A well-worn airship flying flags bearing the Star and Anchor of Rephidim Temple skims along the mountain ridge that borders so many lands in Ur – Ashdod, Aelfhem … and also the mysterious realm of Shabar. No sails are out. They would only hinder this craft's progress, for it employs a different means of propulsion: roktors, gigantic birds of prey.
The great eagle-like creatures cry out on occasion as they drift along on soaring wings, their flight punctuated at times by massive wing-beats, an impressive framework of shock absorbers keeping the airship behind and betwixt them from being shaken apart in the process. Ahead, the skies grow ominous … and surreal. Shabar is a realm whose borders match that of a great Forbidden Zone, and reality takes bizarre twists within its realm.
The craft bears a number of lupine guards in the service of the Temple … and a couple of creatures not often seen by most of Sinai's inhabitants – Aeonians, immortals … unicorns.
One of those unicorns, with a hide of black and a mane of fire, and robes which match those two colors, strides across the deck, his cloven hooves clipping as he walks. He keeps his gaze forward, eyeing a distant storm that makes the sky look as if it has caught aflame.
"Shabar," hisses one of the wolves – and not the first time, at that. "Not a welcome place for any airship. No wind for your sails. And an air mage would just as likely crash you against the rocks, with spells going wild. Nah. Only these big birdies can give us a chance."
Turtle stands quietly on the deck, looking out into the distance, seemingly uninterested with the view, but deep within, she is overwhelmed with the surroundings, after all these years in the old fortress. Eventually, she reaches into the folds of her robes, and pulls out a small mirror, interestingly carved with three frogs. She feigns interest with her looks, fussing with her hair, then pulling out a lip brush, but her glances over the mirror grow longer and longer, until she eventually puts it away again.
The black unicorn looks back to the white one and at her attentions with the mirror. He walks over to her, and at last speaks. "You have been long away from Rephidim, of course. Much has changed. But it will be a while yet before you return there. I regret that I am on a mission that will not bring me back there for some time. But when we find a Temple ship that may take you to the Temple … arrangements will be made."
Turtle looks up after a short period, as if drawn from reverie, and nods. "Of course. very well." She turns her gaze back to the horizon.
Melchizedek nods. "It is for the best. I know that I am not well liked by others of my kind, and I have done nothing to disprove the expectations had of me on account of my markings. But I still feel some obligation to aid a fellow – whether you accept that aid as an Aeonian, or as an Inquisitrix. And it would be best that you not be seen in my company when you return to Rephidim."
Turtle continues quietly gazing, showing no emotion.
The unicorn nods again. "I will let you be. We will arrive in a time at the Sanctuary of Amber, deep within Shabar, a monastery wherein the Amber Lance resides, protectors of this realm." With that, he turns away.
Turtle glances a bit questioningly after the black unicorn, but any emotion on her face is quickly masked as her eyes touch him.
The vessel, no name gracing its side, continues toward the stormy land. Below, the mountains give way to foothills, and the wilderness gives way to barren, reddish rock. Even though the land ahead is covered in cloud, it seems not shadowed in the least. Rather, it is lit with a light of its own … which comes from the clouds themselves. From the barren, red, rocky land rise thin, twisting spires of stone that rise up to the blanket of cloud … clouds which shine yellow-green, crackling with energy, and flowing like rivers above.
The crew keeps rather busy, especially those in charge of guiding the great eagles which draw the craft, to ensure that it does not go crashing into any of the pillars. However, the roktors are indeed well trained, and do most of the work on their own.
Eventually, amongst all the spires of rock can be seen a structure up ahead. Suspended between a ring of the rocky spires is what looks like a great domed cathedral of sorts, supported by gothic arches and buttresses. The dome on top and in the center appears to be made of a single, gargantuan piece of crystal, shining brightly in the greenish glow of the unearthly clouds above. The airship approaches this structure … and lands on one of its many outlying docking platforms. The roktors are freed from their restraints to fly free until summoned back later or else to return on their own.
"It is time for you to disembark, Inquisitrix," one of the wolves says as he offers to help the unicorn onto the landing deck which will lower to the dock. Some of her bags have already been carried to the loading deck – but not all of them. This is not, after all, her final destination.
Turtle looks on in awe at the large cathedral, not even hiding her emotion at the structure.
The wolf notices the Inquisitrix's reaction, and shudders involuntarily. "Yes. It's rather impressive. The Champion of Amber resides here. It is said that he receives visions and makes prophesies."
Turtle nods quietly, as the mask quickly drops back over her face. She glances back towards her bags still on the ship. "If you will, please bring the one with red tapestry sides as well. I wouldn't wish to be parted with some of the things it contains."
The wolf bows. "At once, Inquisitrix." He departs, heading back for the indicated bag.
Already, below, Inquisitor Melchizedek can be seen heading with a small retinue of guards along a walkway that stretches from the docking platform toward the central complex. He is moving at a decidedly slow pace, however.
Turtle tosses her hair back out of her face, attempting to look as dignified as possible coming off the ship.
The wolf catches up with the additional baggage, and Melchizedek moves at a slow enough pace that it takes no indignity on the Inquisitrix's part to catch up with him. Indeed, she catches up just as a welcoming party from the complex meets them on the wide bridge. Salutes are exchanged.
"Welcome to the Sanctuary of Amber," bids a robed and cowled figure – one in robes, appropriately, of a yellow-orange hue. "We have been expecting visitors, though not so soon."
Turtle nods politely to the figure.
Melchizedek nods as well, then says, "I am Inquisitor Raphael Melchizedek, of Rephidim Temple. I am currently acting under a command by Quartermaster Supreme deMedici, that an audit be taken of all Templar outposts."
Turtle says, "And I am Inquisitor Turtle, formerly of Aelfhem Outpost. I was recently relieved of duty there, after being posted for over three hundred years."
The wolves shuffle a bit uncomfortably, but no sign can be seen of the faces of the amber-garbed priests who greet the Inquisitors and their entourage. They only nod in reply, and the lead one says, "Come. You are most welcome to enter the Sanctuary. But I am surprised. The Knights Templar have never been Audited before." They turn to head back toward the main complex.
Melchizedek doesn't reply to the remark about the Audit. The whole group heads into the complex, passing under several peaked arches, some wolves in the rear laboring with the Inquisitrix's luggage.
Inside, the sanctuary is sparsely furnished, though great work indeed has been done on the architecture. The chanting of monks can be heard echoing through the corridors, and those of their number – cowled and robed – can be seen going about on their daily business, whatever it may be.
Turtle flattens her ears a bit, almost unnoticeably, at the sound of the chanting, but she continues on with the same look of singular indifference to things going on around her she held on the ship.
"Now then. Where may I find the records, so I may begin my work?" asks the black unicorn of his guide.
The guide nods. "All in good time." Time. That seems to be one thing missing from this place. No sundials, no water clocks … let alone any matter of clockwork. This place seems somehow … without time, if anything. The monk continues, "First, however, the Champion would wish to see you." He gestures toward an archway leading into a larger chamber.
"Both of you," the monk amends, pointing to both the unicorns, "and no others."
Turtle gives a short look back at her escorts, then waits to follow the monk and the other Inquisitor silently.
The wolves look a bit surprised, but a nod from Melchizedek indicates that the monk's direction is to be followed. However, a look of annoyance crosses his face as he turns to enter the chamber beyond.
Through the archway, a much larger chamber is reached. This must be at the heart of this citadel, and the same crystal dome which was seen outside is far above the heads of the unicorns as they walk within. It lets in an ethereal light, bathing the chamber, and reflecting off of a multi-faceted "star" made out of countless smaller parts of amber, which suspends from the ceiling.
Turtle's eyes sparkle slightly at the sight.
High up within the chamber, four great statues can be seen, also suspended from the ceiling, though by more obscure means. The statues each look to be of a different race – One an Aquilan, one a leonine Khatta, one a Human, and one an Aeonian. Each statue has four wings, each wing pointing out in a different direction – north, south, east and west. The creatures' wings touch each other, forming a square between them.
This foursome of statues moves about, gliding across the room, even as flashes of lightning crackle past them, from wall to wall high above.
They are larger than life, but considerably high above, far above reach.
*ring* *ring* *ring* A solitary figure walks across the floor of this chamber, which is laid out in a mosaic of tiles that form the symbol of the Bounded Star and Anchor of the Knights Templar. This figure is dressed in the robes and armor of a Champion, but he carries a staff with rings suspended from loops, not a sword. His face is not visible, for he wears a face-plate the color of amber, and it has no eyeholes. A long, white beard trails out from underneath the mask and helmet.
"Greetings and welcome. It has been long since you have last visited this Sanctuary, Inquisitor Melchizedek," says the Champion of Amber. "And welcome to you as well, Inquisitrix. Your future shall prove to be more exciting than the many years you spent alone at your outpost, I assure you."
Melchizedek bows his head. "I will not bother with introductions then. But you speak as if you knew me personally. I have never met you before."
Turtle gives a wry smile in the Champions direction, not sure how to react, the bows her head as she sees the other unicorn do, casting a few nervous looks upwards.
"My eyes do not see," the Champion says, "yet I am granted a sight to replace it – to see that which my Master sees fit to reveal to me. Please, do not be ill at ease, for I am but a mortal, unlike either of you. But Sinai has entered a new age – an age of turmoil and change – and even the immortals may fear for the shortening of their days, for those things we foolishly placed our trust in will be uprooted and cast away."
Melchizedek stands silently, adding nothing for the present.
Turtle fidgets her fingers a bit, trying to make it go unnoticed, and stays quiet herself.
The Champion turns his face-plate toward Turtle. It can't be said, after all, that he is LOOKING at her. "I suppose you do not know the full extent of what has transpired in your absence. Perhaps even your comrade knows less than he believes. But the Temple is not that which it was before, though it never was what it could be. The Temple is a hollow shell now, their priests practicing ritual without focus, pledging fealty to nameless dead men – to the First Ones – and to the ruins they left behind. They give hollow lipservice to the morals they claim to uphold."
"You speak what some would call blasphemy," Melchizedek dares to utter.
Turtle looks up, from the Champion, to Melchizedek, blinking.
The Champion nods. "I am not the only one to believe this. And you know this as well as I. I see that you are both weary from your journeys. Go now, I bid you. I will have more to say to you before you leave … but for now, we have all the time in the world."
The Champion bows, then turns, heading away. *ring* *ring* *ring* *ring*
Melchizedek waits as the Champion departs, then turns toward the Inquisitrix. He does indeed look weary, and perhaps it seems more noticeable than before that his robes are worn and in need of some repair – not quite becoming of any Inquisitor of influence.
Turtle is busy with her own thoughts, rolling over the words of the Champion silently in her head.
