Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1)

by Lauren Amundson

  Today was family day—the one day in the week that no one worked. Unfortunately, that meant that my lessons would not be able to resume until the day after, causing me yet another day of idleness. I, untainted by a direct relation to the Empire, was permitted to wander as I pleased, but Adara and Bahlym were told they would require someone to accompany them. Yammin offered his company, but both Adara and Bahlym chose to stay at home. I needed some time to myself. Yammin and I left the house together, but he turned left, so I turned right.

  In the area around Desha’s house, children scampered underfoot, but in the areas further out, there were no children to be seen. As I walked by, people would grow silent and watch me, which I did not mind. Their whispers were overpowered by the harsh caw caws of birds and the soft chimes of wind blowing through the glass mobiles hanging outside many of the buildings.

  But, as my walk continued, I began to have an uncanny sense that someone followed me. And then that someone was joined by others. And then others. Soon, the uncanny sense turned into a definite confirmation. A crowd grew behind me. And they did not look happy. Worse yet, I had no idea where I was, no idea how to get back to Desha’s, and a mob was gathering.

  I turned around. A young woman with short fire-red hair marched forward. The others hung back, watching. “Puny bug, your presence defiles the Mitanni.” She spat at my feet. The crowd bellowed their approval. They reminded me of a mob I’d seen my first day in the Empire. Bahlym had been so afraid for Adara. I now understood why.

  “I am only here to help,” I said slowly, but the crowd couldn’t hear me through their jeers. Instinctually, I drew the Mist to myself, and just in time. Someone from the crowd hurled a rock. I buffered the impact enough to keep my arm from shattering. Rocks hurled with human hands and Mist pelted the barrier. After all I had survived, I was not going to be stoned to death by an angry mob.

  The Mist swarmed to me. Azabin’s anger fueled me. I comprehended the tenuous line upon which I walked. I could blast all these people to smithereens, but I could not manage finesse over Azabin’s power. It came too quickly. It devoured me and craved the life-blood of the angry throng around me.

  I dropped the Mist.

  I knew that I did not weave Azabin. He wove me. Azabin ached to escape. He wanted me to be his corporeal implement. I tried to drop it, but another rock struck the ground near my feet and ricocheted to my shin. I collapsed to the ground in pain, and clung to Azabin, grasping for him again, struggling to stay defensive, but the more I tried to control him, the more overwhelmed I felt. Azabin laughed as he smothered me in power. I could feel him, leagues away. If I let go, the crowd would tear me apart, but if I did not...

  “What exactly is going on here?” Rcanian’s voice cracked through the air.

  I released the Mist and Azabin released me. The shouts of the crowd turned off as if by a switch. Panting, I clung to the ground, trying to regain a sense of who I was.

  “We are protecting our ways,” the woman who first spat at me declared.

  “By attacking an unarmed pregnant woman?” Rcanian snarled.

  “I’d have expected you to cast a stone yourself,” the woman retorted, undeterred. “On the flight back to the city, you promised to bring our concerns before Desha.”

  Rcanian stood between the crowd and me, glaring at the woman. “I did, but I was wrong. And so are you.”

  “No.” The woman did not back down. “You told me that you Foretold her bind the Mist. You Foretold her Channel The Edges, uncertain if she wielded Azabin or if it wielded her.” There was too much in the look that past between them. The tension was almost palpable. But I could also sense an abyss of emotions between them. Implicitly, I understood. They’d been lovers once, but no more.

  “I told you, not the whole Guardians -be-damned village!” he bellowed, but then took a deep breath and continued, his voice quieter, but still dagger-sharp. “And the key word there is ‘uncertain.’ The things I have Foretold are not clear yet. Certainly not clear enough to condone murder.” His gaze lingered on her face for a few heartbeats before he turned his attention to the crowd. “You will all return to your families. Now.”

  The woman began to protest, but Rcanian put up his hand. “I do not claim the Burden, but I do claim the Sight. Do you challenge me, Vasani?” He leaned toward her, anger and sadness co-mingled in his stare. I did not know if his feeling always bled through so freely or if I simply saw my own mannerisms in him, as Kirta had predicted.

  “I do not.” She threw the stone to the ground. It struck with an angry crash. No one said anything else. They left; dispersing like Azabin had moments ago.

  Rcanian knelt beside me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. I stood up, shaking.

  He observed me strangely. “Uninjured, but not fine, I think. You want some company?”

  “Not really, but I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

  “I’m off to the tavern, if you’d like to join me,” he said, but at my look of confusion—all shops should be closed on Family Day—he clarified. “Barkeeps have friends and families, too, Promise. They are allowed to entertain.”

  “I’d really much rather be called Hailey.” I could feel the angry pinpricks of glares from the Mitanni citizens, but with Rcanian by my side, no one challenged me. “Did you really See The Edges trying to wield me? Do you think it’s possible?”

  “What does the book say?” he asked, not unkindly, deflecting. We walked in companionable silence for a few blocks.

  “I think I can feel Azabin and he can feel me. I’m linked to him,” I admitted. “He has tried to reach out through me already.”

  He shrugged. “Desha and my grandmother know what I Foretold. If they aren’t worried, then I am not, either.”

  We walked a few more blocks, going down a full flight of steps, below ground level. There were no windows to let in the daylight, but the handful of candles lining the back wall cast an eerie glow upon the whole room.

  “Rcanian, you found my errant houseguest!” Yammin called out, raising his glass in welcome. A second man called out a greeting. Both stood in front of a strange elbow-height table.

  “I’m Esden. We all sit on the Council together,” said the man I did not know.

  “The Empire has a Council, too,” I pointed out. The men shrugged at the comparison.

  “I understand that your youngest daughter has barricaded herself in the loft,” Rcanian said to Yammin.

  “If I had Empirites sleeping in my house, I’d seek shelter, too.” Esden sat down on a tall chair; his legs hung freely, dangling like a child’s. “I tell you, Promise—”

  “Hailey,” I corrected.

  “—those people you keep company with…” He shook his head in disdain. “Fattened on the teat of the Empire.”

  I understood the tone as an insult, but I did not understand the reference. Both Adara and Bahlym were quite slim. “I have very little interest in sitting here and listening to people who have never met my friends belittle them.”

  “You’re right,” Esden acknowledged. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

  “You enjoy coddling yourself in your righteous indignation over wrongs committed centuries ago, but times are changing.” I climbed onto one of the tall chairs.

  Yammin’s tone changed from joking to philosophical. “We are judging all the cultures of the world based upon the one we share the Slice with. Who is to say that the others won’t be better?”

  “Or worse,” Esden pointed out, pouring a small glass of clear liquid. “Too bad you can’t have any. Once the child comes and you can drink again, you are in for a real treat. This is the best Berry Brandy in the entire Mitanni realm.”

  “You say that because you made it,” Yammin told him, dryly.

  Esden ignored the comment. “Did Rcanian tell you that he has seen Foretold of the Promise? Of you?”

  “So I’ve heard,” I responded.

  Esden leaned closer to me, trying to draw
me in. “He’s not told anyone outside of this room.”

  “He’s spoken of some events that he has Foretold,” I said, recalling the angry mob.

  “He’s seen the Mist bound, and he’s seen you do it,” Esden continued, undeterred.

  “I didn’t say that I Foretold her do it,” Rcanian corrected him. “It is far from that clear or that simple.”

  Esden continued his story, using the same tone that Meena used to tell ghost stories to Lexie. Ominous, yet jesting. “How can anyone bind the Mist? Can you bind sounds? It’s not something to bind.”

  “Doesn’t the Empire do that?” I asked.

  “They Channel it. What Rcanian Foretold you do was the opposite.”

  “But I also Foretold the Promise release it,” Rcanian said, glaring at Esden.

  “What did Kirta think of what you Foretold?” I asked Rcanian.

  Yammin spoke up. “He’s not told her yet. Until he understands what he Foretold, he isn’t supposed to speak of it. When he blabbed about you Channeling The Edges, Kirta about had a conniption fit.”

  “And she was right to be so angry. That crowd might have killed you because I hadn’t kept what I Foretold to myself while it was unclear.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you are very good at keeping them to yourself. I’ve known you for a day and I’ve already heard of three times you have Foretold.” I enumerated them on my fingers. “One: Desha will refuse to relinquish control. Two: I’m going to Channel The Edges—and that one almost cost me my life. And now three: I’m going to bind the Mist. “

  “I’m sure what I Foretold about Desha,” Rcanian responded, sounding despondent. He stared into his empty glass. “Of those three, it’s the only one I can’t imagine, but it’s the one I am the most sure of.”

  “Why can’t you imagine it?” I asked.

  “Because I can’t imagine being in a situation worth losing my ability to Foretell,” he sighed. “Regardless, the priests would never attempt to usurp control. That would be blasphemy.”

  “Anyone who thinks that the Mitanni are not going to change is lying to themselves,” said Esden.

  “What’s wrong with change?” I asked.

  “Change isn’t bad,” Yammin said. “It isn’t.” He repeated as his friends gaped at him. “Change isn’t going to cause us to lose our power or our community. We are strong enough in our convictions to survive it.”

  “You’d test our strength?” Esden challenged.

  Yammin shook his head. “It’s not a test.”

  “But it is,” Esden countered. “There is no way for us to be this involved and remain separated from the world. We are now a primary player. It will change everything.”

  “I don’t think that our way of life requires us to sequester ourselves away from the rest of the world. We fully interacted before the Empire Aggressions,” Yammin said.

  Esden poured himself another shot of Berry Brandy and downed it, slamming down the tiny cup as he swallowed. “Some believe that’s the whole of our strength. But not you. You never have.” He leaned in close, almost threateningly, to Yammin.

  “I don’t think this will be solved on a Family Day,” Rcanian said, pushing away from the table and stepping in front of the two men. “It’s getting closer to dinner time. We’d probably all best be heading toward our homes.”

  Chapter 30

  After we’d eaten dinner and then tidied up, we all sat around the table. Awkward silence enveloped us. The shutters and doors had been drawn shut, buffering us against the plummeting night temperatures. But the mountain night air brought temperatures chillier than Adara, Bahlym, and I had anticipated. I pulled the scratchy woolen sweater Desha had lent me around my shoulders.

  Embe had still never emerged from her loft fortress. Namje took a plate of food, loaded with extra desserts, to her sister while I sat with the adults, racking my brain for some conversation topic to breech the silence. All I could think about was my book, but conversations related to any form of work or tasks were forbidden on Family Day. I wanted to grab the book and someone who could help me learn ancient Cuneiform, but instead I sat, following the customs of the culture.

  Bahlym broke the silence. “I understand that, before Krineem, your Council allowed a diplomat from the Empire to hold a non-voting seat.” Everyone blinked in surprise. The awkward feeling escalated.

  Desha frowned slightly. “Yes, before Krineem. But, not since.”

  “To be fair, that’s only because there have been no Empirites living amongst the Mitanni,” Yammin pointed out.

  “It’s not a good idea,” Desha said.

  “With all due respect, Desha, it’s not for the priests to decide,” Rcanian reminded her. “The Burden doesn’t extend to who sits on the Council.”

  Before Desha could respond, we were interrupted by shrieks in stereo, from both children punctuated by loud banging against the ceiling. Namje’s voice carried throughout the home, echoing off the stone walls. “You are a coward!” she yelled. “You are an insult to the pride of the Mitanni!”

  Desha excused herself from the table, ran upstairs, and returned with Namje. Tears stained the little girl’s face. It was painfully obvious that the living situation was not going to work out.

  Rcanian provided the solution. “You can stay at my house,” he offered.

  Even though it was Family Day, everyone decided that, for Embe’s sake, we should move that very night. Rcanian’s house was nearly identical to Desha’s and thus much easier to accommodate three additional people since he lived by himself. Bahlym took the second bedroom and Adara and I shared the loft.

  Bahlym lugged our packs up the ladder to the loft. Sighing, he plopped down onto the cot. “Are you going to be able to hobble up here in your state?”

  “We won’t be here that long,” I insisted.

  “I hope I get onto the Council,” Bahlym said. “Do you think the Promise holds much sway here?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I fidgeted.

  “You could try to talk to Rcanian,” Bahlym leaned forward. “I really need that seat. I need to do more than hang around waiting while you two study.”

  I understood not wanting to feel bored. And since his boredom was directly related to him helping me escape, I agreed to speak with Rcanian. I shooed Bahlym off to bed and went down to the table, book in hand. I had barley set it down when Rcanian materialized. “You can’t do that on Family Day.”

  “It’s Family Night,” I said, but closed the book. “Fine. Thanks for letting us stay here.”

  Rcanian sat down, taking the bait. I hadn’t actually planned on studying. I tapped my fingers on the book’s cover. “Bahlym wants on the Council. I think you should let him.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy. You were right earlier. The world is changing. You can’t remain as isolated as you’ve been. Maybe welcoming Bahlym will be a good first step.”

  “Vasani and the others won’t like it. Desha won’t allow it.”

  “You said the Burden doesn’t extend to the Council. It’s up to you and your grandmother.”

  “I’ll think on it.” He wagged a finger at me. “No studying.”

  “Promise,” I said, pushing the book away. Rcanian turned to leave, but then squinted at me and took the book.

  “I think I know you well enough,” he chided.

  With nothing left to do, I retired to the loft and drifted off to a dreamless sleep. The next morning, despite Rcanian’s concerns, I went to Vasani’s house. Garth had always recommended keeping one’s enemies close. If Bahlym hoped to be listened to by the Council, and if I hoped to be able to wander safely around town, I needed Vasani to trust me. Or at least not hate me. Then the other Mitanni would follow her lead.

  The door to her home was open. I rapped on the door frame and waited. Vasani pushed aside the purple curtain that hung in the door’s opening. “What do you want?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “To talk,” I said. “It was hard
yesterday, with the rocks and all that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vasani said with no hint of apology in her voice. “Now will you go away?”

  “You aren’t sorry, and I’m not going away. Not until we talk,” I insisted.

  Sighing, she pulled the curtain back and beckoned me to come in. “Well?” she demanded.

  “I’m not your enemy. Neither are Adara and Bahlym. They gave up everything hoping for a better world, a world without The Edges.”

  “And?” She crossed her arms and leaned in toward me.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I am the Promise. I know you are lying.”

  “The Prophecy doesn’t mention that ability,” she retorted.

  “Why are the Mitanni afraid of outsiders?”

  “We are not afraid.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of The Edges destroying the mountains?” I asked.

  “Perhaps.”

  “The Edges will come here and destroy everything and everyone. I need the Mitanni’s help and the Mitanni need mine.”

  “We don’t need the Empirites.” She leaned forward, trying to intimidate me. It wasn’t very effective. “I’ll accept you if you throw them back.”

  Vasani was uncomfortably close, close enough for me to smell the oats she’d had for breakfast on her breath, but I did not step backward. I tilted my chin up and stared unflinching into her green eyes. “Adara and Bahlym brought me here. I owe them a debt as does the Mitanni if you say that I can save you. Without them, there would be no hope to remove Azabin and destroy The Edges.”

  “I do not need any Empirites,” Vasani growled. For a moment, I was certain that she was going to throw me out of her house, but she heaved a great sigh and stepped back. “But, I will concede that your Empirites, Adara and Bahlym, have helped the Mitanni by saving the Promise. But I do not have to like that you are here.”

  “You remind me of my friend, Meena. You two would either be fast friends or try to kill each other.”

  “If she was not Mitanni it would be the only reason to kill her.”

  “Surely, you do not believe that. Have you ever actually killed anyone?” I asked. Her look told me everything. “I see. Trust me; it’s a debt you do not want.”