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The Quartz Key Chapter Sixty-Five
by Lianne Burwell
June 2003
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The valley of which Chiram had spoken was not so much a 
valley as a crevice, deep in the earth, invisible to the eye 
until you were nearly on top of it. It reminded Judas 
bitterly of the valley where they had spent the winter 
storms in safe seclusion. There were days when he would have 
wished himself back to that time, even though Nemir had not 
been speaking to him. Even with the pain and the fear, 
everything had seemed so simple.

Nothing was simple any longer.

The valley was narrow at each end, but the middle spread out 
and a small lake sat at the very center, perfectly still, 
reflecting the full moon as it sailed overhead. Across the 
valley, Judas could see buildings clustered along the base 
of the cliffs surrounding the valley, but no fires to 
indicate that anyone lived there.

Instead, the growing army was camped around the valley, 
clustered close to the edge of the cliffs, but not actually 
in the valley. Puzzled, Judas turned to Chiram. "Why is no 
one camped below? They would be closer to the water, and 
surely there is game to be found."

Several men within earshot hissed, and for a moment, Judas 
thought that Hamar might actually strike him. Chiram simply 
shook his head. "The valley belongs to the Goddess. Only her 
avatar and his servants may enter."

Judas frowned. "Her avatar. I do not understand."

Chiram took Judas's hand and lifted it, brushing back the 
sleeves of his over-robe, revealing the marks on his arms. 
Judas tried to cover them again, but Chiram was relentless. 
"Her avatar. The living embodiment of the Goddess in the 
world. The one who bears the marks. But the God-King killed 
the last avatar, and the priestesses had to retreat to the 
main temple. With no avatar, the valley sits untended."

The chief finally let go of his arm, and Judas turned back 
towards the valley, taking in what the older man had said. 
If his words could be trusted, if Judas made it into the 
valley, no one would come after him. But he would also be 
unable to leave, for surely all paths out would be guarded. 
Still, the thought was tempting. And there was something 
about the peaceful feeling of the valley -- a hush, as if it 
were waiting for something -- that drew him.

Instead, he turned and followed the other men away from the 
edge, refusing to acknowledge either the pleased expression 
on Chiram's face or the sneer on Hamar's. Some day he would 
have his freedom, but when *he* decided the time was right. 
This had been a test of him, he knew, and he would not show 
his hand so quickly.

But he wondered at Chiram's words. The avatar and *his* 
servants. Could a woman not be an avatar? Nahanna bore marks 
of her goddess, as did the high priestess. Why did they not 
live here? How was it that he was an avatar, but they were 
not? He wanted to shake his head. The south confused him 
with its strange refusal to consider women worthy, even 
though they worshipped a Goddess. Surely they had not always 
been that way.

They stopped before they reached the main encampment, and 
Judas frowned in puzzlement. The men around him said 
nothing, but Chiram gestured for him to remove his cloak. 
Then his hair was brushed out, and his sleeves were rolled 
up and fastened so that the markings on his arms could be 
plainly seen. After a lifetime of keeping them covered, 
Judas had to fight the urge to roll the sleeves back down. 
But the marks were what made him important to these people, 
so they insisted.

The clothing he wore under his robes were travel-stained, 
but mostly white to match his hair and skin. In the night, 
the marks on his arms were so dark that his skin almost 
glowed in contrast. A silver coronet set with moonstones was 
placed on his forehead.

Chiram stood back to look at him and nodded in satisfaction. 
"You are ready. The army waits for you."

"And keep your mouth shut," Hamar hissed, taking a place 
behind and to the left of him. "You are here only for them 
to see. We shall do the talking. All you need to do is stand 
and look serious. I am sure that you can manage to do that."

Judas bristled at the tone. He had the feeling that the day 
would come when he and the young chieftain would face each 
other, and when that day came, Hamar would not hold back, 
and there would be no guards to stop him. He did not fear 
that, though. On that day, Hamar would learn that Judas 
could do much more than just stand and look serious.

He turned away from the young man without a word, ignoring 
the soft growl of anger. Hamar was of an age with Nemir, but 
the two men were so different. Hamar had obviously been 
raised to believe that his birth meant that all should 
respect and obey him. Nemir, on the other hand, had been 
raised to expectation that he must earn the respect that 
went with the position he was born to. It was amazing how 
much of a difference that made.

In the distance, Judas could hear all the sounds that would 
go with an army. Horses moving, metal clanking against 
metal, countless voices murmuring softly. If he 
concentrated, he could even tell what each voice was saying, 
which surprised him. He had never been able to do that 
before.

They came around one of the oversized boulders that seemed 
to hug the edge of the lip of the valley, and the army was 
spread out before them. Men and beasts, clustered around 
tents and fires, for as far as the eye could see.

Then silence fell, starting with those closest, but 
spreading out through the camp. Men emerged from tents, and 
those sitting stood. Judas fought the shivers as he found 
himself the focus of so many eyes. He had never enjoyed it, 
but it had never been for anything but his freakish 
coloring.

"Men of the clans!" Chiram called out, stepping forward with 
his arms raised. "The time has finally come for us to 
reclaim what is ours. The false god of the north thought 
that he could destroy us, destroy the line of the Goddess, 
but he failed. The Lady has sent a new avatar to lead us 
into battle. With him, we cannot lose!"

A sharp shove to his back by Hamar sent Judas forward, 
almost stumbling, but he caught himself before he fell. 
Cheers rose up, and swords were brandished. Chiram nodded to 
him approvingly.

The cheers continued, and Judas felt like telling them that 
they were foolishly optimistic. If having an avatar 
guaranteed them victory, then how was it that the God-King 
had killed their avatars before? He was just a man, and a 
young one at that, with little training in fighting. How was 
he expected to lead an army? Not that he would truly be 
leading it, he knew. Despite Chiram's pretty words, he was 
nothing but a figurehead, a symbol for them to rally around.

He just wished that he could believe that they were doing 
anything but marching to their deaths.

>>>~~~<<<

An army does not march on short notice, no matter what the 
tales might say. A tent was set up at the middle of the 
camp, and it was to that tent that Judas was lead in a 
circuitous route designed to let as many as possible see him 
up close. The ones that did not get the chance would hear 
from those who did. Hands reached out to touch him, but his 
guards kept them away, and men called out to him in praise. 
Judas kept his expression impassive, not wanting to show 
just how disturbing he found the adulation.

They finally reached the tent, and once inside, Judas 
collapsed to the ground in relief. His skin crawled, and it 
seemed to him that he could still feel all those eyes on 
him. Oh, how he wished he was back in Ajantha, a simple 
slave once more.

"You did well," Chiram said, settling down on the pile of 
cushions around the small brazier at the center of the tent. 
The brazier was lit, sending a small column of smoke up to 
the vent hole and filling the space with warmth.

With all the dignity he could manage considering his 
fatigue, Judas pushed back to his feet and moved over to sit 
on one of the other cushions. The other clan chiefs filed 
into the room and took their own seats. All looked pleased, 
except for Hamar, which did not surprise Judas. The youngest 
chief was never happy.

Immediately, the five men set to discussing plans for the 
march north and what would happen when they reached the 
capital. Judas had his doubts about whether or not they 
would get that far. If the God-King was everything that 
stories said, there was little chance of getting that far 
before encountering the armies of the Kingdom. But he 
doubted that the men speaking around him as though he was 
not there would listen.

The tent flap opened and a heavily shrouded woman ducked to 
come in, carrying a large tray with a tea pot and small 
cups. She set the tray down on the carpet and started 
pouring. The chiefs ignored her, but something about her 
seemed familiar to Judas. Then she turned to hand him one of 
the cups and he saw her eyes. The robes covered everything 
else but her hands, but it was enough for Judas to recognize 
her, and he stiffened. Nahanna.

He opened his mouth to demand why she was there, but her 
eyes flashed at him, and for a moment he thought he was 
hearing humming. His mouth shut with a snap and he took a 
sip of tea. Hot and sweet. She served everyone else, then 
left.

Judas continued to drink his tea, fighting the urge to yawn. 
It had been a long few days since they had left the temple, 
and he wanted very much to just go to sleep. The chiefs, who 
had barely noticed Nahanna's presence, did not seem to be 
suffering from the same fatigue.

Then he caught Hamar watching him with a small smirk, and he 
wondered just what had the man so pleased.

The cup was empty, so he set it on the tray, then decided 
that if the chiefs were going to ignore his presence, he 
might as well ignore theirs. He was tired, and they would 
probably insist on moving the army soon, so he curled up on 
the cushions and closed his eyes.

END CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE