The Last Prophecy

by Russell Loyola Sullivan

  Devyn was on his feet before her, looking as perplexed as he was startled.

  They were served tea and a bowl of fresh fruits, and no more attention was paid to the direction or purpose of their mission. She felt like an unwelcome guest at an inn where she had no coin to pay. It was evident Devyn was having a similar experience.

  They finished, thanked their hosts, and went outside to where the horses and provisions were at the ready, the horses anxious and eager to move along, their ears perked straight back. The sisters watched in silence as Devyn and Brenna departed, the morning light still pushing away the night, the sisters not even offering their perilous laughter in farewell.

  Brenna moved inside her thoughts.

  None of the sisters’ words during their short stay had given them any clear indication of what the real danger was. They’d offered up a cloud of foreboding, and that cloud now covered her; she could not discern if the sense of doom was for herself and Devyn alone, or if it was meant by the sisters to include her entire world.

  She shared her thoughts on the matter with Devyn. He all but ignored her. He was still sorting out the abrupt awakening, no doubt. Perhaps her foggy state had to do with the little sleep the night had given either of them. The sisters had appeared not to have slept at all.

  Had they talked all night? It seemed so, but then there was that abrupt awakening.

  There had been no meeting of the minds. She could not discern if it was but a dream she had fallen into as they watched the fire and listened, or had they truly explored the need for some required, necessary connection, the sisters coming closer and then moving away, something they knew and would not, perhaps could not, share?

  The sisters were deftly capable of mixing dream with reality, and she had no way of discerning which was which. She could only conclude the sisters had planted that message of doom inside her head, and maybe Devyn’s, so the two would carry the urgency of the situation without having to know the details of the actual peril to come.

  She caught a glimpse of something moving off to one side. That damn cat. He was everywhere. Purta followed them to where they crossed the river, and there he sat and licked his paws. Brenna glanced behind a few times and soon decided Purta was the least of her worries; all she could do was concentrate on what was ahead.

  “Well, that was a most interesting encounter.” It was Devyn’s turn to look back around before adding, “I believe for a while there we were in considerable danger.”

  “Yes, they most certainly could have taken our animals and supplies. I’m still not sure what their initial intentions were. I suspect the best we might have hoped for was a long walk back, one we might not have been able to make without horses and supplies.”

  “Yes, had you not been a caretaker they would have concluded our mission was hopeless and taken everything we had,” Devyn said. “I seriously considered dagger and sword against the three… As I considered that possibility, I saw Asrah stare at me. I swear a thought from her mind ran through mine: Dearie, you would be dead already had we wished it.”

  “They believe we’re both caretakers, farmer. Can they read minds? Certainly they’ve been around enough to understand intentions. How they know what they know is still a mystery. When I asked Asrah how she knew so much, she merely smiled and told me she’d lived a long time and had met with many conversations.”

  “Ya, a strange answer for three sisters who never leave their dwelling, if what they said was an answer at all. I’m sure they told us a lot less than what they hold behind those insidious laughs. And what about the urn? Have you ever heard of it?”

  Brenna shook her head. “I only hope it’s where they say. Getting back to our garrison might require their help.”

  “You’re assuming we find the temple.”

  They continued south and east, following Asrah’s directions, which essentially matched their original intent: make for the ocean. What Asrah had added was more of a warning. She had informed them that they would not likely meet with anyone this far north in the Desperate Lands, but that would change as they neared Arapendia. Asrah also explained that Arapendia was not a lost city; it was a city that could not be entered unless you were a caretaker. She’d begun to explain a special problem with approaching the temple and had stopped, as if looking for the right words then deciding not to expand any further. “Perhaps it’s best you find out for yourselves,” was all she’d added.

  Brenna and Devyn discussed every possible meaning of what the three sisters had shared with them. The sisters were adamant about the serious nature of what would soon unfold and the necessity of the journey that she and Devyn were undertaking. Yet even as the sisters continued with the advice and admonitions concerning the price of failure, they would chuckle among themselves and take sudden pauses in their chatter, an obvious precursor to something that would go unsaid—the gravity of which Brenna had not a clue.

  Brenna shared with Devyn one such admonition that had not gone unspoken, nor had the sisters lent any further insight: “What you fail to do will perhaps bring an end, an end for which none of us will be around to hold you accountable.”

  Devyn nodded. “I remember those words. If we were in a dream, then we were both in the same dream. When those words were whispered, did you hear the thunder crack in the distance, followed immediately by a cacophony of howls, like the howls from a pack of angry cats, howls riding on a wind that came out of nowhere, all subsiding with a second roll of thunder, and then stillness?”

  She nodded.

  They agreed that this was not the stuff of pleasant bedtime stories, and it most certainly was not the path to the future either of them had considered when they had put together their small farm. They were a long way from home.

  The traveling continued.

  They came upon what was perhaps once an old trade route. The stones that had been laid had kept the more abundant vegetation from completely taking over and obscuring the way. It was much better than trekking through a thick forest, though on occasion they needed to stop and move aside dead branches or other debris.

  By midday the road began a slow ascent. They rode up and above the tree line; the path ahead was clear of obstacles, and they moved along untroubled by any further obstacles. The air became considerably warmer and carried the dampness of the ocean, still a considerable distance off to the east, an impression informed by the distant view that the high country offered.

  At the summit they stopped and rested their horses, estimated their location as best they could, and continued through the lush surroundings.

  “It’s hard to imagine this land being a desperate land.” Brenna looked off to her right as she rode along. “The flowers are so beautiful, and the colors would make a rainbow blush with shame.”

  “From what you told me, and the information provided by Ketan, all this was a thriving world long ago. I can only wonder what happened to it,” Devyn said.

  “There’s my grandfather’s story, of course; other than that, I don’t know. Even when I was in university and learning about healing, little was mentioned about this land. I had no idea such a tropical paradise as this even existed. We were told stories, not any actual history, that there was a long period of arid conditions, in which people starved and crops failed. When things were at their worst, some bigger catastrophe hit, something that wiped out cities and the people in them. The few that survived fled to where we live now, and they left this place to die.”

  “Maybe your grandfather had a piece of it. I wonder why no one has returned,” Devyn said.

  “Well, you heard what the three sisters said. Where we are now is a sort of barrier to what lies south. For whatever reason, the moisture and the ocean keeps what is left in the Desperate Lands contained. I hope they’re wrong, but their warnings seemed much more than a wish that we might not meet trouble.”

  “Ya, and that wonderful laugh that followed that little piece of information sort of sealed its intention.”

  Their continued t
rek took them to a small stream with water cascading down from a collection of hills to the left of where the road would take them.

  They dismounted.

  The water proved clear and refreshing, much to the approval of the horses.

  Brenna began to take off her clothes. “It has been some time since I had a proper bath, and some time more before I might get one again.”

  “Well, no sense having only one of us clean.” Devyn took off his sword, kicked off his boots, top, and pants, and was in the water before Brenna.

  The late afternoon sun was warm, and the rays danced on the fast-moving current from the downside of the pond. The two floated and dove in the clear water. Laughter and smiles took over as the refreshing water did its work.

  They swam the kinks and aches of the road from their bodies, and then they found each other in a more intimate manner. Even before the sun went down, they knew this was where they would rest for the night.

  *****

  The following morning took them to the coast. An emerald-green ocean rolled softly over the white sandy beach. The coastline ran north and south, and much farther south it moved east and became lost toward the horizon. There was no evidence of human habitation. Small critters scampered about and kept themselves hidden in the undergrowth.

  There were no signs of anyone having traveled here, ever: no hoofprints, no structures of any kind, no remnants of fires or camps having been made. It was as if the place was a walled-off garden that no one could enter. In spite of that, both agreed they were being watched from the time they left the lagoon. No sounds, yet an unmistakable presence surrounding them, like some thick fog they could not see even as it swirled about their bodies, rubbing against their every movement.

  They followed the shore south, hewing close as possible to the woods, for the sand was hard going for the horses. Where the shore curved off to the east again, they chose to continue directly south on what appeared to be the remnants of an old trail. The canopy of the forest soon swallowed them, the light dimming as they headed into the gloom, and the way ahead became obscured with vegetation and low-hanging tree limbs.

  They halted often and listened for what might be stalking them; not a sound or sight, yet the feeling that they were being watched persisted. Even the horses were turning skittish, their heads high, hooves prancing, displaying a need to run.

  They trekked along, slow-paced for a considerable time, keeping their direction with the needle. Then as abruptly as the thick forest had begun, it ended.

  Before them was a massive stone wall, vines hanging all about, parts of it leaning to one side or another, fragments shattered on the ground. They moved along the wall until they found an opening. Clouds obscured the light of the afternoon sun, and as they entered the empty city they saw before them ruin and desolation shrouded in shadow and a sad, gray pallor of death and abandonment.

  The sights turned to sound. At first it came as a low moan, a cry like someone half-conscious and in pain. Brenna pointed to her left. “Is that the temple?”

  Devyn looked to where she pointed and nodded. “Looks as good as any spot to investigate.”

  Brenna registered the low moan again. “I think it best we walk the horses.”

  “I was thinking the same. They’re more spooked here than back in the swamps. Did you just hear a sound of some kind? Like someone in pain?”

  Brenna dismounted. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I think it’s time to take our guard up to top level.”

  Devyn tied the lead on the packhorse to his saddle. “Have I mentioned it’s still not too late to go back?”

  Before she could comment, a pack of black cats rounded the corner of a dilapidated building in front of them—six cats, each half the size of a small horse, eyes intent on their prey. Devyn pulled his sword, even as Fury and the packhorse bucked behind him. “I don’t think these are friends of Purta.” He pushed the horses to one side and moved to protect them.

  The cats stood their ground, neither advancing nor retreating. More cats joined the six. All stopped and stood with the others.

  The horses kicked and bucked. Devyn and Brenna did all they could to control them.

  “It appears we’re not welcome to go any farther,” Devyn said.

  Brenna’s hand was outstretched, in readiness to send a blast of energy into the crowd of black cats. “I wonder why they’ve not attacked us.”

  “Maybe they’re all about defense at this point. Let’s find a place to keep our horses safe, and maybe we can use a little stealth to get around them,” Devyn suggested.

  The two backed away slowly. The cats moved not a step. The two travelers found their way back to where they had first entered the city. There they found a compound of sorts with a main building at its center, parts of it now lying in waste. Still other parts offered enclosures, perhaps shops or dwellings from a much different time. They found one such place suitable to protect the horses from what the approaching darkness might bring.

  “What were those things?” Devyn shook his head. “Nothing I’ve ever seen or heard about before. They looked like Purta but were even larger and more ominous, if that’s possible.”

  “They reminded me of black jaguars but twice the size.”

  “Their eyes shone like full moons,” Devyn added.

  “Yes, and their bodies shimmered as if they could hide in plain sight had they wanted to.” Brenna said. “Do you think that’s why we were unable to see them before? They’ve been following us all along.”

  Devyn commenced unpacking their provisions. “It explains why the city’s lost. It also explains what the sisters told us. It’s not lost, it’s forbidden. I’ve no idea why we were allowed to venture inside the city so far without being attacked. And yes, I believe it was them following us.”

  Brenna gave their animals a helping of oats, hay, and water. “The sisters said you were a caretaker. Maybe the cats know what a caretaker is.”

  “Maybe. Maybe that’s why they didn’t attack us,” Devyn said. “But they would not let us continue. We’re most certainly in danger.”

  When the animals had finished eating, they gave them a needed brush down. By the time the horses and the mule had returned to some semblance of calmness, the evening had rolled in.

  Devyn looked out at the eerie stillness. “So, do we go in tonight?”

  “What do you think?” Brenna asked.

  “I think tomorrow morning or tonight makes no difference. Light might be a factor, but our torches will let us look around, assuming we ever reach the temple. And I doubt sleeping out here is any better than going in there.”

  Brenna kissed his cheek. “And do you accept that you are a caretaker? I saw what happened when you pulled your dagger as the cats advanced. It was the same as your sword.”

  “Ya, I guess the mercenary and the farmer still have a few things to learn.” Devyn kissed her. “You sure know how to pick your journeys.”

  They blocked up the entryway where their animals would remain. It would keep any predators out, or so they hoped.

  The sun had disappeared behind the tree line off to the west, where a small glow still lit the western sky; the two moons would be full, offering enough light for them to make their way to the structure they sought to explore.

  They utilized whatever stealth they could, ducking in and out of dilapidated pieces of buildings, glancing around corners, making certain they could not hear their own footsteps as they crept along. Still that incessant feeling of being watched, of being followed, persisted. They each expressed that concern but decided they could do nothing other than continue.

  Somewhere past where they had encountered the cats the first time, a low guttural growl commenced. They took a few more steps, and what was an intermittent moan became a continuous wail—baleful and filled with agony.

  She pointed to the steps going up to what they had assumed might be the temple, as it was by far the biggest and only structure that showed any sign of having weathered the dem
ise of the city. “Look, there has to be a hundred of them. We’ll never get—”

  The high-pitched wails stopped her talking. The cries became a torrent of angry wind, swirling about her very essence, though not a breeze stirred the evening. She felt her ears burn, and not a word could she utter. She looked to where Devyn covered his ears.

  Next came a screech, so loud that the ripple of the sound sent a vibration through her bones. A hawk sailed in over their heads, its red tail shimmering even as the darkness rolled in. It circled the steps, and the cats backed away. It took a perch at the top of the doors leading into where they had planned to go.

  Brenna pointed. “We have to get inside.” They climbed the steps, then a few steps along a small landing, and more steps. The burning and moaning ceased. The red hawk watched them as they approached. Brenna sent out a healing cloud that covered them both, a blanket of sorts against any other wailing, or so she hoped. Devyn came up off his knees.