“Stay close to me, darling,” said Weylyn, stepping near. “We don’t know what waits inside.”
Which made Orin fall in on my other side. “You ready, princess?”
I reached up to my necklace, feeling it warm beneath my hands. “Goddess, watch over us,” I whispered.
I was the first to step forward and climb the stone steps, with the twins flanking me, as the others followed. My lupine bodyguards pushed open the massive, towering wooden doors to the temple.
The sanctuary before us was breathtaking. It was built of old marble, thick and cool. Sunlight streamed through and illuminated the pillared hallways. Smooth stone benches lined the walls. Once magnificent tapestries hung from the rafters, tattered, stained and moth-eaten. Candles with half burnt wicks were everywhere, glued to china holders with dribbles of wax. A ghostly fragrance of incense still faintly hung in the air. I could imagine the place alive with the sounds of chimes, gongs, and huge bells, echoing down the hallways in a misty past that still clung to the present. A transcendent sacredness lingered, even though the temple appeared deserted.
Keegan ran his finger along a bench, picking up a tracing of dust. “It’s empty. Like the rest of the town.”
“Very observant,” Katie mused as she looked around.
“Seriously? Even now?” I moaned. Their Punch and Judy act was getting really old. “This place is sacred. Let’s treat it with respect.”
Katie held up her hands, looking both sorry, and surprised at my almost pious tone of voice. So very not me, but somehow, I actually felt the reverence. “All right, bitches,” (I tried sounding like the ‘real me’) “Let’s find that Goddamn pig-sticker, and get our asses back to the boat. Spread out, two by two. Keep your eyes open.”
Keegan gave me a curt nod, and started down a vaulted gallery with Brann. Orin and Weylyn drifted off in the other direction. Katie and I continued on forward, toward the center of the temple, following the mysterious pull tugging at my soul.
“You’re feeling something, right Keir?” How well she knew me.
“Something... strange. Cold and heavy. It feels... sad.”
“Rightfully so. Death isn’t kind. It doesn’t distinguish the good from the bad, the young from the old.”
“That’s a buzz kill.”
“Shit, yes. We are talking about Death.”
Katie then froze in her tracks, and threw her arm out to stop me. Finger on her lips, she cautiously crept toward a vaulted opening, silent as a shadow. I followed, trying not to make a noise. Easier said than done. She peaked around the edge, into the main sanctuary. She drew a deep breath, hunched low, and sprinted across the marble floor. In an instant, she was hiding behind a pew. She motioned me to follow.
As I reached the entry, I could hear them. Three voices, maybe four. And definitely not my guys. I steadied my nerves, then made my dash, like an infantry grunt advancing under fire. I reached the cover of the pew. Dying to know what I was hearing, I gripped the dusty wooden pew and risked a fast peak over the top, when a cold fury struck me. They were already here. I saw Dub and Dothur. And an even colder thought arose. The pull, the strange attraction I’d felt drawing me here? It was this dark presence. This vector of evil.
A third figure was with them, but it was not Dian. This bent figure was an older man in a tattered old robe, and clearly their prisoner. He was bloodied and beaten, an eye swollen shut, his lip split. They were interrogating the poor old geezer.
“I know you know where it is,” Dub growled in frustration. He drove another punch into old fellow’s gut. The man gave a pitiful grunt, falling to his knees. I bit back a gasp. Even so, somehow the old man must have sensed me. His eyes snapped up, meeting mine for just an instant. Then he darted his glance away, not to give a clue to the others that I was there. At that moment I knew exactly who that old man was. The Donn of Tech Duinn. The missing immortal whose job the Morrigan was stuck with, because he was gone. He was the very figure of Death. But I didn’t fear him. I feared for him.
“Did you not hear me, old man?” Dub bent down and gripped his chin, forcing the Donn to look up at him.
“I do not take orders from you,” the Donn said, and spit in Dub’s face. The youngest brother let the spittle drip down his face, then slowly wiped it off. Then a swift movement, as Dub kicked him square in the chest. The blow sent the Donn flying back into a wooden pew.
I sank back down and turned to Katie. With my finger, I wrote their names in the dust on the floor. Katie had never seen them before.
“We have a limited time, Dub,” Dother said, patience thin. “Beating our only lead is not helping.” Dothur pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not like he can die,” Dub argued, stomping around the middle of the room.
Peering carefully over the bench, I surveyed the room. It was clearly the main sanctuary, a circular room with an octagon shaped platform in the center. Eight sections wooden pews circled the platform. Each aisle connected to one of the eight hallways, which fed into the sanctuary from all points of the compass. Between each hallway was an alcove, and each alcove housed a stone statue. Some were sculptures of Druid warriors, others depicted some deity. The statues were surrounded by the half-burnt candles of worshipers long gone.
I saw Orin and Weylyn, crouched at the entrance to another aisle, and from across the room, they spotted us
