Episode 4
Mahtek walked south along the narrow wooded path to the temple, keeping his cloak tight to protect against passing eyes and the cold. He stopped for a moment and looked back at the city. He looked at Iandrid and saw a bastion of civilization in the midst of a world of opposing extremes. Built thousands of years ago by humans and ferrics fleeing encroaching dragons, the kings of Iandrid slowly began to build a sphere of influence. Joined by makirs leaving the nearby Djun forest, they eventually forged the kingdom of Imnos, one of the three great realms on this world of Aldernia and the greatest force for balance Mahtek knew.
And now that balance was threatened. Gilneyad, to the northeast, had never been comfortable with the younger kingdom encroaching on their territory. They had had skirmishes in the past, but now, presumably to fortify their borders or for some sort of land grab or political maneuver, the land of the rising sun had launched a full war. Mahtek loved Imnos, and wanted desperately to help its defense. But he had his own matters to attend to now.
He glanced back at the whitish-gray stone wall being completed around the capital city, and hoped that his personal mission would see it safe. He did not trust in the abilities of the generals now leading Imnos’s armies. He shook his head and cast his eyes back downward, continuing along the path. The war was out of his hands now.
A mile or two along the path, he reached the temple he was searching for. A small building of humble wood, Iandrid’s outside temple of Nu sat alone in a small clearing. There was a larger one inside the city, but the priests here only occasionally saw to the common worshipper. This temple was devoted primarily to mediation and study of Nu’s magical arts. Mahtek had a good rapport with the father here. He walked inside.
The unremarkable entryway, where a small font poured a trickle of cool water, gave way to a hall, with meditation chambers on either side. At the end of the hall lay the central chamber, and in it the scales of balance. Pillars on either side of the chamber held up the low, unpresuming ceiling. On the floor, a tableau of two armies, pitted in a never-ending battle, neither side gaining the advantage, sat underneath the grand scales. Two priests, clad in gray robes, sat on either side of the scale in meditation, keeping it perfectly aligned. Each stood up together, and walked the narrow beam to the center. Upon reaching each other, one jumped down and the other assumed an even stance across the fulcrum.
The elder priest approached Mahtek. Mahtek inclined his head. “Father Dorrell,” He greeted.
“You should not be here,” the makir priest answered. Slightly shorter and much older than Mahtek, Dorrell did not bother to hide the creased fur of age. His red eyes had grown dull and his fur was graying, but his voice still held all its strength.
“You mean I should not be in Iandrid,” Mahtek replied. “I need to be here more than ever.”
Dorrell nodded. “You are right,” He said, giving Mahtek a strong hug. “You have lost your balance, my old friend. It is time to find the path of Nu once again.”
“I will need all the immovable fortitude of Nu himself to uncover and defeat the forces against me,” Mahtek said, glancing up at the priest on the scale, still keeping it flat. “A difficult challenge lies ahead.”
“Despite your wisdom, I know you did not come seeking lectures from me. You have come with a question. It disturbs your thoughts, your balance.”
Mahtek nodded and pulled out the sword bearing the unfamiliar sign. “This shortsword bears an insignia I do not recognize. It is similar to the crest of Gilneyad, but with this dagger and drop of blood,” He explained, pointing to the symbols. “I believe whoever this belonged to is behind the plot against me.”
Father Dorrell took the sword in his hand, and looked it over carefully. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, turning it over and considering it. “I do not recognize this insignia any more than you,” He said finally, handing the sword back. “But perhaps you will find the answers you seek in Gilneyad. Surely someone there knows who would bear a crest so similar to theirs.” Dorrell glance upward at nothing and added, “Unless, of course, this is merely a diversion to keep you from the path of truth.”
“I do not think so,” Mahtek replied, shaking his head. “I wasn’t meant to find this. Someone made a mistake. This is the key, and if I have to find the answers in Gilneyad itself, then so be it.”
Dorrell turned to look directly into Mahtek’s eyes. He gazed at them for a moment, then spoke, “Very well. You have decided your path. But if it takes you to Gilneyad, then you will need magic,” He began to lead the way to one of the meditation chambers in the hallway. “You were never particularly skilled with the ice of Nu, but I can teach you a little.” As they walked down the hallway, a shadow slid from behind one of the pillars, ducked past them as they entered the first room, and crept out the front door.
