Soulbinder (Book 3) by Ben Cassidy

undoubtedly had once held some kind of statue. Crumbled pillars lined both sides of the room.
    Everything smelled of mold and animal dung. A lantern sat on the floor, bathing the walls with a yellow gleam that provided the only light. On the floor just behind the dais was some kind of round, flat stone, almost like a piece of pavement.
    And there, flattened against the wall by the empty alcove, was Galla, Kendril’s pistol held just inches away from his face.
    “Please,” the priest gasped, squirming against the rock wall, “please I beg of you, I beg—”
    “Shut up,” snarled Kendril. He moved the barrel of the pistol even closer to Galla’s face. “What were you doing in here?”
    The priest hesitated, a look of terror in his eyes.
    “Talk!” shouted Kendril. “Or do you want me to blow your brains out?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Maklavir as he stepped into the temple beside Joseph, “that would solve everything, wouldn’t it?”
    “Please—” stammered Galla again, as if his mouth were stuck on the word.
    “Kendril,” said Joseph softly. “Let him go.”
    The Ghostwalker glared over at his friend for a moment, the pistol still pointed at Galla’s head. He gave the priest one last glance, then stepped back and pulled his pistol away.
    Joseph took a step forward, and slowly drew his rapier. He held the weapon loosely in his hand. The sharp tip hovered just a few inches above the floor.
    Galla stared, his eyes dancing back and forth between Joseph and Kendril.
    “Now,” said Joseph, his voice still low and calm, “I think you’d better explain yourself, Galla.”
    The priest continued to stare at him, but said nothing.
    “Joseph?”
    The scout turned his head slightly.
    Kara stood up and held out a large tree branch. “It was wedged under this stone,” she said. “Looks like Galla was trying to lever it up.”
    Joseph glanced down at the stone, looking at it closely for the first time.
    It was made of solid stone, five or six inches thick and five or six feet across. Dirt still covered parts of its surface, and a spade lying nearby seemed to show that Galla had only recently uncovered it. Etched across its surface were many strange symbols and designs. Joseph couldn’t recognize any of them.
    He glanced up again at Galla. “What’s going on here?”
    The priest hesitated a moment. He glanced over at Kendril.
    The Ghostwalker still had his gun trained on him.
    Galla looked back at Joseph. “There’s no mission,” he said finally.
    “ Really ?” said Kendril, his voice thick with sarcasm.
    “Kendril,” said Joseph again, his voice low, “let me handle this.” He turned back to Galla. “What is this?”
    The priest lifted two trembling hands, and straightened out his robe. “I believe this ruin is a temple.”
    Maklavir lifted an eyebrow. “Oganti?”
    Galla shook his head. “No, not pagan. A temple of Eru.”
    “There are no temples of Eru out here,” said Joseph slowly. “The nearest one is in Vorten.” He glanced at the crumbling stone walls. “No priests have performed sacrifices here for a long while.”
    “That’s because it is over a thousand years old,” said Galla.
    There was a heavy silence for a moment.
    Kendril took a step forward and brought his pistol back up. “He’s lying.”
    “No, I’m not,” said Galla. He looked from Kendril to Joseph, the fear evaporating from his eyes. “Not about this. I wasn’t sure this temple was real. None of my brothers from the monastery believed it existed.”
    “If you really are from a monastery,” broke in Kendril.
    “I am,” said Galla. “But I’m not a missionary. I’m a church historian. I had read about the existence of this temple, come across references to it in many diverse parchments and scrolls. But even I wasn’t sure it was real. Not until now.”
    “So the map you were using yesterday was a copy,” said Joseph, his voice still quiet. “From an older one.”
    “From the Balnosian Legacy,” Galla