THE SANCTUARY
After Talon had agreed to give them twenty-four hours, they wasted no time. Owen quickly packed up his things and waited for the others.
They easily hopped over the fence warning them of fever lands and then cut through dense growth until they made it to a sheer wall of rock.
They maneuvered along the wall for some time. The morning air was frosty but the sun sparkled through the trees, quickly vanquishing the cold. Cobwebby vines ensnared them on several occasions. At a gap in the forest, where the vines looked sturdy but not overgrown, they climbed up the wall, one at a time. Only once did a vine break. Owen caught himself after slipping several feet, then he easily resumed his climb.
Birds called out, bugs bit them, and the trees grew tall. It certainly didn’t seem like the ground was sick here. But Owen remembered Chester’s story about the man who walked through Washington. He didn’t know he’d contracted the fever until later. Perhaps it would be the same for them.
Once they were on the plateau they could see for miles to the east. With a scope they could probably even see traces of Red Mountain Village, the closest Essentialist settlement.
They pushed westward into the heart of the plateau. The trees were farther apart here, spaced relatively evenly. As a result they were able to make quick progress.
They reached another fence, mostly decrepit and made of mossy wood, which they easily climbed over to land in an overgrown field. In the distance, they could make out a structure.
“According to the legend,” Cecile said, “there are landmines underneath our feet. They have been inactive for decades, however.”
“Comforting,” Flora quipped.
The soft earth and brushy undergrowth gave way to solid rock with only pockets of shrubs. Here the view of the building ahead of them was clearer.
It was a stately building, closely resembling the typical architecture of a southern plantation house. The most prominent feature was four wide columns that rose up two stories, framing the front entrance. To the right of the main building was a stone cylindrical tower several stories tall, with windows on the top floor. They saw a lark circling the tower, chittering away.
“Is this the house featured on the early Kelemen talismans?” Owen asked.
“Yes… it looks just like Granger’s talisman.” Flora remarked. The sight of it was monopolizing her attention.
“In fact,” Cecile remarked, “according to Duncan, one of the reasons for talismans in the first place was so they could remember the sanctuary. The Kelemens all kept a drawing of it so they wouldn’t forget what it looked like. It became a form of identification for Kelemens. Then everyone else used other unique drawings and symbols for their own forms of identification.”
“This is your sanctuary?” Talon interrupted, sounding skeptical. “It’s an impressive house but nothing more.”
“I’m sure you were expecting some kind of fortress,” Cecile said, “but if you were trying to hide something would you build an impressive building? This house isn’t the sanctuary, just the access point. The actual sanctuary is underground, within this plateau.”
They noticed no signs of habitation, although a door that gave access to the side of the house had been folded over, as if smashed in by some sort of blunt object. “Are we sure there’s no one here?” Owen asked.
“Doubtful,” said Cecile. “Few would dare to enter an area marked as fever lands. Those that did would find a nice house but no water source to speak of. I’ve heard there is a river that runs underground, in the sanctuary, but it isn’t accessible from the house. So anyone who happens upon the house would eventually leave. Besides, there are plenty of better Old World locations to live in—easy pickings compared to this one.”
Despite Cecile’s assurances, Owen entered the house with a measure of caution.
It turned out the only inhabitant was a skunk, who thankfully wasn’t startled enough to spray them. They gave it some space, and it ran away into the field.
There was nothing unique or different about the house. No signs saying Sanctuary and little anyone could gauge about the former inhabitants. It looked like any other Old World house you would come across, albeit somewhat more elegant and spacious.
The first signs were in the basement. Here they went through thick, industrial doors. It took them to a staircase that led into a large underground garage, enough to house a good twenty Old World cars, but there were no cars here. There were no windows either, and so they had to light up their lanterns. From here they travelled through another series of thick doors that were clearly of Faraday cage caliber.
Beyond the doors was a cemented corridor that abruptly ended. There was little remarkable about the dead end, although the walls were more segmented here, and a number of circular indentations were visible. It looked vaguely like the indentations in the cube that destroyed the retchers.
“Here,” Cecile said to Talon. “You put your hand on this one.”
Talon looked at her skeptically. The indentation had a smooth surface but was otherwise no different than the rest of the wall.
Talon examined the indentation carefully and then put his hand inside. He abruptly pulled it away and looked at his middle finger. There was a spot of blood on it. There was also a spot of blood on the surface of the indentation.
“Now we wait,” Cecile said.
Talon closed his eyes. Flora fidgeted. Cecile’s men hovered back near the exit.
A voice surrounded them. “I cannot be certain this person is a direct descendent.”
The voice shocked them all into silence. Many of them were looking around, trying to find the source.
Cecile was more focused. “Why not?” she asked.
The voice said, “It is likely there have been many offspring. Finding proof of ancestry after so many generations is more difficult.”
“How can we prove it to you?” Cecile asked.
“Is there another relation to this man present?” the walls asked.
“Yes, yes, his mother,” Cecile said excitedly, and she ushered Flora over to the indentation in the wall.
Flora cautiously placed her hand on the same surface Talon had. “Ow,” she said, pulling her hand away. Her finger was also bloodied.
“One moment please,” the walls said to them.
They waited.
“I have created a model based on these two DNA sequences. There is a high probability that he is of the proper lineage. Please produce some proof of responsibility and good moral standing.”
“What?” Flora asked. She turned to Cecile. “What’s this all about?”
Cecile’s eyes were wide. “I’m not sure. I never got this far. Maybe… there are some bad Kelemens?”
“What do you mean?” Flora asked the walls around her. “Can you give us an example?”
“I would prefer you respond to the request to the best of your ability.” the walls responded.
Owen said, “Talon is a Shinogi. Shinogi training requires a great deal of discipline. You need to be strong-willed to complete training.”
Cecile was frowning, not convinced that it was a good argument.
Flora weighed in. “He has taken care of my two girls, all by himself. He protected them from…” She didn’t finish. Talon cast her a dark glare.
Flora wasn’t able to bring herself to say more. They all looked at each other, at a loss for words.
The walls spoke. “Unfortunately, those statements cannot be verified. Is there any additional evidence you can provide?”
“I know, do the ritual,” Flora said. “That will show it.”
Talon shook his head, frowning. “Why? What will the ritual tell it?”
“That we remember, that we know the names of the Kelemens. I don’t know, will you just try?”