The Brotherhood of the Abyss

CHAPTER VIII – STONE WATCHER

“So Camilla is from another World,” Duncan thought to himself as the Xafris escort them to the village’s exit.

     Based on what they learned from the Grand Chieftainess, Camilla is a stray over from another world. She ended up here through the usage of an unknown spell. She is forced to flee her home after it was ravaged by human soldiers, possibly the Empire’s men.

     “They must be looking for test subjects for another Silver Box, that’s why the Empire raided her village,” Kane said.

     “And that reminds me, mind handing me the second portrait Duncan. We must know what this Camilla looked like in her second form,” Kane said.

      “Here Sir,” Duncan replied as he passes the envelope containing the portrait.

     They goggled at the picture for some moments. Kane and Duncan then look at each other, apparently reaching the same conclusion.

     “So this is Camilla,” Kane said after examining the picture.

     “In her second form,” said Duncan, “Sir, do you think…?”

     “Possibly, but we have to wait,” Kane answered while folding the portrait back to the envelope.

     “But what the portrait shows should be enough. We now have clues on Camilla’s whereabouts,” their silent companion said suddenly.

     “Grandmaster Sir, we need evidence to back this up,” Kane said.

     “A picture, hand drawn or photographed speaks a thousand words,” the Grandmaster replied.

     “We need to find out though if they are still holding her,” Kane then said.

     “Let’s just hope her captors did her no harm,” Duncan added. And then as they make a turn to avoid a naturally occurring pit, everyone stop to look above. There is a white swallow fluttering towards them. It landed on the Grandmaster’s outstretched hand where it changes form. With a pop, it turns into a sealed letter.

     “Boniface of Aderias sent this,” their Grandmaster said after seeing the symbol etched on the wax seal (the Green Man with a knife between its teeth).

     “What does it says Sir,” Velruthiel asked.

     “Nothing urgent, but he is requesting us to go to The Memorial to the Lost Travellers in the Urduja’s Hollow,” their Grandmaster replied as he reads the message.

     The Grandmaster tears the letter in half. The pieces burst into flame and from the blazing ashes a door materializes. This magical passageway will lead them straight to the Memorial.

     As a polite gesture, the men will enter the Enchanted Door first. Velruthiel will follow behind them. The Memorial is supposed to be miles away deep into the heart of the forest, but it only took them literally a single step to get there. On the others side of the door Boniface stood there waiting with his hounds. The door vanishes once they had gone through.

     “Sorry for the interruption Sir,” Boniface said.

     “No problem, we are through with the meeting anyway,” Kane replied.

     This is the first time that Duncan visits this place. The ambiance here had a gloomy atmosphere. The denser canopy blocks most of the sunlight and the silence is morbid.  Even the trees had the likeness of mournful faces while the rocks resemble tombstones.

     “No wonder why no one’s been here,” Duncan muttered. Kane then points them to a ghastly looking stone effigy in the shadow of a moulting fir. Duncan’s face grimace in a mixture of amazement and revulsion; the tomb is a fake but spooky. Even the supposedly inanimate effigy of the dead queen looks disturbingly lifelike. And without knowing it, Duncan instinctively starts to talk to the suspicious object. 

     “Speak to us,” he said to the effigy, “speak to us now.”   

     But the thing didn’t budge. This doesn’t deter Duncan from trying.

     “Now speak to us, I know you are keeping something,” Duncan asked.

     “It won’t talk, trust me,” muttered Boniface.

     “I could not sense magic, but there are abnormalities here indeed.”

     Kane, Velruthiel and their hooded Grandmaster approached the effigy to give it a quick scan.

     “Some piece of artwork you got here,” Kane said. Their Grandmaster took a full ten minutes to examine the effigy. He encircles it several times, prods and touches every corner, scans the surface, even giving a sniff. The Grandmaster and the figure of the dead queen are almost nose to nose as if forcing her to wake up and talk.

     “Duncan,” he said suddenly, “Kane told me you are an avid researcher. Find me everything we need to know about the Memorial.”

     “Right away Sir,” Duncan replied animatedly.

     “Good. Let’s see how long this thing could keep its silence.”

***

As experience tells him that the internet had very little use in this scenario, the first thing Duncan did is to rush to the library. And on his way to its polished door, Duncan heard a familiar voice.

     “Hey Duncan…”

      Duncan notices that Claire had a penchant for popping from behind.     

     “H-Hi,” Duncan muttered nervously.

     Claire rushes towards him, quickly scaling the steps leading to the library entrance.

     “It’s been a while,” Claire smiled.

     “Yeah,” Duncan muttered dreamily.

     “I see, looking for new topic for your next article?”

     “Yeah, kind of,” Duncan muttered again.

     “Great! And I think I could help,” Claire exclaimed. She grabbed Duncan’s hand and playfully dragged him to the library entrance. Again that familiar and unexplained warmth is rushing from the part of his hand where Claire is holding him.

     Duncan is not sure if Claire had used enchantments to bewitch time. A second ago they are outside the library, and then all of a sudden she is now in a lively chat with the librarian. And now they are in the confines of gigantic shelves cramped with countless volumes.

     “Now, where shall we start,” Claire said lively.

     Duncan notices that they are still holding hands. People around kept throwing them this patronizing looks; now what are they thinking?

     “Miss Claire,” Duncan said after taking a deep breath, “Do you have books about the Memorial to the Lost Travellers?”

     Claire’s smile widens.

     “A new topic, for your next article,” she asked.

     “A monument in the middle of the forest will be an interesting read,” Duncan said coolly.

     “You see things differently than other people do Duncan,” Claire replied.

       He never fully understood what Claire meant, but he followed her anyway to the very corner of the library where the oldest of the books are kept. The place is interesting enough to make up for its mouldy stench. Aside from books, it boasts a cabinet-full of ancient artefacts, like swords, weathered daggers, bits of potteries, pieces of armours and real-life human shrunken heads.

     “Don’t worry, those are fakes,” Claire said as she points at the shrunken heads, “Abbot Francis, the library’s founder is not a fan of human remains. Those are mere reproductions, just boiled animal hides.”

     “Wow, you got your very own cabinet of curiosities here,” Duncan’s said, his eyes beaming at the artefacts.

     “There are stories behind almost everything in Saint Jude, from the tallest of the Cathedrals to carved stones in the forest.”

     “I love to hear it Miss Claire,” Duncan said.

     Energetically Claire ushered Duncan to a desk made for two beside a large window where they took their seats facing each other. Claire sweeps aside the window curtain to let the early morning lights in; this slightly warms the room.

     “I know the lamps are on but nothing beats early morning sunshine,” she smiled, her face ever more alive in the yellow light pouring in from the window. Claire always displays this great youthful energy, yet she seems to be in a feverish state. She already looks unhealthy the last time he saw her and now her skin had greyish tinge.

     “Now let’s begin,” Claire said as she takes her seat, “the section we are in holds the best references about the Memorial. Among the many landmarks of Saint Jude, the Memorial is the most often ignored. For most people, the thing is merely an insignificant stone sculpture left to rot in the middle of Urduja’s Hollow. But like I said earlier, almost everything in Saint Jude had a story to share.”

     Claire began scribbling a list of book titles on a piece of paper. She is brilliant; she knew every book titles in the library by heart.

     “Now, these are what you’ll need,” Claire said as she shows Duncan the lists she made, “the best titles should be in the nearest shelve. Now to begin with let me share you a few anecdotes.”

     Claire straightened up and adjusted her glasses. She always had a thing for storytelling.

     “Do you ever wonder why the Memorial looks the way it is? I mean a Gisant style effigy of a dead queen is not a suitable representation for missing travellers,” Claire began.

     “Well, we just thought the maker had a morbid taste.”

     “You’re not alone Duncan. Officially the effigy symbolizes the forest; she is the queen and life giver.”

     “A dead queen,” Duncan wondered.

     “She is not really dead; the Memorial actually portrays a sleeping queen. Take note that traditionally in Saint Jude, an unexplored and remote place is personified in arts as a sleeping person. They will only awaken when their secrets are revealed.”

     “And how about the tomb where she lays,” Duncan asked again.

     “Again if you examine it, you will discover that names are etched on the stone. These are the names of the travellers and explorers who lost their lives in the forest. Their names are carved underneath where the queen lies as a reminder on how men are always in the mercy of the wilderness.”

     “It doesn’t sound mystifying.”

     “You’re right, and people loved mysteries. And note this; the history of the Memorial is obscured and its maker is unknown. This might explain why the Memorial, though it never reached legendary status, is a subject of local fables.”

     “This is something I have to hear.”

     “I warn you though, the stories do sound farfetched,” Claire explained.

     And Duncan begin hearing an assortment of folktales, ranging from the romantic (the effigy is a sleeping princess awaiting for her prince), to the poorly written (an attempt to link the effigy to the Castle of Urduja) to the simply weird.

    “You mean to say the effigy holds the remains of a witch?” Duncan frowned after hearing this particularly ludicrous myth.

     “And how about this, the Memorial holds the keys of the Castle of Urduja; just grab a hammer and break it.”

     “Good thing no one bought that.”

     “The story does cause quite a stir. But people are too afraid to venture close to a supposedly cursed monument,” Claire smiled.

     Their discussion goes longer than expected. Claire and Duncan had found what they had in common; their love for stories.

     “Finally Duncan,” Claire then said, “let me recite you a poem I came across one night while doing light readings; the poem Stone Watcher. The poem was supposedly written by the same man who made the Memorial;

I who sleeps in the heart of Urduja,

Set to slumber for endless millennia.

Tasked to guard the secrets of wilderness,

From the unworthy children of the darkness.

Standing beyond where I’m laid to rest,

Revelations reserved to the strongest.

To grant an entrance, you must prove your worth,

And show you’re the true champion of the Lord.

I’ll keep my silence unless being offered,

An undefined sacrifice I desire.

This is not the tangible world provides,

Yet deeply this is what your heart aspires.

What could this be I will not be telling.

What should this be, I will not be sharing.

This is the answer you must seek,

Using the power granted to the weak.

Dare to enter if your mind is ready,

But answer me wrong, you won’t find any.

Strangers take heed, and take the chance,

And be rewarded with revelations.”

     “This makes little sense,” Duncan muttered upon hearing the poem.

     “Yes, it’s a metered poem, quite troublesome to understand. As a hint the poem is trying to suggest that the Memorial was there in the forest to guard something.”

     “It still doesn’t make sense,” Duncan muttered, “No, not because I don’t understand the poem, I mean its sounds farfetched. It’s making a claim the Memorial is hiding something…”

     And it occurred to him. He recalls the visit they made at the Urduja’s Hollow, and how he sensed an ominous disturbance the Memorial emits.

     “Speak to us now,” Duncan quietly mouthed the words he pelted at the effigy.

     “Err, Duncan,” Claire asked him, after seeing the dreamy expression in his eyes.

     “Miss Claire, who wrote the poem again,” Duncan asked blankly.

     “Again Duncan no one knows. Many believed it was written by the same artist who made the effigy. Or maybe it’s just another ludicrous attempt to link the Memorial to the supernatural.”

     Duncan spent moments muttering what he learned from the poem.

     “We’re into something,” he said to himself, “Miss Claire thank you very much.”

     Duncan gave Claire a rare smile.

     “Err, you’re welcome,” Claire answered, unsure now on Duncan’s behaviour though she appreciated it all the same, “and you look better when you smile.”

     “You think?”

     “Yeah, you should always smile Duncan.”

     “Err, the books, c-can we get them now,” said the reddening Duncan.

     “Sure,” Claire chuckled.

     With a heave Duncan struggles to slide off his chair, kneeing the desk in the process.

     “You’ve been drinking aren’t you,” Claire joked.

***

Upon Duncan’s arrival in the Squad’s Barracks, Velruthiel replaces the long meeting table with a large desk where he and Kane could work conveniently. In Kane’s amazement, Duncan managed to acquire thirty heavy books.

     “I have to hire a carriage to take these homes,” he explained to Kane.

     And the rigorous research work begins. For a much-needed help, the three Angels Apprentice Melchari, Casfra and Belzaar had come along. Before starting, Kane insisted on making copies of the books first.

     “How about using protective enchantments on the old ones, this could save us trouble,” Melchari suggested while Duncan helped her arrange the magically rendered copies.

     “We needed our own copy anyway so what’s the point,” Kane replied. Velruthiel then arrives to take the copies to the Grandmaster.

     Based from Duncan’s experiences, using books to do research are more rigorous than searching the internet where one will just enter the topic and get the answers readily. Old-fashioned researching means pouring at every pages and doing hand-written notes. The working table is now laden end to end with piles of crumpled and flattened parchments. Claire is right when she mentioned that most of the accounts about the Memorial are garbage. What they found merely repeats what Duncan heard from their local history; the Memorial is to commemorate the lives lost in the forest.

     “The poem,” Duncan suddenly thought.

     He rummages for the page copy where the poem is mentioned.

     “Sir, you have to see this. This is the most reasonable one so far,” he said as he hands the page to Kane.

     Kane, who was always supportive of Duncan’s wild ideas, began surveying the poem intently, rereading the lines several times to digest any hidden messages. For some moments Kane went silent, minds focused to decode clues.

     “Duncan, notice something in this page?” Kane told him, yet a voice rings across the Barracks.

     “I think the poem is trying to tell something.”

     Everyone in the Barracks stands on attention when their Grandmaster comes marching in. He had a different air without the cloak covering his face. Their Grandmaster, Gryndel the Black is a tall dark figure with raven hair and a calm face.  Though youthful like his men, he is an ancient being aged 800 years (something he claims to be a curse rather than a blessing).

     “At ease,” he commanded which brought everyone back to their seats.

     “Having the same hunch Sir,” Kane asked.

     As a yes he brandishes the page copy where the poem is written.

     “And Sir, there is something else,” Kane said.

     Both check the page copy Duncan handed. Duncan had no idea what they are talking about, and he resisted the urge to overhear their private talk.

     “Let’s see what we can find in the others,” the Grandmaster said, and he pointed at a stash of unread page copies.

      He took a seat opposite to Duncan and pulls a pile of page copies towards him.    

     “Mind if I joined here,” he asked.

     And suddenly the mood in the Barracks changes; with the Grandmaster around, a tensed silence ensues.

      “This is pointless,” Casfra suddenly muttered out of annoyance, partially breaking the silence.

      “Excuse me,” Duncan asked.

      “The article about the Xafris, it’s written all over the place!”

     Casfra then shows Duncan the page she is reading.

     “The Memorial is rarely mentioned, and I always got this,” she added.

     Duncan is dumbstruck for a moment. Why would someone insert an article about a Xafris in a book meant for the Memorial?

     “You mean like this,” Duncan muttered while brandishing his own page copy.

     And Casfra began noticing something odd about the pages.

     “I wonder why the article is always written below that poem,” she said.

     Duncan checked his page copy and compared it with Casfra’s. And sure enough there’s the poem Stone Watcher and the article of the Xafris below it.

     “Err, Casfra,” Duncan said, “our Historian mentioned that half of the thirty books I got from her had a copy of the poem.”

     This gave Casfra an idea.

     “Still remember those titles Duncan,” she asked.

     “Well…”

     Duncan began scribbling what he can recall.

     “Well, I only remember seven of them,” he muttered.

     “It’s okay. Ah, there are three beside me and Belzaar got the rest.”

     “Actually I got three of those.”

     “Good! Now Duncan I need your help on this one?”

     “You need to check if the article of the Xafris is always written in the same page as the poem.” Duncan said, guessing Casfra’s thoughts perfectly.

     “Precisely, this might not help us on the Memorial, but I feel we’re in to something.”

     Casfra is half expecting Duncan to protest, but she is mildly surprised when Duncan pulls a copy towards him and said, “Let’s start.”

     Soon there are hurried rummaging. Since they had already seen most of the page copies it’s simply a matter of revisiting them.

     “And do note the author’s name,” Casfra reminded.

     “They’re insane if you ask me,” Duncan said as he reads names like Percival, Allen and a weird one such as Labourseed. 

     “Okay, mine’s complete,” Casfra said while laying the pages she unearthed.

     “Here’s mine, notice anything?” he said lazily.

     And they do notice something. Their hunch is confirmed. All the pages bear a common likeness; the poem and the article are written on the same page. Now they had to decide whether this is worth telling their Grandmaster.

     “You two, what you’ve been doing,” Kane asked after noticing them.

     Casfra and Duncan took turns telling Kane what they discovered.

     “We’re not playing games or something,” Casfra said, something Kane ignored as he is conversing with the Grandmaster.

     “Casfra, Duncan, show me your findings, I will be comparing this with our page copies and the original book pages,” the Grandmaster asked them.

     They find it hard to believe. Casfra and Duncan didn’t really took their findings seriously.

     “Everyone, listen,” their Grandmaster announced when he’s through checking, “Kane, Duncan, be prepared. We will visit the Memorial right this moment. For the three Ladies here, continue your work. I will be having a word with you once we come back about your new assignment.”

     The Apprentices’ eyes glinted with anticipation.

     “Sir, what will be the purpose of our coming there,” Duncan asked.

     “You will soon know lad,” their Grandmaster just said.

     Duncan wished he knew what’s going on in their Grandmaster’s head; he’s an unconventional man indeed with unpredictable approach. The Grandmaster had definitely seen something in those page copies.

     “Melchari,” the Grandmaster asked her, “heard anything from the Head of your division lately?”

     “The head of the Angel’s Apprentice is currently in isolation and meditating. Or just put it this way Sir, drifting into nowhere,” she muttered.

     “She’s a weirdo, our Head,” Duncan saw Casfra’s lips form those words.

     “Please tell her to see me at once when she comes back, I need a word with her,” their Grandmaster replied.

     And they’re off, leaving the three ladies to deal with the research-works themselves. Casfra stares longingly at them.

     “I wish I could come,” she said dreamily.

     Melchari let go a snort of laughter.

     “You and Duncan are getting along well,” she chortled.

     “Oh shut up will you,” Casfra reacted.

     “Don’t be ashamed my dear, our Melchari here OUCH!”

     Melchari had stepped on Belzaar’s foot.

    “Now both of you GET TO WORK,” Melchari shrieked.

***

For an added support, Velruthiel will be coming along with them. And in Duncan’s annoyance someone else had joined their entourage. Melchari managed to convince the Grandmaster that the presence of an Angel’s Apprentice will be helpful in this scenario.

     “It’s about time I get some fresh air,” she said, her eyes beaming.

     “She just can’t stand being teased by Casfra and Belzaar,” Velruthiel whispered at Duncan.

     “About what,” he asked while putting on his hooded cloak.

     “Oh you will know,” she smiled.

     The fully cloaked Grandmaster then showed up. Without any word he waved a hand, and the background shifts. The wilderness of Urduja’s Hollow came into view.

     “I have received your message Grandmaster Sir,” Boniface said as he emerges from behind a tree, “are we in to something Sir?”

     His eyes swam to a cloaked figure behind Velruthiel. He doesn’t need to see the face behind the hood to tell its Melchari, the Angel’s Apprentice.

     “The Order’s Specialists had arrived, at last we could make her talk!” Boniface exclaimed.

     “Her?” Melchari asked.

     “The effigy,” Kane explained, “come let me show you.”

     And Melchari’s expression darkens when she sees the Memorial.

     “Douse her with gasoline, I’m sure she will wake up,” Melchari joked.

     “No need for that,” the Grandmaster said as he steps forward.

     He looks at the effigy for the last time before turning to his men.

     “Before we took any actions,” he started, “you have the right to know what I formulated upon reviewing the page copies Duncan and Casfra presented. The writers of the books are trying to send out a cryptic message to its readers.”

     This is what Duncan is waiting for. The Grandmaster continues.

     “It’s not natural for a book meant for historical monuments to contain a completely unrelated topic, but we don’t think the article was there by mistake.”

     He turned at the puzzled Duncan.

     “There is something odd about your books, Kane here will explain.”

     “Remember it was me who made the copies of its pages and I remember each page I reproduced. And as I recall, the article is not present in the original book pages, it only appeared in copies,” Kane said.

     “Sir, the books don’t have magical properties that will reveal any hidden codes, we didn’t sense any,” Duncan replied.

     “Yes I know, so I immediately consulted the Grandmaster about this.”

     “So that’s why the Grandmaster stayed with us in the Barracks,” Duncan said to himself, “to analyse the page copies and the books himself.”

     “And just to be sure, we double checked the original pages, and the article is not there. Just an empty space where it is supposed to be printed,” Kane added.

     “And as for the lack of magical properties, the ink used for the article is a naturally occurring invisible ink as the faint scent suggest,” the Grandmaster added.

     “Nothing escapes the Duplicating Enchantment. It will copy anything present in the page, even invisible prints,” Kane added.

     “Sir what does this mean then,” Boniface asked.

     “Notice how the hidden article is placed below the poem, now Duncan what do the poem tells the readers?” The Grandmaster asked.

     “The poem is making a claim the Memorial is guarding something,” Duncan answered.

     Beside him Melchari stirred, indicating she got what the Grandmaster meant.

     “And now Duncan, consider the article; it gives a brief description about the Nature Spirit Xafris. The writers could have chosen a different topic. Now Duncan please tell everyone what is a Xafris,” the Grandmaster commanded.

     “A guardian entity protecting concealed places…”

     And it occurred to him. Duncan could see the connections between the poem about a guarded secret and a protective entity.

     “The Memorial is a form of Xafris,” Duncan concluded.

     “A Xafris disguised as a stone monument,” Boniface said in awe.

     “And it hid itself well. It almost evaded our detection,” Kane pointed at the Memorial.

     “Almost, but not enough to fool the likes of the Order,” their Grandmaster said firmly, “and now this one had kept its silence for too long.”

     By the Grandmaster’s will, the wind is infused with enchantments and spirals. This will make them and the Memorial invisible.

     “Speak to us,” the Grandmaster commanded the stone effigy, “your disguise is of no use. Show us your true self!”

     The effigy makes a last act of defiance by staying silent. Eventually it gives in, and a feminine voice growls from behind its stone face.

     “Who dares to disturb the peace of my sacred ground?”

     “Only those seeking the truth,” the Grandmaster replied firmly.

     “What truth do you seek then?” The effigy drawled.

     “The truth you long concealed.”

     “And why should I reveal the secrets entrusted to me?”

     The bits of animal bone littering the vicinity of the Memorial cascades as the ground begin to tremble. The scene is made more disturbing by the cracking sounds the effigy makes as it stirs to life. Its serene stone face contorts into an enrage grimace. Its eyes open, sending out beams of lights from the empty sockets.

     “You have admirable courage to come here. As a reward for your act, you are about to witness something that was never revealed for centuries. Alas! Behold my full glory,” said the effigy as it turns its head painfully at them.

     Out of instincts Duncan poises himself to fight. He turns sideways to his Captain expecting a signal to attack.

     “It’s an honour then,” the Grandmaster said to the effigy which is now undergoing a horrific transformation. Portions of its stone exteriors are splitting open where tongues of flame bellow. A violent upsurge of red lights radiates from the effigy followed by clouds of blinding mist. The sight is both spectacular and terrifying, like a miniature volcanic eruption. A loud bang completes the transformation. A curtain of smoke now obscures the whole Memorial.

     “Pray this won’t be the last one you will see,” a voice hissed from within the smoke. Its owner is revealed when the smoke dissipated.

     And Duncan didn’t like what he sees.