----------------------------------------
The Quartz Key Chapter Sixty-Three
by Lianne Burwell
May 2003
----------------------------------------

After sundown, for the first time in Judas did not know how 
long, he left the temple. They did not leave by the main 
doors, assuming that there was such a thing. He assumed 
that it was because there was the risk that the temple was 
being watched. If indeed the God-King was worried about the 
south, surely he had spies to watch his enemies.

Instead, they went to a large chamber that felt... peaceful 
to Judas. Instinctively, he knew that he was in the heart 
of the temple complex. This was where generations of 
clansmen had raised their voices in praise of their 
Goddess. Every stone felt consecrated.

Behind the altar, a passage led deeper into the temple, 
gradually changing from carved stone to rough rock as it 
went down. It gave the passage the feeling of even greater 
age than the secret passages in the palace of Ajantha. It 
twisted and turned until Judas could no longer tell which 
direction they were traveling in, and they were too far 
underground for him to feel where the moon was.

The five clan chiefs, accompanied by twice that number in 
guardsmen, surrounded Judas as they made their way through 
the darkness, following a single torch held high. Even if 
there had been any side passages, Judas would not have had 
the chance to try to escape. They need not have worried. As 
of yet, Judas had seen no way to make his escape 
successfully. Perhaps at a later date. But until he could 
be sure of his plan, there was little point in trying only 
to fail.

Some time late in the night, they came to a stop and the 
torch was extinguished. From there they made their way 
forward almost entirely by touch towards the end of the 
passage where faint light could be seen. They emerged from 
the darkness into the night, illuminated by stars and a 
crescent moon low on the horizon. Judas turned his face 
skyward and took in a deep breath. It was the first truly 
fresh air he had breathed in far too long. He would have 
happily stayed where he was, but he was urged down the 
path.

The path they were on was steep, hugging the edge of what 
seemed like a cliff to Judas, and he clung to the inner 
edge. Once and only once, he looked over the edge towards 
the ground far below, and became so dizzy that he had been 
in danger of falling. Even traveling into the mountains 
towards the trade towns, he had never looked down from such 
a height. One of the guardsman grabbed the back of his 
sash, pulling him back from the edge.

But eventually they reached the bottom, where yet more 
guardsmen waited, along with horses, although none of them 
as fine as the horses of his tribe. They mounted up 
immediately and set off across the plain.

As they rode away, Judas twisted in the saddle to look 
behind them. Looming up over them was a rock formation that 
seemed out of place, rising out of the plain with almost 
vertical walls, reaching up towards the sky. At the top, he 
could just barely see the buildings he assumed were part of 
the temple. Other than that, there was no sign of human 
habitation to be seen. The city must have been on the other 
side of the rock.

A hostile command from Hamar turned him back around again, 
although he did not acknowledge the young man. Part of him 
already missed the temple, prison though it had been. And 
at the same time, he would be quite happy never to see it 
again if that meant that he had gone home. No matter what 
the chiefs said, he had no intention of giving up his 
hopes. Even promises of power and position once the God-
King was dead were not enough to turn his head.

Somehow, although he was not sure how, he would make his 
way home, and back to Nemir.

>>>~~~<<<

The three days of travel that followed was very familiar to 
Judas. It reminded him of the flight from Ajantha, although 
there were more members to their group. The danger was 
presumably was less, but they still rode hard through the 
night, and into the day while Judas huddled under the cloak 
he was given. The nights were cool and the days were hot, 
although nowhere near as hot as in the desert.

And Judas was well-guarded the entire time. Not once was he 
left alone, not even to deal with bodily functions. Despite 
Chiram's suggestion that cooperation might provide him with 
the opportunity of escape, no one was foolish enough to 
make it easy for him.

He was glad to be away from the temple, though. His freedom 
might have been barely more in Ajantha, but at least he had 
had Nemir to talk with. In the temple, the priestesses 
talked to him, telling him what he was expected to learn, 
but he had had no friends. His only regret on leaving the 
temple was that he had not been allowed to talk to the High 
Priestess again.

His only true fear as they left the temple, though, had 
been that they might bring Nahanna along, but the 
duplicitous woman had been thankfully left behind, despite 
the protests of Hamar. Why the young chief wanted her to 
travel with them, he was not exactly sure, but it seemed to 
him that the man had designs on the Goddess-born priestess. 
Perhaps it was that status that made her appealing, or 
perhaps it was her beauty that had him ensnared. Whatever 
the reason, he spoke of her like a man besotted.

>>>~~~<<<

Judas woke well before sunset on the third day of travel. 
He had a small tent to himself, but as usual, it had been 
set at the center of their camp. The tents of the five 
chiefs formed a circle around him, and the guards formed 
yet another circle around them. Only a feat of great magic 
would allow him to leave undetected in the light of day, 
and he knew of no such magic.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was, for the moment, 
alone, Judas pulled the small mirror from inside his cloak 
and cradled it in his hand. Staring into the reflective 
surface, he tried once more to see Nemir, but the mirror 
flashed brightly, and he covered his eyes, choking back a 
soft cry of pain. The light had been as bright as the noon 
sun, but at least it did not burn him the way the sun would 
have.

Since the day he left the temple, it had been that way. 
Every attempt to see his beloved had failed. Even Dansen 
and Markus were somehow beyond his seeing. When he asked 
the Lady during their dreamtime lessons, she just shook her 
head sadly and said that there was nothing she could do.

The tent flap opened suddenly, letting in a stream of light 
from the sun low on the horizon. Judas shrank back 
protectively from the glare. Then the light was blocked by 
the far too familiar form of Hamar. "We ride in an hour," 
he said harshly, tossing a loaf of travel bread to Judas. 
"Do not dawdle."

He did not wait for a reply; he simply turned and let the 
flap fall shut again.

Judas picked up the loaf and tore off a chunk. The dried 
meat and fruit mixed into the bread made it a filling, 
although less than appetizing meal. Warm water tasting of 
the leather of the bag holding it washed it down. Then he 
pulled on his cloak and rolled his bedroll. He pulled the 
hood of the cloak up over his head before leaving the 
safety of the tent.

A small fire was burning, not far from his tent, and other 
than a couple of the guards and Hamar, all of the travelers 
were clustered around it. The smell of cooking food wafted 
his way. The chiefs, it seemed, were not eating travel 
bread.

Chiram saw him and waved him over, indicating that he 
should sit next to the older man. Chiram was the only one 
among the chiefs who Judas actually liked. Hamar hated him, 
and the others ignored him, other than the teachers who 
drilled him in the southern form of fighting with a curved 
sword for a time before the night's ride began, but Chiram 
actually took the time to talk with him. In many ways, the 
man reminded him a great deal of his own grandfather, and 
perhaps a little of Nemir's father as well. He took his 
responsibilities seriously, but did not let them wear him 
down. He praised Judas's rapidly growing skills with the 
sword and told him tales of the clans and their history.

Hamar, on the other hand, seemed to be of the opinion that 
the accident of birth that had made him a clan chief meant 
that all should look on him with respect and awe before he 
had truly earned it. Then he saw Judas being treated with 
that awe because of marks on his arms, his own accident of 
birth, and he burned with anger. Hamar was one that Judas 
would not want to be left alone with.

"Did you sleep well?" Chiram asked mildly, setting a piece 
of roasted meat on a flatbread and handing it to Judas. The 
travel bread had been filling, but he accepted it 
gratefully, his stomach appreciating the warm food.

"Well enough," he replied before biting into the soft 
bread. He used the edge of the bread to catch the meat 
juices that promptly started to run down his chin.

"Good. We reach our destination tonight, before the setting 
of the moon. No lessons tonight."

"What is our destination?" Judas asked, sipping water from 
the skin.

"You do not need to know that," Hamar snapped as he joined 
them. Where he had been, Judas did not know or care.

"Enough, Hamar. Learn to curb your tongue," Chiram chided 
him before turning back to Judas. "There is a valley near 
here, at the feet of the eastern mountains. One that is 
sacred to the Goddess. It is there that the armies of the 
clans have been gathering. In a few days time, after we 
join them, they will march north to face the armies of the 
God-King. By the time that the moon is full, it will be 
decided; whether his tyranny will continue unchecked, or 
whether the lands will regain their freedom."

Judas nodded, even though he still had his doubts as to 
whether or not they had a chance of succeeding. The Lady 
had been teaching him even more than he had known before, 
but still, nothing that might give him the chance of 
killing one such as the God-King. No battle spells or 
tricks of the sword.

And even if he could, he found it hard to believe that the 
Southern Clans could muster a large enough army to stand 
against the one that the God-King surely had. And without 
an army large enough, there was little chance that he would 
ever get close enough to the God-King to do anything.

But he said nothing. For nothing he said would change the 
minds of the brave and foolish men around him.

END CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE