9The giant doors of the temple shone brightly in the noonday sun. Scry had heard that they were made of solid gold. This did little to impress him. He had heard tales of the value of gold, once. In the lost Age before the Talents, gold had been valuable beyond measure. Now, those who had the right Talent could draw it from the earth at will. It only served as a pretty metal nowadays, useless for anything except decoration.
He ascended the wide marble stairs, still examining the doors. As he got closer, he saw that they were inscribed with foot-tall glyphs, reading down each door. The sharp, angular glyphs were unfamiliar to him, but he dredged up their meaning from his mind anyway.
"Within these chambers the peace of the Goddess reigns. All who enter are bound by her Light to uphold the Light. May the Shadow be undone." It was the usual dogma.
"Impressive, that one so young should know Angelscript," Nosara said meaningfully.
Scry was irked by her manner. It's bad enough that they insist on telling me I'm something I'm not, but they don't need to remind me of it every five minutes! "I heard it translated once," he lied. That should keep her off his back for a little while.
Her only response was a sniff, and his fists clenched. The woman was maddening! If only he could get away and be done with this foolishness. But he could feel Yosarin's mark on his chest still. Running would be a waste of energy, when the Librarians could find him wherever he went. Sighing, he put aside the idea of escape for the hundredth time and approached the doors.
They swung open as Scry ascended to the top stair, fifty foot doors creaking open ponderously. He was taken aback. The doors were rarely opened to their full, only on feastdays and the day of the Bishop's Address, once every six months. It was no such day today. He groaned inwardly. Surely Yosarin hadn't sent word ahead of him.
Three men in neophyte robes bustled up to him, and he sighed in relief. If the doors had been opened for him, it would be no mere neophytes sent to greet him. His relief faded as they touched their foreheads and shoulders in a sign of great devotion. Nosara hid a smile at his dismay.
"We are at the service of the Dragon in Flight. How may these humble custodians of the Light serve?" they said in unison. Scry shifted his weight uncomfortably. The two kept their gaze on the floor tiles, as if looking at him would be an affront.
Nosara took charge. "We are here to view the left wing, pious ones. Lead us to it."
They bobbed their heads. "At once, Librarian. An honour to serve." They spun on their heels and lead the way into the depths of the temple. Scry and Nosara followed.
Scry looked around with unease, but luckily nobody seemed to be taking much notice of him. They walked amidst a hundred people or more prostrated on the cool marble floor. About half wore the robes of the priesthood, but the other half were mixed utterly. A man dressed practically in rags was two feet away from a woman in the finest silk robes. They were arranged in neat rows upon lightly woven mats, but the arrangement of individuals was completely random. Scry had heard that the priests made absolute sure that the obeisance shown within the temple was made by all equally.
Before him stood the object of their worship, and the neophyte guides paused briefly to prostrate themselves before it. Nosara followed suit, pulling Scry down with her. Scry obeyed mutely.
Beneath the central dome of the great Temple of the Goddess stood the statue of the Goddess herself. It was common knowledge around the city that the sculptor had, after completing the great statue, taken one look at it and blinded himself with his chisel. When questioned by horrified priests, he had turned to them with blood streaming down his face and told them calmly that he would never behold anything more beautiful in his life. Looking upon it now, Scry could understand the sculptor's utter rapture.
The statue was made of the purest white marble, and with the sunlight streaming in from the open dome it seemed to glow from within with a wholesome light. It depicted the Goddess as she had appeared five hundred years ago, before the armies at Thrakar'dar. Swathed all in flowing white silk, the only visible parts of the statue were a leg, both arms and shoulders, and the neck. The folds of stone silk obscured the rest, wrapping around the Goddess as if she stood in a high wind. The face was covered. It was said that only the dead beheld the face of the Goddess, at the final breath. Her huge feathery wings were visible, however, and arched above her head as if she was about to take flight.
As awe-inspiring as the statue was, however, it paled in comparison to the jewel that was cupped in the hands of the Goddess. Scry fought to pull his eyes away from it as the priests rose and moved to the left wing of the temple. As they passed through the archway, he couldn't resist looking back at it.
Ixidra, the Angel's Heart. Upon that stone had the Dragon in Flight sworn oaths to endure forever, to stand against the Shadow and persist into life beyond dying in his fight. Upon that stone had the High Lady sworn oaths to uphold the fight and await the return of the Dragon in Flight after his death. Within that stone lay all the might and power of the Holy Pantheon, the domain of the angels, and the hearts of their first and last kings. That stone represented the Light, and it shone with an inner fire that sparkled out through the clear faucets.
Upon passing through the archway, he and Nosara breathed deeply, and then looked at each other in surprise.
Seems the intolerable woman was as humbled as I was, Scry thought.
One of the three priests dropped back to walk alongside them, matching pace with theirs. His bare feet made barely a sound on the cool marble floor. Scry could see that the priest's eyes burned with an emotion he couldn't quite discern. Faith, he realised with surprise. He had never met anyone with faith before, not like this. The priest almost seemed lit from within with the same light that glowed from Ixidra. For a moment Scry envied him.
"Truly an astounding sight, is it not? The glory of the Goddess is beyond compare." Scry could hear it in the man's voice, now. Utter conviction. He got the impression that the man would die for his belief.
It was slightly unnerving, being confronted with such power. Scry knew that his Talents were vastly more powerful then this lowly neophyte, and yet he still felt nervous. He serves the Goddess, you idiot. Stop being so overdramatic. He serves you. Still, he couldn't shake his unease.
Nosara had no such difficulties. "Yes. 'May the wings of the Goddess shelter us all from the Shadow. May her light shine into the darkest places.'" With a start Scry realised that she had quoted in Angelic. What's more, he had understood without even thinking about it. Maybe Yosarin was right. No! I am me!
The priest bowed his head. "I can see you understand." He quickened his place and rejoined his brethren. Nosara frowned at Scry, silently reprimanding him for not addressing the man. He ignored her.
They reached the end of the marble hallway. The priests paused before the archway. "Is there anything else the Dragon in Flight requires?" they asked, in perfect unison once more.
Scry opened his mouth, but Nosara forestalled him. "That will be all, thank you. Is the Bishop within?"
Before the neophytes could respond, a gravelly voice spoke from behind the archway. "I am. Come forth in the name of the Goddess." The neophytes disappeared into side doors as if by Talent.
Nosara strode through the archway and into the darkness beyond. Taking a deep breath, Scry berated himself for his foolishness a moment, and followed.
Within the vaulted chamber there was darkness. The only light came from small fires that seemed to float within the void, drifting in the air above their heads. Scry could hear running water, and the floor beneath his feet seemed gritty. Earth, fire, water and air, he thought.
Nosara took a step forward. "Your reverence?" she asked into the gloom.
The gravelly voice came again. "Come forward, Nosara of the Librarians. Come forward, Scry."
They both took steps forward as a floating flame drifted overhead. Scry suppressed his glee. The voice had not called him the Dragon in Flight! Perhaps Yosarin was wrong after all!
The gravelly voice continued. "This place has lain all but undisturbed since the events at Thrakar'dar. Since that day, the only ones admitted have been priests of the Goddess and the Hand of the Dragon."
Scry's eyes widened. The Hand of the Dragon! So they were real! He stored that piece of information away for later.
Nosara bowed. "You know why we have come, your reverence. He must be anointed."
Scry muttered under his breath, and the gravelly voice laughed.
"Anointed? The boy does not believe yet. We cannot announce the Dragon in Flight returned to us unless the Dragon in Flight wishes to be announced, can we? Step closer, boy."
Scry shuffled forward, earth floor scraping against his thin sandals. There was a moment's silence, and then:
"There is no doubt. He is the Lord of the Dawn returned."
Scry's heart sank. First the Master Librarian and now the Bishop!
"But he does not believe, I think. This calls for something drastic. Here, boy. Catch."
Something long and thin loomed out of the gloom. Without thinking, Scry reached out and snagged it out of the air with one hand.
There was a moment of silence, and then the voice said quietly, "Brace yourselves."
There was a flash of pure white light, and Scry screamed as his mind was ripped open.