by R. J. Larson
“My Creator?” the man sneered. “Who is this Creator? He’s nothing to me!”
Four other soldiers were now urging their massive horses along the path from the ravine. As if to prove its dominance over the other creatures, Taun’s frightful horse curveted, kicking out its back hooves and snorting unmistakable threats. Taun managed to keep the beast under control. Barely. It huffed toward Ela now, tossing its head, then flattening its dark ears. Its huge black body collar, equipped with handholds, footholds, and weaponry, added to the beast’s menacing form. Ela didn’t recall the horse charging her, for the vision had concluded with her warning to Taun. And Taun wasn’t listening. Not with that beast throwing such a fit.
Beneath her breath, Ela implored the Infinite, “Tell me Your will!”
His voice commanded, Tell that destroyer-horse, in My Holy Name, to be still.
Gladly. Conveying her Creator’s sternness, Ela looked the beast in the eye and called out, “In the Infinite’s Holy Name, be still!”
The horse stilled, dark eyes watching her. Not even its tail flicked.
Taun sucked in an audible breath and checked his steed. The beast didn’t move except to breathe and blink as it watched Ela.
“Witch!” The soldier looked offended, as if she’d insulted him beyond endurance. “What did you do to my destroyer?” He kicked, prodded, smacked, and chirruped, but the warhorse didn’t budge. “Lift your spell!” he cried to Ela.
“This is no spell. Your destroyer obeys its Creator. As you should.”
His lips pressed tight in his weathered face, Taun jumped from the horse onto the hard-packed trail. Using the blunt end of a spear, he beat the destroyer fiercely. The animal didn’t stir. At last, the soldier threw down his spear, drew his sword, and advanced on Ela. “Lift your spell!”
Tzana ducked beneath Ela’s mantle, shivering. The branch was glowing now, its brilliance unmistakable, even beneath the midday sun. Taun paused and his fellow soldiers dismounted, hushed, squinting against the branch’s radiance. Ela summoned her courage. “Taun, I am no witch. Please, I’ve been sent to speak to you! Listen to your Creator’s warning. He—”
“Shut your mouth!” He brandished his sword at her. “I do not obey witches! And whatever spell you’re casting—break it!” Shading his eyes against the branch, Taun approached. “Give me that toy!” He stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on the baldric slung over Ela’s shoulder, then on the sword at her side. Moistening his lips, he asked, “How did you acquire that sword?”
A younger soldier, flushed with eagerness, edged near, shielding his eyes against the branch while studying the sword. “General Tek Juay’s sword! Did you steal it from him, witch?”
“I am no witch,” Ela repeated, squelching the impulse to scream. “The Infinite told me to remove this sword from your general’s body, and to demand justice for his murder. You—”
“Liar!” Taun’s bellow overpowered Ela’s explanation. “If he’s dead, then you killed him! For that, you deserve to die!” He tried to yank the branch from Ela’s hands, but his fingers passed through it like insubstantial shadows. Snarling, Taun struck Ela. A blow that should have knocked her flat.
Ela’s face stung at the impact, but she remained standing, supported by the branch. It seemed alive in her grasp now, an astonishing white-blue column. Ela shut her eyes and listened to the Infinite, sickened. She forced the words past her lips. “Taun, if you try to strike me again, the Infinite will remove your life’s breath.”
Her experience in the desert, within the agony of a bottomless cauldron of fire, seared her yet again. She could see the flames against her eyelids. Desperate to prevent anyone else from suffering its eternal fire, she looked up at her accuser and begged, “Please! Please, accept the Infinite’s warning. He offers you this chance to atone for your crimes and to be reconciled to Him. It’s not His will that you suffer!”
Taun hesitated. For the merest breath, Ela thought he might be convinced to listen. Instead, the soldier shook his head and raged. “You fraud! Who paid you?”
“No one! Please listen. You know I’m telling the truth. In a vision, your Creator showed me your general’s death. The face of his murderer, approaching him from behind . . .” Ela weakened, seeing the image again. “Because Tek Juay renounced you for your cruelties, your greed, and your failure to follow orders, you took your dagger and—”
Taun lifted his sword, roaring a battle cry.
Certain she was about to die, Ela wrapped an arm around Tzana, hoping to protect her. “Infinite!”
Midswing, Taun choked. His eyes mirroring absolute torment, he lost control of his sword. Its blade struck the branch and shattered against the now unbearable glow. The soldier collapsed before Ela, his mouth wide open as if sucking air, his eyes staring horrified into his eternity.
“No!” She could almost see the flames reflected in his eyes. His agony of complete separation from the Infinite. “Why couldn’t you listen?” Ela dropped to her knees and sobbed.
“Commander?” The young soldier crept over to the body, hands shaking as he checked Taun’s throat, clearly seeking evidence of life. At last, he sat back and stared at Ela, his narrow face losing its ruddiness. “You’ve killed him!”
She shook her head, struggling to speak coherently through her tears. “He r-refused to listen. If only . . . if only he’d accepted the Infinite’s warning.”
Tzana extricated herself from Ela’s mantle. She looked from the dead soldier to Ela and whimpered. Ela pulled her close, shielding them both with the branch, which faded, returning to its usual form.
The other soldiers dismounted, gaping. At last one of them spoke to Ela, his voice frayed with obvious fear and rage. “Whoever you are, I must charge you with Commander Taun’s murder. Come with us.”
Go with them, the Infinite commanded Ela.
Numb, she stood, prepared to obey.
6
Infinite, I’m not old enough to be a prophet! I’m failing at everything!” Ela whispered, unable to scream the words aloud. Actually, if she weren’t carrying the dozing Tzana on her back, Ela would do more than scream. She would throw herself to the ground and surrender to despair. For Tzana’s sake, however, she trudged onward, following the lead soldier who’d assumed command after Taun’s burial.
Ela looked up at the man, riding straight and lordly on his black destroyer. She longed to beg him for a brief rest. Her arms burned with the ache of balancing both Tzana and the branch, light as they were. Irritating rivulets of sweat slid down her back and her face. And grit worked through her sandals, grinding at her now-blistered soles. But these discomforts were mild, compared to the burden that dragged at her soul and crushed her resolve. Was this her life as a prophet? Always stumbling? Never successful? She sniffled and gave in to tears.
“Infinite? What use am I to You if I continually fail?”
Peace infused His response and covered Ela’s misery like a balm. You believe you have failed. But you—created from dust—cannot see as I see.
As Ela gulped down a sob, He continued. You are My prophet. No more, no less. I reveal My will to you, and you must speak it to reveal My glory.
“Yes,” she agreed softly, not craving details so much as an answer to enduring her seemingly pointless struggle. “I want to . . . but why do I feel like a failure?”
You must speak My will, whether evildoers listen or fail to listen. The failure is their own.
“It still hurts.” Tears fell and mingled with the sweat on Ela’s cheeks as she thought of the soldier Taun. His look of horror when he died . . . The memory cut like a blade. If only he’d listened! Why couldn’t—
“Aaaah!” Tzana croaked awake and wriggled against Ela’s back. “It’s licking me! Don’t let it eat me!”
Ela whipped her thoughts away from her own wretchedness and spun on her heel to confront Tzana’s assailant. Taun’s massive black destroyer. It halted.
Forcing down her fear, Ela eyed the creature sternly. “What
are you doing?”
The beast blinked at Ela, mild as a newborn. Waiting.
As she returned the destroyer’s look, Ela sent up a wary question: Why is this monster following me?
Are you certain it’s a monster? Tell Tzana to stretch out her hand.
Ela faltered, then said, “Tzana, stretch out your hand.”
“Whyyyy?” Tzana rasped, still sleepy-voiced, but obviously suspicious.
“Because the Infinite commands you.”
Tzana shifted on Ela’s back, then cautiously stretched out one tiny gnarled hand. The destroyer nuzzled her swollen fingers gently, as if understanding that a more vigorous nudge would cause Tzana pain. Tzana’s little-girl laughter trilled in Ela’s ear. “That tickles!”
Ela grinned and some of the ache faded from her soul. Her sister’s joy was as irresistible as breathing. “Thank You, Infinite. You always have the perfect answer.”
Almost climbing over Ela’s shoulder toward the destroyer now, Tzana cried, “He’s our pet! Can I ride him?”
Ela glanced around and saw their four captors had halted. They looked disgruntled by the delay. Well, she could certainly move faster if Tzana rode. If they both rode. Moreover, the Infinite had prompted her to befriend this horse. Wasn’t it logical to believe she and Tzana would be allowed to ride it? And the monster—destroyer—seemed agreeable. Her decision made, she boosted Tzana toward the horse’s war collar. “Climb up, move forward, and grab a handle on his collar. I’m riding too.”
“We shouldn’t allow this!” one of the soldiers protested. “Not only did she kill Commander Taun, but that’s his destroyer—and women don’t ride destroyers!”
“Are you going to stop her?” the lead soldier asked the protester.
Ela hesitated. Surprisingly, the irate man didn’t try to stop her. But he brooded, grim-faced, as if, having lost a battle, he were plotting revenge. She ignored him.
Seating Tzana was easy. Seating herself would be more difficult. This creature was entirely too tall for Ela to simply bound up onto its back—the collar’s lowest footholds were too high. She studied the landscape and saw her solution.
Trying to convey a request, she stroked the beast’s neck, then walked toward a boulder. “Will you come with me?” she asked. The destroyer followed at an amiable saunter, prompting delighted giggles from Tzana.
Branch in hand, Ela climbed the boulder and reached out to stroke the big horse’s wide neck again as it paused before her, incredibly meek. Encouraged, she adjusted the branch to avoid hitting Tzana, pushed General Tek Juay’s sword aside, then climbed onto the thick rider’s quilt and settled herself sideways, mimicking the few female riding traders she’d seen in Parne. Tzana sat astride in front of Ela, tiny and heedlessly young, her long tunic bunched just above her thin, knobby knees. A child with a new toy. She turned to Ela. “Can we keep him?”
“He’s not ours,” Ela answered. “We’re only borrowing him.”
Branch clasped in one hand, the destroyer’s reins gathered in the other, Ela urged the animal to follow the lead soldier, who had ridden onward.
The soldier who had protested Ela’s decision to ride goaded his destroyer alongside her. With a smile that wasn’t a smile, he said, “That addled beast is the last creature you’ll ever bewitch. Mark my words, you’ll be executed in Riyan.”
“Mark my words: I won’t,” Ela replied, suddenly realizing it was the truth. She gritted her teeth as glimmers of a vision pierced her thoughts. A king. A battle. Soldiers falling. Dying. And she, Ela Roeh of Parne, would be at least partially responsible for their deaths.
No!
Inexplicably, the destroyer halted. Ela prodded him to move onward, then she implored her Creator to reconsider. “Please, Infinite! I’m not clever or expert enough for any of this. I don’t want to tear down a bird’s nest, much less a kingdom or nation. Particularly if it causes others to die!”
Silence answered.
Argh! Just like Father when he considered a discussion ended.
Ela fumed awhile, glaring past Tzana at the destroyer’s shining black mane. Finally, her attention shifted to his large, listening black ears, which perked back and forth. Amusing ears. She enjoyed watching them, actually. And she liked riding.
Think of it . . . scrawny Ela Roeh and her afflicted little sister, riding a gigantic destroyer that sought their attention. Who in Parne would ever believe her?
Already Ela’s feet, back, and arms felt better. Wasn’t this a gift? Hadn’t the Infinite offered her this respite? And here she sat—Ela could just see herself—sulky and ungrateful as a spoiled child.
Not to mention thoroughly wrong.
“Infinite?” Ela knew He saw and felt her remorse. “Thank You!”
Even if she and Tzana were riding into the chaos.
Had she ever imagined such a dazzling city? Ela gawked at Riyan. Early evening sunlight gilded the city’s exquisite towers and spires, their bases misted by curling wisps of smoke. Above the slender spires, dules of doves fluttered and soared high into the golden sky, their ethereal white forms offset by the looming deep blue mountains beyond Riyan. “How beautiful!”
“We’re too late for the sacrifices,” the always-irritable soldier grumbled loudly to his companions as they rode behind Ela.
“At least we’ll be fed,” the new commander replied. He looked back at Ela now, his tanned, powerful face dispassionate. “Tonight you will sleep in a cell. Unless your trial convenes immediately.”
“It will,” Irritable announced, sounding smug. “I intend to speak to my uncle at once.”
Was this boorish soldier’s uncle a magistrate? Ela would have never guessed.
The commander fixed Ela’s foe with a severe look. “Ket, you will allow us time to stable our horses and eat.”
“If the witnesses are hungry, the trial won’t be delayed,” Ket pointed out, smugness intact.
“If the witnesses are hungry, they won’t testify!” someone else cried. His rage made Ela turn. It was the youngest soldier, who had first recognized General Tek Juay’s sword. He jutted out his black-whiskered chin, truculent, as if baiting Ket. Riding behind him, the fourth soldier merely belched, then glared and nodded agreement to the youngest soldier’s antagonistic retort.
Ket leaned forward on his destroyer and growled, “Is that a threat, Tal? I can have you imprisoned for refusing to cooperate!”
“You mean your uncle, the judge, can have me imprisoned, don’t you? But I’m willing to bet my evening meal he’s not as fond of you as you believe.”
Ket drew his sword, the thin, dangerous ring of metal sliding across metal accentuating his reply. “Dung heap! Do you think I’ll take insults from you?”
“Stop!” their leader snarled. “Ket, I gave you an order. You will not speak to your uncle until we’ve eaten. Put away your sword or I’ll have you cleaning cesspits for the next year! Tal, drop that smile off your face. I order all of you to be quiet! The citizens are listening, and you sound shamefully like squabbling brats instead of trained soldiers.”
The three miscreants straightened and responded in trained unison. “Yes, sir.”
Tzana plucked Ela’s sleeve and leaned back. “We’re not squabbling,” she announced, sounding pleased with herself and Ela.
“No, we’re not,” Ela agreed. “And I think we’ve more reason to squabble than they do.”
Behind them, Ket snorted and uttered a vicious oath. Somehow, the noise provoked Taun’s destroyer, and it kicked back toward Ket’s destroyer, huffing apparent threats, jolting both girls in the process. Tzana squeaked, and Ela hastily smoothed the animal’s glossy black coat. “Shh. It’s useless to lose your temper—though we appreciate your instinct to defend us.”
“Just when I thought that beast had become a mouse,” Tal said. “It has some spirit left after all.”
“Quiet!” the commander ordered. “Tal, when we reach the barracks, you will scrub the floors and practice keeping your mouth shut.”
> “Yes, sir.”
The destroyers’ hooves thumped against stone pavings as their small party entered the first street in Riyan. A chill descended on Ela as they passed one of the exquisite spires she’d admired earlier. This spire—indeed all the spires—evidently marked the city’s temples. “So many,” she whispered. She longed to cry. She prayed instead.
A vision opened within Ela’s thoughts. She braced herself, pressed the branch hard against her forehead, and shut her eyes as she tried to make sense of what she saw and heard.
Burly craftsmen carving wood, chiseling flawless stones, painting the carvings and adorning them with gold and gems. Kissing the floor on which the ornate objects stood.
Proclaiming the objects gods.
See how these carvers work! They use half of their wood for their fire to keep warm, and they sculpt the remaining half to form their little gods, who do nothing for them. Can these gods send blessings? Lightning? Or rain to nurture their crops?
Ela felt the Infinite’s contempt. Where are these gods? I do not see them here beside Me! These people cannot understand how foolish they are, trusting clumps of wood, metal, and stone they’ve sculpted with their own hands. Look!
At His urging, Ela opened her eyes and looked skyward. At the fluttering doves. My creatures are compelled to signal the useless sacrifices these fools have just made to their false gods. Sacrifices to nothing!
Smoke filled the street as Ela passed one particularly large temple. Burning spices added pungency to the smoke’s scent, not quite masking an underlying stench of scorched flesh. Ela covered her eyes and saw the sacrifices in her vision now. Doves. Lambs. Horses. Children.
She suppressed the need to vomit. But she couldn’t hold back her tears.
“What’s wrong? Why are you delaying us?” The commander rode toward Ela. She blinked, realizing the destroyer had stopped.
“Forgive me.” Ela wiped her tears.
Tzana leaned back against her, concern fretting the wrinkles in her small face. “Ela, are you sick?”
