The Ancient Temple: Part 1

Anat had been roaming through the desert, for how many hours now? Or days? He wasn't sure. He had lost all track of time. It could even be months or years and he would still swear that he had been with the caravan just a few moments ago.

What was he doing? How had he lost them? He racked his brain as much as he could in his state. He remembered talking to an old man. What was so special about the old man? What were they talking about? Why couldn't he remember anything before that?

He wanted to find the answer. But he had no energy left. His throat was parched. His belly was rumbling painfully. To make matters worse, the sun had been raining down its wrath from the sky incessantly, sapping his willpower, eating away his strength, and debilitating his sanity. A part of him wanted to give in and collapse. It would just be like going to sleep. 

Yet he went on. He did not want the dunes to be his grave. Buried where no one could find him.

He crawled his way through the unending sand, and it seemed forever before he finally found an oasis. A mirage? Or perhaps a hallucination? He wasn't sure but he knew if the oasis turned out to be either, he wouldn't be able to take it. 

He went as fast as his frazzled body could take him. Water. He needed water. He would die otherwise. He didn't want to die. 

It seemed an eternity before he finally reached it. He was not able to use his arms, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting his throat wet. He lapped up the water with urgency, with a fervor of a madman.

When he was almost done, he felt a semblance of his strength returning, along with some of his sanity. Or just the former, because he could swear the reflection, he was seeing in the water was not his. 

It was that of a rat. What?

He must be imagining things. No doubt his mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way he could turn into a rat. 

Yet when he tried to make a sound, only pitiful squeaks came out. He looked down to find his body covered in fur. And from his behind, a worm, that could only be a tail was jutting out. 

He began to emanate a series of squeaks. 

"You are not so smart, I told you ", said a pleasant voice. The squeaks stopped. His heart was beating fast. He recognized the voice. It was the last thing he had heard before he had gotten into all this mess.

He turned around and saw a pair of feet behind what looked like a stick. He looked up to see a pair of piercing eyes looking down at him. He could not look away. It was as if he had been put in a trance. The voice inside his head was getting quieter by the moment….. Then it all went away. The man had a flowing white beard and was leaning over a staff. 

He felt naked. It was as if he had lost all senses, lost control over his own will. The old man smiled. 

How did he find him? And why did he find him? Did he have something to do with this?

"I most certainly didn't, as for the other two questions, it's a long story and you would require your memory for that and I am sure you would love to have your memories back wouldn't you?", He chortled.

He squeaked. The hair on his back was rising. Danger.  His instincts were screaming at him to run away. Yet…. he couldn't even move his tail. He was paralyzed. Out of fear? Or did he do this to me? He couldn't make it out. Nothing was making sense.

He could read his mind, that much was clear. And that wasn't the only thing that had alarmed him. How did he find me? Did he turn me into a rat?

"Hogwash!",  he said impatiently. "I was telling you something important, I asked you to listen to me", the man said matter-of-factly. "But, you don't remember any of that. Let's correct that, shall we?"

Wait!! Stop…  He couldn't get a squeak out before he felt his muscles tense up. His eyes rolled back into his head. 

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It was raining. He was making his way to the old temple's ruins. He was late yet again. The job was simple enough, yet he kept giving way to mediocrity. He cursed himself. He had promised his mother that he would work hard. He could remember her warm eyes looking at him as he bid her farewell. 

He had come to this city as this was where the riches lay. He needed to make something of himself. With what face would he go back, if he didn't? What would he say? Apologies mother, but your son failed. It wouldn't matter to her of course. She would just put some food in front of him and pester him to eat more.

He was rushing through the crowd. He accidentally knocked over a kid. He could hear the kid's mother cursing him, but he didn't have time. Besides, he couldn't care less. He wiggled around a crowd gathered in front of a fruit seller with surprising agility and came out of the stuffed alleys of the market.

He could see the imposing ruins of the ancient temple. That was where he was headed. The king had decided that he wanted the temple cleaned and open again for the public. He had been hired by an officer to clean it up. Why they would hire only a single person, was beyond him. At the rate at which he would work, he would sooner die of old age and the temple would still not be half cleaned. 

Heaving, he finally reached the temple grounds and stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He had made it in time. The sunset was on him, but it wasn't dark yet. He had kept his word on punctuality and that was all that mattered to him. Now, the temple was his to clean up.

He looked up. It was a massive structure. . Yet…. no one knew about any of its history or who it was supposed to be dedicated to. I haven't been there in my life, they would say. The ruins had been there even before the city was established, and looking at the sturdy pillars, it would be here even after the city was long gone. He sighed and went through the ancient gates into the courtyard. He saw the layers of grime, the dust, and the vines that had covered around virtually every inch of the land. His heart sank. He knew that he would never be able to finish the work. Not even if he worked till 100, died, came back again, and did it again.

He went inside the building. A very distinct and more importantly, familiar odor, which he instantly remembered being from the cities, hit his nose. He tried to get to the source of it, fighting his way through the vines, until he saw a small gleam of light. Someone's here.

This was unexpected. Not a soul comes to that place, he remembered the officer saying. And the people had confirmed this as well. And no one is ready to, either and so I offer you 10000 gold coins to go and clean it up. 

"Who is here?", he called out. "I am on the King's orders here. So, whoever you are, come out quietly."

"Easy child, it's just me, an old man". A voice said and out came a man with a flowing white beard, leaning over a staff. 

" I don't have a place to go to, you see", the man said. The man did not seem to be a danger at all. He looked frail and seemed to walk with a slight hunch. 

"Who are you?", he said authoritatively "and where are you from ?"

"I am just a mendicant, child. I am from nowhere and everywhere", He could see his eyes twinkling in the gleam of what now could make out to be a lamp." But I am certainly not from around here." He looked amused.

He was pleasant enough in his demeanor but he was making him uneasy. He could not quite place the reason why. 

"What are you doing here?", He asked, trying to not show his uneasiness.

"Sit down child. Come eat. This lamb is fresh. And you look thin. What would your mother think if you weren't eating properly?"

Does he know me? Maybe it was just a generic comment. Yes, that's it.

He stepped further so that he could see him more clearly. He does look somewhat familiar. Where have I seen him?

He seemed to be having an amused expression on his face. "Have we met before old man?" He voiced his concern.

"Maybe. Could be in a different time, in a different place", He said grinning "I have met a lot many people in my time here on this earth"

"You could have simply said 'Perhaps, I am not so sure'", he said irritably. 

He didn't have time for this. He had a job to finish. The old man just smiled

"Stay in the corner and don't bother me", he said and got to work.He unloaded his bag, took out his shears and got to work. 

Clip ..Clip..clip. He worked for what seemed like hours and found himself drenched in sweat and his throat burning with thirst. 

"Want some water ?", He looked around. The old man was smiling and was holding out a flask for him to take. 

"No, thank you, I have my own", as he rummaged through his backpack. The last thing he wanted was to drink something offered by a strange old man.

The old man chuckled." You're not so smart, you know?" He said, casually taking a sip of his flask. "So, just listen and do as I say", he said with a hint of seriousness. 

"Don't try to order me around", Anat retorted

 "Listen to me, kid. You're just like me, trapped here, with no way to get out but one". He said matter of factly as if he was commenting on the weather.

"What did you say?" He turned around to face him

He was looking at him, still smiling, but there was nothing pleasant about it anymore. "I know all about you, you know", dropping another boulder over the last one. "And I promise you, you will get to know me as well and a bit too personal against my better judgment too, no less", he smiled sadly.

"What is going on, what do you mean?", he blasted at him. This man was really getting on his nerves now.

"Do you know why no one visits this place?" he said taking a sip from the flask yet again. He looked at him "Because. It doesn't exist."

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He screamed as he thrashed all over. His head was throbbing. It felt like someone had hit him with a mace and split his skull open.

He opened his eyes and tried to get up. He remembered. He remembered everything. But how had he got here? And what did he mean by that cryptic comment?

He looked around, he seemed to be on an open field. What? Wasn't he in a desert? Hadn't the old man turned him into a rat? Nothing was making sense. 

He got to his feet and looked around. There seemed to be a procession going forward. He followed it. The procession seemed to be for royals, he realized as he spotted a frail old man wearing what seemed like a crown. The people didn't seem to mind his presence whatsoever, despite his being way too shabbily dressed.

He made his way forward warily, expecting a slew of royal guards anytime to carry him away at any moment. But no one came. A couple of people did give him a curious glance but didn't bother him.

Suddenly, he saw a guard attack one of his comrades with a spear and one other made a lunge for the man wearing the crown with a knife aimed right at his belly. The man wearing the crown shouted in alarm. Both of the attackers were immediately intercepted by another two of the guards. However, both the attackers seemed to be too skilled for their opponents easily parried the guards' attacks. The second attacker, stabbed his opponent right in the chest. However, more guards had come by then and engaged both of them. The first attacker kicked one guard on his shin and threw a knife right into the other's forehead. Meanwhile, one guard took down the second attackers by stabbing straight through a gap in the armor.

He looked around and spotted a stone. He picked it up and threw it at him, aiming for the remaining attacker's head. The stone found its mark and the man screamed. his skull had cracked open, it seemed. Good.

The other people had made their way and kicked him down immediately. After they had beaten him some more, they took him away in chains.

Then he was called over in front of the king. Stupid, who else wears a crown? He thanked him profusely and insisted to join him and his court for supper. He obliged. He was hungry. Besides, he didn't want to give up an offer to dine in with royalty.

The supper was roasted lamb. He hungrily ate the meat but declined the wine. He wouldn't want to disappoint his mother.

"Where are you from, child?", The old king asked. "Your grace, I am from a village near the city of Beita. The old king's eyes widened infinitesimally. The other nobles just looked confused. What a dumb lot. " I came to the city for work"

"Spend some time at the court, child."  He insisted "We will find you some work there. I have some plans for you". He looked at him pointedly.

"Your grace, I am honored but I already have work. The ancient temple at Beita. I am tasked to clean it."

He frowned. "A temple you say? " He said. "I will talk to the king. I know him. He will release you from your contract"

"Your Grace, I…", 

"You do not refuse a king, child", he said interrupting him.

So he went away with them. 

15 years he spent at the court. At the king's insistence, he read at the library, learned the ways of diplomacy, learned warfare and strategy, and won over the nobles with his charm, curiosity, and humble nature. He wished to visit his mother but the king did not allow him to ."You can visit her once the time comes. Till then keep sending her gold for her needs" , He would say.

Despite being surrounded by the comforts of a palace, he still hadn't forgotten how he had gotten there in the first place. The old man's face kept appearing in his dreams. Who was he? What did he want? What did he mean?" The questions kept him awake at night.

One fine day, the king passed away. He felt some sorrow for his passing. He had treated him well enough. He owed everything he had to him. Nevertheless, he felt relieved that he was now free to go back home. 

He hadn't seen his mother in a lifetime. He had left the village, as a skinny penniless child with only a pair of faded linen pants and a cotton top. He would be going back as a rich noble. Your son succeeded mother. He yearned to see the pride in her eyes. 

He packed some essentials for the journey and expensive gifts for his mother, which he had bought himself. He knew he would be leaving the place forever, and as such, he had decided not to take a retinue alongside him. This would be a journey he had to make alone.

"Your Grace, I am afraid we cannot let you leave", said a voice behind him. 

It seemed that these people had something against his personal aspirations and goals. With a sigh, he turned around to face the person "And on what grounds, prime minister?", He gritted his teeth. Wait a minute… Your Grace?

"Your Grace, the king had named you as his heir, before his consciousness departed from this realm", the portly prime minister was saying, his head bowed slightly. "It is your sacred duty to rule over the kingdom of Baldishia and decide her fate"

"It is up to the people of Baldishia, to decide their fate, I am just a common village boy", He said. He didn't want to become a king. "Let the people choose their own ruler since the king had no natural children "

"Your grace, it was his wish from the get-go for you to succeed him." The prime minister said "He was going to talk to you about this, before his untimely departure. Please your grace, assume your duties"

He sighed. He knew what duties entailed and there was no way he could escape now. The Baldishians were downright obsessed with their monarch. "I will. Prime Minister, alert the city of my coronation but I want to spend some time alone. I need to reflect. A lot", The prime minister bowed respectfully and went away.

The Book of Spells was how he kept himself occupied when he wanted to be by himself. The old king had given it to him "Learn everything there is to learn, by heart. One day you will need it", That was his first night in the palace. 

It was an ancient book that contained ancient knowledge . Knowledge of magic so ancient, it was created by the Gods themselves. To learn it, would be speaking to them directly.

He had learned to read minds like an open book, change a human into an animal and an animal into a human, and learned to create a fake environment around himself. He did not even know how any of this would help, since no one was allowed to practice any of this unless it's the high priest himself.

In 15 years, he had managed to get familiar with the book inside out and now he knew exactly, what the old man had been playing at in the first place. 

The King of Baldishia was king second, but a priest first. The chief priest of the gods.

It took 15 days to arrange the ceremony. He had sent emissaries bearing a message for his mother, wishing that she would join him in the palace. He had been waiting anxiously, hoping that she would come. 

Yet in his heart knew, the emissaries would disappear like the others before them, the ones who carried the gold meant for her. He had suspected robbers but there had been no incident reported from the citizens too. He had meant to go investigate himself but the king had always stopped him. He knew what he would do the moment he was crowned.

His musings were interrupted by a tumultuous round of applause and cheers. He realized that the portly prime minister had placed the crow over his head. 

Now only one thing remained. Something that the High Priest did in absolute secrecy. He would need to read a spell over a piece of stone which was a part of the larger rock, a rock that was sent by the gods themselves with a mighty force, that had shaken the earth itself. That is where a mighty temple would be constructed. By cutting the rock itself

He felt fury at his younger self. Why did you have to come into this wretched place? 

When all the rituals of the coronation had been completed, he began walking down to the site. It took him quite a while before he reached there. 

He took one look at the 40 feet tall deposit and began chanting the spell. His voice echoed in the thick silence. The rock seemed to glow with power. It's done. 

His mother was not coming and he had yet again lost even more good people. Irritated, he picked up a brick and threw it away and his mouth dropped open. 

The brick had suddenly turned to dust.

 Shocked, he picked up another and threw it again. He watched as the brick got further ahead and as soon as it crossed the temple grounds, it turned to dust.

What is happening? He looked back at the rock. It seemed to be calling him, He let out his hand to capture its essence and cried out in pain as images flashed in front of his eyes.

He was standing over a huge round floor with what looked like numbers written all around it at equal space, there were three metal arms, one small and thick, and one still long and thin and one even thinner moving at great speed around the floor . The last arm's movements seemed to have some effect on the other arms as well... they moved along…. A great bright light took over the entire room and there it was… The rock… he noticed how its presence had suddenly slowed down their movement…..He turned around...There was a mirror in front of him. He looked right into it and gasped.

He was a kid again. He was out with his mother in the city when he had been knocked over by a hurrying older boy. His mother had screamed profanities at him….. The boy hadn't even looked back once….Now he was older and he was leaving the village, his mother, everything behind … Now he was a rat squeaking in terror… now a handsome strong man… wearing a crown and bright red robes holding a staff…..Now he was an old man … his body getting frailer by the day and heaving against the weight of the crown. He saw 2 of his guards attacking their brother in arms….. Now he was a mendicant eating hungrily under candlelight in an otherwise dark room … he looked up as someone called in name of the king…. he smiled.