The Third Scroll

by Dana Marton

  I kept turning back, until I stumbled over some rocks. After that I kept my attention forward and on the path. Hot springs. That explained why I saw no snow in the valley, why a flower could bloom in the middle of winter while the fields around Karamur lay barren.

  He shuffled on, lost in his own thoughts, looking neither left nor right but walking straight toward the strange city in the hollow of the valley. Even as we reached the first houses, he said nothing.

  “Grandfather, did you know my mother?” I asked after some time, thinking he had forgotten about me.

  He walked awhile before he spoke, his voice somewhat softened. “Now there was one worth the bother.”

  Hope leaped. “Do you know where I could find her grave?”

  He turned toward a round clearing among the houses, the ground covered in grass, a silver tree in the middle. He strode to the tree, and I followed, then stopped when he stopped at a crystal rock that reached to my knees. The rock sparkled in the moonlight, the exact color of the petals of the moonflower that grew in our Shahala hills.

  I could scarcely breathe.

  I fell to my knees and hugged that rock, not sure if I could ever let go. Some time passed before my tears dried.

  “Did she have the Last Blessing?”

  The Guardian looked at me as if I was a senseless child. “She certainly did.”

  A small, empty corner of my heart filled with peace. I sat back on my heels and noticed a faint inscription on the rock. Spirit, be strong. Heart, be brave. I ran my fingers over the letters. Strong and brave were Kadar values.

  “It should say Spirit, be kind. Heart, be true,” I whispered. That had been my mother.

  But the Guardian shook his head. “Her last words they were.”

  I looked at the inscription for some time, trying to make sense of it. Maybe she had so encouraged herself at the end because she knew she was dying.

  “Did you meet her when she healed the High Lord Barmorid?”

  The Guardian lowered himself next to me, his joints creaking. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees. “I first met her long before that. When she injured him.”

  “Had she come to Karamur twice?” I only remembered the one journey.

  He drew a labored breath, as if preparing for the effort of speaking. “When your mother, Chalee, first came into her healing powers, they were so extraordinary that her fame spread far and wide on the island.”

  The streets slept, no other human being in sight but the two of us. Unlike Karamur, the Forgotten City had no walls and no guards to stand watch at night.

  “Barmorid—a young warrior then—had suffered a grave injury in battle, and when your grandfather heard, he came to help, bringing Chalee with him. Your people and the Kadar were closer back then, the old favors each had done the other not so well forgotten.”

  I knew the favors well, how the Kadar kept us safe and how without them we could not have had our precious peace to practice our lives the way we believed it and to hone our healing skills generation after generation. My mother had reminded me of that often enough, so I sought to head off the lecture I felt coming. “Did my mother give back Barmorid his health?”

  “She did.” The Guardian nodded. “But took something a lot more precious.”

  “My mother would never take something not freely given and refused payment half the time,” I retorted, quick to defend her.

  “Given or not, she took a piece of the High Lord’s heart when she left. And something else.”

  “Barmorid fell in love with her?” I had never known of any man in my mother’s life but Jarim.

  “And she with him.”

  “What else did she take?” I asked, still stunned by the first revelation.

  “Can you not guess?”

  I could, from the way he looked at me now, but so shocked was I, I could not speak of it for a long stretch of time.

  “Why did Barmorid never claim me?” I asked finally, when I could form coherent thoughts once again. I was half Kadar? Oh, it could not be. It simply could not!

  “He never knew. No matter how much I tried to convince her, Chalee would not hear of telling him. She wanted to return to her people, even if in disgrace, preferring that to the prison of the High Lord’s Pleasure Hall, for she knew he would never let her leave.”

  I stared, but not without some understanding. I had run away from Pleasure Hall’s gilded prison even with my last breath.

  “Your grandfather knew, of course. A great healer like him could feel the new life within her. Could be that was what killed him so sudden—a broken heart,” the Guardian said with reproach. “He knew the rest, you realize, the things to come.”

  He fell silent for a long time before speaking again, his voice tired and faint, so I could barely make out his words. “Destinies are made to be fulfilled. Some roads may seem to lead in other directions, but at the end, they all loop back to where they must.”

  My whole world had changed in the space of a few heartbeats. I had no patience for a philosophical discussion. “What happened after that?”

  “Your mother returned alone to your Shahala shore, but someone waited for her.”

  “Jarim?” He had to have role in all of this somewhere.

  The Guardian nodded.

  “He fell in love with her too?”

  “Not at first, not for a long time, although your mother tried. I asked the Seer to search her out now and then and tell me how she fared. I had grown rather attached to her, I suppose, never having a daughter of my own, only the one son.”

  “Did she forget Barmorid so soon?” I disliked the idea of my mother having a fickle heart.

  “Not until her dying day.”

  “Then why did she become lalka to Jarim?”

  The Guardian looked at me, and I saw the depth of the sadness in his eyes for the first time. “I will tell you if you wish, but it will be a hard tale to hear.”

  “No tale of my mother could be so hard that I would not wish to hear it.”

  He nodded. “The Kerghi are not our only enemy, nor are they the worst,” he began. “A power bigger than they stands behind them and pushes them forward. The Emperor of Drakhar…” His face darkened as he uttered the words. “He has been coming a long time, and before he ever started on his cursed path, he was watching. He knows the prophecies as well as you or I.”

  Maybe better than I, for I could think of no prophecy that could have anything to do with this.

  “The Emperor knew about you,” the Guardian went on, “long before you were born, and so he sent Jarim to kill you.”

  I inched closer to the rock crystal. All I had known as truth, my entire childhood, fell away. My father was the High Lord of the warrior race I despised, the man who raised me a hired murderer.

  “Your mother knew the prophecies, of course, but still she would not stay here where Barmorid could have protected her and you, no matter how your grandfather and I scolded her.” The old anger and worry still rang in his voice as he spoke.

  “She returned to her home alone, with child, determined to birth you in freedom, willing to face the world for it. She hoped, I think, to change your destiny. She was very young still.”

  He waved the old regret away with a listless gesture, then continued his story. “She had more than enough knowledge of herbs to poison Jarim and kill him, but she could not bring herself to do it, not even to save your life.”

  “How did she change Jarim’s mind?” For I knew she must have managed that feat somehow, as I was still alive.

  “Each day while he was waiting for you to be born, she fought with love every bit of hatred he had, until he came to care for her. Still, though, he planned to kill you when you were born, but not her, never harm her. He planned to make new babes with her to console her once his dark charge was finished.”

  “But her power of good was the stronger,” I half said, half asked.

  He looked straight ahead without seeing me. “Every time a man and a
woman come together, not only their bodies join but so do their spirits. And every time your mother’s spirit joined with Jarim’s, she left a little bit of her goodness behind. Little by little, she changed the man.”

  “At the cost of her own spirit?” How I wished she had not done so, for all at once I understood why she had been too weak to withstand the strain of healing Barmorid for the second time.

  I cried at the thought and told the Guardian how I wished my mother had not sacrificed so much for me. I did not feel worthy of such a gift.

  “Your mother followed the path of her own choosing to the end, always doing what she thought right, even at the cost of her own life, even when it was forbidden.” He shot me a cold glare.

  “When she came back to Karamur for the second time, the High Lord was ill with fever, the kind that settles deep into the blood. She had given away so much of her spirit to Jarim by then that she did not have enough power to heal Barmorid, not even with all the love in her heart. She gave her spirit to him to strengthen his so he could win the fight on his own.”

  I wept openly.

  “The rest is in the Scrolls. You will see those soon enough.” The Guardian stood. “Now, let this old man go. I performed this first task; as little as I wished it, for do not think the thought of her does not pain me still. One more task awaits the Guardian of the Sacred Scrolls, and I hope I shall be dead by the time it is called for, and you will be served by my son, for he is more ready than I.”

  I hugged the rock one more time before I pushed to my feet and turned to the Guardian. “I thank you for what you told me. But forgive me, I cannot wish for your death, not even to bring you the relief you seek.”

  He nodded, weariness drawing his face into a thousand wrinkles. His shoulders sloped as if crushed by a great weight.

  “Do not think of death as a sad end for me, child. I have lived a long life. I saw new things come and each bring a worse fate for the world than the one before. I saw men fight against evil and time and time again come to nothing. I fought too in my own way, and I am now too tired to carry on the fight. If I found any favor with the spirits, I ask only this: that I be taken before this war comes and brings true darkness with it.”

  I had many questions but sensed that this was not the time to ask more.

  We walked in silence, back toward the cave, each deep in our own thoughts. The night itself quieted around us; even the wind stopped whistling. My mind filled with confusion, sadness, anger, and a jumble of other emotions, as I tried to work through all that I had learned that day.

  Until now, even in the uncertainty of my fate, at least I knew who I was. To balance the twisting unknown paths of my future stood solidly my past. And now I had lost even that.

  We passed a round hut, I had not noticed before. It had no windows at all. Grain storage?

  He caught my gaze. “Selaila’s hut. She is our Seer.”

  I wanted to ask more, but his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. As we left the hut, my thoughts returned to our earlier talk. Plenty there to ponder for a hundred days.

  My mother had as many secrets as a stranger. Everything I had thought I knew of my beginnings was false. And still some mysterious destiny awaited me, one the Guardian of the Scrolls had only hinted at. Maybe the other Guardians would tell me the rest.

  I looked up toward the cave and saw one of them approach in a rush. He waved at us to hurry.

  ~~~***~~~

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  (The Road to Freedom)

  “The Guardian of the Gate had to leave. I shall walk you back to the cliff. You must take care not to slip,” the Guardian of the Cave said, breathing hard from the rush down the slope.

  “Must I leave?” I had fallen into a beautiful dream at last after many hard and dark days. The call to waken came too soon. I wanted to see more, learn more. I wanted the tranquil peace of the Forgotten City that at its heart held my mother’s grave.

  “You must.” He turned and hurried down the path, while I lingered as we walked by the rose, drinking in its beauty. “You are not yet ready to take your place. But every time the mist descends, you may come to us to learn more.”

  He gestured with his hand, and I hurried after him at last. When the mist descends? I had been in Karamur already for the full double cycle of the moons, and I had seen the mist but once before this.

  “We shall call the mist for you. Do not worry,” said the Guardian of the Cave as if reading my mind.

  Such wonder stood so far beyond my comprehension I could not even question it. “What will I tell them about where I have been? The servants must have noticed my absence by now; the guards must have been alerted.”

  I glanced back. The Guardian of the Scrolls had not followed us but began his slow, limping climb up to the cave. He stopped to look at me. I bowed deep. He dipped his head in a small nod of farewell before turning back to his path.

  I rushed after the Guardian of the Cave.

  “You must make excuses for your absence. The palace is large. A foreigner such as you could easily wander off and become lost. And for next time…” He pulled a handful of thin sticks from his robe and waved them in front of my nose.

  I ran my finger along a pungent stick the length of my forearm. “What are these?”

  “Place one in a tankard in your room and light the end with a candle. Anyone who enters will fall asleep and stay so until the stick is doused and fresh air wakes them from their dreams. Once you light it, cover your face and leave the room,” he added.

  I pulled my hand back. “Is it sorcery?”

  He flashed me an impatient look. “A harmless herb.” He gave a name I never heard and could not pronounce. “The smoke will not harm anyone,” he promised. “Our people, the Seela, use the sleeping sticks to allow rest to those in great pain.”

  I tucked the small bundle inside my tunic as we reached the top of the cliff. Below, I could barely see Karamur, still steeped in thick mist.

  “Thank you, Grandfather.” I bowed, then handed him the fur I had borrowed from the cave. I missed its warmth, but I could not hang on to it while climbing. “I hope I shall see you soon.”

  He nodded and smiled at me fondly. “One more word before you leave. Did your mother teach you the use of your powers?”

  Sadness crept into my heart. “She died before they came to me.”

  He nodded as if he had expected my answer. “You must be more careful with them, Tera. Your healing spirit is sacred but not without an end. You must use your skills and your herbs, but your spirit only as last resort, only if you must, and even then…” His expression turned somber. “You cannot help anyone if you give your spirit away and give your body unto death.”

  His blunt words made me think of my mother’s fate. He spoke the truth. I could not give argument.

  “If you did not come to us and we did not help you in time, your body would not have survived,” he said. “A greater purpose awaits you. You must be more careful for all of our sakes.”

  Like a chided youth, I hung my head and promised, wondering of what greater purpose he spoke. “The Guardian of the Sacred Scrolls mentioned a prophecy—”

  “You must hurry. Dawn is upon us.” His lips flattened in consternation for a moment. “Has your mother never told you, then?”

  I shook my head.

  “Maybe better that way. It is not always good for one to know all there is to come. Much of the courage comes from knowing not, I think. Be patient. You will learn soon enough,” he said, then left me to disappear into the woods.

  I looked after him for a long time, until a bird gave cry and took to the air from a treetop, jarring me from my reverie. I heard the flap of its wings but could not see it when I looked up. The cry sounded again, coming from farther now. The bird was flying south.

  Toward Shahala lands.

  The call of freedom sounded like a thousand trumpets in the air. It made me forget the Guardians and Batumar. All that had happened to me in the inhospitable land of
the Kadar floated away into the dawn like a strange dream. I turned into the direction of my true home, and my eyes filled with tears, as it seemed the spirits had answered my prayers.

  I was free.

  I ran the first few steps, too giddy to worry about tripping over stones or roots. Had the Palace Guards realized yet that I had gone missing? They would be searching the palace first, but when the mist rose, they would spill out into the city, then outside the gate.

  Enough of them served Batumar so that the captain could send some in every direction. But even that thought could not slow me down. Home.

  Then my feet faltered suddenly. What home? I could not go home to Jarim.

  I could go to Sheharree, I thought and ran on. My mother had friends in the port city, and even had I been a stranger, I would have been welcomed. Even if I had nothing to give in return, the Elders of the city would have made sure I was looked after. But I had something—the healing powers of my spirit.

  I could be happy in Sheharree. The Kerghi hordes might never come. And if they did, why would they come to the Shahala? Our people did not fight. The Kerghi could hardly consider us their enemy.

  I reached a rocky slope and slowed to pick my steps with more care, worried that at any minute the guards would be upon me. I hoped none of them would be punished because I had run away. Nor Leena. Would Batumar blame her for my escape?

  She would probably look for me herself and be worried. If any sick came to the back of the kitchen, she would have to tell them I had gone. I regretted that, leaving the people who had come to depend on me. Sheharree had many healers, but Karamur had only me.

  I fought against the sudden pang of guilt.

  They would learn to go on without my help and be no worse off than before I had arrived. And once the mist came again, and I did not go to the Forgotten City, the Guardians too would know that I had gone. Maybe I was not the one they had waited for all this time. If I had this great destiny they spoke of, would I not have known? Would I not have felt it?

  I made my way down the slope, grateful for my Shahala thudi and short tunic. I rubbed my hands over my arms against the chill, hurrying the dawn, the sunshine and warmth.