Pathfinders of Qadira Part 7
South of Katheer, Temple Interior
25 26 ? Pharast 4709 AR
I feel horrible and I can’t remember all the details of the past days. What I am certain of, is that something is inside me, changing me. This temple was never a place of good worship…I realize this now. It is a prison, kept secret by the Dawnflower priests to hide from the world something too terrible to imagine. I made a mistake going ahead. I should have returned to Katheer. My greed got the best of me. Now, a smothering presence lies within, growing more powerful by the minute. I am doomed. I hope that whoever recovers this journal can save me. I remember some things that happened this past day or two, but not everything. I am powerless to stop what is coming. It pains me to write this down. The presence inside me is against it.
When I entered that dreadful room, it was dusty and full of artifacts, undisturbed for several millennia. I could barely contain my excitement at the find and I was sure the room held the answers I sought. I began to delude myself with the fame I would achieve with my journal being entered into the Pathfinder Chronicles. At that time, the only thing that kept me from feeling the joy of the discovery was my Venture Captain, Mansoor. We had never discussed what would happen if I found treasure and I am sure he never meant things to go this far. Nonetheless, I felt compelled under the circumstances. And I was wrong.
At the time I was more worried about the Satrap and his many eyes taking the prize I had uncovered. I reasoned that I had to take what I could so I spent several hours appraising the most valuable pieces. I thought it important to mark the locations of the artifacts I was taking, in case I returned from Katheer to find the temple undisturbed. I took pieces and left rocks in their place. While collecting the pieces, I was struck by the fashion of their time. The holy symbols were made of solid gold and very detailed with deep engravings, weighing considerably more than today’s equivalents. The Urn’s and instruments of ritual lay on a table as if ready to perform at a moment’s notice.
The room was untouched, aside from a thick layer of dust. A parchment lay on the table, but it was completely illegible after 4000 years. The paper could have been made of ash, for all it was worth, nothing written had survived. Next to the paper remains sat a strange little figurine that appeared to be half man, half dragonfly. It was crafted from black obsidian and felt warm to the touch. I thought it could be magical and marveled at it until a light shined on the piece. My heart jumped as I looked for the source. I panicked and reached for my sword, forgetting I had destroyed it while prying open the false wall. To my surprise, the bright light was coming from a crack in the wall, another room!
At the time I thought the room had reacted to my presence. I did not know what I was feeling, but now I understand that it wanted me inside. My mind ran wild. I speculated a priest from long ago lay trapped within, somehow suspended. The light from the room shined rays through the darkness, showing me the way. It illuminated the figurine and something in the corner of the room. I moved away from the figurine towards the object in the corner. It was dry rotted wood that had crumbled in. Inside, lay something wrapped in tattered cloth. I reached in and grabbed the cloth noticing a disabled trap, which had been set off long ago. Unraveling the cloth, a key slipped out, falling to the floor. The ray of light strangely moved from the chest to the key. I reached down picking it up and placed it in my pocket. Within the cloth a fine mesh of paper must have been wrapped around the key, but now dust.
I moved to the source of the light and began cleaning the exterior. I searched for something resembling a keyhole. Light began to shine through a small crevice revealing a tiny gap. I felt a strong temptation to see what was on the other side, and I pushed the key into the gap. I began to realize too late that my hands weren’t my own. That is, until, I noticed the magnificent Dawnflower adorning the wall. Her hand was stretched forth right where the key entered, as if halting a trespasser.
I stood back for a second contemplating the mural. The Dawnflower’s eyes were unforgiving and cold, an angry god. I looked over the chamber once more, but the light that had shown through the cracks ceased. Whatever was on the other side, the Dawnflower had been drawn to oppose it. The priests whom painted this mural weren’t being secretive. Had I been able to read the several parchments I found; perhaps I would have known what waited inside.
I thought for a while considering what to do. I tried to ignore my overwhelming desire to turn the key, but the insatiable curiosity that brought me to this point couldn’t be suppressed. I stared at the door for several minutes, imagining a 4000-year-old priest inside, welcoming me. I thought about my reckless actions, and finally came to realize that I wasn’t only ignoring Mansoor’s advice, but I was also acting no better than a reckless tomb robber. Looking to the treasure I had stuffed in my pack, I questioned my grabbing the artifacts. Perhaps they had been arranged and left the way I had found them…for a reason. I looked away from my pack and felt something in my pocket. Peering in, I saw the statuette of the dragonfly man. I hadn’t put it there!
Even now as I write this, the Dragonfly figurine is still in my pocket. I have set it down countless times but it remains with me. I should have respected Mansoor. How wrong I was to think I could carry on without his guidance.
When I had found the Dragonfly man in my pocket that first time, I knew something was wrong. My heart started to race as fear overcame my senses. Outside the room, I heard the sound of the bugs chewing in the main temple. Their noise calmed my panic, for at least they had something to feed on, other than me. I had been down here a long time and I wondered if it was dark outside.
I thought about the turncoat mercenaries and the many eyes of the Satrap. What would happen if I returned to camp and they were there? Maybe they had already arrived. They could be walking down the temple steps any moment. They would find this secret place, especially after the mess I made of the false wall. I couldn’t put it back together.
And what of this new secret chamber I found, with its mysterious light? Once they found the keyhole and taken the key from me, they’d have no compunction about opening it. They’d find out what lay beyond the wall, before I did. I couldn’t let them have that opportunity. I walked over to the door looking at the mural and the keyhole. I cannot say what happened after that but the next thing I remember is abruptly awaking as I collapsed to the floor, my legs falling beneath me. I skinned my palms while cushioning my fall. I sat in the dust looking at the keyhole. I felt overcome with doubt in my ability to secure this find for the Pathfinder Society. I had to open that door before the Satrap arrived. I went to turn the key despite the mural’s warning, my hand quivering as I grasped the handle. I could hear myself saying, “Yes, yes, yes.” Sweat dripped from my body as the air in the room became so cold that I could see my breath. Something was in there, and the pressure it was exerting over me didn’t feel good. It was encircling my thoughts as the key slowly turned. I was its puppet and its victory was almost complete.
“I can never let whatever you are out of this chamber,” I said, believing myself safe from whatever it was.
My mind broke away from everything I felt for in the temple and I sensed a hideous anger growing in the room. I had to go straight to Katheer and hand this key to Mansoor. I pulled the key from the slot using the last bit of strength I possessed and dropped it in my pocket.
And with that one motion my fate was sealed, the clattering of the beetles seemed to reach a fever pitch outside.
It was time to leave.
I walked out of the secret chamber and froze dead in my tracks. All the bugs in the ceremony chamber were now congregated before me. The bodies that had kept them so occupied were picked clean and the things were preventing me from leaving! I looked into the swirling pile mesmerized, watching them eat each other. After several minutes did it occur to me that the strongest of the beetles had triumphed and now were looking to me. Reaching the wall door, I attempted to close it but they lunged too quickly and skittered right for me. Falling back as far as I could, the horde followed after, crawling everywhere.
I remember such disgust at the thought that these things were going to eat me alive.
With all hope lost for my survival, the chamber’s rays lit once more through the cracks. The bugs curiously stayed away from the lit chamber and I moved back to the door I had so valiantly resisted before. They slowly crawled to my feet like a devouring carpet ready to envelop me. I pulled the key and looked to the Dawnflower mural. Her hand outstretched as if to say “No!” I pushed the key forward between the fingers as the swarm of clattering pests began to crawl up my leg. If they were afraid of the chamber, than perhaps I would be safe inside. I turned the key and pulled hard hearing pressure release. I swung the door wide peering inside. The chamber was dark! It no longer needed the light to fool me.
The smell of the room was like swallowing a mouthful of fecal sewage. I coughed choking on the ghastly stench. Before I could look back to the beetles, I heard a horrible shriek that deafened my ears of all sound. Looking to my feet with a loud ringing in my ears, I saw the beetles chewing through my pants legs and squirming under my clothes. And at that moment, it jutted out of the darkness. Try as I may, I can’t remember what it looked like, though I feel it must have been too horrible. And perhaps, I really don’t want to remember. What I am certain about, is how fast it hurled me into its unholy prison.
Look for Pathfinders of Qadira Part 8 this July!
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