sort of tracks, but to tell the truth, I don’t know why that would be any concern of mine.

I thought you’d like to know. My men did find some tracks. Two men left their footprints in the mud of a little used courtyard.

And have you found them yet, Brother Bishop?

No, Your Holiness, I’m just now going to investigate. I thought that perhaps you would like to come along. It’s not far. You may be interested.

I rejoice that the enemies of our master are to be apprehended, brother, But I don’t see where this involves me. I’m an old man and my assistance would be inconsequential at best.

Perhaps, Your Holiness, but did Brother Creydock mention that the courtyard is one just next to the wing where your acolyte, Prince Sceirin and his train are lodged?

No, he didn’t, Maddock said. Surely you don’t think Prince Sceirin had anything to do with that old hag, do you? He never even knew her.

Perhaps not, Brother, but the princess asked more than once after her, and if they were all asleep in their beds last night, then where did the footprints in a locked courtyard come from? Are you sure you wouldn’t like to accompany me? Maddock glanced through the window at a detachment of Kaull soldiers standing in formation.

Isn’t my assistant, Brother Latock inside visiting the princess just now?

Yes, and he’s been inside for quite some time, Gaedock said, his eyes narrowing. I wonder what they’re talking about?

Perhaps it would be best if I accompanied you then, just so Prince Sceirin and his companions don’t misunderstand.

A sedan chair was called for, and soon the company of palace guards were marching through the courtyard behind the two bishops. Gaedock stepped lightly with the spring of youth while Maddock sat in the sedan chair, his head bobbing to the cadenced step of the six porters carrying him. The old bishop soon fixated on the blackened hole marring the front of the temple.

Stop Maddock rumbled as they approached the temple doors. The porters and the column of soldiers stopped in unison. What is this? he demanded turning to Gaedock.

The temple spirit apparently saw what was happening and tried to intervene. It happened early this morning.

Apparently? Haven’t you spoken with it since? Maddock’s eyes were stuck on the reddish-black pile of melted rock. The crude outlines of a creature could still be seen in the cooling rock. Maddock saw what looked like a head, and some sort of claw at the end of a thick, long arm, but he couldn’t be sure. Thin tendrils of smoke still rose from the stone.

The spirit does not respond; it has apparently left us, Gaedock replied. You see what remains of our master’s dome servant. The old man looked silently at the remains of the temple demon lying in saggy repose atop the hag’s pit.

What kind of creature are we following that can use such power? Maddock asked, tearing his eyes from the temple. There is sorcery involved here.

Are you afraid, Your Holiness? I’ve never met anything a sharp blade and a fit arm wouldn’t handle, Gaedock said, grasping the pommel of his sword.

Lead on, then, the old man replied thoughtfully.

The detachment of palace guards came to an abrupt stop around the corner from where two Arlain guardsmen stood their post at the entrance of the palace wing. The previous posting of Kaull soldiers that had surrounded the wing since early morning remained mutely at their stations. The squad officer, a large yellow-bearded man in burnished chain mail, rushed forward to help Maddock from the sedan chair before leading the two bishops to the courtyard gate.

The rust on the hinges was broken before this morning when my men opened this gate, the officer said.

Who had the keys to this courtyard? asked Gaedock.

They were kept in the office of the captain of the guard, Your Holiness, the officer answered. They had not been moved in many months, until this morning. The officer lifted a large ring of heavy, black keys from his belt, picked one and fitted it into the lock. The key turned with the rusty creaking of long neglected metal. When he pulled the gate open, four soldiers went through and stood at attention just inside.

Your Holiness, the officer said, offering his arm to steady the old bishop.

That won’t be necessary, Maddock said, but thank you for your thoughtfulness, Captain. The bishops followed the officer through the gate.

Here is where we found the footsteps, the captain said pointing to a set of depressions in the earth. Water had already oozed into the heel of the nearest track. Two men. The tracks lead from that structure along the wall over there over to the gate.

And not back? Maddock asked.

No, Your Holiness, none that we could find.

There’s a mystery; how did they get there?.

Come along and find out, brother, Gaedock said, starting through the grass. The entire squad of soldiers followed the two bishops across the courtyard to a shaded portico built out from the palace wing.

Here is where they first stepped down into the grass, the captain said as he bent over, pulling aside a clump of grass. The print wasn’t nearly as distinct as the one by the gate, but it was still discernible. Several blades of grass were still bent over, embedded into the spongy soil beneath.

This is all very interesting, but who made these tracks and where did they come from? The captain then walked up the two steps mounting the raised stone portico.

If you will follow me, Your Holiness, my men found something interesting here along the back wall this morning. The three priests, followed discretely by two lines of soldiers trailed the captain into the shadows of the portico. The captain came to a stop at the back, along the palace wall. If you look closely, you’ll see a crack running between the stones." In the shadows Maddock saw one side of the crack protruding slightly.

An opening, Maddock muttered.

Precisely brother, said Gaedock sharply. A hidden door leading from the wing where your acolyte’s entourage is quartered.

Well how did it get here? Prince Sceirin has never been here before in his life. Neither has any in the rest of his train. Surely they know nothing of any secret door. As he said it Maddock’s mind flashed to the older Arlain guardsman, the one with the dyed black beard who was born and trained in the conquered realm of Carlonis.

It is a mystery, isn’t it? Why don’t we find out, Gaedock said with a wry smile. Open it, he ordered. The captain pointed to two soldiers who were carrying hammers, chisels and two long, steel pry bars. The two men came forward, laying their tools at the base of the wall. One of the soldiers, clearly the leader of the two, spread his hands wide on the stone. Starting at the base of the wall he worked his way up, examining every trace of the crack. When he had finished he picked up one of the pry bars, slid its flattened tip into the crack and leaned gently on the end of the bar. Nothing happened.

Bracing a leg, the soldier strained, throwing all his weight on the end of the bar. He was rewarded by a metallic creak from deep in the wall. As the crack widened the pry bar suddenly slipped sending the soldier sprawling headlong onto the floor. The soldier cursed to himself, but not wanting to appear foolish, picked himself up and quickly reinserted the bar. This time when he leaned on it, the crack opened smoothly with hardly a sound, revealing the clear outlines of an opening in the wall. Handing the bar to his assistant, the soldier leaned on the edge of the stone with his open hand and the heavy, balanced door swung slowly open.

A passageway, Gaedock whispered peering in through the opening. All he saw was an obscure tunnel disappearing in utter darkness. I wonder if our brother Latock has found the other end of this tunnel?

Surely you don’t think he has anything to do with this, Maddock answered indignantly. He was in his quarters next to mine all evening.

Someone went through here last night. Why don’t we find out who. The young bishop drew a long-bladed knife from its sheath. Or don’t you feel up to it, brother, he said with a challenging smirk.

I live only to serve our master, Maddock answered in a steely voice, stepping through the opening. Gaedock looked in surprise at the old bishop. This was unexpected.

Just like old times, eh, brother, the young bishop said, accepting a lantern from the captain. Stay here until Bishop Maddock and I return, he said to Creydock and the officer. Stay close, brother. Who knows who or what we’ll find at the end of this.

Of course, brother, Maddock answered as he stepped aside, letting Gaedock go first. As the young bishop crept forward, Maddock met Creydock’s gaze with a quick nod and a wisp of a smile.

Gaedock crept cautiously through the tunnel with the old bishop trailing closely behind. Gaedock held the knife high with his right hand while in his left, the lantern hung low. Gaedock heard the old bishop wheezing softly. ‘Good, at least I won’t have to wait for him.’ Ever since the banquet, Gaedock had been in turmoil. Though he didn’t want to do it, events were shaping up so that he would have to side with one or the other of his brother bishops. The decades long enmity between Maddock and Bardock, as he now called himself, was coming to a head. Bardock was cruel and harsh. A fanatical fighter, one of the first sword-masters in the army of Kaull. Gaedock didn’t like the Arlain bishop, but that wasn’t the point. Bardock in his gruffness could be counted on to shout to the whole world what he thought, not harboring any secret agendas. Maddock was a different sort: more sociable, even pleasant to be with, but he was devious. Even though he was old and doddering, he wasn’t to be trusted. No, Maddock could sign a treaty with you and then cut your throat before the ink was dry, if he thought he could gain anything from it.

If the opportunity arose Gaedock would move against the old bishop. Better an open antagonist than a secret one who wore a friend’s clothing. Maddock had picked up too many effete ‘refinements’ in the southern court. Besides, how could he trust anyone who traveled with a red-beard. Gaedock hated the southlings ever since the border wars. He actually hoped he would find the red beard at the end of this corridor. Perhaps he could somehow get rid of both ‘brothers’ at the same time. ‘Wouldn’t that be sweet,’ he thought with a wry smile. And the prophet wouldn’t mind. Not a bit. Maddock was right about one thing; the prophet cared not a whit about who ruled in the southern realms, as long as the temples were built and the people were herded through them for the rites.

Inching around the tunnel curve, Gaedock saw a light shining up ahead. He quickly drew back, putting his lantern on the floor and holding his finger to his lips. The light came from an opening in the side of the passageway. As he rounded the corner, Gaedock heard the dim hum of voices. Silently he crept down the hall, holding the knife ahead, staying close to the wall. He heard the old bishop creep up just as softly, coming to a stop behind him. Gaedock marveled that the old man was still up to skulking down dark passageways. Pressing himself to the wall, Gaedock pulled the black cowl of his robe around his face before peeking around the corner.

‘Aha,’ the young bishop thought, looking into the room. His eyes came straight away to the old hag, her long white hair still matted. She stood beside the red beard near the foot of the stairs, actually holding his hand as she talked to the princess and two guardsmen. Looking down, a plan formed in his head. It was simplicity itself. If the old bishop were to suddenly find a blade in his back before being kicked down the stairs, then the soldiers waiting in the courtyard could be summoned to find the room full of his master’s enemies. He’d even be able to justify killing the red bearded abomination himself in front of the hag. Being recaptured would surely break her spirit as nothing else had done. The prophet wouldn’t mind. She would find someone else to fill the B’ackkai prince’s body. He might even find a bit of sport with the young princess before this all sorted out. Gaedock silently laughed at the ingeniousness of his plan. The great Kaull smiled on those who were most able.

Pulling his head back, Gaedock stepped back from the wall. He motioned the old man forward to look for himself around the corner. It would give him the perfect opportunity to plant his knife in the old man. Just as he was turning, a pair of surprisingly strong hands shoved the young bishop through the doorway. Gaedock let out a gasp as he fell off balance, tumbling across the landing and down the steps.

Look out, Dimitri cried, seeing the black robe flying through the doorway. Dimitri yanked his sister from the stairs. As Warrenk reached for his sword, he shoved Ardan away, sending him crashing into Latock.

The young bishop tumbled down the stairs, off balance, but not entirely helpless. He had been training hard to force his young body into the mold of a warrior. Tucking his shoulder, the young bishop dropped his knife, leaping and curling into a forward roll down the last half of the stairs. Drawing his sword and landing in a crouch at the bottom of the stair, Gaedock swept his blade before him. Warrenk rushed forward, lunging at the priest, but stumbled and lost his footing. Gaedock took advantage of the trip, slashing Warrenk’s chest as the guardsman fell to the floor.

Latock and his mother lay on the floor with Ardan sprawled atop them. Latock shoved Ardan aside, rolling to his feet and drawing his sword at the same time. Gaedock saw the red priest struggling. He knew it was foolish, but his hatred caused the young bishop to defy all reason. Swinging his blade high, Gaedock took two quick steps straight toward Latock.

No, screamed Ghanelle. With an agility belying her age, the old princess threw herself in front of her son. The curved blade sliced into the old woman’s body just as Dimitri rushed up from the rear, driving his sword through the young priest. With a final gasp, Gaedock fell dead on the floor.

Mother! Latock cried, dropping his sword. The Lady Ghanelle collapsed into her son’s arms. No, Latock moaned, sinking to the floor, holding his mother. Warrenk picked himself up, not noticing the thin, red line across his chest. Sword in hand he raced to where Latock sat on the floor holding The Lady. A whimpering, high-pitched cry came from the red priest’s throat. The Lady’s eyes were open. She was still alive, laboring for breath.

Ardan. Help her, Warrenk said, turning to his son. Ardan knelt at his father’s side and put his hands to Ghanelle’s wound. As Warrenk’s shirt fell open, light from the gleaming Talisman swept across the kneeling group.

No, she said weakly, taking Ardan’s hands in hers. Princess, she called, summoning Johanna to her side. Johanna rushed past Dimitri, kneeling on the floor beside Warrenk. Ghanelle’s blood covered hands sunk to her lap as her head fell back on Latock’s shoulder. She closed her eyes for just a moment, gathering strength.

Wearily, Ghanelle opened her eyes. Reaching up, she cupped the Talisman in her left hand. Your hand, she said to Ardan. Put it here. Though baffled by the request, Ardan put his bloody hand on top of the Talisman as she held it out to him. Now you, she murmured to Johanna. When the young princess tentatively put her hand on Ardan’s, Ghanelle put her right hand over Johanna’s.

The entire room instantly fell into shadow. Ardan could only see his own hands, Johanna and the Lady Ghanelle clearly. It wasn’t that the others had disappeared. His eyes just couldn’t focus on them. A pulsating clarity grew from their clasped hands, enveloping Ardan and the two princesses.

Keep your hands together, the rich contralto voice admonished. Be careful not to break the connection. Ardan knew that voice. He looked in surprise to its source. The shimmering light that been about them now included the statue of Queen Marias. The white stone was alive. The hair, skin and eyes still reflected an alabaster white, but the statue moved with the supple dexterity of living skin. The robe folds followed her every move.

Who are you? Johanna asked.

I am Marias, eternal beloved of the king, Darien Kaur.

I know you, Ardan said, his eyes wide in wonder. You were in my dreams. A kindly smile spread across the living statues face.

Yes. Now know me in your waking hours, beloved. Ardan opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. He hardly knew what to say. He glanced at Latock and then to his father.

Waking self? he asked, glancing at the shadow around the room. This looks like a dream.

There are similarities. This is a special state, a combining of the dream and waking minds with other powers.

Da? he asked. Warrenk didn’t answer, remaining frozen as the statue had just been. Both Warrenk, Latock, and Dimitri seemed hazy, inexplicably lost in shadow.

They can’t hear you, beloved. For them time does not exist.

But how is this possible? Johanna blurted.

I and my beloved husband, Darien Kaur, ruled Carlonis with power. Some of that same power now allows me to speak to you. It is needful for you both to hear this; the time of choosing has come. Your mission, both your missions are upon you. You must commit, or all is lost.

Me? My mission? Johanna asked breathlessly.

Yes, you, Johanna of Arlain. Know that you have been called. You both have been called since before you were born. You are needed. This world teeters on the brink. Humankind and all who share this world with them are in danger.

In danger of what? I don’t understand.

The creature you know as Kaull, that evil spawn, increases in power daily. It has no plan but destruction, no desire, but for power. It is driven by insatiable need; the poverty of its soul owes to the mistake of its creation. It feeds on the life force of those it subjugates. If not stopped, Kaull will grow so powerful that balance will be lost and the arch of time, that which maintains the bounds of creation will be destroyed. Then the preserve of man and all other creatures sharing this earth will be destroyed.

But why me? What can I possibly do? the princess asked.

By your self, nothing. You are of the bloodline of Kaur. It’s both your gift, and your curse to be born a woman of power, just as I and my sister were open to the power of creation, the queen said, nodding to her sister. It is what you are. You can not refuse it, you can only choose to channel energy or to withhold energy.

That’s absurd, Johanna said shaking her head. I’m not a magician and I’m certainly not of the house of Kaur.

Your grandmother was sired by a prince of Carlonis. You can withhold your power by denying it, but you can not change who you are. Johanna felt the asperity of the queen’s words, tempered by overwhelming compassion. She remembered the veiled entries in her great-grandmother’s diary, and now she understood their cryptic meaning. Her grandmother was conceived inside the hollow, courtyard statue, the same one she had herself played in as a child.

Ardan felt himself drawn to the stone queen, a feeling he didn’t understand. At the same time he was puzzled by what she was asking. It was all so arcane. In his confusion, Ardan’s eyes shifted to his kneeling father. Though Warrenk remained frozen, Ardan was surprised to see him clearly within the light. Marias, what would you have me do? he asked.

You must fight the evil that you have seen, she replied simply. Fear gripped Ardan as his thoughts returned to the temple demon fleeing in terror from the golden dome.

But it’s horrible, he said of the faceless dread.

Yes, it is dreadful, she said darkly. That is the price of power. You will know the joys of spiritual union, but you are also open to the wounds that come by intimacy with evil. I tell you now, beloved, the worst is yet before you. Great men suffer for their openness, but it’s their openness, along with their will to act, that makes them great. Ardan shook his head.

I still don’t understand. What am I to do?

For now you must decide. Will you accept this mission? Will you do what is necessary to accomplish this task? It is grave, beloved, there will be much suffering before the scourge of Kaull can be removed, but only you, only the both of you acting together can take this evil away. Neither one is called alone and neither one acting alone is enough. If you fail then all will be lost.

I still don’t understand, Ardan said. How do I fight this evil?

That will be revealed in the fullness of time. For now, beloved, follow your father to the citadel. When the time comes, the knowledge of what must be done will be revealed.

Why do you call me beloved? Ardan asked suddenly.

Because you are. In time, all will be revealed. Princess Johanna grimaced.

This is preposterous. I’m going back to Arlain to lead an army. I already have a mission.

You are willful, princess, just as a queen must be; but carefully now, don’t be misguided. Do not fight with the minions of Kaull. That is for another time. Your struggle must be with the creature Kaull itself. The living statue then looked to the wounded old woman quaking in Latock’s arms. Her hand lay limply upon Johanna’s. Her breathing was shallow, almost lost. All these years, sister, you have endured. Come, it is your time. Ghanelle raised her eyes to look into the still frozen face of her son. With one hand the old woman reached up, caressing Latock’s face. Her fingers slid lightly over the jagged cut of his ear lobe.

My son, she sighed in pride and longing, a stream of tears rolling down her cheek. He has suffered so much.

He is strong, like his mother, Marias said. The struggle will wound him gravely, but it will also make him stronger. If he stays true, he will come to his reward, but your part is finished, she said softly.

But I love him, Ghanelle said, caressing her son’s cheek. Can I tell him how much I love him, how I’ve missed him before--

That has been granted. He knows sister; he already knows. Marias stretched out her alabaster hand to her sister from the stone pedestal. A translucent vapor arose, floating from Ghanelle’s withered body to stand at the old lady’s feet. Ardan gazed at the shade before him. She was beautiful, radiant and strong, the very image of nobility. The radiant phantom gazed down at her son and then to Johanna, Ardan and Warrenk.

Be good friends to my son, she said in a mellifluous voice, not unlike her sister’s. The vapor turned and walked into the outstretched arms of Marias. As the sisters embraced each other, the old hag’s withered hand fell from the Talisman, landing lifelessly on the floor.

The room filled with light once again.

Mother! came Latock’s strangled cry. Holding his lifeless mother, the old woman’s head rolled to the side. The blood on Ardan’s hand was still fresh, as if no time had elapsed as the Talisman to fell back against Warrenk’s chest. Ardan put his hand on Latock’s shoulder while Johanna moved to kneel beside the priest. She put her arm around Latock’s back to comfort her grief stricken friend.

Warrenk stood gazing at the pitiful sight. He didn’t know whether to believe what he thought he just saw or not. It had been as if he were looking at the scene through a darkened tunnel, like a dream, but much more vivid. ‘And here is yet another victim of Kaull,’ he thought sadly. Then his gaze traveled to the statue. The two noble sisters, Queen Marias and a younger Princess Ghanelle stood embraced in each other’s arms. As Warrenk looked closely, a single tear fell from the queen’s eye, shimmering down the stone cheek.

On guard, Dimitri called out. Warrenk turned to see the prince pointing to the top of the stairs with his bloody sword. The black-robed Maddock stood motionless on the landing.

Maddock had watched with satisfaction as the Arlain prince ran his sword through Gaedock. That part of his plan had gone smoothly enough. He was surprised to see the old hag throw herself in front of Gaedock’s sword. It was unanticipated: an interesting wrinkle in the scheme of events, but ultimately inconsequential. Maddock was about to leave to call the soldiers when he felt the unmistakable shimmer of a temporal shift. He had felt it before in the prophet’s presence. It felt like a wave, an undulation in the fabric of his awareness. Most people would experience it as a subtle glitch, a wrinkle in their train of thought and let it pass unnoticed. But Maddock knew what it was.

I am alone, the old bishop called out, holding his hand up, palm open in the universal sign of peace. Leaning heavily on the stair rail, Maddock ambled slowly down the steps.

I am an old man, he said with a gravely, wavering voice, reaching the bottom. I don’t take steps as fast as I once could. Warrenk stood beside Dimitri with his sword drawn.

Hold, commanded Dimitri, still in a crouch.

It is admirable that you stand ready, Captain, and flattering that you think I’m still capable of any danger, he said, slowly shuffling toward them. But I assure you that you have no need to fear me. Warrenk lowered his sword as the old man walked up, while Dimitri took one step back, still holding his sword at the ready. Maddock ignored the bloody steel pointed at him, and stopped before Warrenk. His eyes fell to the slash across Warrenk’s chest. Atop the thin, red line, the Talisman lay gleaming. You’re wounded, Corporal, the old man said raising his eyes once again to Warrenk’s face. Warrenk sheathed his blade and pulled his shirt together, tucking the medallion back underneath the shirt.

A scratch, no more, Warrenk answered.

You should always wear mail. It’s an inconvenience, but for a soldier--. The old man shrugged his shoulders in an exquisite feat of acting. He saw the Talisman and he recognized it for what it was: a power object of the old sorcerer king. After Carlonis fell, the prophet had them scour the realm trying to find it. It was this object that she had coveted above all else, and now Maddock thought he knew why. Maddock turned to the lifeless young body lying sprawled on the floor. He was an unworthy servant of my master, he said with quiet disdain.

Hold him; take his sword, Dimitri ordered, holding his own sword threateningly. The old man turned to face the young captain.

I pose you no harm, Captain. There is a squad of heavily armed temple guards waiting for me just outside the secret door in the courtyard. If I had meant you any harm I could easily have gone back and retrieved them before you ever saw me. As strange as it seems, we have common cause here. My master threatens you with no harm. This incivility was carried out by certain unworthy servants acting in their own interests. Dimitri wasn’t convinced, but he dropped his sword, letting the point rest on the floor. The old bishop looked down on the fallen old woman being cradled in Latock’s arms.

The escaped prisoner? Maddock asked, turning to Latock. The younger priest sat nearly comatose on the floor, eyes closed, caressing his dead mother and rocking