Preserving the Ingenairii (13 page)

                
“I’m going to wrap it in some more ferns leaves, and then you can wear your boot over it, but try not to do much on it today,” Alec told her.

                
“How is your shin?” Berlisle asked.

                
“It still hurts,” Alec admitted.
 
He
unwrapped
the fern leaves that were held against his shin, and saw the scrapes and slight swelling that would be expected from such an injury.
 
“Why would your injury be so much better healed than mine?” Alec asked rhetorically, a question for which Berlisle had no answer.

                
Soon the full squad was assembled.
 
“We need to look for something to heal the ingenairii.
 
I can’t tell you what to look for,” Alec held up a hand to hold back questions, “because I don’t know.
 
It could be a plant, or a relic, or a weapon, or an inscription to read aloud.

                
“I know that isn’t helpful.
 
Just call me if you think you have found a possible cure, and I’ll
come
look.
 
Now,” he shouldered his bow, “let’s get going.”
 
He led the way and they all followed the same path that Alec and Berlisle had used the previous evening.

                
As they crossed over the stony fence, Berlisle warned them about the tree branch that had nearly smashed Alec the day before.
 
“Let’s see this mighty piece of lumber,” Brandeis jokingly called.

                
“It should be right around here,” Berlisle answered, stopping to look up and down the trail.

                
Alec was bringing up the rear of the squad, and limped up next to Berlisle.
 
“She’s right,” he agreed.
 
“There was a rustling in the trees, and then it fell.”
 
But despite his conviction and searching eyes, there was no sign of the limb.

                
They continued forward towards the empty walls, everyone now feeling slightly nervous, with several stealing covert glances at the trees above.
  
When they reached the stony stream bed, Alec was not too surprised to see that only a trickle of water was seeping among the rocks and leaves.

                
“Really, this is where it happened, and there was much more water here,” Alec replied to Delle’s raised eyebrows.
 
At that moment there was a rustling sound in the leaves above, and Alec involuntarily flinched.
 
Delle raised his eyebrows again.
 
“Okay, I’m a little jumpy,” Alec sheepishly agreed.

                
Abruptly there was a shout.
 
Thomis was sitting down.
 
“I twisted my ankle, but I swear there wasn’t a hole there when I stepped in it!”

                
As Alec went to look at the man’s ankle, the tree branches rustled, and a surprisingly cold breeze swept through the forest.
 
Alec plucked some of the nearby marble leaf ferns, and wrapped them around the ankle.
 
“Your ankle isn’t swollen too badly.
 
I don’t think it’s a bad sprain, but you should sit still here for a while.
 
Don’t try to walk on it.

                
“Joahn, why don’t you stay here with Thomis?
 
I know it’s still summer, but go ahead and build a fire here since it’s getting chilly,” Alec suggested.

                
“The mountains must have different weather,” Berlisle commented.
 
“I’ll help gather wood for your fire.”
 
She strode off to find an armful of kindling.
  
Minutes later the rest of the group left the two
Oyster Bay
soldiers beside the first sparks of a fire, and proceeded towards the cathedral.
 
Several minutes later they came to the end of the trees and were able to look directly at the crafted limestone walls, from their formidable foundation stones all the way up to where they ended in the sky.

                
“Look at those clouds moving in!” Patrick exclaimed as he looked up at and beyond the walls.
 
As he spoke, they heard the sound of thunder, and a flash of lightning simultaneously cracked a tree nearby.

                
“Look out!” Brandeis called as they watched the trunk of the tree split, and a portion of it came crashing down towards them.
 
At the same time, hail stones began to pelt downward from the sky.

                
“Take cover, everyone!” Armilla shouted, and the small group scattered out in all directions.

                
“Patrick, come here!” Alec ordered as he fled under a leaning stone slab.
 
Patrick obediently began to run in Alec’s direction, only to flounder under the painful contact of the large hail stones, and he tumbled into Alec’s shelter in bad shape, with several welts on his back and arms.

                
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Patrick asked as he gingerly looked out the opening.
 
The ground already appeared to have over an inch of ice covering it, with more hail falling.
 
A misty fog was beginning to rise in tendrils from the ground.
 
In a few minutes time it thickened into a dense fog that felt like a tangible barrier to further movement.

                
When the hail finally ended, along with the repeated thunderous booms in the low-hanging clouds, Alec carefully stuck his head out from under their slab, and then cautiously stepped onto the slick ground.
 
“It looks slippery,” Patrick politely commented as Alec’s feet went in two directions and he landed ingloriously on the seat of his pants.

             
“Yes, it is.
 
Be careful,” Alec said absentmindedly.
 
He stood and looked around, but through the fog he could only see a few indistinct shapes nearby.

             
With great care he walked to a doorway in the main wall of the building.
 
“Where is everyone?” he called.
 
“I’m at a gateway to the cathedral.”
 
He waited several seconds, but heard no response.
 
“Patrick?”
 
He hesitated in the silence,
then
shouted louder, “Armilla?
 
It’s me, Alec.”

             
Still there was no response.
 
He heard the sound of the tree branches rustling wildly, although he felt no breeze, and the fog hung still.
 
Alarmed, he backed into the cathedral.
 
His foot tapped some debris, and he turned to face forward, into the structure.
 
The fog was almost non-existent inside the building he noticed.
 
It was just present enough to create a mystical appearance.
 
The roofless ceiling let light from the cloudy sky seep down and embrace the translucent air.
 
Gaunt as the stone structure appeared, it held an atmosphere of true holiness under the conditions, and Alec was transfixed.

             
“Hello?” Alec called out again, hoping that perhaps one of his companions was already inside as well.
 
The building and its environs remained silent though, except for the sibilant sound of the violent shaking of the tree branches.
 
Alec edged further inside, and began to cautiously walk along the wide nave of the building, weathered columns defining the approach to the spot where a high altar should have stood.

           
“Hello?” Alec called one more time, less loudly now, voicing an announcement more than a request for a response.
 
Something was happening, he could tell by the feel of the rising hair on the back of his neck, and he pulled his sword out of the scabbard on his hip.
 
He held the reassuring weight of the sword in front of him, the point aimed low, and jumped back in startlement as a small, bright light suddenly appeared behind the altar.

           
“Armilla?
 
Delle?”
Alec asked tremulously.
 
He wasn’t aware of anyone among his followers who had brought a candle.

           
There was no answer, and the flame jumped at his voice,
then
disappeared behind a column.
 
Alec looked around, but saw no one else or anything else to examine, so he carefully stepped through the weeds and debris on the ground and worked his way up to the altar, then past it.

           
The space behind the nave was divided by walls.
 
Alec saw a flicker in one direction, where a stairwell twisted downward off to the left.
 
He moved slowly in that direction, and paused at the top of the stairs.
 
“Armilla?” he called one more time, not expecting a response, but wishing for one.
 
Alec adjusted his grip on his sword,
then
treaded downward into the dark catacombs of the ruined cathedral.

           
“Thank you for joining me,” a voice said calmly behind him, and Alec whooped in fright as he spun around.
 
Behind the stairs stood John Mark.

Chapter 11—Descent to the Crypt

           
“What are you doing here?
 
Is this one of your holy sites too?” Alec asked in befuddlement.
 
His heart was still pounding inside his chest.
 
He realized again how vulnerable he felt without his ingenairii abilities to rely on, how frightened he had been because of that sense of mortality, and how glad he was to see the saint’s spirit.

           
“Can you help us?
 
How do we fix the ingenairii power?” Alec further queried.

           
“You are in a powerful place, Alec.
 
But it is not one of mine.
 
Only by the help of others am I able to show myself here,” the venerable saint replied.

           
“How can you need help from anyone?
 
You are the prophet and the saint,” Alec responded.

           
“This is a very holy place, but it is from a different face of God,” John Mark said cryptically.

           
“How can it be a different God?” Alec asked, his perplexity momentarily overcoming his other concerns.

           
“Not a different God, Alec,” John Mark corrected.
 
“This was raised by people who knew and worshiped a different face of God.
 
Just as in my own land of origin God was first worshipped as Yahweh, until he sent his son and was then known by that face.

           
“In this land, he was first known long before he was Yahweh in my world.
 
He was known as Resper-Ka,” John Mark added.
 
“He was perceived differently, and he provided differently.

           
“That means that my relationship with this site is not as natural as it is in those sites where I experienced his love through the form I knew before,” the saint continued.

           
“Is this where I need to be?
 
Can I find the cure to the ingenairii illness?” Alec asked, as his mind focused on this opportunity.

           
“You do need to be here, but this is not the place where you will find the full solution you want,” John Mark answered.

           
“Would you just say ‘yes’ sometime and make things easy?” Alec asked irritably.

           
There was a gentle smile on John Mark’s face.
 
“Easy would take all the fun out of the adventure,” he teased.

           
“Let’s try it and find out,” Alec shot back.

           
“There is a talisman here that you will need to find,” John Mark told Alec.
 
“But you have another weapon you will need to find as well, and then you will need to go to the energy realm and cleanse it.”

           
“What does all that mean?” Alec asked.

           
“Long ago this area was a great kingdom ruled by ingenairii kings.
 
Those rulers had a special amulet that gave them great abilities to see and manipulate the flow of the energies that emanate from the ingenairii realm; with the amulet, your physical body actually enters the energy realm, not just your spirit.

           
“The last king of that dynasty died, and the amulet was buried with him, here in this great place of worship.
 
You will need to enter his crypt and take the amulet, Alec,” John Mark said.