Lon strolled uphill on the riverwalk. He passed through the construction site which had been packed away clean and crossed under the apple trees in the orchard behind Atar's lodge. He cut through the vegetable garden until he came to the base of the lookout tower.
One step at a time he made the climb. The young lad felt light-headed as he neared the top of the structure. The air was thinner up here and he slowed his ascent so he wouldn't be totally winded when he met the camp commander on the observation deck.
"Just in time," Atar stood beside the enormous ram's horn suspended from the ceiling beams and passed Lon the copper looking tube. "Take a gander." He pointed east.
The sea drover held the brass tube in his hands and studied its slender form. He'd wanted to look through one of these cylinders his whole life. He eagerly raised it to his eye and gazed east. He studied the dark horizon filled with black smoke. Atar rolled the front barrel forward and he immediately understood how to adjust the focus. He gasped at how well the gadget magnified his eyesight. Was this Varget? No. The device was lifeless; he could feel no smilk inside, but it still worked magnificently. Now he could see tiny figures moving on the most distant hilltops.
The fiery origin point of the black smoke columns was still not visible. A flash caught his eye in the foreground. The young lad lowered the scope and saw a rider much closer to the settlement. He refocused the glass lenses to solidify the sight of a solitary horsefeigor on the port road. "I see one of them." Lon broke out in a sweat. "He's coming!"
"Hah. Of course, he's coming," Atar laughed. "That's Mendel Fernswart. He's one of ours. He'll bring me more sketches like what I showed you last night."
Lon looked again, more calmly this time. He saw the rider had full saddlebags which must include art supplies. The horsefeigor galloped through the crop fields, a two mile stretch of garden plots to the east.
"You will climb to the shrine this morning." the hulk said.
"Yes." Lon agreed.
"Give this to Ephram when you see him." Atar handed him a wax paper package on a loop of string. "Put it around your neck. Don't worry. It's waterproof. Do not take this off for any reason until you get there."
"Okay." Why did it matter that it was waterproof?
Lon glanced down on the settlement's sturdy front gate and saw a group of templekin cross the bailey, the cobbled courtyard just inside the main entrance. He watched the sentries unlock the small door and then shuffle aside to let the group pass. One by one the excursion stepped through the small door and exited the compound.
Clyde of Barobell was in the center of the pack. The noblekin wore the same silk gambeson he'd destroyed on the night they arrived. He'd torn it apart to retrieve its secret cargo, but now it'd been repaired and there was something else; Clyde also wore two red toll stones! Lon raised the looking tube to his eye and trained it on his friend. Sure enough, the handsome young healer had two blood red tablets strapped over his neck.
He was escorted, carefully, by senior templekin in brown smocks plus six Calbian infantryfeigors who kept the appropriate distance. There can be no doubt this was a special escort to the base of the falls where he too would climb to Ephram's shrine. The young noble from Barobell was full of surprises.
"Clyde. Also climbs?"
"So they say..." Atar turned to look but rather than gaze down at the front gate, he studied the waterfall. "I can watch you both from here."
"Clyde is a healer?"
"He's something..."
"He seeks the Samardina?" Lon attempted, "or he did when we first came here?" The youth fished for more insights, awkwardly.
"Nar. The Toldens quest to stop the mutations." Atar stated, then he waved Lon away from the idea. "But that's all I should say about that." The giant repossessed his looking tube.
Lon didn't know where to go from there. He seeks to stop the mutations? That was the first he'd heard of Clyde's mission. Is that what Prince Kalibre had tasked him to achieve? Was Clyde entirely trustworthy? Yes! Did Lon need to stop him before he climbed? No. Was Ephram his target for assassination? No. Lon refused to accept that Clyde was a noble-killer, or some grand assassin who'd fooled everyone except Hastegus. That just didn't add up. But questing to stop the mutations was a fanciful mission; indeed, he might as well seek to visit the moon. Regardless the well-mannered feigor from Barobell was not a killer. That much Lon knew to be true. They'd fought crabs and giant birds together and cried and wept and ate sea cabbage on moonlit cliffs. Clyde was the only other person in camp who knew and shared Amon's Code. Or was he Tokal's greatest impostor? And a master thief like his grandfather?
"Shhhh," the giant expelled air softly and interrupted Lon's thoughts. "Don't move Lon."
Atar rose from his seat on the window ledge and took a step toward the center of the room. Lon watched as he raised an arm up to probe about into the rope ties above the ram's horn. The tower swayed slightly as he shifted his weight. His probing appendage soon produced a baize bag hidden above the beam. "Shhhh" the giant whispered again and winked. When he removed his hand, Lon could see glitter-dust spill from between his fingers.
The red beard returned and pretended to stare west at the waterworks. Then without warning he suddenly threw the sparkling dust in the wind. Lon heard an odd girly-scream and he saw, just for a moment the gold-specked outline of a small feigor-like creature afloat in the air.
The figure had spied on them; it'd been hiding in plain sight right in front of their eyes, and now the creature shrieked with some discomfort as it bolted away.
"Ho o ha ha," Atar laughed. He taunted the life form and laughed in the direction it'd fled.
"What was that?" Lon asked.
"What do you think?"
"Geigorin?"
"They watch us lad." the giant brushed the glitter from his hands. "They want to see if you can make the climb."
"I know how to take the weight."
"But you carry another burden. A memory of some fumble you made... "
"How..?" Lon reeled but of course Zed knew everything and must have revealed all his secrets to the giant. Once again Lon was reminded of his terrible shame and how he was to blame for so many minichun deaths at the hands of the Crols. Gilum Vlox haunted his thoughts and memories.
"Do they watch Clyde as well?" Lon said after some time had passed.
"Oh, Praise Kluth yes." Atar sat on the window railing again and the tower swayed. "I reckon they've pinned their hopes on him."
"Do they want him to succeed? Or?" The lad looked for a definitive position on his friend.
"If he can stop the mutations... The Geigors live hard and grow malnourished when the bombora sinks to the fourth, or so I've been told."
"How can I help him?"
"Forget about him." Atar pointed at Oub. "Lon you're a deepcomber. You know, that right? You'll have your own company soon."
"But with no Warden's Key..."
"They'll dangle 'em at you lad. The powers that be." The giant laughed, "all twelve keys are on this island. They're not lost. Their holders are simply waiting for folks like you to appear. Until the bombora returns, which it does, every thirty three years"
"Could Horne get a key?"
"We can only hope," Atar grinned. "But I doubt we'll get that lucky."
"The bombora? What will happen?"
"In a year's time the port will be awash with feigors like you, and all twelve keys too. There's a big piece of slate over Holebrooks' that will show which company leads in sales and that metric will be the marker by which everyone measures themselves."
"Oh... The sheets never mentioned that."
"I'll tell you something else." Atar chuckled, "printing those sheets is where the real monies' at. We sold our stories for ale and the printers got rich off our tales."
"Emerald Eyes?"
"Sperlane was the worst." The giant chuckled, but then grew serious. "Listen lad, don't be asking Ephram any foolish questions. Don't fraternize. You go there to help him. Remember that."
"Okay." Lon nodded. And that was it. Atar had no more to say. Lon turned and walked to the stairs. He was about to take the first step down when the red beard added a final request.
"Protect Saeya always." The hulk looked at him directly. "She's the key to unlocking everything below. She's..." he pointed east. "You must not let her be what this dirty priest charges. You must not let her be the price that's paid."
That was Amon's Code; the world was a dark and deadly by default and everything warm and loving came with a price. Lon nodded. He understood then that his mentor wasn't exactly happy about what'd happened yesterday, and he likely worried that once she recovered Saeay would charge to the forefront of whatever happened next.
On the hilltop, Lon passed through the garden. He walked back through the apple orchard behind Atar's lodge and across the empty construction yard. He casually regarded the monastery pond as he crossed the temple bridge. Once on the other side and just past droopy willows that lined the riverbank, Lon looked up at the wispy waterfall on the Westmont. His eyes climbed all the way up to the summit. Would he be standing up there and looking down at this time tomorrow? He hoped so, or perhaps he could be there tonight if he hustled.
How long would it take him to complete this ordeal? One whole day? Two days? The waterfall looked just as tall as the other attraction and that ascent took the better part of two days and there was a terrible fight at the top. He shivered as he remembered the razor-sharp talons on that deadly roc. He could not have made it past that guardian alone; he would have perished without his companions. He would have joined the other red-robed skeleton with the Toll Stone. That feigor only had one stone: he'd been one dimension only. But that one stone was so heavy. Of course, it was he was just one dimension when he'd carried it. And he remembered how easily Melcart had balanced the block on his baby finger. The secret was to make the smulcrum glow; the starter-symbol somehow lightened the load. But could he really keep it top-of-mind the whole way up the cliff?
"You've got everyone fooled, haven't you?" Captain Owen rose from the creek's reedy shoreline and corked his canteen.
"Captain...?" Lon knew this officer was perpetually suspicious of him. He stood in the very spot where Lon had launched his marine escape two days ago.
"A big hero now I've heard. But I'm not fooled." the pink skinned Calbian came close and locked eyes, "I have sspiess who tell me a fifth runaway, just like you four, was hiding in that camp. Sstory is that you sspoke to him." Lon knew he referenced Hastegus, but that was no secret. He'd told Jarl as much and Tharus knew at breakfast.
"It's true. He's a dastard." The young lad decided to be entirely forthcoming, "and he seeks the bounty on our heads."
"You didn't tell anyone you were sso hunted when you firsst arrived."
"I didn't know..." Lon lied.
"You brought uss thiss darkness which loomss."
Gulp. Lon knew that was true. "But I'm set to make it right..." The young lad pointed up.
"Perhapss. We sshall ssee..." Captain Owen turned away toward the barracks.
-
The monastery was a beehive of activity. Monks in brown robes rushed about and shouldered heavy loads as they worked on preparations for the defense of the settlement. They washed and prepared medical gear, laundered hospital sheets and cut bandages. They prepared herbs for ready-made poultices. One templekin melted beeswax in a cook pan while another used the same fire to roast a black mineral ore for some other metallurgical necessity. Behind the fire pit were warrior monks who prepped flails and oiled-up their leather armour.
The young lad didn't stop to look around or talk to anyone. He quietly followed the flagstone path through both courtyards and over the same grounds he'd explored with Melcart and which he'd walked with Atar just last night. He passed before the front fountain with its tessellated homage to Frederis Tolden to enter the infirmary. He searched for Saeya.
Once inside the marbled interior Lon knew just where to go. The area seemed so familiar now that he knew what he'd see around each corner. But Hamlin surprised him.
The moss bearded mystic stood at the end of the central corridor flanked by five attendants. Some of these templekin had books and tools in their hands. It appeared as if they'd been hastily summoned and had only just arrived themselves. The five churchfeigor waited in a triangular formation with the templemaster on point.
"Greeting Lonastasius. The Po of Kluth welcome you." Hamlin said in his impossibly low voice. "If the young master wishes to ascend..."
"I do."
"Do you know what you will say to Ephram?" Hamlin asked. "Should you manage...?"
Gulp. Hamlin didn't finish and say to survive. Lon put his hand on his blood-stained shirt over top of the package the giant expected him to deliver.
"I will say, I have a message from Atar," Lon said.
"Indeed? You carry it in your pocket?"
"No. I have it here. Around my neck."
"I will take it." Hamlin said in his low voice. He shuffled forward and held out his hand.
Lon stared him. Hamlin was the First of the Po of Kluth, a powerful sect. He was the Templemaster and not to be disobeyed. The whole monastery and all the monks answered to him. Burly templekin stood behind the mossy elder and looked ready to grab Lon the same way they did Clyde on the night they'd first arrived.
"No. You won't." Lon denied his request. He was pretty sure that Atar, Zed and Hamlin could all speak mind to mind and so it surprised him there should be this division.
"Good Lonny," the aged feigor said.
Ah, so it was a test. An easy one. Amon's Code was specific about messenger roles and the sanctity of sealed communications. Lon couldn't recall having ever contravened it for that.
"This is a very rare gift the giant has given you. It's a coil. He only has that one left to give." Hamlin said, "But you have to get there to receive it."
A coil? So, the giant had sent along even more incentive to complete the journey. The gift was intriguing, but that wasn't his desire. He wanted to save Atarskal just as he'd told Captain Owen. He wanted to learn and become proficient with weapons he could use against Horne. But now he found another desire; he wanted to speak to Clyde again. Lon felt more and more compulsion to find his friend and ask him some pointed questions about the Crols, Paulus and the Port of Ligne and about his grandfather, Frederis Tolden.
"Does Clyde of Barobell also make this same pilgrimage today?"
"His path is not your path." Hamlin said in his deepest baritone. "But yes, he also hopes to serve Ephram."
The group walked together in awkward silence for another thirty paces, the sandals on the smooth stone floor and the hissing waterfall outside were the only sound.
"So, you're journeying now then?" the old sage asked, his low voice friendlier.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To gain a working knowledge of how to move the elements."
"But, why?" Hamlin looked fatigued, and worse, he looked like he suddenly had doubts.
Lon blinked. He wanted to say to kill Horne and save this place from the horror I know is coming, but that didn't sound very pious or worthy-of-transcendence. What did this old mystic wish to hear? Then it came to him. "To serve Ephram."
"Yes. You must want to serve him," the Templemaster reinforced the correct answer and smiled. He relaxed again, more confident. But now the sea drover had doubts. It was a lie to state that he wanted to serve Ephram. He didn't. Unless of course the legendary deepcomber also wanted Minister Horne destroyed, for only then would it be true.
The heavy oak door that stood before them was ponderous and required the aged caretaker use both hands to push it open. Lon could hear the hinges creak and the sound of Atar's Falls poured out into the corridor. That meant this room must also have an opening that faced the majestic attraction on the nearby escarpment.
Lon peeked inside and gasped in amazement. The room was huge. It had alabaster-white walls and sunlight poured-in through metal-barred windows and round holes above. The chamber had white stone floor upon which were stacked hundreds of blood red stones. These dangerous artifacts were laid out in rows with many more piled high at the back of the reliquary. All the tablets had thick steel chains attached for carriage and each block had the sun-that-never-rises symbol etched in gold on top.
To any normal feigor this room was death. Only two of Hamlin's four attendants entered behind them. Lon assumed these senior officials had smulcrums. Otherwise the red stones at their feet would freeze their brains and stop their hearts. Lon had risked his life when he'd picked up one in the wilderness. He'd thought that relic was rare, but here were hundreds more of the deadly curios. They filled the room and left precious little space for anyone to walk. Hamlin exhibited no fear however and so Lon concluded the templemaster must have a smilkwell and must be able to handle the heart-stopping heirlooms.
"Why so many?"
"I'll remind the young master that Oub is just ten miles to the north."
"Yeah, and?" Lon didn't see the connection.
"The heavy stones are not meant to focus your arm muscles or strengthen your back." Hamlin rasped in his low voice, "making the climb will do that." The templemaster spread his arms wide to indicate his entire collection, "These blocks are made to hone your mind and to make you worthy of perceiving what's above."
"Oh, sure."
"You'll not be able to use any Varget besides the fulcrum." Hamlin said, "But consider also the Toll prevents all other constructs from affecting you."
"What are they exactly? Animal, mineral or..."
"They open doors. These totems were issued to the brightest feigor of the First Age. They were worn by the Blessed Ones who were sent to Oub," Hamlin said. "To protect them."
"To protect them?" Lon questioned.
"The feigorin who entered Oub were called The Banished, and their children, The Forgotten."
"Yes, I never connected that history with these relics. So, they're prison stones?"
"Prison? No. They focus minds and make barriers of protection." Hamlin explained, "they're Kluth's tolls not ours. The Book says nothing of a prison. The world below is the Fourth Kingdom, its condition unknown." A sudden commotion erupted outside in the hall and the heavy oak door creaked open.
Saeya was outside in the corridor. Lon watched her fight to gain entry past Hamlin's junior attendants who'd stretched out their arms to block her. She was followed by a buxom templekin nurse in a white bonnet who stood behind and tried urgent pleas to discourage her patient from interrupting the templemaster. The blond ignored her ward and pushed past Hamlin's servants and enter the room. The attendants scowled and the reptilian nurse was very cross. She stamped her foot to protest her patient's' refusal to comply, but none of these servants would dare enter the deadly room to try and fetch her back again.
Hamlin turned and frowned at the intrusion.
The blond huntress was garbed in a white hospital robe with bare legs and feet. She rushed to embrace the sea drover. She ran carelessly through the deadly blocks, safe for her, and all the templekin adepts protested in their serpentine tongue.
Lon hugged her. He could see anxiety in her freckled face; it was the same as in the pasture field. She'd wept. "It's okay," he said. "You're safe now and so am I. Better than ever."
"I had such terrible dreams..."
"But you're okay now. Bad dreams are cheap price to pay..."
The templekin grew increasingly more impatient.
"Miss Tashafaryian." Hamlin said, "If you'll please excuse us."
"Lonny, wait." Saeya said. She held his hands and looked into his eyes. "You're not ready yet."
"Perhaps it's the young lady who's not ready?" Hamlin said, "not ready to see him try."
Saeya dropped Lon's hands and grabbed his arm. She pulled him away from the moss-bearded elder and out of the room past her nurse and attendants so they could talk alone. This was her way, and it wasn't the first time she'd led him around like one of her husky dogs. The blond huntress took him out past the heavy doors and into the hallway. All the attendants kept a respectful distance when it became clear their privileged patient sought privacy.
"Can you swim?" Saeya asked.
"Yes. Of course. Why?"
"Did you swim in the south pond, the lowest part of Atarskal?"
"So that is the lowest part."
"You must swim in that pond," Saeya said.
"Alright. But... "
"...What?"
"But I'm not going to dilly dally-about..." Lon said.
"This is no dalliance. It's critical," Saeya said. "Take three stones now. Go to the south pond. Take them off. Have a swim. Put them back on and away you go."
"It's that important?"
"It's critical," she repeated.
"Saeya," Lon thought it through, "what if there are children down there? I can't just leave the stones on shore in the mud while I swim. They're deadly.'"
The freckle-faced girl looked down at her white gown and he knew what thoughts ran through her mind; she'd come watch the stones while he swam. It was that important. The blond girl turned to her Calbian nurse and spoke in their slippery script to articulate that she needed her clothes. The white bonnet sighed.
"Meet me there," Saeya said, and she ambled away down the long hallway trailed by her caregivers.
-
The pan flute music sounded familiar. Lon couldn't be sure, but it felt like the exact same song the Crolean sailor had piped aboard the Annabelle when he was strapped to the altar.
Hamlin stood directly opposite the sea drover and put the first toll stone over his white-haired head. It weighed fifty pounds or more. The old sage actually distracted Lon when he smiled reassuringly at him. He'd not seen the mystic smile happily; it felt like he lived for these moments, like this was his true purpose. The aged cleric lowered the relic and adjusted the chain strap on his neck and along his broad shoulders and then he smiled again. The sea drover wasn't expecting the kindness, or the sudden weight.
Lon concentrated on the smulcrum at the base of the mantle and it eased the burden. Simply keeping that symbol aglow in his mind lessened the physical toll of the tablet and the weight of the chain around his neck.
The senior acolyte who'd hissed the loudest at Saeya came next. This must be Hamlin's second-in-command as he was supremely confident. He had beady little eyes and his thin lips were pursed in stern concentration. He held the second toll stone above Lon's head, and he waited for just the right moment in the pan flute melody to lower it around the lad's neck. It was all very pious and properly done.
The third stone was held forth by an oddly trembling templekin. Lon had never seen him before today. This older fellow appeared senior to all the other assistants, but he acted nervous and behaved as though he were a much younger member of their service. Sweat dripped from his brow as he placed the final weight.
Once the third stone was around his neck Lon found himself in a soupy daze and he had to focus his thoughts to remain upright on his feet. The weight was crushing. This ceremony seemed pretentious and unnecessary and he hoped it didn't matter. Little did they know he planned to peel these rocks off and go swimming before he made the pilgrimage to the shrine. He also wondered just how he'd even know where to go? Clyde had an escort and so some of these templekin must come partway to get him started on the path.
Sure enough, Lon took a few steps forward and the same two senior warders followed, one on either side.
With the Secondsun pattern aglow in his mind it did not feel like he carried a combined weight of over one hundred and fifty pounds on his spine. Was it just a trick? The weight was still there, so it must just feel lighter? Or did the pattern actually lighten the load? He wasn't sure, but he knew it worked; the instant he stopped thinking about the sun-that-never-rises, the crush returned.
The young lad had to keep the smulcrum symbol in his mind, so it was hard to concentrate on anything else and that was of course the point of the exercise. He walked slow and everyone steered clear. Anyone that came too close was shooed away by the tonsured attendants who strolled ahead and behind when not at his side. These were the same two monks who'd participated in the ceremony and so he knew they had smilkwells.
Lon made it to the monastery bridge before he turned and looked up at the shrine atop the falls. He plotted his route-up just like before, but today's climb could be downright civilized compared to the last ordeal. . .
"Lon?" Melcart's voice interrupted.
The rogue was inbound. He'd crossed the bridge to enter the church complex. He was occupied with some errand for Zed but he did not carry anything at present and so he must be on the return-run. Melcart's eyes were wide at the sight of him staggering under three stones at once.
"Are you off then? Is this it?" Mel asked. He didn't sound overly emotional.
"Swimming..." Lon had trouble articulating complete thoughts as he concentrated on his smulcrum. If he dropped his concentration for a second, he'd collapse under their impossible burden. "Saeya. Wants... Me... To go... Swimming "
"Swimming?" Melcart reached out and grabbed two of the three tablets to take their weight so the sea drover could think straight and so they could have a proper conversation. Lon reached up with his free hands and took the third stone's weigh. The templekin warders murmured prayerful protests but otherwise remained silent.
"In the south pond," Lon said.
"You haven't done that yet?" Melcart asked, "Top and bottom?"
"You should know. You followed me everywhere."
"These temple-goons are gonna let you swim?" the well-dressed feigor ran his eyes over the plain brown habits of the ecclesiastics who stood silently beside them.
"They don't interfere." Lon looked down at Mel's hands under the tablets, "and they seem fine with you interfering."
"Just a quick swim huh?"
"Saeya hopes to come stand on shore and watch."
"Uhuh," the dapper young master decided, "I'll be there in a minute.'
The rogue let go of the blocks and the weight crushed down around Lon's neck and shoulders again. He gasped. Mel smiled and turned his back.