Chapter 22: The Temple of Arrac Dur

Despite the brightness of the grey and overcast sky, which now appeared as a pallid grey-yellow where the sun shone, there was a storminess about as thunder rumbled over the God’s Eye. A dark roiling of black smoke wafted slowly, rolling up into the sky above the volcano, creating a geyser of ash. The enormity of it was breathtaking as it fumed from within the God’s Eye in the distance.

Thunder growled from within the mountain and from above as lightning shot, jaggedly across the clouds of black ash.

Falinor was thankful for the hot and dry environment as the ash covered sand made its way between his sandals and feet, Harrkania beside him and her boots crunching over the dry surface. Orvin followed at the side, wondering at it all with a slack mouth.

“The spires…” he breathed.

“Yes,” said Falinor with a nod.

“The statues…”

“Keep your head about you, man,” Falinor warned.

“I should very much like to spend months here, simply studying it all.”

“We are here for the sword, Master Orvin.”

He blinked, glancing over at Falinor and Harrkania. He nodded. “I know—and we will. I just can’t help lamenting what we are also losing.”

But the swordsman did not share in that sentimentality. He was well ready to leave Arrac Dur, the God’s Eye and the Giant Isles. And with those thoughts, he let his hand part from Harrkania’s.

She looked at him, and he shored up the expression upon his face, letting his determination to find the sword show. The princess wanted that blade, and she nodded to him subtly, understanding his resolve to help her get it.

And yet, he thought there was something else there as well. Sadness?

Watching as Falinor pulled ahead of her, Harrkania cast her eyes down at the sand, then to Orvin. He looked on at her, curious as she wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand.

He nodded consolingly.

Did he know how she felt? She would have been surprised to find out that he did, because Orvin had always been a somewhat distractible man—his interest often leaning more to things than people—and he had never been very well aware of her feelings in the past.

At least that was how Harrkania saw it.

“Are you all right, Princess?”

She glanced up at Falinor, who had stopped and turned to ask the question. Nodding, she said, “This ash just bothers my eyes so much.” She increased her gait, keeping up with Falinor.

“As a giantess,” said Orvin, “it stands to reason that your eyes are bigger than ours—if even just slightly. They provide a larger area to be effected by the ash fall.”

She almost laughed at that, but nodded with a noise of acknowledgement.

Regarding the princess, but none too closely, Falinor knew she lied about the ash, but she was a young woman—emotional and easily brought to tears about… about what?

Perhaps all of it.

Living with the belief that the sword would come to her—and then not getting it as her father betrayed the trust of the past queen, deciding to steal the sword and make herself an enemy of her own people. She would leave these lands once she had it, and Falinor knew it was no small thing to leave one’s family.

They passed the spires, glancing warily at the evil statues until the temple of Arrac Durr loomed before them. From the cliff’s edge before, the temple had appeared as a small portal surrounded by intricate entablature within the cliff face of a rocky incline. And still, it was just that, but the entablature surrounding the portal was different than how he saw it from the cliff. It surrounded the cave entrance, which clawed into the mountain where the swordsman thought the true entrance lay.

“Why are their skulls inside the rocks?” asked Harrkania as she glanced up.

“Those are giant’s skulls,” said Orvan.

Falinor narrowed his eyes. “You did say that giants could not enter, did you not, Princess?”

“Mm. Yes I did. Maybe it is a warning to our race.”

Orvan nodded silently to himself.

“But…” said Harrkania, gesturing to the entrance. “I know I can enter the cave.”

Orvan glanced over at her. “Perhaps the concept that only humans can enter is nothing more than a myth, my lady.”

She nodded.

“I suspect,” said Falinor slowly, “that this cave leads us to the true entrance to the temple.”

“Oh…”

Among the giant skulls nestled within the rocks were all manner of intricate entablature embossed into the rock face depicting little figures, many of which Falinor thought to be slaves, working and supplicating themselves to a deity—or perhaps a demon?

He stepped forward. “Let get on,” he said, and just as the words left his mouth, a crack of thunder exploded above, loud enough to make the princess flinch with sudden surprise as a flash of light lit the sky.

“Should we concern ourselves with the storm above?” asked Orvin.

Shaking his head, Falinor said, “This temple is thousands of years old.”

“That’s right,” added Harrkania. “If it was vulnerable to the mountain, then it would have been destroyed centuries ago.”

“Indeed,” said Falinor. Then he strode into the temple, his hand resting on the protruding hilt of his sheathed sword.

As the interior space darkened and became colder than the temperature outside, Falinor noticed the pure white sand underneath his feat. Orvin did not need to be told to light the torch once again, and once the flames crackled to life and he raised the light above his head, they were able to see much better.

The sand beneath their feet glittered and the small man reached down and pocketed some. When they looked at him he said, perhaps a bit sheepishly, “Ah! A keepsake.”

“Hmph,” scoffed Harrkania with bemusement.

The interior walls were similar to what they had seen coming down the stairs just before in that there were thick crystals shooting through the rocks at odd angles, and above, ancient yellow-white stalactites like dripped wax, hung ominously from above.

And yet, Falinor’s eyes did not linger upon these things as Harrkania and Orvin wondered at what lay before them. It was a black wall, smooth, and glinting with a sheen from the torch. Within the rock was nestled vanes of white marble.

The walls separated to form a narrow passage, one even Falinor might have trouble getting through, and on the sides of the corridor were scripts carved within the walls and filled in with gold filigree and encrusted stones of every size and color.

“The riches alone,” breathed Orvin. “I am surprised no raiders have discovered this place. The wall by itself”—he gestured with his hand—“would put a king’s ransom to shame.”

“I have always known the Temple of the First Giants was an ancient place,” said Harrkania as she glanced toward them, “a place my father liked to hide his treasures—but I am beginning to feel there is something else here as well.”

Nodding stoically, Falinor said, “I as well, Princess. I do not believe this place is simply a vault to keep your father’s treasures from being taken.”

“Do you truly believe something else is at work?” asked Orvin.

“There must be,” said Harrkania. Then she shivered. “Maybe that is why my father always comes with his sorcerers and shamans.”

“We cannot know the true reason,” said Falinor, turning around to survey the entrance they had come through for a moment. The cave climbed deep within the mountain, and so the outside was hard to see with such a small opening. Even still, the cave opened up quite voluminously.

Statues of black and white marble depicting the evil warriors were lined within the walls, and small figures of humans and giants were also nestled into the small alcoves in the rocks. There were thousands of them, bowing, lying prostrate. Some took a knee—kings and queens as they worshiped with adoration, offering treasures they held in their hands.

Among the little figures, which spanned all of the walls including the rock face encrusted with jewels and gold script, were other figures, multiples together performing various acts of hedonism.

Harrkania reached into one of the alcoves and pulled out the white marble figures of two humans—or possibly giants—with the male figure mounting the female from behind.

“The details…” the giantess breathed as she caressed the statue. Then she glanced down at Falinor and her cheeks took on a brighter hue. She quickly put the figures back into their alcove. “I think I am beginning to understand the carnality of my cousin.”

Falinor looked at the figures. “I do not doubt we will discover other things,” he said, thinking that there was something dark and cult about all of this—about what Orchan’Da tried to do to him.

Sacrifice him during their sex. It was… Evil magic, indeed.

Orvin cleared his throat and they all sobered for a moment.

“Does your father not partake in similar… activities as your cousin?” asked Falinor.

She looked at him, her eyebrow raised. “None that I know of. But there has been talk from time to time.”

“What kind of talk?”

“Rumors,” she said. “When he took that princess from across the sea—“

“Princess Kindrin,” he interrupted.

“Yes,” said Harrkania with a nod. “Princess Kindrin. There were rumors that he wanted to sacrifice her to some dark ritual in the hills.”

“I never heard anything like that,” said Orvin, his eyes wide and a look of shock on his features as he swallowed. “Have I been in the midst of such things—and right under my nose?”

“I do not know,” said Harrkania with a shrug. “I did not believe those rumors at all. My father has had many wives and concubines. I thought…”

“That he wanted a princess,” said Falinor.

She nodded slowly.

“Listen,” said Orvin agreeably and with an air of bemused patience—though Falinor thought it was feigned—“we do not know anything. Perhaps those rumors are simply that—rumor! We cannot strut about throwing accusations about, especially of your own father, my lady. He is the king!”

“And what of my cousin?”

“Your cousin…” He trailed off with an in uncertain shrug. “Orchan’Da is certainly a sorceress dabbling in the darker arts.” He laughed nervously. “But what does she have to do with your father?”

“What do you mean?” asked Harrkania. “She is Princess Orchan’Da—and she has accompanied my father to this temple many a time.”

“Truly?” asked Falinor quickly.

“Yes.”

With a deep sigh and a feeling foreboding evil things, Falinor said, “None of this matters one whit, Harrkania. We are here for your sword. We take it—and we leave.”

She looked at him.

“Do you still want the blade?” he persisted.

“It is my birth right—an heirloom passed to my mother from her mother—and now the blade is supposed to come to me. I do not want the sword used in some fell sorcerer’s ritual.”

Falinor glanced about, knowing now that sacrifices and orgies were happening on the Giant Isles more frequently than anyone knew—including the giant folk who inhabited the isles.

It was a shame—because in his short time on the isles, Falinor realized that the giants were quite possibly a friendly and pure people, despite their love of battle. If Harrkania was any indication of how they were as a civilization.

“So what do we do?” asked Orvin. “Squeeze through that dark passage?” he shivered. “What if more beasts lie in wait for us—or worse, monsters! You saw the statues.”

“Oh please,” said Harrkania. “Do you truly believe muscled man-like giants with the faces of monsters wielding swords and battleaxes sleep within the temple, waiting for us?”

Orvin shrugged sheepishly and chortled. Then he gestured about it all. “I have to say, Princess, I might not be surprised.”

Harrkania’s lips quirked up into a grin. “That is why I have my warrior.”

Orvin glanced at Falinor and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I see your point, Princess—and a great warrior you have shown us to be, Sir Falinor.”

“Just Falinor,” the swordsman said.

“Just Falinor,” Orvin repeated with a short bow of his head.

“Now,” said Falinor, “we must crawl through this”—he pushed his hand to the narrow opening—and realized a draft coming from within.

“What is it?” asked Harrkania.

He shook his head. “It is nothing.” Then he looked at her, glanced to Orvin. “Are you ready, Master Orvin?”

The small man’s eyebrows almost got lost in his hairline. “Me?”

Falinor nodded. “Do you intend to send me in alone?”

Orvin laughed stupidly. “Well…”

Falinor ignored the bookish teacher and grasped a torch from the wall sconce behind the giantess. Stalking back, he lit it with Orvin’s torch. “Stay close,” he said to the man.

Orvin nodded regretfully, but he did not complain.

Falinor moved to go into the corridor, but Harrkania put a hand on his shoulder. When he glanced up into her green eyes, she said, “Be careful, all right?”

With a smile, he nodded. “Do not worry, Princess. We will be back shortly.”

And then he turned his shoulders and sidled into the cramped space, his arm outstretched so that he had torchlight to see by—but the orange-yellow glow did not extend far, and the narrow passages stretched into pitch blackness.

“Are you with me?” he asked, as Orvin squeezed in behind him.

“Um,” he said. “Yes—yes I am. But I cannot even turn my head.”

“Hence the inability for giants to pass through, Master Orvin.”

“Indeed.”

“Your torch, sir,” said Falinor.

“What of it?”

“You are burning my back.”

“Oh! I am sorry!”

And then Harrkania’s voice came through the narrow passage, full of concern. “Are you all right? Falinor?!”

“We are fine,” said Falinor. “Do not worry, Princess. Come, Orvin, and watch your torch.”

“Yes,” he said, laughing nervously. “Yes, of course.”

“Just think, man—you can call yourself an adventurer when we are through here.”

“Ha!” he exclaimed with amusement. “I never thought of that.”

“Do you see,” he said with a grunt as his body was pressed from both sides, “why I said you should write a book?”

“Oh yes,” said Orvin. “And I think you are right.”

“Think of the coin and the prestige.”

“Oh,” said Orvin skeptically. “I do not know that I would write it for those reasons.”

“Nevertheless,” said Falinor, “you would not reject those boons as they were graced upon you, yes?”

“Of course not!”

“Quiet, man. We do not know what is at the end of this corridor.”

“Yes—yes, you are right. Forgive me.”

Falinor raised his torch, peering ahead as far as he could. He noticed the walls of the corridors were smooth, unstained and unadorned by cobwebs or even a layer of dust.

How is this possible without daily upkeep?

“Do you notice the walls?” he said, waiting for the other man’s answer to see if he would manage to take notice.

“Of course I do. They are hemming us in on both sides.”

“Not that,” said Falinor. “Look at them—feel them.”

There was a pause as both men continued skirting through the narrow space.

“Oh,” said Orvin wondrously. “They are very clean.”

“Yes.”

“That is curious.”

“More than curious,” said Falinor with a mild grunt of effort. “Would you not say?” He still could not see the end of the corridor as it stretched into further blackness.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He moved a step further, then spoke as he continued moving. “I mean they cannot stay so well polished without someone to maintain them, yes?”

The smaller man breathed loudly. “Are you saying someone is”—he lowered his voice conspiratorially—“are you saying someone is here—with us?”

He grinned. “Not necessarily.”

“Then what?”

“Magic,” said Falinor.

“Magic?!” Orvin hissed.

“Magic,” Falinor repeated. “I’ve felt it ever since we began to near the God’s Eye. And now… I feel it in everything—more so than I have at any time before on our journey.”

There was one time when a crystal imbued with powerful magic had been brought forth for the viewing and study of the students in the School of Hessin, under strict supervision of the masters, and that stone had emanated a strong magical aura, but now… it was much strong, though less central to any one object.

He did not explain this to the other man.

“In the mountain…” said Orvin. “But what of in the temple here?”

“Yes… in the temple here as well. I believe that is why these walls are like this. No one is here to maintain them, but the magic keeps them pure and unsoiled.”

“But why the observation?” asked Orvin. “Why does it matter? It does not surprise me that magic is present here. Not at all.”

“I thought you were a man of observation,” said Falinor. “Do you not wonder why we cannot simply dig our way in here?”

“I suppose that did not come to my mind,” he said. “I feel… uneasy about this place.”

“So do I,” said Falinor. “Much so—but do not tell the Princess this.”

“What?”

“I do not wish to worry her.”

“Ah, yes, of course. My lips are sealed, Falinor.”

“I can hear you!” her voice came.

Falinor closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Dammit.

“Harrkania,” Falinor said. “Perhaps you should watch the temple entrance?”

“Why?” she asked, “so you do not worry me further? I can handle myself. I am a big girl, you know?”

“Quite so,” said Falinor as he stifled a laugh when the image of Harrkania towering over him came into his mind. “You are well capable, Princess. But what if your cousin arrived behind us without our knowledge?”

There was a pause.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I did not think of that.”

“Indeed.”

“All right,” she said. “I am going. Please be careful.”

“As careful as can be,” Falinor reassured her.

“All right, I will wait for you.”

“We will see you soon, my lady,” said Orvin.

After they skirted through for a time, the small man asked, “My lady? Are you there?” But no answer came.

“Do you have something to say?” asked Falinor, almost knowing that he did.

“Nothing that you do not already know, swordsman.”

Falinor chewed on those words for a moment—at the tone in Orvin’s voice. There was a pointedness, and much more besides. “Say it.”

“She is young.”

“Are you speaking of the princess?”

Orvin grunted. “You know I am.”

“Yes,” agreed Falinor. “She is young.”

“I will not allow you to hurt her.”

Falinor stopped for a beat. “Hurt her? Do you think I will hurt her, man?”

“I think you are a good man,” said Orvin. “But in all truth, I barely know you—either of us.”

“And?”

“And the princess cares for you. I know she will want you to accompany us after we leave Malik’Dar.”

It was nothing more than a confirmation of what Falinor already knew concerning the giantess. But hearing it aloud, his heart began to beat just a little faster. Of all the times to have this conversation, Falinor liked this time the least.

Then again… he had been rambling about magic walls for a stretch of time.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“It is so,” said Orvin simply.

“I will not hurt her,” said Falinor. “And I will dwell on what you have told me.”

“Dwell on this, Falinor,” Orvan said, a warning in his tone. “If you hurt her—I will kill you myself.”

Falinor smiled.

There is not a realm that exists within the heavens or hells where that would be possible, Master Orvin.

“What, you have nothing to say?”

“No,” said Falinor. “I am glad that Harrkania has such a good friend in you, sir.”

“I have known her since she was six years old, and even then she was taller than me.”

Falinor wanted to laugh, but he did not. This moment between himself and the other man was a serious one.

“She looks up to you—trusts you.”

“Yes.”

“I give you my word,” said Falinor, “that I will not hurt Harrkania.”

“And I will hold you to it.”

“I know you will. And—“

There was light.

“And what?”

“And I see the end of this corridor,” said Falinor. “Keep quiet.”

*

Harrkania had hardly breathed air while listening to the words between them both. She smiled and stepped away quietly, went to the entrance of the cave.

As the light from outside brightened the interior of the cave, her heart stopped and her boots sunk into the white glittering sand.

She squinted, then blinked to make certain she was seeing things correctly. A procession of giants was making its way across the bridge, at their head Orchan’Da strode, flanked by Acro’Nor, a small host of warriors and prisoners in chains. Other humans were also present, humans that served the house of Nor.

The bark of the dogs, fierce and wild and slathering for their quarry, sounded in the distance. Harrkania squeezed her fist between her breasts.

Then she turned and ran back in the direction of the true temple entrance where Falinor and Orvin were making their way toward.

But why?

They could not help her!

Oh no!