The Awakening: Artifact of Creation by D James Larsen Page A

could see elaborate
archways that lined the entrances of various corridors inside the
temple. Beyond the light of the candles was darkness.
    It sickened Lyle to be inside of the Temple
of the Awakened. He spat on the ground. “Damned fools. Crippled by
fear. Our lands are being torn apart and they sit behind these
walls.”
    There was a soft scuffle of footsteps that
sounded behind him. A woman garbed in white robes approached Lyle.
The hood of her robes was drawn about her, hands folded beneath the
soft material. Even in the darkness of the entrance way she seemed
angelic and other worldly. Lyle could not help but gaze upon her
beauty.
    “ Lyle of Umbreelee,
welcome. I am Ingel, Archon of Anin’Nar master of the Awakened.”
She bowed herself slightly before him. He could sense the
significance of her calling, yet it made him even more irritable.
He removed his hood and bowed in response. It was important to show
her respect, regardless of his opinions of the Awakened.
    “ It is a pleasure Archon,”
He said softly.
    Behind her the guard and another woman
approached. The Archon gracefully waved her hand to her side by way
of introduction, “My trusted guard, Geoff, of whom you met earlier
and this is the Seer and Prophetess of Anin’Nar, Ethi’el.” Lyle
bowed himself a second time. When he looked up, he could not help
but stare at the haunting white eyes of the Prophetess. She was
unnaturally aged, even beyond the years of the eldest of women. The
way her long white hair fell reminded him of the waterfalls from
the northern countries, graceful and calm, but centuries old.
    “ Lyle your purpose for
being here?” The Archon asked. Lyle snapped out of his
thoughts.
    “ I come in a desperate
time of need.” Lyle said. His hands were timidly folded in front of
him, he was stooped over from a crooked back. “Our towns and
villages are being massacred. Men, women and children lay in heaps
across the land. A dark man with a wretched mask hunts us, he
possesses abilities that are…. unnatural.” He paused. His voice was
filled with urgency and his sincere need was reflected in his eyes.
The Archon waited and listened. The guard shifted his weight form
one foot to another and the Seer stared blankly into the dark
room.
    Lyle continued. “He comes with squadrons of
mercenaries. No one has been able to match the wrath of his
mercenaries or that of the dark man’s abilities.” Lyle shifted his
gaze from one to another, trying to discern their interest in his
story. All he saw in their eyes was apathy, a cold indifference, an
indifference that he was not surprised to find. Despite their lack
of interest, he continued, his words grew more desperate. “I
believe.... I mean.... we believe that if the legends are true,
about the Awakened, and those of the Fallen Bloodlines, then….
perhaps the Fallen have returned.”
    A silence fell between them. Lyle stared at
the floor. He knew the weight of his claims. His words by all
intents were blasphemy. He risked a glance at the Archon. Her stare
was penetrating.
    “ That is a strong claim
Lyle of Umbreelee. I do not believe you understand the implications
of what you say.” She crossed the distance between her and Lyle.
Her movements were graceful and soft upon the stone floor, much
like the mist upon lakes during the winter thaw. Her face was pale
in color and her mannerism’s calm and collected. She graced Lyle
with the lure of her touch, a finger traced across his
shoulder.
    “ Those of the Fallen
Bloodlines have been extinct for nearly three-hundred years by
virtue of the Awakened and the Druid Gaphii’el.” She circled about
the small man and returned to her previous spot. “The Seer would
have foreseen the return of the Fallen.” She spoke softly, her
words a distant whisper.
    “ Archon Ingen, even the
King and his armies cower in fear behind their walls of stone.”
Lyle spoke, struggling for the boldness of words to convey the
urgency of his message. “The dark