by R. J. Larson
Avoiding his gaze, she gathered more rags and hoped she wasn’t blushing. Silly, unprophetish behavior. Think! Consider the battle instead of Kien. Consider the general and his commanders trying to decide her fate. Ela spiked the branch in the center of the Tracelanders’ encampment, picked up Tzana, then turned toward Kien. “Whatever the commanders decide to do with us, their decision won’t have much effect. The Infinite’s plans overrule theirs.”
“Should I be reassured or alarmed?”
“Perhaps both.” Yet she should be thoroughly alarmed. She was alive. And in love with Kien Lantec. Foolish, irresponsible prophet! Thankfully, Kien seemed preoccupied with leading Pet and lugging his grooming tools. Ela followed him down to the river.
“It’s too soon after the battle to douse him in the water,” Kien pointed out. “He might become colicky. Of course, I’m presuming he’s actually a horse despite his size.”
Pet huffed and swung away, slapping Kien in the face with his matted tail. Kien and Tzana laughed. Ela smiled and immediately felt guilty. How could she smile or think of love so soon after such an awful battle?
She set down Tzana, picked up the bucket, and went to the river’s edge. Icy water lapped at her sandaled toes, making her gasp. Good. The chill might distract her from Kien.
Shivering, Ela returned to Tzana, Pet, and Kien. The Tracelander was nudging a rock loose with his booted foot. He grabbed the rock and traded Ela for the bucket in her hands. “Look. This is why the Istgardians wanted Ytar. These indicate the ores for our Azurnite swords.”
Glad to focus on a new subject, Ela studied the tiny blue gems embedded in the dark blue-gray stones. Similar to the yellow-green streaked rocks near Parne. Did Parne’s soil contain valuable ores? “I knew the massacre was provoked by greed, but I didn’t see these crystals.” She quickly handed the blue-speckled stone to the eager Tzana.
As he swabbed Pet’s face, Kien said, “Ytar was founded on the main path from Istgard into the Tracelands. If you look along the river, you’ll see small holes carved into the sides of the riverbank—and you’ll see traces of blue in the rocks.”
“Blue traces? This is how the Tracelands was named,” Ela realized.
“Yes. Blue traces in the stones also mark most of our main water supplies.” Pet swerved away from Kien now, clearly lured by green shrubbery along the riverbank. Kien growled. “You lummox! Fine. Eat. Just stand still so I can wipe you down. First, let’s uncover you.”
As they removed Pet’s quilt and draped it over a sturdy shrub, Ela said, “The ores enticed Istgard to invade Ytar.”
“Exactly,” Kien agreed. “We’ve found that these ores surpass all others for strengthening our swords and other metalwork. These new metals will bring great wealth to our country.”
Glimmers of imagery slid into Ela’s thoughts. Picking up a nubby rag, Ela began to wipe Pet’s damp neck. “In addition to wealth, those ores will provoke envy from neighboring countries. You must do everything within your power to prevent your countrymen from becoming as proud and corrupted as the Istgardians have been.”
Kien paused and stepped back to survey Pet’s massive shoulder. He flicked a glance at Ela, then splashed Pet’s shoulder with water. “Is that a hint that I’ll eventually have enough power to persuade my countrymen to listen to me?”
“Something like that.”
“Does this mean I’ll become an assemblyman?” He didn’t look altogether pleased.
Absorbed with new images, Ela paused, then smiled. “Your father will discuss your future with you soon. Listen to him.”
“We don’t always agree.”
“This time you will.”
Kien shook his head, swabbed Pet’s sides, then went to rinse his rag and refill the bucket. He returned and continued scrubbing. “Are you saying I’ll see my father soon?”
“Your parents and sister will receive the courier bird’s message from the commander this afternoon. They’ll be on the road before sunset because they’re so eager to see you.” Ela paused, reflecting on a portion of what she’d seen. “They’ve been desperately worried about you, of course. You have a lovely family.” Though with a few troublesome qualities.
Kien paused his swabbing. “You’ve seen all this?”
“In bits and pieces, yes.”
“Why in bits and pieces? Why not all at once?”
Ela winced at the question. “Because the Infinite knows I can’t endure too many large visions. They’re agony. Particularly if the subject matter’s unpleasant.”
“But you said I have a lovely family.”
“Most of my visions aren’t lovely—like those of the battle. Tzana!” Ela called to her little sister, who was meandering along the riverbank, evidently searching for more crystals. “Don’t wander away. I’m too tired to chase you.”
“Pet will find me,” Tzana chirped. “Or one of the messengers.” She stopped, as if remembering something. “What did the messengers tell you this morning?”
“Only to be strong, and to pray.”
Tzana drooped a bit, mournful. “One waited with me while you were sleeping. I wished they’d stopped the fighting. I heard it.”
Aware of Kien’s raised eyebrows, Ela said, “They weren’t there to stop the battle—only to help the Tracelands.”
“Help the Tracelands?” Kien interrupted. “Forgive me, but whom are you discussing?”
Ela foresaw without a vision that this would be a recurring conversation. “The Infinite’s messengers. They also serve as His warriors. You couldn’t see them, but they were with us this morning.”
“They’re bigger than Pet!” Tzana fluttered one small hand in an attempt to describe their height. As Pet wheezed, she said, “And they talk to me sometimes. Two of them guarded me in the desert while Ela was gone, and one pushed open a door for me.”
“Pushed open a door?” Ela stopped. Tzana and a door . . . “Was that the day you took the branch from Eshtmoh’s tomb house?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I didn’t see a messenger breaking that door.” But it made sense. Infinite?
You weren’t looking closely enough.
Obviously. Well, her brain had been addled by the vision of Ytar. “Tzana, how long have you been talking to messengers?”
“Um. Well, before, when I didn’t know they were messengers, we never talked.”
Not helpful. Ela persisted. “How many years have you seen messengers?”
“I don’t know.” Tzana became irritable. “They’re just always waiting.”
“She sees messengers from the Infinite?” Kien asked. “You both see messengers—warriors no one else can see?”
“Don’t you dare call this Parnian whimsy,” Ela warned. She opened her mouth to question Tzana again, but Pet charged into the river, his patience unmistakably spent.
“It’ll be easier to clean him there—as long as he doesn’t become chilled,” Ela said.
“Agreed.” Kien waded into the current. “But don’t change the subject. Tell me about the messengers.”
“Describing messengers can never do them justice.” Ela pinned her mantle high around her neck and shoulders. She grabbed the pail and a rag, and waded into the waist-deep water, stationing herself on the side opposite Kien.
While Ela dabbed at her destroyer’s scratches, Pet nosed the water as if testing it. Without warning, he raised his head, then lifted one massive hoof and splashed it into the water repeatedly. With such force that Ela was drenched in a storm of frothy waves and rippling currents. From his side of the destroyer, Kien yelled, “You scoundrel! We’re trying to work.”
Ela surrendered to the drenching. She heaved a bucketful of water over Pet’s back.
Kien answered with a splutter and a bellow. “Prophets have terrible aim!”
“Evidently not!” Ela dashed another torrent over Pet’s back.
“Hand over the bucket!” Kien started to wade around the destroyer. Pet flanked him, interceding for Ela.
A w
ater fight ensued, with Pet as instigator, changing sides according to his equine whims. Pitting master against master. A clean skirmish with no victor.
“Infinite.” Ela praised Him as she caught her breath. “Thank You!” She felt refreshed—outwardly at least. Why couldn’t all squabbles be settled this way? And Kien had evidently forgotten about the messengers. A blessing. She was too tired for an interrogation.
“Ela!” Tzana shrilled from the riverbank. Ela turned and saw Tzana clamber to her feet, clutching her hoard of crystals while staring at the bank downriver.
Ela’s breath stopped in her throat. A plaintive nicker reached her from a thicket of shadowed trees. Massive forms emerged.
Destroyers. They traversed the riverbank as a herd, their dark heads submissively lowered as they approached. Pet swung his head toward the herd, then sniffed. Languid, he drank from the river as if the herd was beneath his notice.
Ela waded toward the destroyers, intrigued. They all but begged for her attention. She’d never seen the gargantuan creatures adopt such an attitude of meekness.
Except on the morning Pet pledged himself to her service. Pledged . . .
“Infinite, no,” Ela whimpered. She halted in the knee-deep water. “Not a whole herd.”
Pity them.
A many-plied twist of emotions threaded into her soul. Loss. Pain. Confusion. Finding in Ela a source of undeniable strength. “They see You. Not me,” Ela whispered to her Creator.
Yes.
Ela trudged out of the river. The herd clustered around her protectively, breathing down her neck, into her hair. Along her arms.
Sweat chilled on Ela’s skin. She was going to suffocate, smothered by a herd of pathetic destroyers.
Be calm.
“Do I have a choice?”
23
Despite his envy, Kien grinned as he waded from the river. Ela managed to extricate herself from the herd of destroyers, but she looked like a lost child on the verge of panic.
“Stop!” She lifted her hands at the herd. As one body, the destroyers obeyed, watching her with single-minded intensity. Ela seemed to make a decision. She squared her shoulders and straightened her mantle. “Follow me, all of you. But no licking me! And no squabbling.”
“Is squabbling in a destroyer’s vocabulary?” Kien called out, glad to tease her. Surely amusement would force his memories of the battle to the outermost fringes of his thoughts. He hoped.
Ela glared at him. “Oh, hush! They’re not breathing down your neck, are they?”
Such feistiness. Her resilience was amazing. Kien was about to snap a suitable retort when Pet—Scythe—nudged his shoulder and snorted into his hair. The destroyer’s next move—Kien imagined—would be to slobber on him. He lifted his voice toward Ela. “I see your point!” To Scythe, he muttered, “You’re concerned, aren’t you. A bit threatened by the herd?”
Kien saw Scythe blink. “Come on. You’ve no reason to worry—she loves you.”
The destroyer sighed. He followed Kien from the river and waited patiently as Kien boosted Tzana onto Scythe’s broad, dark back. Once she’d settled herself, the little girl beamed down at Kien, bright-eyed. “Now we have lots of Pets!”
“I wouldn’t say that too often, Tzana. Scythe is looking a bit gloomy.”
“He isn’t happy that his friends came to play?” The child’s face puckered with confusion. “I love my friends.”
“Yes, you do. But I fear Scythe’s nature isn’t as generous as yours, young lady.”
“His name is Pet,” Tzana reminded him.
“He is your Pet, of course.” But he was Scythe when Tzana wasn’t listening. Kien drained water from his boots and gathered the destroyer’s grooming tools. Ela seemed to have forgotten them altogether. She was walking away, leading the herd up the riverbank toward the encampment. Kien anticipated the shock on his countrymen’s faces when the waterlogged little Parnian prophet led an entire herd of destroyers into their midst. “Let’s hurry.”
“Run, Pet!” Tzana clutched Pet’s damp mane and whooped as he trotted beside Kien. But as the destroyer began to nip at various members of the herd, she scolded, “No! That’s not nice!”
Kien noticed that not a single member of the herd offered Pet—Scythe—resistance. Indeed, they lowered their big heads and shied away from him. Scythe quickly assumed a swaggering gait. The bully. Evidently he’d designated himself as the herd’s leader. After Ela.
“What am I going to do with them?” Ela asked when Kien caught up to her.
Ela’s imploring dark eyes more than compensated for her bedraggled clothes and wet, tangled hair. Had any other Parnian prophet been adorable? Not likely. He grinned. “I presume you asked the Infinite for a solution.”
“Yes, but He seems to be testing my patience. Evidently I must persist until He answers.”
“Then persist.”
“Can we keep them?” Tzana sounded thrilled by the prospect.
Ela’s expression became distant. Questioning the Infinite, Kien guessed. Now and then, different destroyers nudged her, as if pleading for benevolence. She smoothed one’s muzzle. Later, a second’s black neck. Distracted, like someone trying to pay attention to one conversation while listening to another.
She was so absentminded that Kien feared she would trip over her own feet, causing the destroyers to stampede in a rush to help her. Well, he’d seen enough bloodshed. Kien adjusted the gear and steadied the girl with a hand to her elbow while they walked.
Ela didn’t acknowledge him. But the destroyers were discomfited by his gesture. Over Tzana’s protests, Scythe bit at several who seemed particularly upset with Kien. They retreated, rumbling low noises, expressing obvious concern.
As Kien hoped, their arrival in the Tracelanders’ encampment created chaos—soldiers staring, pointing, retreating in alarm, calling out warnings. “Destroyers!”
Kien dropped his gear and pretended nonchalance, changing his wet boots for dry sandals. As soon as possible, he would return to Ytar and find his confiscated belongings.
Ela finally shook off her absentmindedness. She retrieved her branch and faced Kien’s comrades. “When your general returns I’ll be resting, but please send for me. I’ll be with the destroyers. Tzana . . .” Ela motioned to her sister. “Nap time.”
“Aw! I want to play with our pets!”
“Believe me, you’ll see them the instant you open your eyes.”
Disappointed, Kien watched Ela cross to the clearing. She evidently planned to sleep amid a protective ring of destroyers.
Not a bad idea. He nudged Scythe. “Stay here, you bully, and keep watch while I rest.”
Scythe grumbled.
“Order them off,” the general told Ela. He and his attendants looked past her, clearly unnerved by the herd of destroyers standing guard in a crowded semicircle behind her.
“I can’t, sir. I’m sorry.” Ela shifted the branch in her hands. Surprising that she felt its inward warmth, because the destroyers were radiating such heat from their nearness that it surrounded her like a sultry cloak. “They’re overly eager to protect me. You’ll simply have to speak graciously and look pleasant. Otherwise they’ll become difficult.”
The general smiled. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s the truth.” Ela didn’t return his smile. He was staring at the destroyers again. She cleared her throat. “You were planning to tell me that I’m free to go or stay, as I please.”
Silvery eyebrows raised, the Tracelander asked, “Are you sure?”
“Do you deny it?”
He exhaled. “No. We gathered testimony. You’re acquitted of being a spy. However, Istgard’s surviving commanders have asked to speak with you and Ambassador Lantec. Therefore, if you are planning to leave us—with your herd—I’d prefer you delay your departure.”
Istgard’s surviving commanders. Ela sighed. The battle’s losses weighed upon her spirit like stones. In years to come, would the Istgardians blame her for their dead? For
the destruction of their kingdom? She pulled herself back to the present. “Yes, the survivors. . . . The crown commander, four landholders, and three minor commanders.”
“Who told you?” The general’s edginess provoked a stir among the destroyers.
Ela lifted the branch and called over her shoulder, “Be still!” Obedient, the destroyers all but froze in place, though she could feel their collective breath.
Gently, the Tracelandic leader observed, “They obeyed you perfectly just now. Tell me again why you can’t send them away. I’m convinced you’ve kept them here to intimidate us.”
Be patient, she reminded herself. Tracelanders knew almost nothing about destroyers. “Sir, if I send this herd away, they’ll believe they have no masters. They were created to serve. If they cannot protect a master, they’ll soon turn wild and live up to their name, destroying everything in their path. Knowing this, sir, tell me . . . what should I do?”
His voice softening further, the general said, “Do what you’ve wisely chosen to do.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ela shifted, feeling destroyer-induced sweat slither down her back. “As for your request, I’ll listen to Istgard’s commanders, but I’ve little to say. And regarding your question—how did I know which Istgardians had requested a meeting?—our Creator informed me of their current plans.”
Now the leader’s smile was cynical. “The Infinite. Again.”
Ela answered his smile with her own. “Yes. The Infinite. Always. And while you’re in such a good mood, General, I wanted to ask you . . . How many Tracelanders died in this battle?”
“You claim to be a prophet. Don’t you know?”
“I know you don’t know, sir. But never mind. I’ll tell you. None. Not one of your men died—though a few are wounded and will recover.”
The Tracelander cast a look at one of his aides. The man nodded. “She’s correct, sir.”
Ela didn’t wait for the general to respond. “How many from Istgard died, sir?”
The general glanced at his nearest attendant. “With permission, general,” the aide offered, “we’re still counting.”
