Red Leaves and the Living Token

chapter SEVEN





Handers hurried down the stone path through the forest underbrush. His mind wandered, filling with images of the white building he’d just seen. This path lead to that place, he was confident. But what he still didn’t know, even after all he’d seen, was the purpose of that place, or what it had to do with him, or even more importantly, what it had to do with his son?

He wanted to know who built it. It was obviously enough of an undertaking to be considered significant. That meant it was most likely not going to be left abandoned. And that meant the likely hood of running into to someone there was rather high. That made him terribly uneasy. How would these people feel about strangers showing up uninvited?

He held the little glowing Token, wrapped in its protective felt cloth, up where he could see it. He was putting so much trust in this strange little object. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

A voice came through the forest behind him. "Sir! Mr. Handers, sir!" He spun around to the voice.

Rinacht hobbled over a few stones cropping up in the middle of the path as he hurried towards Raj as fast as his short legs would carry him. "I thought I'd never catch up." He stopped and curled over, breathing in gasps.

"Rinacht, what're you doing here?" Raj asked.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize you were that uneasy about the situation. You have a tendency to... dwell on the negative." Rinacht said.

"Yeah? Then its a good thing you came back to cheer me up. I feel better already." Raj joked.

Rinacht straighten up as his breathing eased. "If I'd known you were about to run off into the woods on your own I would've..."

"Made some jokes?" Raj interrupted.

"Well, does seem liked a missed opportunity." He smiled, wiping his brown. "I didn't come all this way to see you walk off into the woods by yourself."

Handers grabbed Rinacht's hand and pulled him into a half embrace. "Thank you." He turned back in the direction he was headed and continued down the path. "Not a lot seems to be going my way. It’s good to have at least one person on my side."

"There you go again. Dwelling on the negative." Rinacht jabbed.



-



Handers stopped suddenly. "Did you hear anything?" He glanced back at Rinach who was panting heavily behind him.

"Hear what?" Rinacht asked, happy to have the chance to catch his breath. He let out an over exaggerated exhale. "Woowh! And pointed his stubby legs, "these little guys weren't made for long distances."

"Shhhh!" Alarmed, Handers held up his hand to quiet his noisy friend, his attention focused on a spot of trees in front of them just off the path. He motioned for Rinacht to come up beside him then pointed towards the spot of trees.

"Look!" He whispered.

Rinachted waddled over to him and leaned forward into the trees with his eyes squinted. Something beyond the trees shimmered like a piece of metal catching sunlight. "Someone's back there!"

Handers crept forward into the trees. Rinacht grabbed his arm to stop him. "What're you doing?"

"If they were going to attack they would've done it by now." He shook off Rinacht’s hand and pushed through the underbrush. Carefully, he pushed his body up against the trunk of a large tree and peered around the side. It wasn't a someone behind the trees. It was many! An entire column of what looked like some kind of decorated royal guard in fully polished metal armor extended into the forest as far as he could see, and ,unfortunately, in the same direction as the path.

The closest guard was only a few yards way. It was easily twice his size and covered in shiny plates of metal from head to foot. The color of the plates alternated between gold and silver making an intricate pattern down the center of their chests. It was obvious they were there as much for display as for any kind of deterrent or protection.

A suit of armor didn’t stay that shiny clean with any kind of use. Matching full helmets covered their heads entirely, leaving only a few small slits for their mouth and eyes. That made it impossible to identify their race. They stood upright like a Botann, but their hand were shaped like the Zo's.

The strange guards held an almost perfect line formation. And for the entire time he’d been watching them, he hadn’t seen a single movement. It made him wonder if there was anything there under the armor. They looked like the kind of motionless decorated guards that would stand outside the entrance to a palace. They made you question where or not they were statues or capable of actually causing harm.

If they were willing and able to cause harm, that caused a bit of a problem given their size and number. It wouldn’t take much for the closest guard to put an end to he and Rinacht. Yet, for some reason he wasn’t afraid. In fact, he felt quite the opposite. A calm warm had settled over him.

Back on the path Rinacht waited nervously. At the first sight of Handers, he stammered over. "Did you see anything? Anyone there?"

"A column of soldiers," he answered without emotion, then continued across the path and into the forest. "I suspect they're on both sides."

"W..What?" Rinacht hobbled after him. "A column of what?"

Handers crept through the underbrush on the other side of the path. He motioned for Rinacht to follow.

Rinacht shook his head, "I'm fine thanks."

Handers returned a moment later. "Solid flanks on both sides."

Rinacht turned around and waddled back down the path the way they came.

"Hey, where you going?" Handers called after him.

Rinacht turned. "You aren't seriously thinking of going through there." He waved his stony arm in an impatient gesture.

"Actually," he hurried back to his escaping friend, "I think they're here to protect the path not attack it."

"Why would you think that?"

Handers put an arm around him. "Come on. We'll be fine. I have a good feeling about this."

Rinacht gave in and moved forward with him. "You and your feelings!"



-



As they kept their brisk pace down the path, the shimmering light reflecting off the metal armor of the guards seemed to close in on them. The further they went, it seemed, the closer the guards stood to the path.

The trees hid less and less of their still and silent company until finally the forest ended entirely, leaving nothing but tall tufts of grass that extended up the mountainside above them. Their pathway cut directly through the center of the grassy meadow, the column of guards flanking it on both sides.

Rinacht stopped, taking in the full size and scope of the giant metal guards for the first time. "This is insane! We're insane! I'm going back." He muttered, then turned around.

Handers caught his arm. "Look!" He pointed up the mountain beyond the meadow. They could see the summit in the distance. Just below the summit rose the stone buttresses, peaks, and spires of what appeared to be a white marble church or temple.

The double rows of guards ran right up to the arched wooden doors of the building. Another ring of guards circled around its entire circumference.

"I think we're here." He glanced back at the nervous Rinacht. "Where ever here is."

Rinacht nodded his head, "Yeah."

They continued cautiously until the structure was towering above them, blocking the sun. The massive doors were already opened inward.

Handers took a moment to appreciate the impressive view surrounding them. The mountain meadow fell away below, revealing a wide expanse of land that stretched out to the horizon. Beyond the forests to the west the Zo lands filled the flat lands down to the coast. To the north the Botann lands cut into a larger dark green expanse of forest that vanished into the blue horizon. To the east the grey rocks of the Petra dropped down into a sea of green forest.

Handers turned back to the white marble building and walked up the large stone steps leading to the doorway. Noticing Rinacht wasn't beside him, he turned back.

"You wouldn't make me go in there alone would you?" He asked.

Rinacht stood gazing up at the spires above him in a strange stupor. "I know this place," he muttered.

Handers stared at him curiously. "You've been here before?"

"No." Rinacht whispered as he passed Handers on the steps and disappeared into the darkness beyond the door.

Handers stared at him in bewilderment.



-



Handers followed Rinacht into the shallow anteroom of the temple. A few feet further, they passed through another set of large doors that opened into an enormous central chapel. White stone walls at the back reflected a rainbow of colored light that filtered down from stained glass windows a hundred feet above them. Full color murals, detailed illustrations, and inscriptions covered the base of walls from the floor to ten feet up.

Thick pillars, inset four feet from the walls, encircled the entire room. Robed statues carved out of the base of each pillar seemed to hover over them, making Handers feel uneasy, as though they were being watched. They reminded him of the rows of sentries who were standing outside along the path. Only these in here had no armor.

He stopped below the closest stone figure, not sure what it represented. It didn't seem to have a pelt of fur as he did, nor did it have the knots and bulges of the Botann, or the Petra’s sharp blocks of mass. Its skin was bare and smooth, like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was incredible and strikingly beautiful.

The white stone creatures all held their gaze on one location in the room. Handers turned to follow their eyes to a stair case that curved down into the room. It’s base widened in a large Y shape. At the top of the stair case an open doorway poured a bright reddish, light down into the room, brighter than the light from the windows high above.

Intrigued, Handers hurried across the hard marble floor towards the base of the steps and peered up at the lighted room. As he did, a sudden chill raced down his spine. A cool breeze kicked up behind him that seemed to carry a strange whisper with it. The voice came as though from behind, then from all directions at once. It was audible but not intelligible. He cut his eyes back to the statues, half expecting to see their lips moving. They weren't.

A marble pedestal rested at the base of the staircase, anchoring the heavy railing. The top of the pedestal tapered up to form a small figurine equal in size and shape to the Token he had in his pocket.

Handers stared at it. Either this was the place he was meant to find or this was the place he never should have come. He put a hand down on the pedestal as he took his first step up the white stairs.

In that moment, a flash of white pulled him out of the room. He saw himself standing across from a tall creature just like those carved in the chapel’s stone pillars. Only this one wasn’t stone. It extended its smooth, hairless hand out to Handers. In its large open palm was the Token. Handers reached up and accepted it. As he did, it flared brightly in his hand.

Suddenly, he was in another place, struggling through difficult terrain, through dense wooded trails and frozen mountain passes. Then, he saw himself standing at the center of a beautiful garden. The sky above him was dark with a strange purple hue, unlike any sky he’d seen. Behind him, in the middle of a small thicket at the center of the garden, he saw the small red leaved plant.

He noticed his hands, burdened, heavy. In one he was holding the same white sword he had seen before, in the other he held the scepter. His body was covered in white glowing armor.

He saw himself standing at the front of a large crowd of Zo, Botann, and Petra. They were of all ages, young and old. Those in front were kneeling to him. That caught him a little off guard. Were they worshiping him? Was he a king? Then he heard their voices pleading for help, begging for his mercy, his protection.

He watched himself turn around, then felt his heart sink. Behind him was another crowd of people. But they weren’t kneeling. They were charging, clad with armor, their weapons held above their head ready to strike.

He saw himself raise the white scepter that he held in his hand, the Token affixed to its top. As he lifted the scepter, the warriors spun out of the way, jerked at the waist by an unseen force.

He heard screams of pain and terror behind him. The numbers of the enemy were so vast and coming from so many directions that some had gotten past him. They had swarmed over the people who had pleaded for his protection, slaughtering them. Bodies covered the earth. He knelt beside a small girl, one of those who had fallen and touched the token to a wound on her chest. She convulsed violently then sat up. Others that had fallen nearby convulsed then sat up as well.

Handers stood and quietly lifted his arms above his head, the Token scepter extended high into the air. The ground shook. The earth split. Two enormous slabs of what once was flat ground tilted into the air, exposing the bowels of the earth below. The endless black swarm of soldiers pushed forward in countless numbers pushing the front line into the open earth.

The vision closed and another opened. He was back in the beautiful garden. The purple sky above him once again. The storm was darker now, swirling ominously. Then a portion of it dropped down, spinning like the head of a tornado. It bent into the shape of an arm, a great arm of storm and thunder and struck down over the thicket protecting the tiny red plant. Handers watched as he lifted the scepter. A white light erupted from the token, intercepting the storm, splitting the arm. Trails of purple mist spun off in eddies on both sides. He looked back. The red plant and thicket were untouched.

The storm recoiled, drawing the arm back up into his central mass.

He heard a thunderous noise from the trees beyond the garden. A Vast swarm of Botan and Petra soldiers crashed through and dropped down into the center of the garden.

He felt a stabbing pain. He looked down. Blood dripped from a large wound on his chest. He fell to his knees then to the ground.

Then, just as before, he saw his son lying on the forest floor motionless. A warm glow grew into a brilliant red light. Emret stood up, his legs steady and strong.

Then he saw his son running through the forest.

Another flash of white light overtook his vision. As it receded he found himself back in the temple chapel. His foot on the first step and his hand on the railing.

He backed off the step. This was too much. What ever this place wanted of him, he'd have no part of it. It angered him that his son was used like a dangling carrot after the horrible images of war. He'd never fought in a war. In fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd even been in a fist fight! What protection could he possibly offer anyone? He couldn’t even keep his son safe. His thoughts began to spiral downward.

"Mr. Handers! Mr. Handers!" Rinacht called from behind him. Handers turned.

"You OK?" Rinacht asked.

"I'm fine," he lied. He was angry and frustrated after having come so far only to find another dead end. He had no delusions. That person he saw holding the scepter was not anyone he could ever be. To his shame, the idea of having to become that person scared him. And that made him all the more angry. It wasn’t right, being made to feel guilty for not being able to be something that no normal person could ever be. And having to become that person was somehow connected to finding his son? That wasn’t fair. That was crazy!

Yet, something felt... Something tugged from within. Was he missing something?

"Come look at this," Rinacht beckoned. He pointed at another set of stairs at the other side of the room. Instead of leading up, this one lead down. Like the other, it had an ornately carved pedestal that marked the beginning of the railing. And, like the other, it had the same Token carved in the marble that adorned its top. But it wasn't clean white. This was a semi translucent purple. Its color spread into the white marble below in thick, dark veins that thinned with distance from the top.

Handers peered down the steps. At the bottom he could see a small landing and another open doorway leading to another room. A faint yellow glow spilled out of the room below and onto the lower landing.

"I think I know where we are," Rinacht explained. "This stair case," He approached it slowly, running his hand in the air over the railing, careful not to touch it. He turned to room behind them. "The markings on the wall. The circle of statues. It all fits."

"Fits what?" Handers asked.

"The Keepers."

"Who?" Handers's asked.

"You don't understand," Rinacht stepped away from the stairs cautiously. "This room," he looked around, "this place is supposed to be symbolic. I never thought it actually..."

"Symbolic of what?"

"The Keepers are supposed to have created the Reds. It's beyond..." He paused.

Handers stared at him. "How do you know all this?"

"I think we've found their temple." Rinacht said.

"Don't tell me my Butler's a religious scholar." Handers jested.

Rinacht scowled. "My Grandpa had an affection for traditional Petra mythology."

"So what's down the stairs, according to this mythology?" Handers asked.

"In the myth people come to this place when they have problems they can't solve on their own. When the complexities of life get in the way of getting things done, things that need to be done, sometimes the only way around is through brute force.” He punched his fist for effect. “If you believe your cause is just, then you have the inherent right to claim the power concealed below."

Handers raised an eyebrow. "And who determines who's cause is just and who's isn't?" He asked.

"You are your own judge." Rinacht shot back quickly anticipating the question.

Handers eyed Rinacht for a moment then moved towards the stairs. He put a hand on the pedestal and took a step down.

His vision fogged then burned to white. As the white faded Handers saw himself standing in a dark room staring at the back of what appeared to be a large marble throne. He watched himself approach the back of the throne then cautiously move around to the side.

Sitting in the throne, with its body slumped forward, was an old and tattered figure. It had the same smooth hairless skin as the temple statues. It wasn't Petra, Zo, or Botann. This one wore a large purple crown and held a scepter loosely in its rested arm. It seemed wholly unaware of his presence.

He watched himself sneak up to the side of the figure and put his hands on the throne. With a swift move, he lifted the crown off his head.

The figure jolted up right, roaring and hissing wildly. It held Handers in a fiery stare as he stood there holding the stolen crown. Then, with blinding speed, it lunged at him.

The vision changed and he found himself watching a Botann militia standing guard over a bridge into Shishkameen.

He swooped down to the ground level and saw himself push into the crowd of soldiers. They turned as they saw him then stumbled backward in panic. Those that could, ran in terror. He quickly overtook one of the soldiers and tossed him to the side like a rag doll. He caught another by the tendrils and threw another into the air.

The crowd of soldiers separated in their flight, revealing an officer standing in the middle of the bridge. Handers recognized him immediately. It was the Botan who tortured him in the swamp, who wrapped him in vines, ripped the skin off his arms and almost squeezed him to death. Suddenly, he found his hands in a tight grip around the officers neck.

Everything vanished. In its place rugged mountain landscape with sharp bare rocks lifted up to fill his view. A sea of soldiers, a vast Petra army, blanketed the jagged land as far as he could see.

It came to his mind that his son was being held captive at the opposite end of the army, that all he needed to do was get through the soldiers and he could save his son. The closest Petra towered over him, easily twice his size.

Then he saw his own arm raised up to the sky, the skin blackened, bare of fur, and charred. It shook and began to swell. Handers cried in pain as every muscle in his arm bulged to an impossible size.

He saw his face, the right half deformed and hideous.

With a ferocious crash of his massive blackened arm, hundreds of Petra soldiers splashed away from him. Another crash sent another wave of soldiers in the opposite direction. He tucked his head and charged, burrowing through the giant rock soldiers like they weighed nothing.

His vision cleared, he was back in the warm reflected light of the chapel. Handers stepped back from the stair case.

“What's wrong?” Rinacht asked, giving him a strange look.

Handers didn't respond. His thoughts still raced through his mind, uncollected, uncertain. Was any of this at all possible? In the real world? Were these things he saw meant to be literal? If not, what did they mean? Having the strength to get to his son regardless of who stood in his way, that seemed too good to be true! He hadn’t liked to admit it to himself but one of his biggest concerns with leaving the protective escort of Lord Valance was that he’d be vulnerable again. Weak.

He hadn’t realized how unable to defend himself he truely was until he came out here. And the horror was, that meant he would be unable to defend his child. Even if he did find him, how would he keep him safe long enough to get him home.

What ever it was down that staircase, if it offered him greater strength to do what a father was supposed to do, to protect his family, then he wanted to see it.

Rinacht pulled him back towards the stairs. "I think this is the answer to our problem. This is what we've been looking for."

Handers turned back to the other stair case across the room. There too was an offering of immense strength. The glowing weapons and armor seemed incredible and miraculous. But they came with a price. He was running around fighting other people’s battles with them. What ever strength and assistance he would get from that room up top, would he be able to use it rescue his son? Or would he be stuck doing someone else’s bidding? And maybe, if there was time, he’d be able to fit in his son rescue?

And then one of the last thing he saw was what looked like a mortal wound in his chest. How could he accept that? Who would be there for his son after that?

"This is how we get your son back!" Rinacht said.

“What about the other stairs?” Handers asked.

Rinacht followed Hander's glance. "I don't know. There was only one stair case in the myth."

Handers remembered what he saw happen to his body. The blackened skin. Hopefully it was figurative. Whatever it meant, if it was the price he’d have to pay for his son’s freedom and safety, he’d pay it. He took a deep breath then committed to the first step, careful not to touch the railing.

Rinacht followed him down.



-



The stairs curved down and opened into a dark circular room similar in shape to the one above. Light filtered down from slots cut from the ceiling in regular intervals.

As the room above, the walls were covered with an assortment of frescoes, diagrams, and writings. Stone pillars, inset from the walls, circled the room. The base of the pillars were carved into statues, as well, only in the place of the upright robed figures were various shapes and sizes of wild beasts. The beasts seemed to be based on the three races, wild Botann, Zo, and Petra.

The floor of the room stepped downward in stadium fashion, ending with a large basin that rested directly in the center. Streams of black liquid seeped in from cracks in the walls, ceiling and floor and cascaded down the steps into the basin.

The circle of floor beneath the basin, the lowest point in the room, was made of an oddly bright red colored wood. The streams of black liquid that dripped down the stone from all around the room trickled down channels that feed it into the basin. But where there weren’t channels to carry it over the floor it just dripped and collected into puddles on the wood. Little puffs of steam rose from the puddles with a subtle hiss.

The wood appeared to be heavily corroded, as though it were being eaten away slowly by the pools. Visible holes had already formed between slates, and the weight of the giant basin was causing the wooden floor to sag in the middle. It was in poor enough shape that Handers was hesitant to step on it. It appeared it was only a matter of time before it gave way entirely.

Rinacht circled around the basin, running his fingers around the lip. "This is exactly as it was described!"

An enormous marble throne occupied an entire section of the far wall. Handers stared at the shape and size of the throne. It was similar to the one he'd just seen in his last vision.

A detailed fresco covered the wall behind the throne. The fresco depicted a vicious battle with repeating figures holding black weapons who stood out against a back drop of death and carnage.

In the far right of the fresco, painted stone steps led up to a large figure sitting in the same repeating throne, dressed in a purple tunic with a purple crown on his head. The figure was twice the size of everyone else in the painting. He had no fur, no knots or jagged edges. He was smooth and beautiful. Perfect.

Like the statues above and the guards outside, he guessed this was what Rinacht was describing as a ‘Keeper’.

Filling the steps below the Keeper were an assortment of regular men and women, Zo, Petra and Botann, soldiers and civilians. They weren’t standing on the steps but were instead lying or kneeling, with their hands all held up towards him as though pleading with him. In his right hand, he held a dark purple scepter with what appeared to be the purple version of the Token affixed to the top.

A thick black storm cloud cast a shadow over the steps and throne.

Three people, one of each race, knelt at the top of the steps, each holding out their hands with a gift for the Crowned Keeper. The gift in each of the three's hands glowed red. In the Zo's hands was a small Red Animal, in the Botann man's a small Red Plant, in the Petra's a small Red Stone.

The Keeper held in his left hand a long red knife raised to receive the Red gifts.

"Rinacht, know anything about this guy?" He pointed to the Fresco depicting the man on the throne.

Rinacht came up behind him. "These three I recognize." He pointed to the three warriors welding the black weapons. "The three heroes. The three paths to power and greatness… if you read into the analogy.

"But the rest of this. I don't know." He studied the image, moving with it up to the high steps. "Looks like some kind of King... But, he's not in any of the stories." He ran his fingers over the wall where the three people held out the glowing Reds in offering to the King. "I wonder what they're doing here."

"Maybe we shouldn't be down here, you know. Doesn't look like he's a very pleasant fellow."

"Come take a look at this." Rinacht motioned him back over to the basin. "There's something down there." He pointed down into liquid. "Something shiny, metallic."

Handers watched as Rinacht leaned in for a closer look. He noticed something around the outside edge the basin and stooped to inspect it, rubbing away the dust. "Rinacht look. There's something written here." He followed the writing around the circle of the basin, brushing at the dust as he went.

"Behold, the weapons of the crown!" Rinacht read as he walked around a portion of the bowl. "Appears to be written in several languages."

"The weapons of the crown?" Handers asked.

Rinacht leaned over the edge again. "Yes, yes. That's right. The Royal Weapons." A strange expression covered his face. He put his hand toward the surface of the liquid, intent on reaching down to grab something. His finger touched, then, with a hiss of steam and a puff of smoke he jerked it away. "Oww!" He cried out and leaned back.

Handers laughed. "Suppose you really have to want them, right?"

Rinacht glanced over at him with a look of contempt, still holding his finger in pain. "There's supposed to be a key. Something that allows access. In the stories it was always a small white statue of a plant or animal." He indicated the size with his hands. "You haven't seen anything like that have you?"

Handers glared at him. "Both staircases had a little tree carving at the base of the handrail."

"Yes, yes. I noticed that. What we're looking for is something just like that."

Handers leaned out over the liquid. "What kind of weapons?"

"You don't understand. Weapons of the Crown. Weapons of the Crown of the gods. This is one of the three paths of power and greatness. This is the answer to our problems! I know it!" Rinacht said.

Handers stared into the liquid.

Whack! Rinacht slapped the outside of the basin. "Come on Handers! What do you think its for?"

Handers jumped, surprised. He stepped back, a little bewildered.

"Keep it safe, I understand that." Rinacht continued. "Keep it a secret, of course! But only until the time comes to use it, then you use it! Otherwise, what's the point."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Handers growled.

"Fine!" Rinacht muddled over to the first stone step that circled the room and slumped down with a frustrated grunt.

Handers was confused. How did Rinacht know he had the token? He'd been so careful about keeping it out of sight. He hadn't even shown it to his son.

"What does it cost to try?" Rinacht added. "I'll tell you what it'll cost us both not to try." He paused. "Your Son."

Handers scowled. He knew Rinacht was right. However uncomfortable it made him, having his secret exposed, it was unavoidable. He'd have to deal with him later. Right now he need to move forward to where ever this path might be leading them. He knew Rinacht was right about the basin as well. There was something powerful in the bottom. He could feel it.

With a small uncomfortable sigh, he reached a hand beneath his shirt and pulled out the small velvet pouch containing the Token. As he unfolded the velvet, bright streams of light flooded the room.

Rinacht jumped to his feet and approached quickly, shielding his eyes with his hand. "It's beautiful!" He mumbled as he watched Handers hold it up over the basin. "Can I see it?" He asked.

Hander ignored him. The bright light cut through to the bottom of the liquid, exposing the full contents of the basin. A kingly breastplate encrusted in jewels, numerous swords, scimitars, and shields all rested on a bed of jewels and coins. In the very center, pushing out from the coins was a majestic purple Crown, the same that he'd seen on the wall as well as when he touched the pedestal. Below the crown was the scepter he'd seen as well. "Incredible," he whispered to himself.

Here was the Crown, Scepter and the Throne. What worried him now was the missing piece. Where was the creature that these belonged to? The thing he saw sitting in its throne wearing this crown? Was he long since dead? Or just gone for a walk?

He lowered the Token closer to the surface to shine more light on the Crown. With the Token's approach, the black liquid repealed as if a silent wind were blowing it back.

"Rinacht, look at this!" He pushed the Token lower. The liquid reacted in equal proportion, pushing it back with greater force.

"The Royal Crown!" Rinacht almost shouted. "I knew it!"

"You said you didn't know what any of that was," Handers argued.

"The Crown I knew. Yes."

Handers stared at it. From what he could see through the liquid, it was quite impressive. Much more so in person. As he stood there hovering over the basin, studying the exquisite craftsmanship, the intricate lines of jewels encircled with golden flowers, he remembered what he had seen moments before in the other room. He remembered that the first thing he saw was himself taking this Crown off the head of what he was guessing was a Keeper. After that he had super human strength. This crown, he guessed, was the source of that. It had to have been, or why else would he have seen himself taking it. He had to get the Crown!

He leaned in and pushed the Token down towards the crown. The liquid displaced further, creating a deep depression near the center and an overflow against the brim of the basin. As the the liquid lapped up and over the side, it dripped on the wood floor below, giving off a hissing plum of smoke.

"What're you doing? You can't take the Crown!" Rinacht yelled. Handers ignored him.

Rinacht paced back and forth behind Handers peaking over one shoulder then the other. He rubbed his forehead as Handers inched closer to the Crown.

"We're here for the weapons, not the Crown!"

After a moment, he turned away and fidgeted with his hand. His eyes darted back and forth, indecisively. He chewed on his hand. Finally, he turned back to Handers with a confident and immobile gaze fixed firmly on the back of Hander's head.

He lifted his massive stone like forearm high above his head and bought in down with a loud crack onto Handers' neck.

Handers dropped backwards, his arm swinging out of the basin. The Token dropped to the floor. Rinacht stepped over Handers and picked it up using the black velvet lying next to it.

Handers' head throbbed. He rolled over onto his back. Rinacht stood over him holding the Token. The realization sank in. Rinacht had just hit him. "What are you doing?" He demanded.

"I'm sorry. I can't. I can't let you take it!" Rinacht answered.

With that, Handers lunged full force at his house servant, knocking him off his feet. He grabbed violently for the Token, just managing to wrap his fingers around it. Rinacht rolled hard onto Handers arm trying to break his grip.

"The Crown is the way to Emret!" Handers yelled.

"No. You don't understand. It won't help you!" Rinacht argued.

Handers leveraged his weight and launched Rinacht into a nearby pillar.

The Token clattered to the floor between them. Handers looked down at his hand. He still held a piece of the Token. Rinacht sat up, still holding a piece as well. The Token had broken into three.

"What've you done!" Rinacht yelled. He stared at the broken piece of the Token in his hand.

Handers got up and darted towards the black pool. He pushed the Token fragment down into the basin. Liquid splashed up on the sides, as it was pushed away in the middle. He reached in for the crown with the other hand. Turbulent waves of liquid splashed up over the edge of the basin sending up plums of smoke as it burned the wood floor below. Handers leaned his upper body over the brim, pushing his entire arm past the shoulder into the basin.

With a jarring whip, Rinacht grabbed him from behind and wrenched him back with all of his strength. Handers twisted and slid to the side, tumbling to the floor.

Rinacht shoved his own arm into the basin, one hand holding his piece of the Token, the other reaching for the closest weapon to the surface.

More black liquid gushed out and splashed onto the wood, causing two of the floor boards to crack and split. The basin groaned as it shifted position from the weakening floor. Choking smoke filled the air.

Rinacht curled his fingers around a short sword. Immediately, with his touch, the piece of Token in his other hand turned black. The liquid it had been pushing away swept back in a crashing wave, submerging his hand and forearm in the black acid.

He jerked his hand out in surprise and dropped the sword which had turned black with the token. "Aaaah!" He cried out in pain and stumbled backward cradling his injured arm. He held up the blackened Token, still clutched in his good hand, trying to comprehend what had happened. He turned his gaze back to the basin full of irretrievable treasures.

"I'm sorry." He pleaded. "I never should've agreed to this." His face twitched with pain.

"Agreed to what?" Handers demanded in a low growl.

"You're not the only fool looking for this place. And you're not the only one of us with problems. You think I live in your country doing your cleaning because I choose too?" He backed towards the stairs. "I'm done trying to help. Good luck with the boy. Just remember, you were warned."

He turned and paddled up the stairs.

Handers watched with bitterness as his old friend left. Who did he sell him out to? He wondered. And why? He knew he wasn't happy where he was. But he had always tried to help him the best he could. It wasn't his fault Rinacht couldn't go back home. And how could he abandon Emret like that?

He turned back to the basin and leaned his body out again over the edge, dangling the Token over the liquid. As he lowered it, the black acid pushed away. He could see the Crown more and more clearly the deeper he pushed the Token. Finally, the top of the crown peaked into the open air. He reached in with his other hand then stopped, remembering what happened to Rinacht.

There didn't seem to be any other way. Hopefully the crown would react differently than the sword Rinacht had grabbed. If it didn't and the acid did come crashing back he'd just have to be quick.

He wrapped his fingers tightly around a band of gold that formed the top of the crown and pulled.

Without a moment's forgiveness the Token fragment turned black. Acid crashed down over his arm and shoulder. "Aaaaah!" He cried. The crown hadn't budged, but he couldn't let go, not yet, not when he was this close. He pulled harder. The acid burned fiercely. He could feel his skin dissolving. He repositioned his legs and tore at the crown with everything he had.

Steam rose from the acid as it ate away his flesh. "Aaaaah!" The pain was overwhelming. He couldn't hold on much longer. His fingers slipped a little. "No!"

With a rumbling boom and splash, the Crown finally gave. Handers slammed backwards to the ground from the sudden release.

He immediately inspected his arm. The sleeve of his shirt was gone. The fur was entirely burned away as well as most of the outer skin. Long streams of blood and acid dripped down what was left of his red flesh.

His burnt hand still clutched his new prize firmly. Free of the basin, the Crown was no longer gold with purple felt trim. Instead, it seemed to be composed of the very acid from which he'd just removed it. His hand burned where he held it, but it was still solid enough to hold.

Then he noticed the basin. A flood of liquid poured out of decorated spouts all around the bottom of the basin, splashing onto the wood floor.

He pulled himself up onto the stone floor quickly to avoid the flood of acid. It appeared that there was some sort of drain below the Crown that fed the decorated spouts. Removing the Crown unplugged that drain.

The room started to shake. The floor boards groaned, then a loud crack shot out as several of them split. Then, in an eruption of splintering wood, a large section of the floor beneath the basin gave way, tipping the massive stone bowl down halfway into the floor.

Cradling his arm, Handers backed away further up the stadium steps.

The rest of the slatted wood floor snapped with a cloud of acid and debris, swallowing the basin into a black abyss below.

The room shook like a volcano about to explode. Then, from deep within the abyss something howled and moaned, growing louder, echoing off the stone around him. Louder. Then without warning, it exploded into an ear bursting screech, like a million voices screaming.

He covered his ears and ran as fast as his adrenalin pumped body would carry him.

A moment later he burst out of the wide temple entry way and raced down the long stone steps that prefaced the building. The structure shook behind him as he charged full speed across the soft meadow grass.

The white stone of the tall spires fractured sending the enormous mass toppling forward into the meadow. The fractures continued deeper into the temple’s core. The great walls started to implode. Then, the earth shook, the temple exploded. A storm blast of giant stone and debris billowed into the air. A shock wave of compressed air knocked Handers off his feet.

Then a second eruption. A jet of black liquid shot straight up into the air accompanied by the same mind breaking screams. The ground shook with the violence of the erupting liquid.

The third token fragment, the plant portion, that was left in the room after the fight, twirled through the air and landed in the forest down the mountainside.

Handers rolled over, semi conscious. He watched the jet of black liquid shooting in a power stream into the sky. High above him, it had already started forming into a thick black cloud.

The horrific scream continued but had diminished with distance up in the high cloud. In its place a roaring wind had picked up.

Lighting flashed in the storm above. The clouds twisted and swirled in an unnatural way. Hard shapes seemed to phase in and out as though something was swimming behind the clouds.

Handers looked up in horror as one of the twisting shapes in the center of the mass took the solid unmistakable form of a face. Its eyes opened and stared down at Handers. Great black arms shot out on both sides of the face reaching out to him.

With that, his overwhelmed mind slipped into unconsciousness.