Secret of the Sunstones, Part 1: The Wanton Kingdom

Chapter VII : Sunstone

Earlmorn of Diapente, Twenty-Ninth Day of Harvestmoon

Bram landed the Heron in a lake, an hour’s march west of the Gaian temple. The airship could touch down on water just as easily as land, providing it was deep enough, and it could sail as well as any other ship. Bram used a dinghy to bring his passengers ashore.

The area beyond the lake was a serene woodland. Tall conifers blocked most of the light, but a smidgen reached the damp, spongy forest floor. Golden sunbeams landed atop wide leafed plants and oversized mushrooms. A woodpecker pecked in the distance, while hidden cicadas chirped.

Unlike Bram’s other missions, he was not in charge. Virgil claimed that role as soon as they reached Minoa, and he insisted that Bram and his crew follow his lead. Ordinarily, such an order would have been an affront to his rank, and other Gnostics would have called it an insult. But after rereading the mission’s guidelines, Bram couldn’t deny they allowed for the possibility.

Nevertheless, it was unusual. Even his lieutenant raised concerns, which he voiced quietly once he and Bram were out of earshot.

“I don’t know if I like the way that Garvey fella bosses us around. You sure you’re okay wit’ it, Capt’n?”

Bram had no choice. Virgil had already demonstrated his magical prowess, and escalating another argument was sure to put the mission in jeopardy.

“It’s alright, Biggs. This is all part of His Majesty’s orders. Make sure the others understand that, too.”

He wondered if he should just sit back and take the chancellor at his word. Despite his concerns about the mission’s authenticity, it still made sense to go after rogue scholars and prevent them from using a potentially dangerous artifact.

Even so, the chancellor could have staged the whole thing. Virgil denied it, but all he needed was to draft his own mission guidelines and forge the king’s seal, which wouldn’t have been too difficult for a trained wizard. His position as chancellor also gave him the power to commandeer an airship before the palace’s checks and balances realized their protocols had been breached.

Bram knew the king well, having worked with him for many years. Richard was ambitious, willing to engage in espionage or even sabotage against potential enemies. But it wasn’t in his nature to dabble in magical artifacts, much less be willing to take so much risk to procure one. Bram just couldn’t believe a sunstone would be at the center of Richard’s machinations. It was far more likely that Virgil hoisted the mission for his own self interests.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t prove it. Not without conducting his own investigation. He decided his best course of action was to let the mission play out, and then follow up after returning to Angkor. He vowed that if he found even a shred of evidence suggesting fraud, he’d make sure the chancellor was hung for treason. Retrieving the sunstone was therefore his only path forward.

As he and his crew neared their target, he noticed the appearance of makeshift structures. They looked like huts, likely built for refugees who had migrated to Minoa. As Virgil predicted, the outskirts were quiet, and few ventured outdoors during their supposed religious holy day.

The chancellor snapped a twig, signaling that Bram and his crew should gather close for further instructions. The middle aged man removed a vial of glowing red liquid.

“What is that?” Bram whispered.

Virgil smirked proudly. “This, my dear captain, is liquefied manna.”

Bram had never seen it before. He knew it was possible to bottle the substance, but the process of extraction was quite rare. Judging by the expressions of wonder among his crew, he realized he wasn’t the only one in awe.

Virgil looked pleased. “Indeed, you should be impressed. Manna is the essence of magic, and extracting it is a complex process reserved only for master scholars. As you can see, this manna came from a wizard, while a sorcerer’s manna is blue.”

Bram knew from Rosa that scholars didn’t choose their order like academics chose a field of study. Only those born with the right color of manna in their blood could pursue a given art.

“I suppose you’ll use this manna to cast some spells, while reserving your own for later.”

Virgil chuckled. “Remarkably intuitive, Captain.” His facetiousness was on point. “While I do expect most of the villagers to remain indoors, I’ve taken the added precaution of preparing a spell of invisibility. I’ll use the contents of this vial to conceal our approach. By my calculation, we should reach the temple’s entrance without tapping into my reserve.”

Bram wondered something. “I assume the manna is yours?”

The chancellor chortled. “Oh, dear, no. There are plenty of lesser wizards in Angkor capable of withstanding the … excruciating pain of manna extraction. For the sake of their country, of course.” The chancellor smacked his lips. “I just happen to be one of the few wizards capable of performing the process.”

Bram felt chills. Something about Virgil’s description made it sound like he relished the pain of others. The Knight felt he needed to keep a mental tab of these mounting antisocial behaviors. Arrogance, narcissism, and now sadism. The chancellor had his share of pathologies, which was unusual, given how closely the kingdom vetted its new appointees. Bram wondered how Virgil could have escaped scrutiny and attained even a mid-level position without someone raising an alarm. Nevertheless, the answers weren’t in Minoa. Bram couldn’t stop the gears of fate, now that they were in motion. He was committed to the mission’s conclusion, no matter where Virgil led them.

With no more to say, the chancellor cast his spell. A faint red glow enveloped the vial and eventually spread to the caster, then to Bram and his crew. Arcane words of magic left the chancellor’s lips as he wove his hands in intricate shapes, like a bard making shadow puppets. Bram watched his arms and legs become semi-transparent.

He wasn’t completely invisible, but Virgil explained. “What you’re seeing is expected, so we can still see each other. But rest assured: onlookers won’t see anything at all.”

Bram would need to take the chancellor at his word. He followed, as Virgil made a path straight toward the temple.

Along the way, the group passed many other huts and shelters. Some had clotheslines running between trees, along with garments, drying in the wind. They were housemade and plainly woven. The conditions were simple, sure; but not derelict or depraved. Bram had expected far worse from a village run by supposed religious zealots.

As they neared the temple, the trees cleared, and he could better gauge the scale of the village. Now, he saw what looked like hundreds of structures. Refugees must have piled up by the boatful for quite some time. Minoa was more than just a village, now. It was quickly becoming a city. And that meant there needed to be structure and law, the veins of a functional government. Communities couldn’t grow so large inside a well of anarchy. Somehow, the crazy cult of rogue scholars managed to keep things peaceful, which sounded ridiculous. With each step, Bram’s skepticism of Virgil’s story grew.

At last, he saw it, and his eyes widened. As the trees opened up, the great Gaian temple stood before him. Supposedly built centuries ago by the Ancient Minoans, one of the planet’s great civilizations. It was a magnificent sight, incongruent with the simple structures surrounding it. Even Angkor’s magnificent cathedral couldn’t hold a candle. The rest of the ramshackle village had merely gone up around it.

Four awe-inspiring spires reached for the heavens, each one coated in a material that sparkled in the early sunlight. Red, blue, green, and gold: the elements that the Goddess, Gaia, had supposedly bestowed upon the land.

As Virgil led Bram and his crew to the entrance, the Knight noticed a man in red wizards’ robes and a sorceress in blue, both oblivious to Virgil’s spell of invisibility. The chancellor spoke a few words under his breath, and the two sank into an unconscious stupor.

“You two!” The chancellor hissed to the nearest crewmen. “Grab their bodies and bring them inside as soon as I open the gates. The next step is crucial. We must be quick to subdue the guards. If anyone’s left standing after I work my magic … deal with them quickly.”

Bram didn’t like the way Virgil ordered his men. Many in Minoa were victims of war, innocent men and women who had lost families, neighbors, and livelihoods. If rogue scholars were truly among them, he needed to separate the good from the bad before employing force. Even so, he knew better than to belay the order. They were now in the hot zone, and standing in the way would risk the entire mission.

Virgil was quick. Without wasting a moment, he cast another spell by waving his hand in a small arc. He pushed his hands forward, and the doors to the temple swung open.

He rushed inside, and Bram directed his men to follow. He was momentarily blinded by the transition to a dimly lit interior. But by the time his eyes adjusted, Virgil had already hexed the guards in the vestibule. Six scholars slid to the ground, paralyzed, their eyes left open. If not for a slight movement of their chests, they would have appeared dead.

Virgil urged Bram to keep up. Beyond the vestibule was a passage to the temple nave. The Knight drew his blade, ready for anything. He raced across marble floors, past an arcade of tall stone columns, replete with carved moldings and cornices. Every bit was as grand and awe-inspiring as the exterior. Sunlight filtered through colorful stained-glass windows, creating a prismatic glow throughout.

At the end was an altar; and behind it, the statue of a woman of divine beauty, clearly intended as a manifestation of the Goddess. Finally, to the right of the altar was a set of thick, iron doors that marked their destination.

“Stand back,” the chancellor warned. “Inside is the meditation chamber, where the Gurudeva and his faithful pray. I’ll need some time to dispel the defensive wards. Just remember what I told you: no magic can function inside this room, and that includes my own. I’ll need to count on you and your crew to subdue the rogue scholars.”

After everything Bram had seen, he couldn’t stand by without saying something. He chose his words carefully, so they wouldn’t challenge Virgil directly. Instead, he wanted to see if the chancellor’s presumptions could withstand a bit of logic.

“Why would rogue scholars shut themselves inside a room that doesn’t allow for magic? Wouldn’t they have safeguards in place to defend themselves?”

Virgil crossed his arms. “Let me give you a little lesson on magic, Captain. The best weapon a scholar has, especially when facing off against his own brethren, is to disarm his opponent of magic. We call it an Anti-Magic Functionality Field, or just AMF. Strength is not the only factor. Even great scholars can fall victim to a field from a lesser wizard or sorcerer. It’s more a matter of who strikes first, and how clever that scholar is with creating an effective field.”

Bram pondered this new information. He had seen Rosa attempt to block an enemy scholar from using magic, but he never learned the mechanics of AMF’s enough to understand their strategies or limitations.

“That still doesn’t explain why these rogue scholars would leave themselves vulnerable. Are you certain about your intelligence?”

Virgil cackled. “The existence of this room wasn’t even part of our intelligence.”

Bram’s eyes widened, but Virgil curled his lips. “Don’t act so surprised, Captain. A good deal of my studies over the years has been of these ancient Gaian temples. I won’t bore you with the details, since it would certainly go over your head. But let’s just say this: at the heart of these centuries-old temples is a very clever mechanism. It resembles a room full of mirrors, and it diffracts the flow of manna so that none of it lands on its intended target. The end result is an AMF so strong, it can withstand any spell.”

Bram felt frustration that Virgil had once again managed to provide information, yet at the same time completely evade his question. He needed a straight answer, without further equivocation.

“Mister Garvey, it’s all fascinating to learn about Gaian architecture. But my question is, ‘Why?’ Why would a scholar—whether rogue or not—lock themselves away from the magic that gives them strength? Why would they risk being defenseless, should a potential threat arrive at their doorstop? Such as us?”

Virgil moved his hands to his hips. “You are persistent, aren’t you, Captain?”

Bram met the chancellor’s gaze, hoping to pry an answer. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t allow Virgil to sidestep any longer.

At long last, the stubborn man relented with a huff. “Fine. It’s not like the answer changes anything. The reason is to protect themselves. The AMF might leave them vulnerable to attacks from the outside, but it protects them from a far greater threat from within: the artifact they hold in their possession.”

“The sunstone?” Bram was incredulous.

“Indeed. You are still ignorant, Captain, but rest assured you’ll find out soon enough. I did tell you the sunstones were dangerous, did I not?”

Bram still found it difficult to reconcile, but he was willing to put his own biases aside. Whatever powers the chancellor expected to find inside the sunstone, Bram knew he wouldn’t leave Minoa without them.

As for the Knight’s questions, it seemed the conversation was officially closed. While the rest of the crew made themselves comfortable, the chancellor prepared his spell. He spoke long chains of syllables in a soft, throaty voice. It sounded like serpentine poetry. He removed chalk from an inside pocket and drew circles of power, filling each segment with unusual powders, herbs, and stones. Many came with herbal or musky scents.

Standing in the center, he let a handful of powdery substance slide through his open fingers. The dust emitted an incandescence that surrounded him in a faint purple light. His words reflected off the walls of the temple’s mighty nave, making Bram fear it might grab the attention of more guards. Fortunately, nothing like that came to pass. When the incantation ended, the light around the chancellor vanished. As for the door to the inner chamber, it looked unaffected.

Even so, Virgil appeared confident, almost giddy. “My spells were successful. I’ve removed the last of their defenses, and those inside are completely unaware.”

He curled his index finger inward, calling for Bram’s attention. “Captain, it’s time I finally disclosed your role in this mission.”

Bram’s interest was fully piqued. Virgil could have easily gotten this far on his own, without using the Heron as his chauffeur service or recruiting a Gnostic Knight and his crew. Even a few modestly equipped thugs could have handled a roomful of magicless scholars. Except, Virgil had chosen to recruit the king’s most elite force. Clearly, he had some use for them, which he hadn’t yet revealed. The Knight leaned forward to learn what it was.

“Tell me. It’s quite literally the moment I’ve been waiting for.”

Virgil tittered, apparently in appreciation for Bram’s dry humor. “Listen closely, Captain, for you must follow these instructions to the letter. We must first identify the Gurudeva, which won’t be as easy as you think. He won’t relinquish the sunstone willingly, but if we manage to coerce it from his grasp, I’ll need you … and only you … to place it in your bare hands. Gauntlets removed, understand?”

Bram nodded, eager for the chancellor to get to the point.

Virgil licked his lips, building enthusiasm with every word. “Now, listen carefully, because this is the most important part.”

Bram leaned closer.

“With sunstone in hand, I want you to imagine a key … any key. Then, imagine inserting that key into a chest, turning the key, and unlocking the chest. All in your mind’s eye, Captain. Do you understand?”

Bram waited for some kind of punchline, but there wasn’t any. Virgil was serious, and the Knight was dumbfounded. It sounded like a children’s game. He peered deeper into the chancellor’s gaze, trying to see if the man was mocking him in front of his crew. But all he saw was the piercing gaze of a madman.

He was enraged. The mission was a farce, and he had gone to great lengths, all for an idiot’s errand! All this time, he stood by while a mid-level lackey bossed him around. He risked his life and that of his crew, so that an impulsive and irresponsible wizard could flaunt his magic aboard his ship. And he was ready to use force against potentially innocent villagers, just so a malignant narcissist could steal their religious trinket. He couldn’t wait to put a stop to Virgil’s petty, asinine delusions.

He bared his teeth. “This ends here. You’re out of your flaming mind.”

Virgil’s expression darkened faster than Bram could have expected. Much like the pulse of dark energy that took him by surprise the prior night. Without warning, the chancellor reached out, grabbed Bram by the neck, and lifted him off the ground.

Bram choked through his armor, somehow feeling Virgil’s grip from inside the metal. Inside his armor, he probably weighed over two hundred kilos, yet Virgil lifted him effortlessly. Bram’s men bolted to their feet, but the chancellor held them back with an invisible barrier.

This time, the chancellor made his threat quite clear. “I had hoped by now that any notions of insubordination were behind us. But here we are, so close to our conclusion, and I can’t afford to have you second-guessing my instructions. So let me be clear: if you dare disobey or challenge me again, I’ll take you back to Angkor in chains, and you’ll be court-martialed for disobeying a direct order from your king. Do you understand me now?”

Virgil clenched his fingers. Unable to breathe, Bram nodded vigorously instead. Virgil released his grip, and he fell to the floor, gulping for air.

“Capt’n!”

“Biggs, stand down!” Bram ordered between fits of coughs. His lieutenant had already reached for his sword, and he looked uncertain. Bram summoned as much restraint as he could muster. “The chancellor has evoked the king’s orders. We’re obliged to complete this mission.”

Biggs reluctantly obeyed, and Virgil’s lips curled upward. “Smart move, Captain. I hope you remember from now on, as I’ll be far less lenient next time. Now, get your men into place.”

Bram gestured to his crew, and they lined up on either side of the iron double doors. Virgil made the same circular arm gesture as before, and the doors swung open. Almost immediately, shocked outcries emerged.

“What’s the meaning of this?” a woman shouted.

“Who dares disturb the Por Qhai?” a man yelled.

Bram and his crew rushed inside. To his amazement, no one resisted. Right away, the Gaians seemed to realize they were defenseless. Bram and his crew corralled them into the room’s corner.

His only challenge was to overcome the dizzying effect of the mirrors. Infinite reflections stared back from all sides. Without concentrating, it was easy to get disoriented.

Bram surveyed his captives. Thirty-two in all, composed of men and women in simple red and blue robes. For the most part, they avoided his gaze.

“I demand the Gurudeva,” he told them. “Come forth willingly, and we’ll be merciful.”

All he received was silence, followed by a chuckle from Virgil.

“You won’t get anywhere until you show them the price of disobedience, Captain. Don’t presume these rogue scholars deserve any mercy. They’re outcasts and already guilty of turning their magic on others.”

“It’s not true,” one of the worshippers pleaded. “Whatever this man has told you, we are nothing but peaceful servants of the Goddess.”

“Nonsense,” Virgil countered. “They’ll say anything, Captain. Don’t give in to their lies. Kill this man, or this woman here, and they’ll be more forthcoming.”

Bram refused to believe it. He had seen Minoa on his way to the temple. It was a village comprised of victims of war, innocent men and women had lost families, neighbors, and livelihoods. He didn’t see criminals or anarchists among the cowering worshippers. After making too many mistakes during The War, and after seeing too many dead at his own hand, he couldn’t allow more harm to befall innocent people.

“There’s no need for bloodshed. My men will conduct a search and find the artifact ourselves.”

Virgil scoffed. “You call yourself a Gnostic? We don’t have time for that! Every moment we delay gives these dangerous cultists an opportunity to turn the tables.” He wagged his finger fiercely. “Remember what I told you, Captain. I demand you perform your duties, as promised!”

Bram drew his sword, but not because he intended to harm the worshippers. The chancellor’s farce had gone on long enough. He believed his own eyes and ears, not the ravings of a lunatic. The only rogue scholar in the room was named Virgil Garvey.

“Chancellor, I’m placing you under arrest, in the name of King Richard.”

“What?! I warn you, Captain. This is your last chance, or I’ll make you pay!”

Bram pointed his purple-hued blade at Virgil’s neck. “I recall you said this room was an AMF—or am I mistaken? I believe that makes you just as vulnerable as these priests. If you agree to be bound and gagged, I’ll return you to Angkor, where you can plead your case to the authorities. Then we’ll see who the real villain is.”

Bram saw relief from the eyes of his crew, and the worshippers breathed a collective sigh.

But not Virgil. His eyes narrowed, and his tone of voice grew dark. “Don’t think this changes anything, Son of Remiel. I’ll show you how truly ignorant you are.”

Bram held his sword steady, careful not to take the chancellor lightly.

“No sudden moves!”

He kept his sword poised, ready to strike. The chancellor sighed, and for a brief moment, he almost looked ready to admit defeat.

“Abraham … you disappoint.”

Before Bram could react, the chancellor thrust his hand into his cloak’s inner pocket.

Immediately, he felt intense pressure between the ears. The pain nearly brought him to his knees. He felt submerged, as if falling straight through the floor, under water, and down to impossible depths. The hallucination lasted only a few moments, then stopped. Bram found himself back in the mirror chamber, but he couldn’t move. His muscles and legs felt numb, yet somehow he remained standing. His crewmen appeared to be under the same spell.

Virgil’s voice was aloof and relaxed. “Since neither honor nor fear has convinced you to do my bidding, I’ll resort to brute force.”

He snapped his fingers, and Bram watched his men draw their swords and close in on the worshippers.

He tried to object, but even his voice was beyond his control.

Keeping the same hand firmly inside his inner cloak pocket, Virgil used the other to point to one of Bram’s men. “You, there. Strike down this man.”

The crewman obeyed by thrusting his sword into the man’s chest. Blood ran from the wound and pooled along the mirror floor. The crewman pulled the sword out, and the man collapsed, dead.

Bram observed in silent horror. He felt detached from his physical body, like he was merely an observer, watching through his own eyes. His crewman were being forced to commit cold-blooded murder, but he couldn’t even utter a word in protest.

At last, the Gaians looked afraid. Not just from the death of their dear brother, but also because they seemed to realize that Virgil had succeeded in casting mind-control magic in a room that had been rigged to prevent it. Murmurs of “interdicta” and “forbidden magic” ran throughout the chamber.

“Why are you doing this?!” one of the worshippers cried.

“The sunstone,” Virgil demanded. “I want it. Give it to me!”

Thirty-one worshippers looked among themselves, eyes shifting rapidly. Yet none stepped forward.

Virgil pointed to another of Bram’s crewmen, followed by a young woman in the crowd. “You: kill the girl.”

The worshippers panicked, but not before the crewman grabbed a young woman by the arm and dragged her, flailing and screaming. The others looked stunned. Petrified. Powerless to help. All they could do was avert their gaze from their loved one’s gruesome fate. Bram’s crewman drove his sword through her chest, slowly. The room stared silently as the blade slid through flesh and bone, sounding like a knife carving a pumpkin.

Bram should have felt sick, but his senses seemed detached and far away. All he felt was an overwhelming sense of dread. He tried to wrench his body free of Virgil’s curse, but he would have had a better chance diving into another person’s mind to command their body.

Virgil pointed again to the soldier with the bloody sword. But a voice emerged from the crowd before the chancellor could command another kill.

“Stop!”

A man stepped forward. Short, bald, and with a salt and pepper beard. His face looked young, but he hardly had the look of a leader. He was probably the least conspicuous among the worshippers.

“Please, I beg you.” His voice sounded noble, radiating strength and charisma. “I am the Gurudeva, and now I must face the consequences of what I’m about to do. I cannot watch my sons and daughters die when the outcome will be no different.”

The Gurudeva turned his gaze to Virgil. “I know who you are. All of this has happened, exactly as the prophesy proclaimed. Though I fear what harm will befall this world, once the Pisces Stone is in your hands, there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I only pray that our Goddess will deliver our Savior, as was also foretold.”

At last, Virgil’s gaze landed on Bram. “Now, Captain. It’s finally time you performed your duty.”

The chancellor’s magic commanded Bram’s body to remove its gauntlets and approach the Gurudeva. The small, bearded man retrieved what appeared to be a gemstone from inside his robes, though his hands were shaking. The sunstone was tinier than what Bram imagined, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. It was cut into a marquise shape, and the handiwork was exquisite. But its color was dark, as if made out of smoke quartz.

The Gurudeva faced him. “Gnostic Knight, know that you are about to unleash the greatest menace this world has ever known. Please … if you can stop this, it’s your last chance to avoid Gaia’s doom.”

But Bram could not. His body belonged to Virgil, and his hands obeyed only the chancellor. At first, the sunstone did nothing. It merely laid still in his open palm. But then he remembered Virgil’s instructions, and the image of a lock and key came to mind. He couldn’t help it. It sprang forth naturally, before he could stop it. And as soon as the thought appeared, the sunstone radiated a faint blue. In that moment, Bram swore he saw something inside, perhaps a reflection, but one that was not his own. Unfortunately, it disappeared before he had time to take a closer look. Just as fast, the sunstone returned to its dark, quartz-like luster.

Virgil raised his hands to the heavens and rejoiced. “At last! Long have I awaited this moment!”

Bram’s perception grew fuzzy. Sounds and images became less distinct. One moment he was standing before a group of forlorn and despondent worshippers, and the next he marched through the conifer-laden woods outside the temple. He recognized the path. The Heron wasn’t far away.

His head ached, and his body felt numb. But soon, feelings returned, as did a sense of regret more intense than a dagger through the heart. The wanton violence, the unjust deaths, and his own utter helplessness. All his training as a Gnostic Knight had meant nothing!

He reached for his sword but found that his sheath had been removed. Worse, his hands were bounded by rope, while his legs continued to march on their own. He struggled against his restraints.

“Ahh, it appears my spell is finally wearing off.”

Virgil’s voice brought Bram back to miserable reality. The chancellor walked at his side, while his crewmen followed behind.

“Release me!” he bellowed. “I’ll have your head for this!”

He fought against his bonds, but they were tightly secured.

Virgil grinned. “Perhaps you should worry more about yourself, first.”

Bram wanted to take Virgil by the neck and squeeze. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been arrested, Captain.”

Bram failed to comprehend this new narrative. “Arrested? For what?”

Virgil took on a haughty voice, as if making a proclamation. “Abraham Morrison, in the name of King Richard, you’ve been relieved of your command. Effective … well … as of a couple of hours ago. You are relieved of all duties, etcetera, etcetera, and shall be charged with … umm, I don’t know. How about mutiny?”

He remembered Virgil’s threat from earlier, but it felt like just as much a joke then as it did now.

He howled. “You think you’ll get a conviction?! I have rapport with the king. Richard will stand behind me in this outrage!”

Virgil grinned. “You really think so?”

Bram scowled. “Who in the Burning Pits are you?”

Indeed, who was this chancellor, who happened to have the rare skills of a wizard, not to mention a master of his craft? Who on Gaia could have had just the right spells to reach the center of a fortified scholar compound? And, what kind of man could have forced control of a man’s mind, in a room in which all other forms of magic were supposedly cut off?

Virgil’s smile deepened. “I am your Enduring Salvation, Captain, or … perhaps your Eternal Damnation, depending on how you choose.”

“You’re a madman.”

“Ignorance is a choice, Captain.”

Bram lowered his head. The return trip to Angkor was going to be rough.