Page 24 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

A FTER A FEW more cutbacks and a lengthy uphill hike, the group reached a plateau. Beyond the lantern of the light bearer, a line of four torches illuminated the hazy blue mist. As the group drew closer, the vapor of the blue fog thinned to reveal a smooth stone wall behind them and two massive wooden doors.

The light bearer stopped, and the party gathered around. The lantern and torches cast shimmering shadows across the crevices deeply carved into the arched borders of the doors.

“Are those—” Leta asked softly.

“Runes,” said Abby.

“Can you read them?”

“I wouldn’t have been much of an archeologist if I couldn’t.”

“So what do they say?”

“Well,” said Abby, “there’s a bit about warding off the unwanted, but essentially they say it’s the entrance to the ancient Indici monastery. ”

The light bearer raised his lantern then waved his other hand across the front of the massive wooden doors. From between them, a strip of bright electric blue light pierced out through the darkness and cast a beam onto the group.

“How’s that for theater?” Abby silently said to Leta.

The sliver of light widened as the doors appeared to magically swing inward.

“It’s the most impressive automatic door I’ve seen in a while,” said Leta.

“The Indici prefer to hide their technology.”

“Kinda silly in this day and age,” said Leta. “Still, after the night hike in the void, to be surrounded by walls, a floor, a ceiling, all lit. It’s warm and inviting.”

Once the doors had fully opened, the glare of the interior light dimmed to reveal an entry hall and another hooded monk waiting in the center. He let the light bearer, Leta, and Soren pass to his right, then lifted his left arm out toward the Viridians, and flung his blue scaly hand up flat, a signal for them to stop. When they did, the monk extended his arm to the left. They were to go another way. Uhggwa and his guards proceeded toward an arched door to that side. When Abby neared the monk, the hooded figure threw up his other arm, hand palm out, then outreached that arm in the direction the light bearer had escorted the Umbra.

“Now hold on,” said Abby. He gestured toward the departing Viridians. “You can’t split us up. They’re under my protection.”

It was then that Abby was inundated with near unison whispers. They seemed to come from all directions, to be echoing off of the stone walls, from the ceiling above, from within his own head, and from wherever they came, they came in an overlapping hiss .

“Sss, sss, sssafe, ssafe, safe, ssseparate, ssseparate, separate, separate habitat, habitat.”

The monk before him placed his palms flat together and bowed. Abby turned back to the two monks behind him—they were doing the same.

“Okay. Sure,” said Abby. He put his palms together and returned the bow, then proceeded to catch up with Leta.

“What was that about?” Leta chipped as Abby caught up.

“Apparently the Viridians are being directed to a habitat,” he said.

“That sort of makes sense.”

“Why do you say sort of? They can’t breathe out of the suits.”

“Yes,” she said. “But why would they have a habitat for a planar species that never visits?”

“Good point,” said Abby. “I’m sure it’s something they threw together. You know what really doesn’t make sense?”

“What?”

“The indirect lighting in the ceiling is plenty bright enough, yet that monk is still carrying the lantern.”

“Yeah,” said Leta. “Doesn’t serve any purpose. I mean, these halls are narrow, but you’re right, the ceiling is bright enough to light everything up.”

“Theater,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Theater.”

The monk led them into a tall atrium that adjoined a grand three-story high hall.

“Wow,” chipped Leta. “This is spectacular.”

“The architecture isn’t all that different from the old churches of the Alpha Plane,” said Abby. “This atrium is similar to the narthex, or vestibule, of the old churches.” He gestured to the row of smooth stone columns between them and the hall. “Like the narthex, it’s separated from the nave, or prayer hall. And the gates on either side open to galleries that run the outside length of the hall.”

“And the indigo banners? They’re everywhere between the columns and from the stone railed upper galleries.”

“Just decoration. It’s like a church, but it’s not. There’s no altar or dais at the far end, but notice the far wall is covered in three stories of stained glass—those three huge mandalas up top were the lights we saw from below.”

The floor of the prayer hall was a dark, highly polished stone tile adorned with rows of elaborately decorated indigo rugs that appeared to float on a field of stars—the reflection of the hundreds of blue diamond flames flickering in the candle chandeliers above. Apart from the small piles of indigo robes scattered across the rugs of the hall, Abby thought the room empty until the light bearer opened a side gate and led the three into the gallery promenade to the side of the prayer hall. It was then he passed near one of the blue bundles and realized there were monks beneath, prostrate in meditation.

Focused on the interior of the prayer hall, Abby paid little attention to the doors lining the inside of the gallery until they reached the one at the end. The light bearer opened it and gestured for the three—Leta, Soren, and Abby—to enter an anteroom. The room was small, with a door on the far wall and long wooden backed benches, much like pews, lining either side. Three hooded monks were seated on the bench to the right, the one closest to the far door twirling prayer beads between his long, blue clawed fingers; the other two sat with their arms crossed and hidden in the loose sleeves of their robes. Abby pivoted back to the light bearer still out in the gallery.

“What are we supposed to do?” he asked.

The monk answered by shutting the door.

“Okay,” Leta said in a whisper. “So are we supposed go through the door or sit? ”

“We sit,” offered Soren. “I’d like to gather my thoughts.”

Abby agreed with a nod. “We sit.” Soren had not muttered a word to him since Viridis Plane. The silence alone gave Abby a bit of credence toward the Umbra when he finally did speak. Leta shrugged, then all three sat on the bench.

The monks sitting across the small anteroom from them made no gesture or response. The two to the right remained still and the one on the left continued twirling the beads. Abby recognized them as a variation of worry beads of the workers in the Cretan excavation. His colleague, Professor Stanos, referred to them as komboloi . Stanos had a set of amber beads that he’d twirl across his fingers in the same rhythmic fashion as this monk, flip-twirl-twirl, flip-twirl-twirl, flip-twirl-twirl. These blue beads weren’t amber; they appeared to be a polished stone, maybe a gem, maybe lapis. With everything on the plane bearing a hue of blue, it was hard for Abby to tell. But they were shiny, and in each twirl through the monk’s slender fingers they became a translucent disc.