Chapter 9 Spring - Visions of Memories

Locked away in the Abbey's reception hall, the five gathered Anointed exchanged their tales with one another. All present were in agreement that what was being planned to them next meant their doom. Rhanes had spent the better part of an hour explaining to Folmon about what was going to happen to them all. It wasn't really the blacksmith's fault he was ignorant and misinformed. The pair made good ground together in understanding as Folmon checked his learning,

"The Unified Church gathers seven people every seven years to participate in the Veneration or Selection Ceremony."

Rhanes nodded as Elenwe sat beside him, fidgeting. Rhanes had declined all her offers to heal and help him. He tried to explain he needed someone to see him exactly as he was, then he would be happy to be healed. The marks on his body bothered Elenwe far more than they disturbed Rhanes.

"Now, the Church asks each sect to bring forth a chosen person. Some do this from their own ceremonies, and these folk are called The Anointed. That's us. And we are, sort of, the representative of a god.", Folmon continued.

"Yes.", Rhanes confirmed again.

"But some sects, like the Naturists, would go hold a ceremony and then tell the Unified Church to bugger off.", checked Folmon.

A soft nod was given in reply as Elenwe agreed, "Exactly so."

"And so then the Church picked someone no one the Naturists heard of and were told some time later that this random person died and wasn't really the real Anointed of Adanya, which came as a shock to no one." The dwarf realigned his attention to Wrenn. "So, the Temple of Ophine usually had an older sailor or fisherman volunteer and get chosen."

Biting her lower lip, Wrenn nodded, but waivered, "It is supposed to be a great honor. It is to show they love Ophine more than the sea. Sometimes really poor sailors volunteered and their families were helped by the Temple. I never knew that... that they..."

As Wrenn's words became too difficult for her, Folmon grunted in thought. He offered, "It's alright lass, no worse than the school."

Ashwin scoffed and explained again, pride dripped from his words, "It isn't just some school. It's Rosier Academy. The best facility of learning in Velon."

"Nah, boy, I'd be careful about what yer claiming is the 'best'." Folmon warned and stated, sternly, "Yeh told us that you spent all your life there hiding your powers because you can't be the best, you got punished. Then yeh said that their best are 'selected' to be Annonen's Anointed. Not the best if yeh ask me, sending your strongest every seven years to become ashes for another church."

Offended, Ashwin deflated, but conceded. How many Savants had dared to be great to only die in the Veneration Selection?

Folmon gruffly nodded, "Sorry boy, but... anyhow we know next to nothing about the fire ceremony cause I ain't never got to go to the southern tabernacle or go pilgrimage yet. But I've seen at least three at the Temple of Iros." He explained, stroking his beard, "They drag these fellas before all the crowds there on their podium and pulpit. Then say they found the Anointed of Iros. It always was some criminal or ne'er-do-well. Usually human, and these fellas looked straight scared while the entire crowd was cheering for em. So happy. I had to stop goin' cause it didn't sit right. Then Summer Solstice would come around and we get word they all burned to death." He then concluded with, "Just not by a volcano."

.

Rhanes exhaled and agreed, "We didn't have this nonsense in Naysel. And the Temple here of Zalis is a joke. I am no help to understand the ceremonies that select the Anointed - but I do have something to show you. I know what happens after the Veneration Selection." With a wave of his hand, Rhanes cast visions of his memories. The reception hall, long and narrow moments before, now presented itself as a shorter heptagonal chamber.

"This is the Basilica's Inner Sanctum." Rhanes began as the others gazed in awe at his memory. They could touch, smell, feel, even taste anything they wished as so long as Rhanes had memory of it. The limitation of this was, they could not interact with the memory in any meaningful way. It was a display, and currently, it smelled of burnt death.

"I was tasked as a member of the Lord General's own ranks to secure the Inner Sanctum after the Veneration Selection." He began, and pointed to the seven piles of ash about the room. He moved through his memory. It was not active, but a still moment of time created from the experience of Rhanes having been there. Focusing on the apparatus in the very center of the room, Rhanes explained, "That order was to happen seven hours after a huge flash of light erupted from the top of the sanctum. Blindingly bright."

"The Culling Beacon." Ashwin widened his eyes and stared at the clockwork of the thing before them. It stood, as tall as he was, in the very center point of the vision room. The walls all looked identical, seven of them with no discernable entrance or exit. The device in the center was mechanical, but looked far too complex than anything Ashwin Knew of.

"Yes." Rhanes circled the thing once more, "This is the Culling Beacon, rather it generates that shaft of light which you call the Culling Beacon." He pressed his hand on the apparatus. Beneath the fingers it had a distinct feeling of stone, smooth marble or ivory. There were no seams, as if the entire thing had always been whole and complete. It was obvious parts were meant to move, like the uppermost casing. That was made from something hard, like metal, but translucent like foggy glass. Rhanes said, as if revealing some great bit of information, "Because this is a Solan Artifact."

Everyone else remained silent as Rhanes smiled through his bushy beard. Noting not everyone was as astounded as he thought they should have been, he failed to explain until Wrenn asked, "What is a Solan Artifact, exactly?"

Driving his hands into his hair, Rhanes pivoted and explained, "A Solan Artifact is an artifact from Solan." Rhanes then realized this was less than helpful, "Solan is another name for the Southern Continent."

Ashwin shook his head, a smile growing wider, "But no one can get to the Southern Continent." Knowing what this meant, Ashwin examined the apparatus in closer detail.

Wrenn agreed, "Even the most seasoned sailors, or the strongest Wielders of Water do not attempt the journey."

Ashwin continued, "Yep. We have tales, all false of course, from the traders from the Eastern Continent. They claim their traders go there all the time, bringing us books and tales. But they're all false. Savants can tell, so they are burned."

Pointing at Ashwin, Rhanes confirmed, "Correct. So then, how did a Solan Artifact get here several hundreds of years ago?"

"What does it do?" Folmon started but then stopped and pointed, "Hey, it's got writing on it."

A squeal of delight erupted from Ashwin as he and Rhanes ducked down to see what the dwarf was pointing at. There was a small series of lines, which somewhat looked like artistic texturing. Upon closer examination it appeared as if it were very small print of some sort.

Disappointed, Ashwin lamented, "I can't Seek them?!"

"From a vision? Likely not. I barely remember this particular detail." Rhanes squinted and tried to remember more, but it was fruitless. It was obvious by the glimmer from the memory, this fine detail was slightly out of focus, not nearly as clear as the rest of the vision.

"How do you know it is a Solan Artifact?" Elenwe asked. She stood, her back to the thing, staring at the wall in front of her. Her fingertips touched the stone there but felt nothing. Rhanes had no memory how the stone there felt. There was a handprint and a profile of a face outlined like a shadow against the white of the walls. Beneath this seared shadow was nothing but a pile of ashes. "This was once a person." Elenwe reflected aloud.

Rhanes explained, "Naysel uses these." He knocked on the apparatus in thought, "What this one does, I have no idea. They do many things, but we do know it produces a huge beam of light and vaporizes everyone in this room. That and we will have to figure out a way to destroy it before..."

Ashwin hushed Rhanes and leapt to his feet. He heard the approach of the Divine Guard. They had left long before and returned, trying to be quiet. He listened carefully to the air beneath the door. Rhanes started speaking of something else,

"But I have not done an ounce of good reading lately."

The others watched the door as silent shadows started forming underneath, confirming the presence of many people.

"Good reading? I've done plenty of reading but no good reading. Five or six books at least." Ashwin said indicating with his hands how many were outside the door. At a disadvantage, paper, pen, parchments, and books were not easy to come by, he stuck his finger in gravy. Drawing several strange symbols, Ashwin lifted them one at a time from the gravy to hang in the air while glowing gold,

** Six Outside **

All of them had the luxury of knowing how to read common, fate had made sure of it. The message hovered in silence, as Wrenn stated, "I wouldn't know who to trust to get me a good book. I wish I had one about the Selection."

The golden words shifted as Rhanes chuckled, "Yeah? I haven't seen a book in years."

** We cannot speak freely anymore. Do we need to destroy the artifact? **

With a nod Rhanes answered aloud, "Yep. Seems like I deserve one more book before the Veneration, right?"

Elenwe, like everyone else, split her attention between the floating words and the door. She felt them behind it, pressing in, listening closely. "Lord Sullon, what a pessimistic way to think."

Wrenn shifted closer to Elenwe, who soothed her, and asked, "I read old books at the Temple of Ophine, and once Charles was able to trade for a book about the sea and sailing. Do we know anyone who can help us? With recommendations?"

The words changed again as Ashwin wrote as swiftly as he could,

** If this is true, everything I Know about destroying such things indicates we need help. Who can help? **

Rhanes chuckled and answered both Wrenn and Ashwin, "I doubt I would just trust anyone's recommendations either. I think I'll ask Duke Tybalt or Duchess Aradell Perrington."

"The High Priestess DelaFontaine is well read."

There was silence elsewhere, in the room. They had at least three allies. No one else knew someone in Oriaron who could help. The message in the air vanished as Ashwin licked his finger and said. "You all talk about book recommendations, all I need is a library."

Approving with a huge smile, Rhanes nodded at the idea, suggesting, "Perhaps we can ask where the library is." The conversation stopped as the door started to unlock. Before it was fully open the herald announced the Divine Guard and Lord Arn once more. He bowed low,

"Pardon the intrusion, Divine Nobles, but the Sitting Council of Seven desires to speak with you in a few hours. We should be relocating you from the Abbey to your more permanent quarters in the Basilica. I was asked to escort you to your suites there."

The five didn't argue and were escorted to individual horse-drawn carriages. The High Inquisitor walked with them down the hall speaking quietly, "I know this is unexpected, and I apologize for this." He turned, gazing at Rhanes directly in the eyes. The others became aware that the two knew each other from before this encounter. The Lord offered a softly spoken, "I am sorry all of this happened."

Furrowed eyebrows pondered as Rhanes nodded. He nodded again watching Lord Arn's steel-grey eyes, "You apologize as if this is all your fault. You've overseen everything since we've arrived. I was starting to think it was observation, not concern."

Lord Arn shook his head as the others were escorted to their carriages. The pair remained behind with a limited guard. The older gentleman watched the streets beyond the iron gates of the Abbey. The crowds were frenzied with celebration, screaming cheers, welcomes, and adoration toward the Anointed. Lord Arn stood there in this, and turned an unfortunate gaze to Rhanes, "I think we both know you, in particular, have seen more than your fair share of the justice around here."

Rhanes nodded and said quietly, "I am just thankful I never ended up at the other end of one of your interrogations."

Lord Arn's expression soured more at this, and he cleared his throat, "I want to encourage you, one last time Lord Sullon, to ... to please at least bathe and be presentable. You have earned dignity."

With a shake of his head Rhanes drew in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled short, "I understand. But he needs to see." Then a softer reassuring whisper drifted to the High Inquisitor's ears, "I know you didn't do this to me Gregory Arn. You and yours never harmed a hair on my head. I won't forget that."

"I tried to stop ..." Lord Arn began an explanation about everything, for some reason he could not fathom, but silenced himself. He was not known for sharing, but he felt in his heart he had to. The explanation was silenced as the pair were directed to the awaiting final carriage with orders from the Divine Guard.

A nod. An understanding. Rhanes clasped the man's shoulder once and moved to the carriage, "Don't fret, My Lord. We will have time enough to talk about it all. You must know I have no intention of dying."

The nobleman watched Rhanes as if he were sentenced to death. With a shake of his head the High Inquisitor inclined his chin, and folded his hands neatly, "If there is to ever be one who could survive this, it will be you, My Lord." They both paused to bow to one another.

The masses lined the streets as the carriages made slow progress, in a precession. Cheers and well wishes came from an exuberant crowd urging the Anointed on their way. Several broke through to dare to touch the carriage. Pleas for the Anointed to help them, help their sick, their wounded, the poor, the unfortunate, the weak followed the carriages. Screams of desperate denizens dining on hope for the first time in eras. Joy, anger, grief, and celebration echoed until they arrived at the Basilica.

The building was staunchly guarded by tall stone walls, encircled away from the rest of the Holy Grounds. It stood far enough back from the Cathedral to appear majestic in height. The walls, which loomed so far overhead, did not even reach a fifth of the way up the building. A domed rotunda had a peak at the top. Several turrets, buttresses, towers, and wings encompassed this area. It was as if several buildings had been fused into this spectacle of stone. Here was the seat of power, where the Council of Seven governed.

The crowds were relentless, even after the gates were barred. As the five of them exited their carriages, finding it difficult to take in the entirety of the structure, voices could be heard taunting fate, "Long live the Seven Anointed!" and a darker threat, "Long live the Seven Gods of Velon!"