It would get harder. The trek to Bradford was eight days long, assuming they could find their way. But there was something more, something... subtly wrong. Yes, he'd broken his vow to the arch vicar. But why should three villagers from the edge of the world merit such attention?
He stared at the road. Eight days to Bradford. Eight days of looking over their shoulders and wondering what might lie ahead. Eight days to ponder their fate.
Bradford
They'd been on the road for more than two weeks, and Orah was tired of it. For each moment of elation or instant of peril, she'd slogged through days of tedium. But at least the April weather had been kind. The nights seldom required a blanket, and the mild days allowed for a brisk pace. That is, until they headed north, away from the second Temple City. Then the weather turned.
They were far from home and a long way from their goal, assuming it existed and could be found. When the heat came, she was convinced it was intended for them, some temple magic meant to break their will. They trudged along, each footstep dragging on the earth. Thomas complained his feet hurt and, as the smallest, his pack weighed heavily on him. Their pace slowed, and two days after turning northward, there was still no sign of Bradford.
Nathaniel did his best to keep up their spirits.
"Think of how much we've accomplished. We dodged the deacons and found another piece of a puzzle for the ages. Are we sure to find the keep? Not yet. But the possibility should stir our passions."
She knew he was right, but still...
Unable to plan or act, she fretted constantly. How many keepers were there? What if, after all these generations, the chain had been broken? And even if the chain were intact, she worried about solving the rhyme.
The rhyme
. She saw it as key to keeping them going. That night, after dinner, she asked Nathaniel to bring out the scrolls and memorized each word. The next day, as they marched in the heat, she chanted as she went.
To the North, behind the rock face
To the East, towering o'er the lake
To the North, through forest of stone
To the East, the entrance shall be
Twixt water and dark walls of pine
A cave made by men who must die
The Temple of Truth you shall see
Golden doors that are closed for all time
Every now and then, she'd have insight into a word and their pace would quicken.
"We go north," she'd announce. "Then, when we see a rock cliff, we turn east."
But Thomas had doubts. "How can there be a forest of stone?"
"Maybe it's ancient trees that have become petrified."
"If the keep is the Temple of Truth, why would it be in a cave?"
"To hide it, of course?"
Thomas persisted. "But where?"
"Behind the golden doors."
"Which are locked forever."
Round and round they went. By midafternoon, black clouds began forming in the west. They billowed and surged, rising angrily as if at odds with the heavens. From a distance, they were a wonder to watch, but as they drew nearer Orah realized the seekers were their target. The closer the clouds came, the faster they moved, until night had driven blue from the sky. Soon, thunder was booming and lightning flashed. Leaves turned inward and the three fled for cover to the woods. Then the rains came, heavy droplets of water driven sideways by an immense wind, as if some power had heard them mocking the rhyme.
The squall raced past and was gone as quickly as it had arrived. When it was spent, the air was cool and fresh. April had returned. Orah emerged from the woods onto the now muddy road. As the storm moved on to the east, a rainbow arced its way across the sky. While her friends tried to see to its end, she checked the way forward.
"There."
Nathaniel rushed to her side. "What is it?"
"A signpost," she said. "We've come to Bradford."
***
After their prior experience, Orah refused to enter Bradford without one of them scouting it first. But which one of them should go? Thomas didn't offer, and she didn't ask. Nathaniel volunteered immediately, but she insisted his height would make him too conspicuous. Besides, people were more trusting of a young woman alone. He finally conceded.
She wrapped her headscarf round her hair to hide the color and left the pack behind. After smoothing her clothing and shaking off the dust of the road, she sauntered off to Bradford.
Bradford was different from Adamsville. Both had homes at the outskirts and a merchant district within, but Bradford had a square in the middle surrounding a well-maintained park. At its center was a cheery gazebo built from latticework and with a copper roof. A small flower garden surrounded it. Snowdrops hung in bloom and were joined by buds of crocus, barely visible above the newly thawed soil. It seemed a place for recreation more than ritual.
The adjoining streets were paved with cobblestones and lined with two story brick buildings, some with ornamental facades. In what was the heart of the town stood the largest structure, crowned by a steeple and topped by an image of the sun.
Beside its entrance stood a post like the one in Adamsville, but neither paper nor nail marked it. There were no other signs of the Temple and, most importantly, no deacons. Even more striking was the attitude of the residents. No one crossed the square to avoid her. Instead, everyone she passed nodded a greeting or tipped their hat. As she circled the town, several people approached and asked if she needed directions.
She was determined to bring back as much information as possible, traversing each street, looking in every window, and pretending to shop in the stores. She'd be able to report with confidence that Bradford was a friendly town, with no hint of danger. But as yet, she'd found no sign hanging over a door or no picture on a wall, remotely resembling the symbol on the scroll.
Nathaniel had warned her to take no risks, but she couldn't return without a plan. The day was growing late. The number of people thinned as more returned home for dinner. Time for a different approach. She accosted an elderly man as he crossed the square.
"Excuse me, sir. May I bother you for help?"
He stopped immediately. "Why of course, child. It's no bother."
Thomas's interpretation of the symbol burned in her mind. She had to eliminate the possibility.
"I'm newly arrived and have been traveling for days. While I was away, I missed the blessing of the light. Can you tell me when the vicar comes next?"
He puffed out his chest and beamed. "My dear, you're in Bradford. We have our own vicar, a man who's one of us, born and raised here. And we think we're most fortunate because he's the very best to be had."
Orah thought of the offer made to Nathaniel. Could a vicar be a keeper as well?
"And where may I find this vicar?"
"Why, you're already there, standing in front of his house."
He gestured to the building with the steeple. Of course-the rectory of the vicar. Orah wavered. Should she press on?
"How is it I get an audience with him?"
The man chuckled. "An audience. Oh no, it's not like that here in Bradford. He's available day or night. He ministers to our sick and comforts those in need. That's why we love him so. You can see for yourself. There he is now."
Orah's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't ready for an encounter.
"Thank you, sir. It's late. I won't bother him now. I'll come back in the morning."
The man wished her good evening and ambled off, taking a shortcut across the lawn. Orah slipped around a corner and peered out. This vicar, this native son, emerged with six children in tow. He knelt down and thanked them for coming. When he stood, the little ones began to race off, but he froze them with a command. All stopped but looked at him cheerfully.
He reached inside his robe and pulled out a handful of sweets, then placed a candy in each child's palm. When all had received their treats, they skipped off.
Orah clung to the wall for support. Of all of the possibilities, this was the best. She'd have to take the chance.
***
That night, Orah lay awake, staring through the trees to the stars. If she were wrong, they'd all suffer, but it would be her fault. Nathaniel had listened, demanding she repeat the story three times, challenging every detail. At length, he agreed.
But Thomas had taken it badly. She told herself he hadn't seen the kindness of this vicar, but it was small comfort.
She perceived the sound first as a wounded bird caught in a trap. As she listened, she realized it was Thomas moaning in his sleep. She got up and knelt beside him, touching his shoulder and shaking him gently. When he failed to wake, she stroked his cheek and whispered in a singsong voice.
"Thomas, wake up."
His eyelids fluttered and opened. He stared at her, dazed.
"It's all right Thomas, it's only a dream."
As soon as he recognized her, he pulled away. His voice was filled with dread. "It's no dream. Tomorrow, you'll take me to the vicar. "
"I've seen him, Thomas. He's not like the others. The people of Bradford love him."
"But what if it's a lie? So much of the Temple has been lies."
"We have to try."
"But what if it's like my nightmare?"
"It won't be like your nightmare, Thomas."
"And why's that?"
"Because if I'm wrong, you won't be alone."
The Holy Man
Nathaniel stared at the clouds as if searching for guidance. When none could be found, he hoisted his pack and joined his friends on the road to Bradford. Minutes later, he stood before the rectory in the main square.
They had no choice but to find the next keeper and this was their only clue. But he hesitated, with something more than mistrust gnawing at him. He'd never talked to a vicar outside of Temple ceremony. Vicars were creatures of mystery, guardians of temple magic. Though he'd lost faith in them, he still had no idea how to speak to one.
The decision was made for him.
The double doors carved with the symbol of the sun swung open, and the vicar of Bradford emerged. He was a small man in his middle years. His hair slipped lower than Temple rules allowed, framing a face marked with experience. If its lines could be read like words, they'd say he was kind, slow to anger, and had lived in a way that was satisfying. He came forward with arms extended.
"Welcome travelers. I've been expecting you."
No need to respond; their expressions spoke for them.
"Oh, don't be surprised. I've been hearing about you for days, though I only guessed you'd come. You must be Orah. And the tallest, Nathaniel, and then Thomas. I'm pleased to meet you."
Nathaniel froze-if this was his enemy, it was too late to flee. But there seemed nothing threatening about him. Just in case, he placed himself between the vicar and his friends.
"But how do you know?"
The vicar offered a half-smile as if enjoying a private joke.
"As an official of the Temple, I receive all the communications. They usually tell of miscreants and felons. But the latest described three young people, wandering far from home without permit and heading my way." He switched to mock officialdom. "If sighted, report at once, but make no attempt to contact." Then laughing. "Extraordinary. Why would such as these travel so far and defy their Temple? It made me wonder. Then it made me hope."
Nathaniel glanced at his friends. Orah was wide-eyed and Thomas had gone pale. But instinct said no flight would be necessary.
"Your people say you're generous and kind. You won't betray us to the Temple, will you?"
The vicar blanched. "Oh my, I'm sorry. That was insensitive. I forget you're strangers here. Bradford's more than three days from the nearest Temple City and has always been served by a local vicar. I minister to my people as I see fit. You're my guests. Please join me inside."
None of them stirred.
"I promise you'll be well cared for. You can ask my people. I've never once eaten their children."
He chuckled at his joke, then opened the door to the rectory. After a moment, Nathaniel headed inside with Orah and Thomas lagging behind.
The dwelling was modestly furnished, with unassuming chairs set up around a table. There were no high benches for vicars, no underground chambers or cells. The only sign of the Temple lay at the back wall-a cabinet with brass doors engraved with the sun.
The vicar bid them sit.
"There," he said once they were settled. "You're safe now. Feel free to say what you choose."
All three had questions, but Thomas was first to ask.
"Excuse me, but if no vicars come, how do you administer... teachings?"
"I do them myself as the vicars before me have done." Then sensing Thomas's discomfort, he added, "Not as they do in Temple City, Thomas. No harsh treatments here. Children come and we have conversations. There's much good to teach about the light."
Nathaniel went next. Though something about the man felt reassuring, he wasn't about to let instinct dominate reason.
"I'm curious why you hoped we'd come to Bradford, and specifically to you."
This self-assured envoy of the Temple became uneasy.
"It may have been a foolish notion and I'll find I'm deluded. But if I'm right, Nathaniel, it's not for me to speak first. Answer me a question and only then, if my query is well answered, will I respond."
"A question?"
"Why have
you
come here?"
The room seemed to shrink and grow dimmer as Nathaniel wrestled with the decision.
"You're safe, Nathaniel," the vicar said. "But if you have a goal you seek, you must speak first."
Nathaniel's vision narrowed so he saw only the man's eyes. He searched for a reason to believe. After a moment, he'd seen enough.
"We travel toward the dawn to seek the light of truth."
The vicar of Bradford threw his head back and clasped his hands in front of him. His retort brought a glow back into the room.