The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2)

by Meredith Mansfield

  “What do you mean you shielded her?” Father asked.

  Vatar stared at the trees on the opposite side of the waterhole as he tried again to remember exactly what had happened. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like I put a barrier between her and danger. The bear sort of bounced off it.”

  Father radiated surprise. “I’ve certainly never heard of any ability like that. Then again, I can’t imagine any Talented Fasallon being put in a position to need it in the last few centuries. I’ll go to the archives to see what I can find.”

  “Thank you, Father. I’d really like to start understanding something.”

  “What else is there that you don’t understand?” Father asked.

  Now that it had come to the point, Vatar hesitated. This bothered him most of all. “Right before I did whatever it was I did, I heard a . . . sort of voice, in my head. It wasn’t Far Speech and it wasn’t exactly my own thought, either.”

  Father’s alarm was strong in the link. “What did the voice say?”

  Vatar’s heart sank. If Father was alarmed, this really wasn’t a good thing. “First, I think it told me to use my magic to fight the bear.”

  Father relaxed a little. “That sounds more like good sense, to me.”

  “Then, when I shielded Thekila, it told me to stop. It said I wasn’t ready yet,” Vatar said in a rush. He could feel Father’s rising concern as he finished. Vatar’s own fear rose to a new level. He knew it transmitted to Father despite his attempts to control it.

  “Relax, Vatar,” Father said. “I don’t know what that was, but it doesn’t exactly sound dangerous. Although your magic isn’t new, it’s new to you. Youngsters with about as much training as you have often imagine things.”

  Vatar huffed impatiently. He hadn’t imagined that voice. “Orleus thinks it was something to do with the stress of battle. I don’t know if I believe that, though.”

  “Well, Orleus would have a better idea of that than I would. Since I’m going to be in the archives anyway. I’ll look for anything similar. You let me know if anything like that happens again.”

  “I will.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Father asked.

  “Because I couldn’t,” Vatar answered.

  “Couldn’t?” Father asked.

  “They say I almost burned myself out. I wasn’t allowed to do anything involving Talent for a while. But I’m fine, now.”

  Father’s concern grew again. “This shield took that much power?”

  Vatar shrugged. “Quetza said it wasn’t just that. I also did a fourth-level Transformation and two first-level Transformations, trying to chase the bear off. She thinks I was just doing too much. But she and Thekila agree that I shouldn’t try the shield again until we learn more.”

  “Lords of Creation! No wonder you almost burned yourself out! How did you manage that?”

  “I’m not sure. Panic, I think.”

  “Well, don’t try it again. Take care of yourself.”

  Vatar shook his head as if to clear it. He looked across at Quetza, who seemed to be the one Thekila trusted with decisions about his recovery. “Father’s going to the archives. Do you think we can start back to Zeda, now? We’re not really accomplishing anything here.” Not even privacy for him and Thekila. “And we can’t ask what the shaman thinks from out here.”

  Quetza cocked her head to the side. “If we take it easy, I don’t see why not.”

  ~

  Vatar sat up very straight in the saddle as they rode through the summer settlement at the Zeda waterhole. He dismounted slowly in front of the hut he shared with Thekila, unwilling to admit that the quiet ride into Zeda had made him dizzy. He was almost immediately surrounded by concerned family.

  Mother reached him first and enveloped him in a hug. “You were gone so long, I was getting worried.”

  “Sorry, Mother,” Vatar said.

  “What kept you?” Pa asked. Though Danar was Vatar’s stepfather, he was a true father in every other sense of the word, including joining Mother in worrying.

  Vatar placed a hand on his horse’s saddle for balance, hoping the gesture appeared casual. “We had a little trouble with a bear. Lost one of the horses and had to wait for Quetza and Orleus to bring a fresh one. We decided it was better to wait until my headaches stopped before riding back. That’s all,” Vatar answered.

  “Headaches?” Mother asked sharply.

  Ah! He shouldn’t have said that. His mother was the best healer on the plains. Of course she’d follow up on that one. He wasn’t about to try to explain about magic and burnout in the middle of the village. By preference, he’d never even mention it to anyone who didn’t already know. Vatar was saved from having to come up with a believable lie, when Theklan ran up, breathless. Kiara was right behind him.

  “You’re back!” Theklan said.

  Thekila laughed and hugged him. “Of course we’re back.”

  Theklan’s chin jerked up as he turned to Vatar. “Will you call her off, now?” He gestured with his head towards Kiara standing close beside him. “I’ve barely been able to relieve myself without her watching since you’ve been gone.”

  Vatar laughed. “I don’t suppose you need to be watched quite so closely now that we’re back.” He turned to his sister. “Thank you, Kiara. You obviously did a very good job of making sure Theklan didn’t run off to follow us. I knew you would.”

  The young girl beamed up at Vatar.

  Conscious of his mother’s eye on him and the unanswered question about his headaches, Vatar patted his horse’s shoulders. “We’d better take care of our mounts.” It was unfair, but even Mother knew better than to try to interfere with a Dardani tending to his horse. And it’d give him some time to come up with a plausible reason for his headaches that didn’t involve magic.

  Thekila glanced at him, lips pursed. “While you do that, I’ll go with your mother to bring the twins back to our hut.”

  On his return, Vatar stepped down into the hut to find Thekila watching the two-year-old twins as they toddled about exploring their change in dwelling again. He smiled as he sat next to her and grabbed up Savara as she passed by. “Thank you for getting them.”

  Thekila smiled. “No thanks are necessary, Vatar. I love being with them.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “I told your mother you tripped and hit your head after chasing the bear off and that’s what caused your headaches. She muttered something about head injuries. She may concoct some unpleasant remedy for you, but I doubt she’ll ask any more questions.”

  Vatar grunted. “Thanks for that.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t just tell her. There’ve been enough hints, like Orleus knowing to bring extra horses—twice now—she must suspect something about your magic. She does, obviously, know who your real father is—and what he is.”

  Vatar bowed his head and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Mother would probably understand, but . . . well, there’s still Pa and Kiara. And . . . I’d just rather not have any more people know than necessary. There’s no real reason to tell her. All right?”

  Thekila shrugged. “They’re your family.”

  Her tone suggested that she wouldn’t be keeping something like this secret from her family. Thekila just didn’t understand how deep the Dardani fear of magic ran. Mother was different. She’d been born in Caere and trained in the Temple with the Healers. She’d been around Fasallon enough not to be uneasy about their magic—his magic. But, well, it was hard to keep much of anything secret in a Dardani village and Mother wouldn’t keep a secret from Pa. And Kiara’d be sure to find out somehow. And . . .

  Savara squirmed to get down and chase after her brother.

  Vatar sighed and stood up. “I guess I’ll go talk to Trev. Might as well get it over with.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Thekila asked. “Or would you rather talk to Trev alone.”

  Vatar paused, thinking back over his earlier talks with Trev, when he’d firs
t returned from his Ordeal. The man had a way of drawing out more truth than was really comfortable. “Maybe it’d be better if I go alone, this time. I’ll tell you everything he says, I promise. If you don’t mind keeping an eye on the twins, that is. I’d rather not take them straight back to Mother. It’d be bound to raise questions.”

  Thekila smiled down at Zavar, who’d toddled over to clutch Thekila’s bright hair. “I never mind spending time with these two.”

  Vatar strolled across the roughly hexagonal common area toward the Raven Clan enclave. Here at Zeda, the clans organized themselves into six separate but adjoining villages, all fronting on this common area. The Raven Clan enclave was almost diagonally opposite to the Lion Clan’s. He’d have to walk across the entire Raven Clan village, too, to get to the shaman’s hut, which was traditionally placed just on the outskirts of the community.

  The walk gave him time to prepare himself. Normally, he wouldn’t even consider discussing magic in any form with a Dardani. Sky above and earth below! He’d just choked on mentioning it to his mother and she’d grown up in Caere and wasn’t afflicted with the Dardani horror of all things that even smelled like magic. But Trev was different.

  He wasn’t Dardani for a start. Trev came from the closely-related Modgud tribe, filling in for the Dardani’s dead and unlamented shaman until a Dardani could be trained to take up the duties of shaman for the tribe. From what Vatar could tell, the Modgud didn’t seem to feel the same about any hint of magic as the Dardani did. At least, when Trev had drawn out every detail of Vatar’s Ordeal, including his education in magic by the Valson, it hadn’t seemed to trouble him at all. Vatar was pretty sure that Trev knew exactly what had happened when the old shaman died, too. It hadn’t been Spirits that frightened the vengeful old man into that fatal stroke, but first-level Transformations projected by Vatar and Thekila. Not that the old shaman had given them any choice when he tried to stab Vatar in front of the whole tribe.

  Trev already knew about Vatar’s magic. And, so far as Vatar could tell, he hadn’t told anyone else. Vatar felt he could trust Trev. He just wasn’t sure how much Trev would understand about Fasallon magic. The Modgud were generally reclusive, not mixing much even with the Dardani. Vatar was likely the only one possessing that kind of magic Trev had ever met.

  When he reached Trev’s hut, Vatar stopped outside the hide door covering and called out to let the other man know he was there. Dardani sod huts were pretty well insulated against sound, as well as the heat and cold of the plains.

  Trev’s head pushed through the door flap. His eyebrows rose when he recognized Vatar, but he motioned him to come inside.

  Unlike the spare interiors of most Dardani huts, Trev’s was crowded. Bundles of herbs hung from the roof supports, drying. The ritual Raven mask and the rest of the shaman’s regalia were placed carefully to one side of the hut. Clay pots and baskets full of various dried herbs, pastes, and oddments took up most of another side. Trev waved Vatar to sit in the little free space that remained. “How can I help you, Vatar?”

  Vatar moistened his lips. “Trev, you’re the only one here who knows the full story of my Ordeal. What I learned. And the only one who completely understands the connection to the totem Spirits. I need to ask you about something . . . strange. Actually, several things.”

  Trev nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Vatar drew a deep breath and started with the thing he had the most hope Trev could explain—seeing through the eyes of the lion.

  Trev started and looked sharply at Vatar.

  Vatar paused, almost holding his breath. “What is it?”

  Trev picked up a bunch of dried herbs and turned it over and over in his hands. “Only the shaman should be able to do that, after many initiations. It is the very heart of the shaman’s magic, a sign that the true shaman has been chosen.”

  “I can’t be a shaman. The shaman is always Raven Clan. I’m Lion Clan.”

  “It wasn’t always so. Long ago, each clan had its own shaman. But, as you say, now the Dardani shaman is always Raven Clan. And you have not had the repeated initiations to make you one.” Trev stared thoughtfully down at the bundle of herbs for a moment. Finally, he nodded. “This is something new to me. I will consult the Spirits on your behalf, to seek their guidance. I’ve suspected before now that you stand in a different relation to the Spirits than the others of your tribe. But I certainly would not consider that a curse. This is a gift that the Spirits grant to few.”

  Vatar gulped and tried to organize his thoughts. There was probably no point in mentioning his Transformation to Trev. Or whatever he’d done to deflect that bear. Those things were outside his area of expertise. But maybe he’d know something about that voice. “There’s something else.”

  “Yes?”

  Vatar stared at the bunch of herbs in Trev’s hands. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like I heard another voice in my head. It almost sounds like my own thoughts, except . . . it’s not.”

  Trev’s brows drew together. “What do you think this voice is?”

  Vatar shook his head. “I don’t know. And I really want to understand.” He drew in a deep breath to say what he’d never admit in Thekila’s presence. “It scares me.”

  Trev’s pointed questions drew out the full story of the bear attack. Finally, Trev nodded. “Well. I’ll consult the Spirits tonight. Come back at the same time tomorrow. We’ll talk again.”

  ~

  Vatar took Thekila with him to visit the shaman the next day. He’d already confessed his fear and he didn’t think Trev would bring it up again. At the solemn look on the young shaman’s face, Vatar clasped Thekila’s hand a little tighter. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her after all. “What is it, Trev?”

  “I do not have all the answers I sought on your behalf,” Trev said.

  Thekila gave Vatar’s hand a little squeeze. “Do you have some answers?”

  Trev’s lips twitched in a brief smile. “Yes. The Spirits stand closer to Vatar than to the others of the tribe. This is a good thing. Their protection and guidance is nearer to you when you need it. Though the Spirits do not divulge their secrets, I fear that this is because you will need their help at some time. More than you already have. When in doubt, you should look inside yourself for their counsel.” He pulled a bundle of herbs down from the roof support and handed it to Vatar. “When you wish to consult the Spirits, burn a little of this and inhale the smoke. It will help.”

  Vatar took the bundle with a nod of thanks even though he wasn’t entirely satisfied with the explanation. In fact, calling it an explanation was being generous, since it didn’t clarify anything. It didn’t even feel quite right, although as confused as he was about all of this, Vatar wasn’t sure that meant anything at all. He was sure that one major item had been left out of Trev’s solution. “What about the voice? Is that the Spirits, too?”

  Trev’s smile faded. “It must be. I can find no other explanation.”

  “You don’t know, then?” Thekila asked.

  “That it is a Spirit seems clear to me. But . . . I’ve never heard of a Spirit speaking in that way. Or that clearly. Usually, the shaman must prepare himself and go seeking answers from the Spirits. Even then, the answers are more likely to come as symbols which must be interpreted than clear statements such as you describe.”

  Vatar’s shoulders sagged. He looked down at the floor covered in fresh grass mats, studying them as if he might find the answer there. How was he ever going to understand this? No one had any answers for him. He steeled himself to ask one more question, the one he had hoped not to have to ask. “Then . . . am I possessed?”

  Trev shook his head. “No. At least not in the way you mean. I don’t believe you could have completed your Ordeal as you did, if you were possessed by an Evil Spirit. But there are many kinds of Spirits in the world. Not all are either good or bad.”

  “It’s not much help to say I may be possessed, just not by an Evil Spirit,” Vatar said bitterly.

&
nbsp; Trev touched Vatar’s shoulder. When Vatar looked up and met his eyes, Trev continued. “I don’t think possession is the right word, Vatar. I don’t have any sense that you are being controlled by this voice. In any case, it’s not common for a Spirit to possess anyone in the way you Dardani mean. It would weaken the Spirit’s powers to be tied to a physical body.”

  “What other explanation is there?”

  “I don’t have an answer for this, yet. If you really believe you are possessed, I could try an exorcism.”

  Vatar took a step back. He’d never expected this suggestion from Trev. Dardani exorcisms were brutal torture, with death a common result. The ritual had not been practiced in generations because it was so savage. A purely physical panic was added to the fears Vatar had been dwelling on for the last several days and completely overwhelmed them. “I spent a year on my Ordeal to prove myself without submitting to an exorcism for Maktaz. I won’t do it now, either.” Of course, then I knew that Maktaz was weaving lies to make it seem like I was possessed. I’d known I wasn’t. Or thought I knew. Now, I’m not so sure. Vatar clamped his jaw shut to keep from admitting that out loud.

  Trev bowed his head and said in his calmest, most neutral voice, “Then, I’ll continue to seek your answers in other ways.”

  Chapter 6: Avaza Again

  Walking back from Trev’s, Thekila paused alongside Vatar to watch the children at play. Zavar and Savara squealed with delight as they tried to chase three-year-old Fenar.

  Vatar looked up and frowned. “Now what does she want?”

  Thekila followed his gaze to where a tall, buxom woman advanced toward them. The woman stopped in front of them, her hands fidgeting with the neck of the tight-fitting blue tunic that exactly matched her eyes. “Hello, Vatar.”

  Vatar nodded coolly. “Hello, Avaza.”

  Thekila tensed. Avaza! This was the woman Vatar had had a relationship with before her? The twins’ mother? Though they were about the same age, suddenly Thekila felt adolescent—almost prepubescent—next to Avaza. She crossed her free arm over her slender chest.