The icy points of light bobbed against the darkness as something came closer. A startling figure loomed into view.
He was almost seven feet tall, Max thought, and his bones creaked as he stood to full height. Steel-gray hair was wound into braids near his temples. A tarnished circlet crowned his head; an open band of thick silver encircled his neck. Frayed linen robes hemmed with intertwining designs in fading green hung loose about a great, gaunt frame. What flesh remained was drawn and decaying. His features tightened into a small smile while two pinpoints of pale green light flickered from within deep eye sockets.
Max writhed and looked away as the figure stood over him.
“I know I am not fair to look upon,” said the creature sadly. “That is to change.”
The creature patted Max’s arm and Max almost fainted; the touch was ice and the flesh felt as damp and moist as the surrounding earth.
“That one is strong,” hissed Peg from the corner. “We should bind him.”
“He is a beardless boy.” The creature chuckled softly. “He is our guest, not our prisoner. He will see the wisdom of our words.”
The creature turned to Alex. “And what is your name, my son?”
Alex squirmed under the attention of the creature.
“Alex Mu?oz.”
“You are most welcome here, Alex,” the creature said. “I sent Peg for that one. How did we have the good fortune to acquire your company, too?”
“They were both on the dock,” Peg giggled. “They were fighting. We saved this one from becoming a murderer. Isn’t that right?”
The creature cast a stern glance.
“Is this so? Why would you raise your hand against a brother?”
“I hate him,” Alex spat suddenly, glancing at Max. “I hate everything about him!”
After weighing the words for several moments, the creature motioned for Peg. She draped a black shroud over Alex’s shoulders as if he had just come in from the cold. Max leaned forward.
“What are you going to do with us?” Max demanded. “Where are the others?”
Cyrus bared his teeth from where he sat on the staircase. Ignoring Max, the man walked slowly to one of the tables in a stiff, lumbering gait. “You’ve done very well, Peg.” He sounded distracted as he stirred something in a caked flask. “This one will most certainly have his uses.”
He returned to tower over Alex.
“And what was your vision, my child?” he commanded. “Be quick. Be truthful.”
“We are wasting time!” she said, her voice low and furious. “This boy is of little value—just like the others! I agree with the Traitor—it is the McDaniels boy we want!”
The creature slowly turned its attention on Peg, and for the first time, Max saw the murderous vye avert her eyes. Peg retrieved a thick book and pen from the table before hurrying back to her chair. The creature’s gaze lingered on her.
“I will be sure of that,” he said at last. “Perhaps you will explain to our Lord that his suffering was prolonged because of your stupidity. If we waste the cauldron’s contents on the wrong child, it will be your head that rolls.”
Peg gummed her lips as the creature turned back to Alex.
“Now, my child, share with me your vision,” the creature continued. “How did you awaken to the greatness within you?”
“Alex, don’t tell them anything!” Max hissed.
“Shut up, McDaniels.” Alex turned to the creature. “If I tell you my vision, will you let me go?”
“No,” said the creature. “Not yet, anyway. But I can promise other things.”
“Like what?” asked Alex, stirring.
“Power” was the reply. The word saturated the air and echoed rich and heavy throughout the chamber. Alex squirmed and sat up in his seat.
“Command,” the creature continued. “Recognition. Reward. All you desire deep down in your heart. Rowan is in winter; her flowers are few and fading. Why toil as a servant of mankind when you can be its master?”
Alex said nothing. The rotting creature smiled at him.
“Does Peg frighten you?” he asked, pointing at the vye, which sat watching them with narrowed eyes.
Alex nodded.
“Why fear Peg when she could be your slave?” asked the creature.
“Alex!” Max whispered. “Don’t listen. It’s a lie!”
Alex shot Max a dark look.
“No,” intoned the creature, rising to its full height. “It is not a lie and he knows it. Don’t you, Alex? You know I speak the truth.”
Alex nodded slightly. “I’ll tell you,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you.”
The creature grunted its approval and began pouring a gurgling liquid from a crusted flask into a wooden cup.
Alex told a tale of a day when he spied a giant oyster in his father’s swimming pool that had suddenly opened to reveal a black pearl the size of a billiard ball. Throughout the story, Max heard the sound of Peg scribbling the account into the thick book on her lap.
“A glorious vision,” said the man, bending to offer Alex a sip from the cup. “You are not whom we seek, but I salute the greatness within you.”
Alex looked doubtful. He sniffed at the liquid and wrinkled his nose.
“Do I have to?” he asked.
“If you truly desire all I have promised,” the creature said, closing Alex’s fingers around the cup. “Our Lord shall soon be free to rule and all shall be as I have said. He does not reward cowardice, however—”
“I’m not a coward!” insisted Alex, swallowing the concoction. He gagged and retched but managed to force it down. Black liquid dribbled at the corners of his mouth. He dropped the cup to the floor, grinning defiantly at Max. Suddenly, the older boy’s eyelids closed and his head fell forward as the shroud began to shimmer and glow. To Max, it looked as though Alex had just drained a cup of tar and died on the spot.
“What did you do to him?” Max yelled, his words echoing in the large stone space.
Peg started giggling and resumed her knitting.
“He has begun his journey,” said the creature thoughtfully, patting Alex’s head and stooping to retrieve the cup. “And now we can turn to you. I’ve been very anxious to meet you, Max McDaniels.”
The thing turned again and looked down at Max.
“Tell me, child. What was your vision? What did you see that day when you became known to us?” His tone was kindly and inviting.
“I don’t remember,” Max said evenly, looking away.
“Do not be difficult,” the creature warned. “You do remember! I still remember mine, and it occurred centuries ago.”
“You’re one of us?” Max asked, incredulous.
“I am not,” snapped the sharp reply. “I renounced that Order long ago.”
“Who are you?” Max demanded. “Why are you doing this to us?”
The creature turned and placed Alex’s cup back on the table, his voice heavy and sad.
“Tell me, boy. Is the name Marley Augur known to you?”
“No,” replied Max, shaking his head.
“Is the name Elias Bram known to you?”
“Yes,” said Max.
The air in the chamber grew colder; the massive figure was very still.
“And what do you know of Elias Bram?” asked the creature quietly.
“He was the last Ascendant. He sacrificed himself at Solas so some could flee—”
The creature’s lank gray strands of hair whipped around as it turned; its face was a trembling mask of stretched and tattered skin.
“Lies!”
The word shook the chamber like an earthquake. A glass beaker fell and shattered on the floor. Max shrank and shut his eyes.
“Those are lies,” the creature repeated, its voice softening to a low rumble. “Forgive my anger; the injustice of your words salts old wounds. Bram did not sacrifice himself that day. He sacrificed me. My body. My honor. My legacy.”
“You were with him?” asked Max. “You were at Solas?”
“I was,” the creature said, nodding. “It was I, Marley Augur, the blacksmith, who sounded the alarm when the Enemy was sighted. It was I who fulfilled my duty and ran to the breach while Bram ran to his wife. It was I who staunched the tide while Bram lingered….”
Augur’s voice rasped; the small green lights in his eyes danced and flickered.
“I felled many, ere I was broken.” He sighed, bowing his head.
“But then, you’re a hero,” breathed Max.