Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [2]
Or was it just that he wanted them to look that way?
That he wanted this box to be of some significance?
As his fingers were cramping, he collected sticks and rocks from outside the clearing to use as tools. Then he set to work again. It took a while, but he finally scooped out a big enough hole to wrest the thing from the ground.
With an effort that made his back ache and strained the muscles in his neck, he heaved and heaved and eventually pulled it free. More curious than ever, he laid the thing on its side and inspected it.
It was about a half-meter long, made of an alloy he had never seen before, and covered with the markings he had noticed earlier. The metal was discolored in some spots and badly rusted in others, but all in all it was remarkably well preserved.
That is, if it was anywhere near as old as it looked. And, the initiate reminded himself, there was no guarantee of that.
He picked it up and shook it. It sounded hollow. Yet there was something inside, something that thumped about.
Turning it over, Olahg saw what might once have been a latch. Unfortunately, over time it had rusted into an amorphous glob. He tried to pry it open with his fingers, but without success. Finally, he picked up one of the rocks he had gathered-the biggest and heaviest of them-and brought it down sharply on the latch.
It crumpled. The box opened a crack.
Only then did it occur to the initiate that he might be overstepping his bounds. After all, this excavation was to have been an organized effort.
But he had come too far to stop now. With tired, trembling fingers, he opened the box the rest of the way.
There was a scroll inside. Like the box, it was not in the best condition. It was brown and brittle at the edges, fading to a dark yellow near the middle. And the thong that had held it together was broken, little more than a few wisps of dried black leather now.
Olahg licked his lips, which had suddenly become dry.
A scroll was mentioned in the myth cycle, was it not? It was said that Kahless had left his fortress with such a thing in his possession.
But for it to have survived the long, invasive ages since?
The seeping rainwater, the corrosive acids in the soil?
Was such a thing possible?
Then he remembered-the work crew had torn apart the surface of the forest floor, along with the mica ” vah.
There might have been something-some rock, perhaps-protecting the box and its contents from the elements. Still, he didn’t know if that could be an explanation or not. He was not a scientist. He was a cleric.
Carefully, ever so carefully, Olahg picked up the scroll and unrolled it. Fortunately, it didn’t go to pieces in his hands. It was still supple enough to reveal its secrets to him.
The thing was written in a bold, flowing hand. However, it was upside down. Turning it around, he held it close and read the words inscribed in it.
The first few words gave him an indication of what the rest would be like-but he couldn’t stop there. He felt compelled to read more of it, and even more than that, stuck like a fish on a particularly cruel and vicious spear.
For what words they were! What terrible words indeed!
The initiate’s heart began to pound as he realized what he had stumbled on. His eyes began to hurt, as if pierced by what they had seen.
For if it was true-if the scroll was indeed what it purported to be-this was the work of Kahless the Unforgettable. Yet at the same time, it was the greatest blasphemy Olahg could imagine. He looked around, to make sure no one had seen him reading it.
No one had. The other clerics were all tending to their own sections. He could barely see them in their robes through the intervening forest.
He had to put the scroll back in the box. He had to make sure it was never seen. Not by anyone, ever.
Or … did he? The initiate swallowed, allowing his eyes to feast again on the scroll and its contents.
Certainly, one could call it blasphemy to let this get out. But it might be a greater blasphemy not to.
If this was the authentic word of