The 13th Star: An Action Adventure Sci-F Apocalyptic Novel (13 page)

Orange light suddenly illuminated Brisker’s sky and a powerful sound, like a church bell, rang loudly, disturbing the quiet.

“We have a long way to go,” said Rettoul, beginning to march away. “Whoever wants to come with me should start walking, otherwise
you’ll freeze in place. Whoever decides to go or wait in the Kaiser should get going.” He said the last words while striding
away.

The group silently followed him in the deep snow. Along the way they discovered that everything alive had frozen. They encountered
vehicles with passengers who’d frozen to death inside. Citizens who froze on the highways. From lighted windows
that hadn’t been shuttered,
they discovered homes where the heat was working, but the occupants froze. Living room, dining room—everything had frozen.
Their journey was long and quiet, as there was nothing to say in the huge whiteness. They just hoped to reach the palace before
death overtook them.

The palace was even more spectacular up close. Wood carvings decorated the huge walls, highlighting their strength and size.
Every wall told a different tale from the galactic stories, clearly carved and understandable to all. The palace dome was
unique: they’d never seen one like it. It was positioned atop a huge pillar in the center of the palace and supported a huge
glass plate that covered the whole palace and parking area. They couldn’t lower their eyes from the huge dish that blocked
out the sky and
yet clearly reflected them. It prevented the snow from reaching inside the palace and, indeed, upon entering the gates of
the inner courtyard, the ground was completely clear. The beauty of the well-tended gardens amazed them.

In the center of the courtyard was a very high column, the like of which they’d never seen, and finally they spied the huge
bell that produced the chime.

The group entered the palace. The air was relatively warm and they gradually removed their coats and earmuffs, gloves, and
looked at the rooms they passed. Even inside the palace there was death.

“Something illogical happened here,” said Zoi.

“I thought that since we’ve been together, there’s no logic in anything,” said Mattoui.

“It’s not funny. They didn’t all die of the cold,” Zoi continued.

“That’s quite clear,” Rettoul said casually.

“If we’re already here,” said Mattoui, “we should find dedi the son of Pandor. What do you say, Rettoul?”

“dedi the reason we’re here,” replied Berez.

“No, not for dedi,” rebuked Rettoul. “We’re here for the scrolls, but aclue from dedi would be the one to help us find them.”

“Does anyone know what dedi looks like?” asked Berez while looking at the dead people sprawled at his feet.

“Not exactly,” replied Mattoui. “Of course there are his clothes—his cloak—but we can’t rely on the embroidered cloak. Who
knows? Perhaps someone coveted it and took it. There’s his signet ring, which distributes heat and is passed from ruler to
ruler. He won’t remove unless it is removed with his finger, and there’s the tattoo on his right elbow.”

“Great signs!” Zoi laughed.

“And don’t forget that he’s a bit chubby,” continued Berez.

“Enough, guys,” said Rettoul. “Be serious. We don’t have much time and it looks like we’re quite vulnerable here. We didn’t
die in battle—it would be wrong to die here.”

They all agreed and were silent while they looked for dedi among the corpses. Suddenly Berez called from one of the rooms,
“I think you should come.”

dedi lay on his back with his eyes open, the yellow embroidered robe wrapped around his neck. He wore his famous signet ring
and a woman lay next to him. Her beauty in life was evident even in death, with jet black hair and her face white, her cheeks
flushed, and her long neck made her appear to be a cold, distant princess.

“There you have the famous dedi and his wife, teresa,” said Zoi.

Rettoul reached down and examined dedi's hands. “We should keep looking, because it’s not dedi,” he determined.

“What do you mean?” asked Mattoui.

“dedi is the King of Brisker. dedi doesn’t work, so his hands should be soft and pleasant. The hands of this imposter are
the hands of a laborer, and if Berez or Zoi check, they’ll find that he doesn’t have a tattoo on either elbow.”

“So what do we do?” asked Zoi despairingly
.

“We keep looking, because someone chose deliberately to mislead us. Maybe that means there are no more scrolls here because
someone removed them. And it seems now that someone—not the huge snowfall—is responsible for the death of the planet,” said
Rettoul. The silence reigned once more.

They continued to search thoroughly, but found nothing. “We should go to the upper rooms,” said Berez, and they followed his
suggestion in silence.

Zoi suddenly called, “Rettoul, Mattoui, come and see what it says here.”

He stood by the wall where a huge picture of the galaxy had been removed. Behind the picture was an indistinct inscription.
Rettoul was the only one who could read it, since it was written in Cherka.

“The one with the scar…” Rettoul stopped, but Mattoui surprisingly continued.

“…will lead to the choice. He will lead
to unity
. The one with the scar is the son of the twelve military leaders.”

Mattoui was astonished to find that he knew Cherka. But it threw them all and they looked at each other. They all knew Rettoul
had been chosen long ago, but nevertheless, they were stunned.

“I didn’t know…” muttered Rettoul.

“I know. Neither did I. But we’re apparently far more connected than we realized,” replied Mattoui quietly.

Rettoul stepped forward and touched the letters, his fingers lingering. Suddenly, the wall moved and everyone jumped back.
A wide cave opened before them and they went inside. A minute later, they found themselves in front of a closed elevator.

“I don’t really see how one sends for it,” said Zoi.

“Maybe we should wait. I think the palace is far better equipped than we estimated,” continued Mattoui.

“Nevertheless, one can wait here until the day after next,” replied Berez.

“I don’t understand why you’re so impatient,” rebuked Mattoui. At that moment, the elevator door opened and they entered.
There was not even a button inside, but something—probably some kind of sensor—knew they were inside. The door closed and
the elevator descended.

Bergin and Coldor knew there was no need to physically abuse David. He already looked worn out, with Sarah’s death clearly
reflected in his face. His body was bent and his eyes transparent, as if he saw nothing.

“Well,” Coldor said to Bergin, “as we know, Rettoul is on his way or has already reached the Briskerian palace. He obviously
doesn’t know a surprise awaits him there, but that’s okay. He’s got plenty of time to look for the scrolls.”

“What do you say, Bergin?” Coldor continued. “Do you think he’ll take it hard when he finds out what happened to the scrolls
and the Briskerians?” Coldor chuckled, his great laugh thundering in David’s head.

David didn’t say anything. He knew these things were being said for his benefit more than to Bergin.

“What do you say, David?” Coldor asked. “How will your illustrious guest react when he discovers the scrolls are not there?”

“Rettoul knows, just as you know, that only a Levite may and can hold the scrolls.”

“Oh, you stupid old man!” Coldor laughed. “Sometimes legends are strong, but the truth is even stronger.”

David swallowed hard and tried hard not to respond.

Coldor walked around David, increasing his speed. He suddenly revealed a table behind a heavy red curtain in the room with
the scrolls on it.

colder picked up one of the scrolls and laughed. “only levite can hold the scrolls"

David choked and realized he had nothing more to fight for. His eyes closed.

The elevator door opened and they found themselves in a large circular room with the elevator in the middle. Flaming torches
lit the room brightly as they got out and looked around. There didn’t seem to be another door or extra space leading off the
circular room. They walked around it, but couldn’t find any opening. Zoi ran his hands over the walls and nothing happened.

“Very strange,” said Berez. “We descended in a special lift to nowhere.”

“This is not nowhere. There’s something here; we just haven’t discovered it yet,” Mattoui replied.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Zoi said. “There’s only the elevator door, and that’s it.” He looked at the door.

“True—the only door is that of the elevator,” said Berez and looked at the door. They faced each other with the elevator between
them, each looking at the door. Suddenly they realized the elevator had two doors. One had let them out—the other would lead
them to the place they were seeking.

“How do we know which one?” They looked at each other. The two doors were identical and they couldn’t tell which one they
had exited from.

Rettoul smiled at them. “You’re tired, otherwise you would understand.” He stood with his back to a door and the elevator
car opened again for them.

“Yes, but how do we know we’re not going to go back up?” Zoi asked.

“We won’t know if we don’t go in,” answered Mattoui, and the four entered. The elevator door closed on them again and darkness
dominated the car. They didn’t feel
the elevator moving, neither up nor down, as they felt before. And then the door opened. A wide corridor stretched out away
from them, with a heavy door and a wide handle at the end. The handle creaked slightly as Rettoul pressed it, but opened into
the room they sought.

dedi was lying dead on the ground, his throat slashed. Beside him lay the legendary Queen Teresa. Her was skin fresh and only
the red of the blood cried out. The scrolls’ niche had been left open and exposed. Rettoul rushed over and found the scrolls
were gone. “It’s all over,” he said, burying his head in his hands.

“Not everything is over!” said Berez, pushing forward two small frightened children.

“Where did you find them?”

“They were sitting in a niche,” replied Berez, pointing to it.

Rettoul looked at them and didn’t say a word. Everyone looked at him.

“Who are you?” Mattoui asked the children, who didn’t react. They just stared at him and seemed to curl up inside.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” asked Rettoul in another language, but there was still no acknowledgment. Berez, Zoi,
Mattoui, and Rettoul tried to speak to them in several languages, but the children seemed not to understand a word.

“Perhaps they’re deaf,” Zoi wondered.

“They’re not deaf, but they don’t understand our words,” said Rettoul. “We don’t have much to do here. We’d better all get
out of here.”

“Just a second,” Mattoui said. “You can’t leave them alone.”

“I said all of us.”

“Yes, but we can’t take them with us. Everyone here is dead and they’re the only ones left alive. But they don’t say a word.
I’m not sure.” Mattoui was thoughtful.

“So what are you saying?” Rettoul questioned.

“We should first try a little harder to find out who they are.”

“We don’t have much time! Who knows? Maybe we’re next in line,” railed Zoi.

“Mattoui’s right,” said Rettoul, handing the girl a fluorescent marker. He brought her to the table in the corner and, gesturing,
asked her to draw for him.

The girl drew a big, bald man with a thick braid in the center of his head. She drew four others around him, each wearing
a cloak. She looked at dedi, pointed at one of the people with cloak, and swung a punch at dedi.

“Coldor came with here his men to harm dedi and steal the ancient scrolls,” said Mattoui.

They took the children and quickly left the palace. They didn’t know where they were running to, but they were afraid something
would happen to them among the death prevailing there. Dozens of water soldiers were waiting outside and shot arrows at them.

Berez was not surprised and hurriedly directed the group back into the palace. He remembered seeing a jewel in one of the
rooms and hurried to fetch it. Arrows flew in
all directions, but no shot or touch of a Jorash affected the balance of power. It seemed that the end of the mystery had
arrived; the water officials signed a pact with Bergin and killed the Briskerians.