The quiet pressed in on him, all the more heavy and palpable by the brief sound of Patricus' voice. Armande felt as if a bubble had descended around him, pressing the quiet deep into his soul. He felt light headed, his mind seeming to float and flitter like an untethered kite in the wind.
He looked around, the truth of Patricus' words washing over him. Between the trees and undulating land, the pillar- and there was no doubt in his mind there was one. The object the Holy Father held in his hands was proof this was not a foolish empty chase- could be anywhere.
A ground scanner might find it, given enough time. Aerial search might help too. And yet the thought of a crew out here- other men and women roaming the ground or the air darkened by swarms of drones sickened him. Defilement, he thought. Despite the dead bodies that littered the landscape, this place was sacred. They four had been called. They four would have to find it.
With their sight, however limited.
But it was not for nothing that the two women who stood by his side were called Eyes. Two eyes, one of born from darkness and passion, of earth, a chthonic goddess, the other ethereally wreathed in light and wind, twin of the sun, looked out, their vision piercing the veil of Maya to the pure truth underneath, Brahman.
The kite of his thoughts stiffened, an iron cord having snapped onto it, and it held still in the center of the sky, and the heaviness that hung over him enveloped him and he sputtered and coughed through the darkened blanket until he felt the cool sweet air and once again he was in a garden, redolent with the scent of flowers and grass and the color green itself, life pulsating with the chittering of crickets and bugs and breeze.
He was not alone. Vale, Rowan and Patricus stood with him, encircling a large pillar. He felt pulled along by the vision, a taut band of energy from Rowan on his right and Valeriya across from him on the other side of the pillar. He felt the energy seem to gather around them, the Eyes as focal points. Light flashed in the distance and the pilar responded, ancient script lighting up briefly to glow on the pillar. And then, on his left, from Patricus, he felt a swelling as lighting flashed from the black clouds in a midnight sky, to strike the pillar, pumping it full of energy until, pregnant with power and potential, it exploded and shattered, leaving only the face before the Holy Father standing.
The aftermath of the explosion left a pulsing in the air, the mirror image of Patricus carved of bronze now standing along.
Armande understood. Patricus had the Key of Cunning.
The bubble snapped and suddenly they were in the clearing. Rowan spoke and he found himself turning in the direction indicated. "West..." The vision had been strong, so much sow he could still taste the ozone from the strike in his nostrils. A smile touched the corners of his mouth. The Eyes had seen.
He looked at Valeriya and Rowan, for a moment, and then nodded. It was enough. He glanced at Patricus as he began wallking. "The Eye has spoken. We must go west."
Fate- kismet, the pattern itself- had indicated where to go. They had a mission. That was all that mattered.
He looked around, the truth of Patricus' words washing over him. Between the trees and undulating land, the pillar- and there was no doubt in his mind there was one. The object the Holy Father held in his hands was proof this was not a foolish empty chase- could be anywhere.
A ground scanner might find it, given enough time. Aerial search might help too. And yet the thought of a crew out here- other men and women roaming the ground or the air darkened by swarms of drones sickened him. Defilement, he thought. Despite the dead bodies that littered the landscape, this place was sacred. They four had been called. They four would have to find it.
With their sight, however limited.
But it was not for nothing that the two women who stood by his side were called Eyes. Two eyes, one of born from darkness and passion, of earth, a chthonic goddess, the other ethereally wreathed in light and wind, twin of the sun, looked out, their vision piercing the veil of Maya to the pure truth underneath, Brahman.
The kite of his thoughts stiffened, an iron cord having snapped onto it, and it held still in the center of the sky, and the heaviness that hung over him enveloped him and he sputtered and coughed through the darkened blanket until he felt the cool sweet air and once again he was in a garden, redolent with the scent of flowers and grass and the color green itself, life pulsating with the chittering of crickets and bugs and breeze.
He was not alone. Vale, Rowan and Patricus stood with him, encircling a large pillar. He felt pulled along by the vision, a taut band of energy from Rowan on his right and Valeriya across from him on the other side of the pillar. He felt the energy seem to gather around them, the Eyes as focal points. Light flashed in the distance and the pilar responded, ancient script lighting up briefly to glow on the pillar. And then, on his left, from Patricus, he felt a swelling as lighting flashed from the black clouds in a midnight sky, to strike the pillar, pumping it full of energy until, pregnant with power and potential, it exploded and shattered, leaving only the face before the Holy Father standing.
The aftermath of the explosion left a pulsing in the air, the mirror image of Patricus carved of bronze now standing along.
Armande understood. Patricus had the Key of Cunning.
The bubble snapped and suddenly they were in the clearing. Rowan spoke and he found himself turning in the direction indicated. "West..." The vision had been strong, so much sow he could still taste the ozone from the strike in his nostrils. A smile touched the corners of his mouth. The Eyes had seen.
He looked at Valeriya and Rowan, for a moment, and then nodded. It was enough. He glanced at Patricus as he began wallking. "The Eye has spoken. We must go west."
Fate- kismet, the pattern itself- had indicated where to go. They had a mission. That was all that mattered.