Fear's Union

Chapter Twenty-Seven

—Felip—

Felip walked through the city, trailing his grandfather. One building dominated the skyline of Callij; one vast imposing structure to which all others bowed. It was built in the highest quarter of the city, upon the slopes of the bordering hills, but it did not need such a high footing. It would dominate wherever.

It was a steep pyramid that stretched to a truncated peak. It was built of black stone that was buffed to a mirror shine, yet no-one was ever seen buffing it. It had an eternal quality, as if time had no more power over it than gravity did. The only endorsements were four snow white dragons that crawled up its side, homage to the god that was worshipped within. Each one of those was as large as the icon of Altunia, and yet they seemed small. Insignificant even. It was an astonishing structure, but he didn't like it any more for the fact. It was still the seat of the accursed Ranji. He did not want to go there and he was making the point repeatedly.

His grandfather sighed again.

"Yes, we have to go. But do not think of it as summons. Think of it as an invitation."

Did the Ranji do invitations? Not likely. The request was worded very much like a summons in his view. It was clear evidence that the priests had grown beyond their boundaries.

"But they will use this invitation to bend our ears. It is the Ranji way. We should stay away."

"We are of Ahan, and we do not flex as easily as these pampered home-landers. The residents of Callij have been weakened by idleness, and the power of the word has ever been amplified by peace. Their political machinations will not work with us."

That appeared to be the end of the discussion, and the two men continued in silence. They edged closer, and the temple's shadow encroached on them.

The light was dwindling, and the late summer blood star had already emerged into the sky, bright and strong. The mysterious celestial body, which cycled with the changing seasons, had been intensifying for as long as there were history books. There were even some occults that believed the star forebode a great disaster. He looked to the glowing plateau of the temple, a place of great mystery and intrigue, and gulped. Here he could believe it.

The summit of the House was one of the great mysteries, hidden as it was by sheer height. Dancing red flames could be seen there often, and many speculated upon the source of such pyrotechnics. The Ranji claimed that it was the presence of Rhanna himself, but there were many other rumours. The red star seemed to throb.

They came to a set of matt black gates which towered over them. Were they that large simply as a means of intimidating people? It that was the intention, then it worked. There was no obvious bell, but the Consul was not deterred. He slapped his fist on the smooth stone of the door, barely a noise from it. The gates swung smoothly inwards, hauled open by a dozen masks. So many priests and all so creepy. The Ranji had a lot to answer for, but he suspected there would be little cooperation. They were famously frugal with their information.

The interior was actually surprisingly bright. He walked in, mouth agape, and turned. The walls, which had been sheer black on the outside, were dimly transparent. He could see outside, and light was filtering through. How? When he regained himself, the Consul was strolling beside a masked priest, and he followed. His grandfather had clearly walked under the shadow of this marvel before.

The pair were taken to a vivid white room at the heart of the temple. Torches provided much of the light here at least, but they were no ordinary torches. The torch-light that brightened the room was rigid, pale and unwavering. Just like the sun. The luminescence of the room was so perfect that his own robes were grubby in comparison. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. Did everything have to be a contest with these weird priests?