Fred's Second Trial: Divine Wind

"Then follow me to Mount Toulon," Queen Astra spoke. "You must traverse its highest places and enter the Temple of the Black Karen. Once there, you must retrieve the Olympia blossom. But beware, even if you overcome all the obstacles before you and reach the temple, you must still face the dohlman."

With Queen Astra and the Serifi leading the way, the crowd of Atha'den, Hira'dos and Hecives followed Fred to the foot of Mount Toulon. Narrow steps cut into its side led up to a dizzying height. "The way is clear, but the way is hard," Queen Astra intoned the ceremonial words, "May you be worthy." Fred made a face beneath his strange white mask, shrugged and answered, "Yeah. Whatever." And with that he began his ascent.

Fred may have been feeling pretty good about passing the first Trial, but he soon discovered that this second test was no walk in the park. It was more like a walk up the side of a mountain along a very steep incline. Luckily for Fred he was in peak physical condition and he had a good pair of shoes. Still, when he finally got to the top he was wheezing and short of breath. And he wasn't too happy at discovering that in order to reach the temple he had to cross a rope bridge. And when I say rope bridge I mean a rope that was the only thing bridging a chasm with a nasty, 1000 foot drop.

Hooking his legs around the rope, he shimmied his way along it hand over hand. The cold wind blew him about and more than once he had to fight back a dizzying wave of vertigo, but he never once thought of giving up and eventually he found himself on the other side.

Looking over the ancient, weather marked temple he wondered why it was called the Black Karen; the thing was pink for crying out loud. But who knew what went through the minds of these crazy amazon chicks, he decided, and without further ado he went on inside. The temple looked like many Fred had seen; tapering fluted columns, delicate marble arches, superbly crafted floor mosaics. He hadn't expected the sea-blue chiffon window drapes or the Corinthian leather futons though. And as for the various poles suspended horizontally from the domed ceiling, he had no idea what they were for. But Aqualarian religious architecture and interior design were not what he had come for. It was the Olympia blossom that he wanted, and he wasn't going to waste any time dallying.

He found it easily enough, too easily in fact. The mighty flowering bush overflowed from a central bower. There wasn't anyone or anything in sight which looked to be guarding the thing. He knew it couldn't be this easy, but what was he supposed to do? Stand there all day and wait for something to happen? So he stepped toward the bower. And that's when the trap was sprung. Once his foot crossed from the mosaic of the main room onto the circle of paving stones that made up the floor of the leafy arbor the blast of a great wind sent him crashing to the ground. He tried to catch his breath but it seemed that all of the air in the temple had been caught up in the furious maelstrom that was buffeting his body. And it was getting worse.

Like a tornado, the wind whipped about in a powerful vortex around the holy bower and Fred found himself being pulled along like a ragdoll. He grabbed at one of the columns and caught it, but he soon found the force of the wind tugging at him with such a fury that his legs and body were brought up from the floor and he was stretched out horizontally from the precarious hold he had on the marble beam. The flesh of his face rippled backward underneath his mask, tears blurred his eyes, his fingers ached from the pressure of his ever tightening grip. But it was all to no avail and Fred was finally ripped away from the marble column and sent feet first into the hellish twister that roared about him like a thing alive.

As he was flung about the temple in an endless circle his body was dashed against various columns, lintels, pedestals and architectural odds and ends. If he didn't die of asphyxiation, he would be bludgeoned to death. But Fred's sharp mind and endless hours of pocket billiards pointed out to him that perhaps his only hope of salvation lay in the very power of the maniacal maelstrom. He simply needed a little leverage, the correct angle and a whole lot of luck. At the first chance afforded him, he grabbed one of the suspended poles and tore it from its mooring. He then braced himself for his next thwack against one of the marble columns. Upon impact he kicked with all of his might against the pillar and shot forward within the wind stream. Using the pole, he ricocheted from one obstacle to another until he was finally in a position to plunge the pole deep into the bower itself. And with a herculean effort he catapulted out of the whirlwind and landed in the midst of the sacred bush.

And there he was safe, in the eye of the deadly windstorm. After catching his breath, he reached down and plucked one of the blossoms. He didn't know how he could possibly get past the whirlwind and out of the temple, but at least he had managed to get at the damn flower. To his amazement and relief, upon attaining the blossom the wind died down and disappeared. "Well that's sure convenient," he smiled gratefully and hopped down to the floor.

1. And that's when the dohlman showed up.

Add New Option

Go Back

View Forward Story Tree
View Back Story Tree