Chapter 17

Okay! So here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long but I had a hard time figuring out what was coming out of the mists at the begining. And several otehr complicated things. Well, you get the idea. :)

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Chapter 17

Holly woke instinctively; her eyes snapped open as her piercing gaze quickly swept over the environment. Something did not feel right. The early morning sun had not yet risen and the world was in the blue hour between night and day. In the singed forest to her left, several robins, jays, and sparrows called to each other, their strange whistles and clucks filling the eerie silence with a haunting echo. The river rushing and gurgling along side the encampment looked dark and grey in the dawn light, and a cool breeze was rising from it. The breeze ruffled the hair of the dark lumps lying in a circle, bodies rising and falling gently as they slept deeply, an occasional snore coming from Ivan.

It seemed like everything was fine, yet she still felt the nervous stress on her neck and shoulders, the feeling that there was something very wrong. She sat up and swept her gaze around. In all directions small hillocks, looking dark and green in the blue morning light, went as far as the eye could see. Small rivers and streams ran everywhere disappearing in the whitish grey mists that hid the distant borders of the land. Everything seemed fine. Yet she knew it was not.

It ate at her, a gnawing, knowing, fear of the unknown. Finally she voiced her thoughts, the silence swallowing her words,

“There’s something foul in the mists.”

Her sharp viridian eyes scanned a few seconds longer, then she rushed over and shook Ivan and Nicholas awake. They both sat up groggily, squinting at the blue morning light and looking about perplexed. She pulled them both on their feet and over to one of the hillocks. They reached the top and a stronger breeze caused her dress and hair to billow out, while chilling them all to the bone.

“What’s going on Holly?” Asked Nicholas, feeling the same uneasy feeling she felt.

“I-I don’t know. There’s something…something that isn’t right.” She said as she continued to scan the misty curtain at the edge of the world.

Ivan gave a large yawn, “What are you two babbling about? I’ll tell you what isn’t right, being up even before the sun is up. You’re both just a little stressed. Let’s go back to sleep.”

As he turned to go, Holly’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the shirt collar. The next instant he was jerked back next to her and held fiercely in place. No body said anything; they all just stared at the silvery wall. The sky was getting more colorful by the second, heralding the approach of dawn. Ivan looked and saw nothing. They just stood there in the silence for a few seconds longer, and he was about to say something when it happened.

The morning sun peered over the lip of the world and cut through the mists almost instantaneously, burning a hole through the white curtain that then slowly dissipated as if the mists were fleeing from the light. And with the mist gone they saw them.

Four large birds were flying towards them. They were so massive that they could be seen clearly from far away. They were immense black owls. Their beaks were white and their eyes were large, silver orbs in their dark faces. Smoke seemed to be coming from their eyes and wings. Holly and the boys were transfixed for a few seconds when they suddenly realized what was going on. They turned and ran to the camp yelling for everyone to wake up.

Several sleepy heads bobbed up and looked with squinting eyes at the early morning sky, wisps of pink and orange appearing on the blue sky. Liam and Silver jumped up immediately and ran to the three, Silver changing into her Griffon shape again.

“Hurry! Get up here! We have some black owls heading our way!”

Silver reached the top of the hill first, followed by Liam who had already called to Skree. They all looked out and saw the four ominous birds in the distance. And in front of the four smoke wreathed owls was a single white swan.

“Skree!” called Liam, and his hawk was in the air immediately. It sailed quickly and fiercely, Silver, now in eagle form, right behind it.

They slammed with tremendous force into the first two owls. There was a mass of struggling as feather, claws, and beaks struck and fell as the two pairs of combatants plummeted towards the ground. Silver pulled away first, her attacker falling lifeless to the green hillock. The large black feathery body thudded dully against the moist earth.

Skree and its owl were falling faster and beginning to spin as they neared the ground. It seemed like the two were going to impact the other hillock when Skree disentangled at the last second and shot out horizontally, going parallel with a small river. The owl tried doing the same, but its wings were larger and it took longer, and before it could fully spread them, it slammed with tremendous force into the soft, wet ground. An audible crunch reached the onlookers on the hill.

As Silver and Skree turned around, the swan and the other two owls had already passed by them and were nearly at the camp. From nowhere, Holly had pulled a large bow and had notched an arrow. She waited a few seconds and breathed out as she let loose her arrow, the strong ash shaft flying strong and true through the clear morning air before embedding itself squarely in between the large smoking eyes of the owl.

“Ivan! We need that last owl alive!” called Holly.

Ivan had finally come to his senses and quickly played a trill on his piccolo. A few seconds later Zephyr lifted him up into the sky. He soared up as he watched the two birds nearing him. Then he quickly sounded a low note and he dropped to the ground, stopping just short of hitting it. At the same time Zephyr blew the owl with tremendous force against the ground.

Edric and Master Oronus joined the group on the hill as Skree landed on Liam’s shoulder and Silver landed with a graceful gallop next to the group. The white swan circled overhead once before alighting on the stream next to Liam. Master Oronus approached the large dark owl that was writhing under the constant constraint of Zephyr.

“My goodness. I never thought one as wise as an owl could be turned to the darkness.”

“He’s no wise owl.” said Liam, standing up from where he had been squatting by the swan. “He’s a Stryx. See, he has no horns, no ears. That’s why he, and the others, fell so easily.”

The creature was screeching and foaming from its hooked beak, its sharp talons clawing the ground as its feathers were dirtied by the constant writhing and wriggling in the dust. Liam looked down at it with contempt in his cold blue eyes, then turned around, Skree looking expectant for some kind of signal, moving from one foot to the other with anticipation. But before anything could happen, Master Oronus motioned to Nicholas, who stepped forward.

“Now, I have yet another test for you, my boy.” came the old man’s deep words, “Keep your hand on the creature’s head. Fear not, I will sedate it, just keep your hand in place and enter your dreamplane. From there, follow your instincts. Go on.”

After a quick tap from Master Oronus the creature became calm and peaceful. Then Nicholas stepped forward hesitantly and placed his hand on the large feathery forehead. He felt the oily, sticky, feathers beneath his hand give a little before he was actually touching its forehead. Then he closed his eyes and entered the dreamplane.

He was in his white room, the clear glass all around him, and the light filling his senses. His arm was extended in front of him and his hand was wreathed in a smoky, hazy, darkness. He stepped back and the smoke took the form of a doorway. As he continued stepping back a man in a black robe, whose face was hidden from Nicholas was stepping forward out of the doorway. Nicholas’ outstretched hand was pressing firmly against the pale palm of the man’s hand.

“You cannot interfere with my work, boy! Leave me before I harm you.”

“Who are you! What are you doing here?!”

“Well, you obviously have no idea who you’re dealing with or even what you’re doing. As amusing as it is, you are still interfering with my control of this animal. Now, release your entrance to its mind!”

Nicholas wasn’t sure what to do. But he felt that it wasn’t right for the man to be controlling the animal in this way. Master Oronus had said to follow his instincts. So he took a deep breathe and spoke plainly and clearly.

“No.”

“No?”

“You shouldn’t be controlling this animal like this. Not in this way. Are you the one who made it fall to darkness?”

“Ha! Me? All these poor, stupid animals came to me. They desired meats to fill their belly eternally and so I granted it to them. There was only a small condition but they were too dumb to even take notice. They were their own demise into shade.”

“Leave them alone!”

“I’ve had enough of your babble, peasant! If you will not stop interfering then I will be forced to do something…unpleasant.”

Just then, Nicholas felt his body begin to buzz, like it had done when he had been in the dreamscape. He felt electricity running and skitting over his body, his hair beginning to prick up. Then he clenched his hand firmly around the pale hand of the man’s, the droning inside of him becoming more and more audible.

“What are you doing?” The robed man asked concerned. “I am the one with the authority here!”

“You have to leave, now! You won’t have any more control over this owl!”

And with a mighty push, his mind straining, Nicholas felt all the light directed through his body to his arm and into his hand. There was a loud flash and the figure flew back through the smoky door, which closed with an explosion of light and sound. Nicholas felt the familiar floating feeling and knew he was being woken up.

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In a distant land, far across the ocean of ice, the frozen sea, and the land of the Snow Trolls, a pair of blue eyes, light and sharp like midwinter’s eve’s deepest frost snapped open. The figured brought a pale white hand, like freshly fallen snow out of the long silvery robe. In a haunting voice that sounded neither male nor female, young or old, angry or sad, the ivory lips spoke.

“So, after alluding us for nearly twenty years you have finally been found. Well, we won’t make the same mistake twice.”

The sharp blue eyes closed again, but the cold lips kept moving silently as if they were still in deep conversation. Things were being moved into place that would soon shape the destinies of many and the blue eyed one would make sure that all would fall in favor of the Silver Tower.

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Nicholas’ eyes snapped open in the real world, where only a few seconds had passed. He looked over to the owl beside him, and as he did, he removed his hand. Beneath his hand was a white mark, a hand print left by him. From there it spread out across the owl’s head to his body and eventually the bird was entirely white. Two deep purple eyes opened and looked at him quizzically. Then it uttered a hooting cry that caused all to cover their ears.

“He says thank you for freeing him. The man in black had taken a hold of him and his brothers and sisters almost three moons back. They did not know what was happening until it was too late.” Said Liam from behind Nicholas.

“Wait did you just talk to that bird?” asked Ivan, then backing away slowly he said, “Liam I think you need to rest. The stress from the last few days has obviously worn you down.”

“Ivan!” Holly yelled. “Hold your tongue!”

“Actually Ivan.” Edric said smiling goodheartedly, “My cousin Jullian’s grandmother was from the Northern Kingdom of Albia. They have the gift of bird tongues. He inherited it from her.”

“Mmm. Okay then, what’s the bird saying now.” Ivan asked, squinting and trying to look analytic.

“Nothing, he’s just listening to you.” Liam said with a laugh.

“Hey where’s he going?” Said Ivan as the big white owl gave a few powerful strokes of its wings before taking off. “Humph. That’s some gratitude for you! You save the thing and he just flies away, no helpful information or anything.”

“Um actually Iv.” Said Nicholas, pointing to the swan, “I think that we’ve got all the information we need.”

Liam squatted by the graceful white bird again, whispering soft cooing and clucking sounds into its ears. The swan seemed to nod a few times before it gave several loud honks and trumpets, then there was a much softer, rustling, chuckling sound that came from its crop.

“Well, that’s interesting. The swan says she was sent by someone known as Cikara Brea. Cikara will lead us to Larson, but wants to make sure we are truly Larson’s friends, so instead of telling us where Larson is, the swans will bring us clues that will lead us to him, without exposing his location to his enemies. The swan gave us a riddle. She said that Cikara said only Larson’s friend would be able to answer it.”

“Okay, give us the riddle.” Nicholas said as he fervently tried to recall everything he had learned from Larson.

“In Forest Green
Oh sage and thyme
Near things unseen
Ah riddles and rhyme.”

“Yes, keep going.” Said Ivan as he was taking notes and thoughts down on a piece of parchment he had pulled from his pocket with a charcoal stick, “I think I may be on to something! What’s the next part!?!”

“Actually that was it. Sorry to disappoint you Ivan.” Said Liam with a smile.

“Well that’s less then helpful!” Ivan said as he threw the paper behind him.

“What do you make of it Master Oronus?” Asked Holly, purposefully stepping in front of Ivan before he could continue his dramatic display.

“Hmmm. Well, the inclusion of the herbs sage and thyme stand for female power and courage. In forest green, well that I haven’t the foggiest.”

“Well, I know that there isn’t any forest greens left on Insular.” said Edric as he pointed up to the singed forest few leaves that were left, “They’re all broadleaves here, that means they’re not green all year round. Forest green must mean an evergreen forest.”

“But that’s even less than helpful!” said Ivan as he ran his hands through his hair, snagged his goggles and caused them to smack against his face, “Ow! That could be anywhere!”

“I-F-G-O-S-A-T-N-T-U-A-R-A-R. If…go…sat… in… to…a..rar. Arar? Hour? Does that mean anything to anyone?” Asked Nicholas hopefully.

“Where’d you get that from?” Asked Liam smiling again as if he already knew.

“The first letter of each word.” Said Nicholas.

“Well, I don’t know about anybody ‘sitting in to an hour’, but I do think you may have helped us get to the next part of the riddle.” Liam said with a twinkle in his eye. “Try the first letter of each line.”

“I-O-N-A. Iona?” Asked Nicholas confused.

“You own a what?” Ivan said frowning as he tried making sense of the message. “I don’t get it.”

“Not ‘I own a’… Iona!” Said Edric beaming, “I should have seen it from the start!”

“What’s Iona?” asked Holly.

“Iona is one of the Holy Islands of Insular, the Southern to be precise. We should head back to Gwaylen and from there we can sail to Iona.” Said Liam with a skip to his step, “I should have known that Nilrem would have placed it in the Scriptorium Catacombs for safe keeping.”

“Taken what?” Asked Nicholas trying to catch up with Liam’s long legs and brisk steps.

“You’ll see when we get there. For now we must make haste! Quick everyone to their horses!”

Soon everyone was on their horses with their belongings and ready to set off. Ivan leaned over after he noticed Holly’s bow and arrows on her back.

“Where’d you get that?” He said acting secretive as he looked from side to side.

Holly rolled her eyes then spoke sarcastically, “I found it lying around.” Then she began trotting away.

“No you didn’t! …Did you?” Ivan wasn’t sure if he should believe her or not and followed after her calling for her to stop and answer him.

At the edge of the stream, while everyone else was peering at Liam’s dated map, Nicholas turned and saw Edric away from the group. His usual cheerful smile was gone, and he had a pained look on his face. He stood still on his horse, staring across the riverbank. On the opposite side Nicholas saw Gillea next to a tree, the enveloping dark brown hood of her cloak making her seem like a face in the forest. She was staring back at Edric. The two just stood there, speaking with their eyes and their hearts. Then there was a call, everyone cheering because Ivan figured out the map. As everyone began leaving Nicholas saw Edric begin to trot in pursuit, giving one farewell glance towards Gillea. And so they set off back towards the Stone Bridge of Tara-Gwaylen.

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It was nearly evening when the Cuttlefish finally made it out of the Rish Bay. It had taken a while to get back to the boat and then it had taken even longer to track the whole crew down. When they finally sailed out into the open ocean the sun was just dissolving in the western sea, its color filling the world with warm orange light.

The island was small, large enough only for the monastery, a few gardens, and a dock. The ship pulled along side of the dock and Coniglio and Tal hopped out, tying the Cuttlefish to the pier. Then everyone else came ashore. There was a small stone path, over grown with moss and weeds, that led up to the monastery.

The path led past the gardens, all of which were bursting with fruits and vegetables. The monks didn’t seem to be lacking in sustenance. They continued on the path and came to a large stone symbol. Strange designs and runes were engraved on it and painted with bright red paint that hadn’t faded since the day it was placed on the magical stone. There were forty all together, surrounding the monastery completely like some protective hedge against evil.

The group tried stepping past the stone, but Silver, Holly, Nicholas, and Jack could not pass the stone for some reason. They told everyone to go on without them, and that they would simply go wait on the ship. And so Liam, Ivan, Oronus, and the whole crew went up to the large pointed wood door and knocked.

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“My my my! What a delight! That the venerable descendant of our great and illustrious founder, St. Colm of Gwaylen. What a delight! What a delight!” The fat abbot in his long brown cowl and his many chins said as his jiggling form swayed to and thro as he escorted the company down the nave of the monastery.

Inside there was a single nave or aisle, warm dark brown stone covered in crimson and purple carpets fringed with golden thread, that ran down the centre of the monastery. The last of the sunlight was pouring through the large lancet stained glass windows that nearly covered the entire wall, flooding the long nave of the monastery with multicolored light.

“It has been a long time since you have come here to visit your family. Why it must have been at least four years back.” Liam didn’t respond, instead he just kept walking forward, and so to break the awkward silence, the abbot continued, “And what charming friends you have here? May inquire to their names?”

After they had all introduced themselves and their places of origin, a few getting lengthy questions about their ancestry, the abbot beamed with delight as he continued talking without pause, “Well, well now! Fancy that. A descendant of one of our greatest abbots, Abbot Wickman the Wise, how very fortunate!”

The ships’ engineer just walked behind the abbot blushing as he muttered embarrassingly about having no idea. The group saw pensive monks peaking out from behind their ambulatory doors as the curious group of sailors and dukes passes the many small doors on the side of the nave. The group finally neared the end of the nave, and turned into the left of the transeptial hallway, where they entered the abbot’s guest quarters.

There they sat around the large, simple yet elegant table of the abbot and told him of their journey so far and of where they were headed. The abbot seemed long in thought after they had told them and said he would have to meditate upon their words for a few hours, and meet in concilium with the other heads of the monastery. In the meanwhile he invited them to dine while he was gone.

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Back on the ship, the small sickle moon had risen over the ship and its occupants. They four sat solemnly on the wooden deck. Jack had gone down to the ships hold and retrieved several large, wide, yellow candles that they placed in the middle of the wooden deck, creating the feeling of sitting around a campfire.

“So why are we here anyway?” asked Jack as he pulled a grey woolen blanket closer around his shoulders.

“It’s clear.” Said Silver, now in her cat form, purring as she sat next to Nicholas who was scratching her behind her ear. “He’s here for the book.”

“What book?” Asked Holly, as everyone sat forward with interest.

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“Erm, excuse me. Sir Duke.” Came a humble monk from behind the wooden door.

Liam and Edric both stood and followed the monk out of the door. The entire monastery looked very different in the foreboding darkness. There were small altars with candles casting very faint yellow light at certain intervals of the nave, but it was so faint that it barely illuminated the large chamber. The monk spoke in a hushed voice, afraid of awakening his brethren.

“Sir, the abbot has decided to allow you your request, as long as you are able to fulfill you promise of returning the book, whole and completed.”

“Yes, I will.” Said Liam.

This seemed good enough for the monk who then entered their room quickly. He came back out with Wick their engineer and a candle for each of them. They lit their candles from the one he already carried and soon they were off. They had only to go down the nave a bit further to reach the apse, the very end of the nave where the entire long aisle ended in a rounded nook. In this large area was many candles, lit brightly, along with incense braziers hanging all around. At the very center was a colossal statue of white marble. It was of a man, dressed as one of the monks, with a long beard falling from his face and almost reaching the ground. In his left hand was a thick tome, and in his right was a pen.

“Beyond this point, only those descended from the great abbots of old may pass.” Said he as he indicated the group that was now with him. Then he stepped towards the large statue and placing his hand on a stone near the base, he opened a secret door hidden in the floor next to it. “Make haste. We must be back before day break.”

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“The book is the ‘wisdom’ that Larson came seeking in Insular.” said Silver as she stopped purring and sat up next to the fire, her eyes shining in the reflection of the flames as she seemed to be thinking back in time.

“It would now be almost a thousand and three hundred years since Mercius the Lorekeeper first expressed his wish to create it. The book. He said it was to be a magnificent tome to preserve for all generations the knowledge of the past. He said that we would forget if he didn’t do it. Only later in life, did he truly realize how much it had costs him…and his family.”

“But you can’t trust history books. They make so much stuff up, you couldn’t possibly know for sure what this Mercius had thought.” Said Jack skeptically.

“I know, what I know, not from any book.” Came Silver’s cryptic reply, then after looking away from the group and giving a sigh of resignation she said, “He was my brother.”

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The group of descendants were following the monk down the small stone steps, their candles not giving nearly enough light. When they finally reached the bottom of the steps they looked around but could barely see anything.

“Hurry, we must make haste.” Came the monk’s soft reply.

They journey through the large dark room, a sweet, pungent, mildew odor surrounding them. As they walked Edric used his hands on the wall to guide himself better. He came in contact with some smooth wood. It was circular. Then a second one was underneath his hands. He figured they must be barrels. Then next instant he felt his hand graze over something sticky.

He brought his hand to his face and saw the sticky redness on them. He sniffed it and took a small taste. The sweet fruity flavor of the dark wine rolled on his tongue. He realized they must be inside some kind of wine cellar. They walked until they reached the end, where the monk lifted a rough trap door on the floor. A gilded metal ladder went down into the depths of the darkness below them. They all bit their candles between their teeth as they began climbing down.

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“But that would make you…” Holly began.

“Almost a thousand and four hundred years old.” Said Silver giving a cattish grin.

“Well, I must say, for someone that’s nearly a millennium and a half old you look great.” Said Nicholas with a teasing smile.

“Anyway, I was there the day Mercius first decided to create the book, known as the Book of Treasure Lore.” Said Silver as she began extending her claws into the ship’s rough wood. “I told him not to, that we were so close to defeating the darkness that it wasn’t worth the risk yet. But he insisted that that was the reason the book should be made, because we were so close. But then things didn’t go according to plan.”

“So, how is this book supposed to help us against the witches?” Holly asked as she was thinking, “I don’t see how the past can help us against the present.”

“That’s just it. The book is what motivated the witches. The book is how they found out about Bella, the heir of Alexandria. If Bella is the key to the Sacred Treasure then the Book of Treasure Lore is the map. We have the key, but without a map to help us find the treasure we are no better off then the witches.” Said Silver as she circled the candle-fire passing behind everyone where they sat. “I never saw the book myself. They killed my brother and then later when his apprentice, Liam’s ancestor Colm of Gwaylen, finished it, I was already on a different quest.”

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When they finally reached the bottom of the ladder they were surprised to see it led to a very small room. The room was pitch dark, but Liam, having been here before, knew where the door handle was and opened the doorway. Before them was a long hallway, as large as the monastery above them. It was illuminated by many torches of scented oil that burned continually all along its length.

As they began their journey Edric and Wick noticed the large statues along the way. They were all dressed in the cowls like the monks and had various implements in their hands, like the larger one of Abbot Colm in the apse above. They were about a third of the way to the end of the hallway when the monk and Liam both stopped before a statue of a young man that resembled Liam. At the base were carved the words,

“Kings of Gwaylen, blessed of the bloodline of St. Colm of Gwaylen. Forever find your rest in this sacred place.”

“Liam.” Came Edric soft reply, “Your…parents?”

“We have no time to stop.” Said Liam as he took a deep breath and continued on towards the end of the chamber of crypts. “Please, sir monk, when we are done, return and light a candle for my mother and father.”

The other two bowed slightly as they passed the younger statue of St. Colm and continued after Liam, while the monk only nodded and continued after them. They went to the end of the chamber, and then down more stairs, leaving behind them the last resting place of the abbots of Iona and their descendants.

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“So, what happened when your brother made the book?” Asked Nicholas knowing that it would be a difficult question for her to answer.

“My brother Mercius was commanded by the Council of the White Walls to abandon his mission. He however began compiling it in secret. None of us knew, though I must admit there were times when I suspected. When he was almost finished, the witches found him. He threw his work into the fireplace, and all they could recover was a small piece of parchment that contained the prophecy.”

“And Mercius?” Asked Holly solemnly.

“He was found the next day, scattered across what you now know as Alexandria, Stocken, Koal, and Hestia. When they reassembled him, it became apparent that he had been sacrificed to a wyrm, a dark deamon dragon from the Void.” Came Silver’s solid reply. She had clearly worked through all her emotions and grief centuries before as she now seemed almost peaceful, “It was a terrible way to die. But he made his own choice, he reaped his own consequence. As horrible as it was, he died and was honored as a hero, and his memory has persevered even until now. And now, the tale told of him is much different. I guess in the end he did truly triumph because he was remembered generations later.”

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“We’re almost there.” Said the monk in the hood.

They had been climbing down stairs for nearly fifteen minutes without stop. There had been three landings so far and Wick did some sums in his head to come up with a rough idea of how far down they had climbed.

“I reckon by my figur’n that we’re just about five monastery heights below ground now. That means each stair case is about as high as the monastery.”

“Here we are. Time to check your measurements Wick.” Smiled Liam as he opened another large wooden door.

They were in a massive cavern beneath the monastery. All around the walls had been plastered and covered with richly decorated frescoes. The paint had faded slightly with age but the images were still clear. The walls were covered with images of monks hunched over next to desks where they were hurriedly copying as someone dictated to them. And against the far wall of the massive cavern, true to Wick’s estimation almost three times the size of the abbey, was a colossal statue of St. Colm, two fingers extended as if blessing the ones entering his domain, or as if he were explaining something to the many scribbling monks.

“This is the scriptorium of St. Colm’s catacombs. Every monk you see painted on these walls is actually an entrance to a tomb to one of the writers of the Book of Treasure Lore.” Said the monk, his voice echoing around the vast chamber.

“Then one of them leads to the resting place of the book?” Asked Edric as his eyes scanned the many ledges and walkways that led to the hundreds of paintings.

“Yes, but all are sealed with pressurized iron salts. If you were to open them you would be melted.” Said Liam with caution.

“Correct. I am forbidden to reveal the location to you. You must choose wisely.” Said the monk, who then withdrew out of the light of the candles into the darkness.

“So what do you guys think?” Asked Edric.

“Well, it’s simple.” Said Wick as he began drawing on the soft sandy floor. “Any pressurized chamber’s gonna have a slightly buckled wall and possibly even some cracking along the very center of the plaster, so all those on the far wall o’re there are out.”

“Okay, but what about the rest?” Liam said as he motioned to the ones around them.

“I reckon that the monastery was built first, but this whole chamber was only added later, after thy brought the book here. So, then we are looking for the oldest plaster and the most faded picture. The ones closest to the ground have to be older.”

“But the rest are all faded about the same.” Edric observed, then he noticed Liam looking intently at the statue of St. Colm.

“Wick, would you say this statue looks somewhat solid?” said Liam as he tapped the solid statue.

“Yep. As far as I can see.” Then Wick he walked over and began to closely study it. “Hold on a second. It looks solid, and feels solid, but… there’s something not quite right here.”

“That’s because there’s magic blocking our eyes!” Said Liam as he raised his hand over the large statue and made a motion that resembled the sign-stones outside.

The entire statue began to fade, as if it had been mists on the morning air until it was completely gone. Instead, before them was a small wooden door. They entered and found themselves in a small shrine. Before them was yet another statue of the Saint, and all around were candles, though none were lit. Resting on a pedestal before the stony Saint was a large metal box.

“The inscription says that none but the Saint himself can open the box.” Said Liam as he read the inscription.

“That is true.” Said the monk behind them sending a chill down their spines. “And for a long time the box had been kept shut by the enchantment placed upon the door. But now finally I have been able to return to my book.”

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The night air had gotten cold and no one said anything as they thought about what Silver had revealed to them. Suddenly a chill went down their spines. From far away several crows were calling in the night and the moon seemed very bright. Then it happened. Everyone jumped back as the candles on the deck suddenly shot forth into a pillar of fire.

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At the sound of the monk’s voice all the candles in the room suddenly burst into flame. A cold wind was in the room and everyone felt their hearts beating in their chest. Everyone, that is, except the monk who passes by the three noiselessly. He waved his hand over the box and as he did, the lock clicked opened, the chain fell off, and the lid opened.

Then he turned to the group and spoke with great sadness, “I made a grave mistake many centuries ago. My master Mercius had warned me about the power of the book, but I ignored him and after his death, remade the burnt book. And then I placed the most powerful protection on it so that it may never be destroyed. I even bound my life to the book and so I have been here, trapped from my rest, ever since. The book could not be destroyed, but instead was divided up after my death, into three parts. This is only the first. Each seer was given a part, the Seer of Forest, you knew him as Nilrem, kept his here. You must find the Seer of Fire and the Seer of Ice, and retrieve theirs as well. Only then will you have the map you desire, to find the treasure. But be forewarned, the key needs a map, but the map also needs a key.”

And with that the monk floated early over to the statue and faded into it. The candles died down, and the room became warm and stifling again. The three exited quickly and made their way up out of the Scriptorium and its catacombs. That same night they awoke the crew and slipped back to the boat quickly. They set sail from the Holy Island of Iona before early morning vespers as quickly as possible. It wasn’t until they were out to sea that they stopped shaking and looked at the book.

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End Chapter

Whew! That was long. So yeah, lots of plot points begining to surface, unravel, and come together. What worked for you and what didn't? I have begun to reveal Silver's past, but still not completely until the end of this section (chapter 30). Okay, so there is also the whole Albian bird-speak thing, in the next few chapters I'll explain that more. The swans were important. The stryx are too. The riddles are hopefully all going to flow together and actually means something in the end, but we'll see. Don't expect to see Gillea any time soon, and I may even kill off a crew member soon in one of the battles. Maybe Jack. :P