Chapter 3

1577 Words
3 “The Cursus Empire?” I repeated. The professor nodded. “Yes, though I doubt that name is familiar to any but myself and a handful of other men of such antiquity as I.” He pushed away the book that had hidden the large expanse of nothing on the map. “Once, nine hundred and seventy-three years ago, this whole area was a garden, a paradise of waters and foods such that we cannot imagine.” “And then your family came,” Asher guessed. Cosimos set both hands on the map on either side of the void and nodded. His expression hinted at sorrow, though his eyes were hard. “Yes. We had been wealthy merchants, and through those connections had heard about the god that protected the area. We had the finest magicians craft the cylinders, what we once called Cordis Deum. Heart of God. Each of them could store the vital essence of a god, or so we were told. My ancestors and their coin-led entourage stole into the temple that housed the god and found a secret crevice in which a tunnel led to the bowels of the earth. It was there that the god was captured.” I looked up at Asher. “That sounds like the cave Athas’s crystal was stored in, and where he hid later.” Cosimos looked over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow. “A crystal? Was that the body of the god?” I shrugged. “I’m not really sure. When Davy was trying to capture him he did start turning into crystal.” Cosimos stroked one end of his mustache. “How very interesting. The tales of my family mention that the god whom they captured changed into a small smooth river stone, and it was this that they placed inside a vase.” A peculiar expression slipped onto Asher’s face. “What was the name of this god?” Cosimos grinned. “I see you have struck at the heart of what I am telling you. As for your question, you have no doubt guessed the name. This is the tale of Amalthea, goddess of protection.” My eyes widened. “You mean the one all the people hang the circles out for?” Cosimos inclined his head. “The very same. My ancestors brought her to Deus Insula and worshiped her. The household on the island, however, was not enough for us to benefit from her protection against marauders. She was angry at our stealing her away from her land and great storms blew against the castle, threatening to take everyone into the sea.” “Your family spread her name over the land to save yourselves,” Asher mused. The professor sighed. “That is the hard truth. Honest and pure souls took her name into their hearts and we were forgiven, in a way. Lust grass and trees spread across the island as never before and we were blessed with good fortune. Our ships returned laden with riches and the town itself prospered from our ill-gotten gains.” “And the Cursus Empire withered to nothing,” Asher added. Cosimos bowed his head. “Yes. Without their goddess the animals and plants fled, never to return. The empire crumbled, and its people and achievements were covered by the sands.” “That’s terrible,” I whispered as I pressed my hands against my chest. I couldn’t stop the tears that sprang into my eyes. “All those people. . .” Cosimos studied me with a strange look of curiosity. “Yes. My family would watch them crumble only to fall victim to our own foolishness.” “There is nothing victim about bringing ruin upon yourselves,” Asher snapped at him. Cosimos bowed his head. “I accept the correction, and will rephrase it: after only a century of feeding off our sacrilege, we suffered the fate of Cursus. One stormy night the goddess was stolen from us out of the chapel. My family searched for the thief and the vase in which was stored the stone, but nothing was found but the broken remains of a small boat. We assumed the thief had taken to the sea and been smashed to pieces. The vase, likewise, would have been lost.” I furrowed my brow. “Then how did we find it below the castle?” Cosimos shook his head. “That is a mystery even I do not know. All I can guess is that the thief desired not to steal it, per se, but to hide it where no prayers would reach her ears.” He tapped his fingernails against the map over where the Garden existed. “Perhaps they were a descendant of that wronged empire who, disguised as a servant, learned of those most ancient halls and sealed the vase away before they were wrecked upon the shores of the island.” “Then your family didn’t know about the halls?” I asked him. He shook his head. “Not at all. I suspect that whatever covered them had long ago rotted away when you and your companions ventured onto the grounds.” He looked up at Asher. “How did you know to go down into those depths?” “One of my friends had heard about the hallway from a patron at a bar, an ugly old woman who would entertain others with her stories of olden days and adventure that excited him,” Asher told him. Cosimos tugged at his mustache. “Most interesting.” “If your story is done then what can you tell us about the present?” Asher wondered. “About your friend and his ambition to return to his former self?” Cosimos mused as his eyes took on a faraway look. “Even if there was a way to reverse the consequences, one would need the powers of the original god to do so.” I stared hard at the floor and furrowed my brow. “Davy said he wanted to take the piece of the god away. Maybe he wanted to use it to bring the other god to him.” Cosimos smacked his fist into his upraised palm. “By the gods, you may have something there!” He dove into the hall of books and we could hear him muttering to himself as books and papers flew above the stacks. “Now where is that blasted thing?” “If that’s true we don’t have time to waste standing here,” Asher insisted. “Ah-ha!” The professor emerged from the tomes with a huge one clutched in his arms. He dropped the book on the table and the legs shuddered beneath the weight. Cosimos flipped open the thick leather cover, discolored and crumbling, and scoured the pages. “Now let’s see here. . .” I caught a glimpse of the title. “The History of the Cosimos.” “A compilation of our greatest crimes, as it were,” Cosimos commented with not a little bitterness as he paused at a chapter near the front. “Here we are. The writings of one of the magicians, Arztin of the line of Arzat. He was the chief among them and performed the incantations on the Heart of God that was used to capture and transport Amalthea to the island.” “Has anyone tried to recreate the Hearts?” Asher wondered. “A few times, though obviously there was no god on which to try them,” Cosimos replied without looking up from where he traced a paragraph with his finger. “It says here that upon the journey he cared for the Heart, a prison of his own creation, and studied the effects on the creature contained therein. He found that at two certain points along the way the goddess was most violent inside her prison. Those points were Earrach an Athas, and the Valley of Molino.” Asher arched an eyebrow. “The Tale of the Wind?” Cosimos shut the book and nodded. “Yes. It must be the third part of the triad.” Asher cupped his chin in his hand and furrowed his brow. “If memory serves, the god will be hidden among the windmills.” A small smile appeared on Cosimos’ pale lips. “Yes. A great feat, and one I am sure where you will be grateful you have another set of eyes.” Before I could ask about these unknown tales a loud knock came from the door. Cosimos glared at the entrance to the study. “Who the devil could that be?” Asher dropped his hand and chuckled. “Another set of eyes, but ones less suitable for what we have in mind.” Another pounding echoed through the house, and Asher set his hand on my lower back. “That’s our cue to leave.” “Not without me,” Cosimos reminded him as he patted the left breast of his coat. “I shall be ready to leave within the hour.” Asher pursed his lips, but bowed his head and guided me through the book maze to the more spacious entrance hall. We arrived at the door as someone jiggled the knob. “Hey!” Gregor shouted as he pounded on the wood again. Some of the rusted hinges shifted a little under the weight of his powerful fist. “You in there?” “Coming!” Asher called out before he swung the door open. He just narrowly ducked another blow from Gregor against the moved door. “Where the devils have you been, Ash?” Gregor scolded us as he crossed his large arms over his expansive chest. “I was wondering if’n I needed to bang these rusted doors down to get your attention.” “We were merely having a long chat, but that’s over for the present,” Asher assured him as he guided me past our driver. “If you would drive us home, we will pack and return here, and then venture to Molino.” Gregor wrinkled his scarred nose, but followed us without a hint of his handicap but for the emptiness in his eyes. “What are you wanting to be going there for?” “A little adventure,” Asher replied as he helped me into the carriage. “Probably a lot,” I corrected him as he climbed in beside me. Asher grinned. “No doubt.”
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