TR: 10

Chapter Ten: Nadek M’Nar

Brian squinted as the beam of light struck him in the face, jarring him out a sleep he hadn’t recalled ever engaging in. He covered his face with a satin sleeve that didn’t belong to him and moaned as he slowly blinked awake. He sat up in an unfamiliar bed to find himself in a small, circular stone chamber with a single window. Through the window he could make out a distant, unfamiliar mountain range illuminated by the morning sun. He recalled coming upon a massive gate barring the way of the mountain pass but, beyond that, his memory escaped him. Had he collapsed at some point? He didn’t recall ever having been let in. How many hours had passed?

He swung his feet over the edge of the mattress and felt cold stone against bare feet as he stood up. Looking down at his body he found that he was clad entirely in white vestments bound at the waist with a multi-layered sash. The clothing was strange, almost ceremonial. He had no idea why he would be wearing it. He looked around the room for clues but there was no indication of where he was nor any sign of his clothes. Walking over to the window, he leaned against the stone sill, glancing up at the ornamental craftsmanship framing the edges and the lintel. Whatever the building was, it was old. First Era, maybe? He craned his neck as he peered down the structure but all he could make out was a smooth, white, cylindrical face descending downward into the forest far below. It appeared he was in a tower though it was unclear if it was part of a larger structure. His eyes averted to the horizon, to the rising sun, and the view was a breathtaking vista offering a picturesque feast for the eyes: a rosy-gold mountain range looming beyond the swarthy tops of the trees in the fore. Brian couldn’t be sure which range it was, since had been turned around in the deepwoods, but he reckoned it had to be part of the Coreonas. Brian reminisced on his events in the forest below; everything now looked as if no foul-play had transpired. It was as if that spell, or whatever it had been, had never had a hold on the area. Brian knew better. His aching back and dislocated ankle wouldn’t let him forget. That ogre had nearly done him in. What was he thinking taking on a creature like that alone? If his parents could see him now… Brian shook his head, scorning himself at yet another life he had used up. Cats got nine. What about cren?

“I see that you are twice lost, traveller.” A man’s voice came from behind.

Brian startled and turned around to find a bald man standing in an open doorway, one he hadn’t even noticed prior.  He was jin-cren and wore the same white robes as Brian, standing passively with a semi-smile on his face. He held his hands interlocked in front of him, lost to the voluminous depths of his sleeves. Brian wasn’t sure if it was a gesture of friendliness or otherwise so he remained cautious.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

The man nodded at the window. “Lost in thought and in space. I am glad to have helped with the latter, though your path remains to be determined, it seems.”

Brian frowned at the abstruse language. “Still not following. Who are you and where am I?”

“Peace, traveller. I am brother Ennius and I am the abbot here at the monastery. We found you just outside of the property grounds, and just in time, mind you. I will not ask your business but I would caution you to take more care on your journeys.”

“I… It was just a climbing accident, that’s all. I appreciate the help though. It was…a really bad fall.”

Ennius smiled as he nodded, either not sensing or caring about the lie. “Indeed.”

Brian gazed around the room. “Did you say this was a monastery? Way out here in the middle of nowhere? I had no idea there was an abbey out in the deepwoods. Or anything other than bogs and the nasty things that live in them, for that matter.”

That explained the robes–a monk’s habit. But he’d grown up in this area nearly his whole life–had explored a large swathe of it in fact. How much more had the forest hid from him?

Picking up on his internal consternation, Ennius walked over to the window and gestured out of it. “Indeed, this place is vast and hides much to the unfamiliar traveller. As you say, the muskeg and swamp lands are what we are known for, but mother nature has many layers. Look there: those mountains which you were admiring not a moment ago, that ridge there is known as the Devil’s Tongue. Sadly its namesake is accurate; it has snared about as many souls in its unforgiving chasms and crevasses, tempted by the feats of summit. Yet, very few know of this section of the mountain, outside of a select few niche explorers.”

A sullen expression stole over his face as he continued to stare out the window. “The Devil, it seems, doesn’t openly advertise his address. Still, we somehow find him in the end, no?”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty bleak, don’t you think? Besides, I thought monks didn’t believe in that kind of stuff.”

Ennius met his gaze and his smile returned. There was a keen understanding in his eyes that was both inspiring and unsettling.

“It is just a name. Nonetheless, we modest folk pride ourselves on a subtle appreciation of all things natural, if not in our own spiritual way. It is the way of all Golteryn, even if we do not all agree or ascribe to the same gods and goddesses. The point I am trying to make is that there is much beauty in the world and, sometimes, it is not right in our faces.”

He motioned at the mountains. “Geology, for instance, is just one of the many higher forms handed down to us mere mortals.”

Brian grunted. “Handed down? I don’t know about any rock gods but I’m pretty sure that the cren or the elves made it up. You don’t see the world performing science on itself.”

Ennius nodded. “Ah, an astute observation. I hadn’t pinned you as Alteir but life has many surprises, indeed.”

Brian shook his head. “No, you got me all wrong. Nothing like that. I…I just run my mouth sometimes. To be honest, I believe in what I see and that’s about it. And right now, I have no idea where I am, so I’d like to be seeing myself out, if you don’t mind.”

Ennius stood in his path for a moment, staring at him with his unrelenting smile, as if he knew something Brian did not. Before it could get anymore awkward, he bowed and moved aside to let Brian pass.

“We are stewards not jailers. You may come and go as you please. You will find your belongings in the east wing of the Sul’an building, second floor. Everything is well marked so it shouldn’t be hard to find. Ask for brother Markas. He should be just about finished laundering them by now.”

Brian made for the door and then stopped halfway, turning back to the monk. “Uh…thanks for helping me out. You didn’t need to do that.”

Ennius smiled and bowed his head again. “There is no need in action; action alone is sufficient in itself as an end.”

Brian made an attempt to grasp at the aphorism but his aching head precluded his mental focus and the words seeped through him like cheesecloth. Maintaining repose, he pretending to understand.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He exited the chamber and walked through a doorway of light, coming out onto a terrace with an expansive set of stairs leading down to a walkway which adjoined a multitude of others like it. Brian’s gasp caught in his throat as he tried to take in what he was seeing. The structure in which he had awoken was only a mere fraction of the entire complex; now, he stared upon the monastery in all its sprawling glory. Where he stood, levels above the ground, there were walkways and arches spanning and criss-crossing many large structures, many of which culminated in domes or spires, similar to the one he had come from. The layout of the grounds appeared to be hexagonal, though it was hard to tell exactly from his current vantage point. There were more levels than he could count, each with its own grouping of ramparts, wings and catwalks. Grand stone buttresses swept out from the radiating structures, adjoining to a cylindrical building in the center which seemed to be the main focus of the place and surely held some significance to the monks. The net effect was one of the whole place being interconnected by strands of stone webbing as if some impossibly-huge spider had built the place. If that wasn’t impressive enough, the entire facility appeared to be made of polished white stone which gave the effect of an ivory fortress. More likely, it was granite, perhaps marble, but Brian’s guess was there were more stones in the whole place than a single quarry could provide. He couldn’t even fathom how many people it had taken to build, let alone the cost of doing so. Whoever the original proprietor of the monastery had been, they had been loaded. Yet, despite its immense size, Brian couldn’t see any other people about. It was odd to see so much space and no one to fill it. Sensing his stupefaction, Ennius joined alongside him. The monk glanced around, his face illuminated in the warm morning sun as he smiled at the place he called home.

“Nadek M’nar. Another Kaldan masterpiece, though I like to imagine the Gods had some hand in it. Whatever the case, I never tire of gazing on her splendid forms.”

Brian glanced over at the monk. “This is incredible. I grew up in these woods. How have I never heard of this?”

Ennius shrugged. “Not many know of us. Know of this. There is much in the deepwoods that even locals do not know.”

He shared Brian’s stare for a moment. “And it’s best if it stays that way.”

Brian wasn’t sure if that was a threat or an entreaty. “What do you mean by that?”

Ennius contemplated in silence for a moment then moved past Brian, proceeding down the impressive staircase before them. “If you wish to learn then you may share my path, as it has been shared with me.”

Brian was beginning to get tired of the monk’s cryptic way of speaking. Why couldn’t people just say what they meant?

He sighed and grumbled under his breath. “Probably for the best, anyhow. Would’ve got lost looking for your laundromat…”

***

Three nondescript forms collected near the campfire, the orange glow basking their darkened silhouettes in a soft light. A cloak shifted  and a hand reached out to stir the cast-iron pot hanging from a hook over the fire.

“Troll nuts, all of it. None to eat out in these blasted parts but the carrion and turds of the things that eat first.” Grunted one of the men sitting on a log across from his comrade as he watched the other tend to the pot.

Another–a woman– leaning against a  nearby tree, took a long swig from a silver flask and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Tha’s why I stick to me liquid diet. Turds be damned, I say.”

“Better to eat shit than starve.” Growled the one stirring the stew–a burly orc. His heavy armour glinted in the firelight from under his travelling cloak. “You two morsels can’t complain until you’ve seen the pit. Fa’el eating: it’s all you can do not to get eaten.”

The cren male waved his hand dismissively. “Bah, piss on you and your fae fables. What of it? Nary met a man ah seen such a thing.” The man laughed derisively. “Ye mud-dwellers, jumpin’ ah yer own shadows. Sick a horny imp on ye and ye run with yer tails ‘tween yer legs.”

The orc snarled and flung a ladle-full of hot liquid at the man, splattering stew over his torso and beard. “You will not refer to me as such, fleshling!”

The man cursed and lurched to his feet, knife drawn in one swift movement. He wiped the food from his face, his eyes casting fierce lightning at the orc.

“I should gut ye where you stand!” He spat.

The orc waved him off. “Bah, sit back down. Kill me and, then what: you cook the meals?”

The woman snorted. “He’s gotta point.”

The other shot her a dirty look in kind.

The orc dropped the ladle back in the pot and stood up to face the man, pointing a finger at him. “You should be so lucky that the hunt has provided anything thus far. Otherwise, I would’ve eaten you long ago and left your scrawny corpse for the crows to feast on. And given the things that are out here, that would be a mercy.”

The man spat in the dirt. “I’d like to see you try. Why don’t ye…”

The woman stepped in between them, putting a hand up to silence them. “Hold it! We have a visitor.”

The two turned their fuming gazes upon the interloper who had stumbled into their camp. He was dai-cren, perhaps two blades tall or more, with skin as pale as snow. Under ordinary circumstances, such a muscular specimen would have proven daunting, except…he was stark naked.

The orc scoffed at the sight and turned his gaze away. The woman laughed and the other looked the man up and down suspiciously.

“How come ye to our camp, traveller?” he asked the newcomer.

The man looked at three of them then at the fire. The flames seemed to catch his attention and he made towards them. The three jumped backwards, brandishing weapons and shouting warnings at the intruder. The man startled, stumbling back and holding his hands up in defense.

“Gods! I mean you no harm. I simply seek warmth on this particularly cold evening.”

The woman leered at him. “You may want to start by putting on yer knickers then, friend. Speak: who are ye and what are ye doing here in such, er…fashion as y’are?”

The man seemed confused at her question but then realized to what she referred. “I apologize for my countenance. It must be odd to come across one in this…condition.”

“It’s odd to come across anyone out here.” Interjected the orc. “So you can see why we are suspicious. Naturally.”

The man nodded. “Naturally. I’m afraid my mission is clandestine in nature, but I assure you that any help you provide now will not be forgotten once I am…back on solid footing.”

The three exchanged amused glances and the woman gestured at his nude form. “What could you possibly offer us? You can hardly keep a handle on your own belongings. Lucky for you, we don’t rob those that en’t got nothin’ to rob. Code and all.”

The man frowned as he considered the woman’s words. His expression turned leery. “Wait a moment… Are you three…bandits?”

The other cren snickered and sheathed his knife. “Poor sap must be delusional. Probably couldn’t see a tree if it were in front of his face. Certainly don’t know a wardrobe. ‘Are ye three…b…buh buh..buh…buh-bandits’?” He mocked.

The three shared in raucous laughter and the man swatted a hand in the direction of the intruder. “Now fa’el off ye pissant, ‘fore I cut off what little ye have left.” He gestured at the man’s groin with his knife and chuckled again before returning to stir the soup pot over the fire.

The naked man stood tall and clenched his fists. He grit his teeth and his lip curled in disdain. “You foul creatures belong below ground. Endabarron doesn’t even deserve the likes of your presence. I will give you until the count of three to leave this encampment.”

The cren snorted. “Can you believe this suicidal maniac?”

The woman shook her head. “I say we put him out of his misery.”

The orc eyed the man casually. “We could eat his liver. It would go nicely with the turmeric and black yam. Or we could filet his pen…”

“Enough!” The cren stood up, cutting off his counterpart. “This is yer last warning, fool. Be gone or I’ll strip yer bones so this beast can have his lot with ye. Yer choice.”

The nude man said nothing, only stared him down.

“One.” He said.

“Unbelievable”. Said the woman.

“Boy, you don’t know who yer messin’ with…”

“Two.”

“That’s it, I’ve had it!”

The bandit leapt off of his log and lunged at the naked man with his dagger. The man dodged aside easily, bringing his knee up into the chest of the bandit, ribs audibly cracking from the force. In the same instant that the wind left the bandit, his knife was in the other’s hand and then fast against his jugular as he was reefed upward with one arm forcibly pressed behind his back, facing out at his two suddenly dumbfounded comrades. Before he could utter a plea for help, the dagger–his own dagger–was drawn across his throat in a brutal swipe, spraying omni-directional blood spurts about the camp. The corpse fell to the forest floor, gasping and gurgling as it died in a pool of its own fluids. The naked man, now covered in a sheen of gore, looked down at his blood-stained body, a stunned expression on his face. He looked over at the hand holding the bandit’s knife as if he didn’t recognize it. The orc cursed and pulled a massive double-bladed war axe from a harness on his back.

“I’ve been plotting months to kill that bastard! He was supposed to be miiiiiiine!” The orc roared and came at the naked man.

The orc raised his axe above his head as he prepared to strike. As the orc came just within striking distance, the nude man, who until that last moment had been enthralled with the dagger in his hand, looked up at the oncoming assault. He raised his hand at the orc and swiped it up to the sky. The orc swung at the man but missed as he shot skyward into the night air, sailing far and away as he arced over the treetops, his screams fading into the distance. Somewhere leaves away there was small sound like an apple hitting the ground and the screams stopped. It was just the woman and him now. Looking terrified, she wasted no time pulling out a plasma rifle from its holster at her side. She levelled it at the pale man and fired.

She gasped as the ball of roiling, purple energy remained suspended in the air between the two of them. The man held out a hand in front of him, as if to stay someone. He cocked his head to the side, curiously.

“It’s strange, you know.” He said to her. “How it feels, I mean. It’s like…there’s many different pulls, all tugging at your mind. I don’t know how I couldn’t have noticed it before. It’s like whispers or voices on the other side of a wall, suddenly becoming deafening cries. The only thing is…”

He looked past the orb of light, meeting the woman’s stunned gaze.

“…it’s your own voice that you hear, as if it’s only yourself you are manipulating.”

“Who…what are you?” The woman stammered, stepping away slowly.

The man smiled. “Let’s find out.”

He released the ball of energy and it sailed back at the woman with projectile force. A considerable explosion ensued, enveloping the campsite and the near vicinity in a halo of purplish-white light. Within that glow the silhouette of a man could be seen, arms upraised as if welcoming the warmth of the plasma’s radiation. After several seconds, the chemical chains ran their course and the gas dissipated into the atmosphere, leaving wisps of crackling air as the residual components of the reaction petered out into equilibrium. The man stood in a blackened crater, nude and unscathed. He made his way over to where the camp had been moments before and he found remnants of the stone circle. He picked up a smouldering stick which sizzled in his hand, though the flesh remained unmolested, and he poked through the ashes of a fire that was no longer there. He could still feel the warmth, though he couldn’t tell if it was psychological or from the vestigial heat of the plasma. And then he became cold again.

It was the same cold he had felt since the beginning–since the time he had awoken. He had grown afraid of that cold; he could feel it spreading within him and he feared it had something to do with the use of his newfound abilities. He knew that there was never a free lunch in the universe, so likely it was some kind of cost. Why should this be any different? Of course, the High Council hadn’t told him anything about that, only what he needed to know to complete his mission. And that wasn’t much. All he knew in that moment was that the fear he felt–it was necessary. He knew that the moment he stopped fearing that cold would be the moment it would consume him. Fear kept him alert, and alertness was all that kept one alive. He knew this well; he had already died once for ignoring that very fact.

He wandered away from the fire, scouring for anything he could use to help him on his mission. He came across the scorched body of the knifed bandit. His flesh had mostly melted away, leaving nothing behind but ashen bone and fragments of soft tissue. His armour was irreparable and unusable. He found the woman not too far off, strung over a pile of scorched boulders, barely more than a skeleton. Her apparel was in better shape but would not fit him, so that was two for three. To his surprise, there was a small blinking light in a pouch fastened to the corpse’s waist which, somehow, had survived the blast. He opened the pouch and retrieved the object to find a palm-sized circular disc, made of some kind of strange white material. He brushed off some ash that had collected on its surface and turned it over in his hand, examining the arcane device. On the one side there was a smooth plate of glass, cold and dark as the night. He skimmed his thumb over its surface and suddenly a series of lights blazed to life. He startled and nearly dropped the thing until he realized he was gazing at a map, illuminated on the screen in neon green tones. But there was no papyrus or vellum on the thing and the map appeared to be inside the object, somehow. More, the topographical detail was astounding–more intricate than any hand-drawn map he had ever come across.

“By the Thirteen, what magick is this?” He exclaimed.

He tapped the screen with his finger and the map zoomed out, revealing a larger span of the land. In the center of the map there was a blinking red dot. At first, he was unsure what it represented, and then it donned on him that it was probably signifying the device’s very location for reference. Testing his theory, he took several strides across the campground and watched the screen. As he suspected, the dot stayed in place as the topographical details changed slightly, as the land changed around him. Intrigued, he began playing with different strokes of the screen, figuring out the mechanics of the device. Once he had ascertained how to zoom in and out, he drew the map out until he was at a scale hundreds of kaldars in radius. He panned out further and further, until he could see the boundaries of various countries, all with names he did not recognize. He frowned at the screen as his hopes of finding his bearings began to feel distant. He continued to scale out and out and, finally, when he was at the continental level, his breath caught in his throat: Enes the screen said. The word hovered above a large chunk of land embedded in a world of black–the sea surrounding it–and he felt as if he would hug the device in that moment.

“Some things never change. Thank the Thirteen. Now, let’s see. If I’m here, then Diar’s Perch should be somewhere over….no…nope, that’s not it…where is…aha!”

The word Kla’then Diar popped up above a landmark point on the far northeastern coast of the map and the man tapped the point with his finger. A menu came up and he selected ‘plot course’. A thick, bright line appeared on the screen, linking his position to that of his destination. According to the device, it was going to be a very long walk. Weeks by his calculations. But, perhaps…

The man lowered the device and looked up to the night sky. If he could jump as high as he did, could he also…fly? Suddenly, a tremendous anxiety came over him. His previous experience falling from the sky had left him humbled and terrified. The pain, before he had been able to abate it, was unbearable. He had been lucky before, what if his risks were counted out for him? Was this taking it too far? But the path by foot would take him far too long…In that amount of time, there was no telling what they would do. Would they negate their contract? What of the others? He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to them. Not after everything they had gone through to save him…

“Thirteen be with me.”

He focused on the pulls surrounding him and reoriented them in his mind, forcing a pocket beneath him and the earth. Surprisingly, it was easy. He looked down and found himself hovering several blades above the earth. His heart began to race and he steadied himself, lest he get carried away. From this height the fall would only be a minor injury, a sprained ankle perhaps, but any higher… No, he had to try. He forced more and more air between him and the earth and in no time at all he had surpassed the previous height from his uncontrolled–and unsolicited–jump. This time, he reigned his confidence in and held it closely, disallowing doubt to creep in. If there was a gauge or meter to his abilities, he didn’t feel it; only that now-familiar coldness which seemed to be growing within him, if not ever-so-slowly. He wasn’t sure if his abilities were unlimited, he guessed they weren’t, but there was no indication as to otherwise. As he floated impossibly high above the forest, the trees mere black specks beneath him, he contemplated his next move. He rotated until he faced the direction of the Perch, as indicated by his device. A draft of wind blew past him, reminding him of his nudity. He glanced back over his shoulder to the place where he had dispatched the bandits. Somewhere in those woods was an orc.

And one would be remiss to pass up on an opportunity to obtain free orcish armour…

***

Ennius led Brian down the ancient halls of stone, the light sifting gently in between the gaps in the large stone struts of the vaulted ceiling. They had made their way into the central structure around which all of the others had been built. As Brian had suspected, there was indeed something special about the place. Everything was much larger, as if the Builders had used a different scale than the rest to model the place. What purpose it served remained a mystery but the designs–the etchings in the stones–were different here, not the familiar glyphs and Kaldan runes that could be found scribed onto virtually every other surface one came across.

Every so often they would pass an initiate or novice working steadfastly as they scrubbed they stones on their hands and knees; they were the first people that Brian had seen other than Ennius and, as Ennius pointed out, formed the foundation of the monastery:

“Without our hundreds of devotees, I fear the very walls of this place would crumble. It is more than just love that keeps these old bones together.”

The interior architecture was no less stunning than the outside: whoever had built the monastery had gone through painstaking efforts to make everything fit just perfectly. Before landing a job at Falkner’s, Brian had worked in construction in his home town for a time, before the labour strikes began, so he had learned a thing or two about joinery. There was no two ways about it: the Builders, as he had taken to calling them in his mind, were masters. The ways that the stones were angled against each other, often in precarious or seemingly-impossible load bearing ways, it was a marvel that men could do such things, let alone humble monks. But of course, the Kaldan were much more than that. Brian didn’t recall much from his history lessons but he did remember that they were a magickal people. This in itself should have been enough to deter him, given his previous encounter at Falkner’s but, somehow, he found himself enraptured with the place despite it. He couldn’t help but wonder who they were; what it was like back then. There was a kind of mystique to the place that reduced the mind to a mass of awe, as if one suddenly found themselves a primitive organism floating in a pond of highly-evolved beings, lurking discreetly in the distant murk, just shapes or suggestions of something greater. A part of him wished to just wander off and get lost in it all; analyze the complex arches here or meditate on that multi-faceted support there, but something nagged at the back of his mind, pressing him forward. He couldn’t recall what it was that nagged at him but he knew it was important. He hoped that it would return to him in time.

Ennius stopped all of a sudden and Brian nearly ran into the monk, lost in his reverie. They had stopped before a great set of stone doors which were twice again as high as any normal ones.

“We have arrived. I must ask you again: do you still wish to pursue this path?” Ennius asked.

Brian frowned up at the doors. “It would help if I knew what I was agreeing to.”

“Ah, if only all of our paths were so illuminated. I am afraid that I am just a man, Brian; like life, I cannot mold time and space to another’s liking. Either you proceed or you do not. Whatever you choose, I will not judge.”

“I don’t know if that was meant to be encouraging or not but it didn’t really help.”

He gazed up at the doors again, thinking on his next moves. He sighed. “I feel that there is somewhere else that I should be but I can’t remember where that is.” He looked at Ennius. “Do you ever get that?”

Ennius smiled. “All the time. I think it is part of what we do here. We call it “unbecoming”, though I won’t bore you with all the ritual jibber-jabber. It is something akin to self-actualization, if you are familiar with the term. We work tirelessly even if we don’t know why exactly we do so. Is it for ourselves? Perhaps. The Gods? It is possible. Some believe all actions are selfish in the end. But we do not obsess over such trivialities. What matters is that one is devoted to something and that they put themselves, wholeheartedly, into it, day-in, day-out. This is no different than feeling a thing and not knowing what that thing is: an emotion, a desire, a whimsy… You see, it is not the questions we ask ourselves that matter but the answers we seek to find them. And so…”

Ennius held his hand out at the door. “…when you have a door that leads somewhere unknown, ask yourself not ‘do I enter’, but rather, ‘what is it I hope to find on the other side’?”

Brian thought on it and chuckled. “Now you sound like Alteir. But you’re right, I think. I did say that I believe what’s in front of me, and standing in this hall all day won’t get me anywhere.”

Brian stepped past brother Ennius and pushed open the door. It was heavy, being entirely made of stone, but the hinge structure was such that, somehow, it opened with relative ease.

Inside, the room was like nothing else Brian had ever seen. They had come into what looked like a central chamber which formed some kind of connecting column down the center of the building. However, unlike the rest of the monastery, the only stones in the room appeared to the be the retaining walls around them. Beneath his feet, Brian stood on a transparent layer of thick plate-glass, under which he could make out a multitude of layers identical to the one on which he was on, though he couldn’t tell how far down it went. It appeared to be endless or, at least, to descend all the way to the ground floor. The lighting was poor enough on his level so it made it increasingly difficult to make out any detail the further down one looked. They had come out on what appeared to be the penultimate level with just one level above them, though he couldn’t make out any stairs or passages connecting the two. Or any of the others for that matter. As impressively large as the area was, it was sparsely decorated. That was, very likely, due to the fact that the entire chamber seemed to serve as a multi-layered viewing platform for a massive monument in the center which extended downward between, presumably, all the levels. As the two walked closer to the massive black, stone structure in the center of the room, Brian realized that ‘monument’ was, perhaps, not the most accurate term to mind. Rather, the object was a likeness of someone–or something. A statue. It was the largest statue Brian had ever seen. How it even fit inside a building was beyond him.

“What on Rynn is this place?” Brian asked, staring up at the humongous structure looming over them.

He could make out bodies polishing the glass floors above and below, though their robes were more similar to Ennius’s and less like an initiate’s, which told him only the elect could serve here.

“Welcome to the Inner Sanctum. As you can see, it is quite different than the rest of the monastery.”

“That’s an understatement. What’s with the big guy?”

“Come and I will show you.”

The two of them proceeded toward the center of the room, the glass beneath them making no sound as they walked. Brian couldn’t help but notice that the glass lit up beneath them, leaving behind dissipating trails of footprints made of light. The lighting in the room seemed to come out of pot holes in the wall but it wasn’t the telltale blue of Glo, which led him to believe there was some other kind of power source at play. They came up to a metal railing which ran around the circumference of the space in which the statue rested. Looking down, it appeared the other levels had the same structure to them. It was like looking at a mirror through another mirror: identical slices rippling away from the observer into infinity. The overall effect was somewhat vertigo-inducing. Brian groaned and leaned back away from the edge.

“Do you know what this is?”

Ennious gestured at the statue.

Brian shrugged. “If I were to guess, some kind of shrine. I’ve seen a couple around here already.”

Ennious nodded. “You wouldn’t be wrong, and there are many shrines to the Old Gods in Nadek M’Nar. It is, after all, mostly a Kaldan design, and each wing is dedicated to one of the sacred.”

“Mostly? Am I missing something?” Brian asked, curiously.

Ennious pointed up at the head of the statue.

“Tell me what you see there.”

Brian squinted as he attempted to make out details. “Well, it’s wearing some kind of cowl over his head so it’s hard to make out the face. Looks like its got something on underneath. A crown, maybe? Some kind of jewel there. Is this a king? Like, some kind of burial tomb?”

“That is no jewel. Look closer.”

“Hmm…nope, I can’t see it. The lighting sucks. Speaking of which, what powers this place? Those aren’t Glo…”

“You are correct, and the answer is no one knows.”

Brian frowned. “What do you mean? Didn’t the Kaldan build this place? That was, what…Second Era tech. First Era at the oldest. That’s, um…let me think… Like, three thousand years ago, right? That doesn’t leave many options.”

Ennious gave Brian a serious look. “That’s just it, Brian: we have carbon-dated the stones in the statue there, and our instruments tell us that it is at least two million years old. This far surpasses the Kaldan era.”

Brian was stymied. “Two…million years? That’s impossible. There weren’t any…”

“There weren’t any settlers on Rynn at that time, correct. But what you are looking at, we believe, was not built by any settlers. That includes the Kaldan.”

Brian exchanged a dubious glance between the statue and the abbot. “What are you trying to say? You made it quite clear the Kaldan built this place. So how can this predate them by over a million years? It makes no sense.”

“Ah, but there I must correct you: it makes perfect sense. While, unquestionably, the Kaldan built the peripheral structures of Nadek M’nar–as is extensively recorded in many tomes of our libraries here–this specific structure appears to be built by someone else. Some thing else.”

“You’re losing me…”

“Look around you, Brian: is it not obvious that this room–this entire chamber and more, this entire building–is a standalone structure in and of itself? It is clear that these walls were not built by Kaldan hands; as clear as a speck of black paint in a can of white. It doesn’t take one long to see that pattern here: the outlying structures–the ‘wings’, as we monks refer to them–were fashioned around this place, as if the Kaldan revered it somehow. Our scientific instruments have confirmed this much. So you see, a healthy dose of skepticism works against the denier in this case. The verdict is final, I’m afraid: this is not the work of the druids.”

Brian contemplated the monk’s words as he gazed up at the statue, afraid to ask the question which danced at the tip of his tongue. But he was never one to balk at fearful news.

“So who built this place then?”

“Aha! That is the two million grav question, isn’t it? But some things are better seen than told. We go up. Follow me.”

The monk turned and hastened across the room. Brian looked around but, as before, could see no sign of any stairs, lift or the like leading to the upper level.

“Wait, how exactly are we going to get up there?”

The monk didn’t miss a step. “You may find this part a bit…odd.”

Barely finishing his sentence, the monk stopped on a segment of glass and waited until Brian was beside him. Brian watched as Ennious circumscribed a circle with his foot and a bright circular light appeared where he had ‘drawn’ the object. He depressed the light with his foot and Brian suddenly found himself floating upwards at quite a clip. He yelped and Ennious grabbed onto his hand for support. The segment of glass above them separated and the two passed through and onto the uppermost level, landing gently beside the opening, which closed itself moments later. In all, the entire process took less than several seconds.

Brian let go of the monk’s hand, his heart still racing from the sudden jolt upwards.

“Definitely not Kaldan!” He said under his breath as he gazed back down to where they had been moments before.

“Indeed. But if you are still not convinced, take a look at that.”

Brian traced Ennious’s finger to the imposing statue staring back at them, not several blades away. They were now level with the statue’s face and Brian could easily make out the figure’s features in great detail. And there was no mistaking it: Brother Ennious had been right–that was no jewel on the statue’s head.

It was an eye.

Brian gaped in awe as he looked upon a massive visage of a three-eyed creature that was, most certainly, not human.