Doors

The storm would not let up. The group had now arrived at the temple, and they had not exchanged words for a long time. Barhed stood panting for a moment, and Darmakaya noticed his weakness. "Easy, old man, we're getting there. You'd better keep your strength up." Barhed nodded.

When they neared the temple, Maynar began to notice the stone structure appearing behind the vegetation. The building was tall, its walls covered in vines. The desolate place looked even more ominous with rain and lightning whipping the sky overhead. The fact that it had no windows made it seem even more eerie.

"There's the door," Barhed said and hurried ahead.

"Barhed!" Maynar shouted, the color draining from his face.

Graves, open and empty, lay in the courtyard. The three of them stood stunned for a moment. Darmakaya had a wry expression of displeasure on his face as he approached the graves with the trident in his hands.

"Where is everyone?" Maynar stuttered, hesitating to look into the pits.

"Not here," observed Darma. There were handprints beside the pits, as if the bodies had been propped up on the edges and pulled out.

"This is where your skeleton attacked you," said Darma.

Maynar thought to correct him but couldn't get a word out.

"If it's not out here," Barhed said, "then it's in there." He pointed to the temple door. It was huge, double-leafed, made of thick wood with metal plating that had stood the test of time.

As they approached, Darma's eyes glowed gold, which Maynar noticed.

"What the hell?"

"There is powerful magic here," Darma said.

"You possess magic?" Maynar asked, surprised. Darma looked at him in wonder.

"I am a Gargoyle, poet. I do not possess magic exactly, beyond basic knowledge. But I certainly know the smell of it, and this door reeks of magic from miles away."

Barhed lost patience. He tried to open the door, but the wood wouldn't budge. There was no lock, no lever, just runes around the door frame.

"Even if we brought the whole island, we wouldn't drop the door," observed Darmakaya , pointing to the runes with his hand.

"What do you mean? That we won't get in? I don't care if there's magic or not, my son could be in there." Barhed's voice began to crack. "By Revedon, I'm sure he's inside. Damn you, do you hear me?"

Darma took a breath to keep his anger from showing. "No matter how much you beat yourself up, it doesn't make a difference. That door is secured by other means, and if we don't find out how, we're not going to open it."

Maynar looked at the runes but had nothing to offer. He had no magical knowledge, only theories. Barhed began to move around the temple, looking for another passage. There was nothing, only hidden stone, sealed and ancient.

"Maybe we should go to Brauso, Barhed," suggested Maynar. "To investigate. Maybe we'll find some clue there."

Barhed was seething with anger and resentment. "Find what? There's nothing else."

"You said you left in a hurry. Maybe there's evidence you didn't see. We can't overlook it, Barhed."

The old man was in denial. Every instinct was telling him to stay close. Yet he could think of no other plan of action.

"We're a long way from Brauso," Barhed finally said, implying that they would lose a lot of valuable time.

"We're going as fast as we can," Darmakaya added. "This is where our answers are for sure, but for now, we can't do more. The priest was right; something strange is going on here."

Darma's admission was enough to make everyone lose their morale. If he had second thoughts or fears, then the others didn't stand a chance. With heavy hearts and eyes always fixed behind them, they set off for Brauso.

It was evening when they reached the settlement. Maynar's feet were blistered, and he was almost limping. Still, he was relieved that they were away from the temple, if only temporarily. He couldn't even remember how long it had been since he had last visited this small camp on the western end of the island. It looked like a graveyard. The sound of a few animals from the yards and the rain were all that could be heard. There was not a soul outside. Barhed led them straight to his house.

Inside the house, the three of them changed their clothes and ate a snack, just enough to relieve themselves from their journey. Barhed's house was small but full of scattered objects: utensils, weapons, herbs on shelves, hides, and tools. This place was the home base of two practical people and nothing more. Barhed couldn't relax.

"You woke up and he was just missing?" Maynar asked, while Darma gobbled down whatever edibles he could find. Barhed didn't seem to care much.

"Yes," he said coldly.

"And it's impossible he just got lost in the woods?"

"Impossible. Ian has grown up in these woods; he knows them better than the back of his hand. A few days ago, he crossed them all on his own and came back."

"I see," Maynar said and began to browse the items on the shelves.

Darma took quick glances too, going straight to the bed. He looked underneath. When he found nothing, he was a little disappointed. Often, when someone disappeared due to magic, there might be a rune or a clue. Here, there was nothing.

"What is this?"

Maynar was standing in front of an urn. Its color was that of sand, with designs on it, symbols embossed and figures painted in a strange technique, straight lines symbolizing squiggles under a square.

Barhed approached. "Ian brought it in recently. He got it from Vaoro."

"Vaoro? It hasn't been many days since he passed through Ayaton."

Maynar turned to Darma. "Vaoro is a merchant who comes to Ayaton every month or two. When he comes..."

"You don't have to tell me," Darma interrupted. "I know Vaoro."

"You know him?"

"He's one of the few merchants we haven't stolen from. He always had a small army with him for protection."

"Makes sense. He has the rarest things from every corner of Vitallia."

"He's a thief," Darmakaya said, laughing. "He's skinned all the islanders by selling things ten times their value."

Maynar turned his gaze back to the urn. "That urn, Barhed, is from Mooncry. Do you see the painting? The humans, assuming they are humans, are dancing under the moon. This square is the moon."

Barhed didn't know much about history. He looked at the bizarre patterns on the object. "What do you mean, if they're people?"

"It could be Avalians, Serenians, or even vampires."

Everyone's eyes fell on Maynar.

"I don't have time to teach you history," he said, ostensibly annoyed while actually enjoying it. "The Avalians left Lothen after the Battle of the Gods. Istar Avalian led them into the canyons where they built their kingdom, Avalia. But shortly after, Nedel's children, the same children of Chaos we all know, attacked Avalia with an army of vampires, marking the War of the Silver Moon. It lasted for years, I think two centuries, and in that time, the Avalians became Serenians and founded their kingdom, Mooncry. But they have a deep tradition of necromancy and the vampire arts."

There was silence for a moment. Maynar's fingers stroked the urn and its engravings.

"Why would Ian buy something like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look around you," Maynar said. "There's nothing in this house that isn't perfectly practical. Do you want to tell me how he suddenly became an art collector?"

Darmakaya narrowed his eyes. His mind went to work. Suddenly he felt eyes fixed on him.

"What else did he bring with him?" he asked Barhed.

"Nothing. I mean, I think."

A bolt of lightning startled them for a moment. The roof creaked loudly and the windows slammed against each other from the wind.

"Now that you mention it, I think he brought some scrolls."

"Scrolls?"

"Yes, but I don't know what they were."

"The scrolls could be anything," said Darma. "It doesn't give us any clear clue, but something tells me that some force intervened. All of this together doesn't make sense."

"Are you saying someone or something forced my son to buy these things?"

"I know Vaoro," said Maynar. "He's a good salesman, but not that good."

Darmakaya nodded in agreement. Before they could continue, there was a knock on the door.