by Kyle West
Her words had been turning over in my mind ever since that terrible night. The True Hyperborea. What was it, and where could it be?
I was broken from my thoughts when Isaru pointed into the distance. “Look.”
Some kind of structure lay about two miles out, in a small basin to the northeast of the winding river. It sat alone in the rocky desert, surrounded by scrubland. A small patch of crops grew back, watered by a thin rivulet running across the desert to join the wider river. It was about a mile off road, but clearly visible. Obviously, the person wasn't afraid of being seen, which was curious since the Barrens had a reputation for being dangerous. If the field was any indication, the shack was hardly abandoned.
“Could be a bandit's hideout,” Isaru said.
“This close to the road?”
Isaru nodded, conceding that I was probably right. “Looks like there might be food, anyhow. Anyone who can live out here has to have a means of supporting themselves.”
“I think we’ve already decided, then.”
We continued following the road along the cliff before it began descending into the basin. Morning passed into afternoon, and what had been a cool and pleasant day began warming up. It was nothing compared to summer weather, but still uncomfortable – especially for Isaru, who was used to the milder climate of the Red Wild and was sweating profusely.
We kept our gaze on the cabin until it was lost to view from the lowering of elevation. The sun was hot, but despite its heat, my skin felt cold and clammy. I drank from my canteen; water was something we'd always have plenty of as long as we stayed close to the river.
We stepped off the road and made our way across the desert flatland, past bare scrub and cacti bearing colorful fruit. We picked some of them, being wary of the thorns, before continuing on. I was beginning to wonder if we had gone the wrong way when we crested a low rise, which revealed the stone, single-room cabin not too far in the distance, just above the meandering stream. Unseen before, a thin stream of smoke rose from a short, stone chimney into the blue sky, where it quickly dissipated.
Despite its more than modest nature, the home seemed well-maintained. The stones were mortared and fit snugly together, and its red-tiled roof couldn't have been manufactured out here, and had to have been brought by barge. From the small stream, a simple sluice carried water to the field in back, where green crops were sprouting.
“I don’t believe whoever lives here is a bandit,” Isaru said.
“And it’s someone who bandits don’t steal from,” I said. “No signs this place has ever been attacked. There's not a roof tile out of place.”
Whatever this place’s story was, there was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER FOUR
WE APPROACHED THE HOUSE’S WOODEN door. Despite the dustiness of the surrounding terrain, it was surprisingly clean except at the very bottom, likely where it swung out above the dirt. As Isaru knocked, dust swirled at our feet.
We waited only for a moment before the door cracked open, revealing a pair of blue eyes set in a wrinkled face. The eyes squinted, as if they couldn't see the people standing at the door. His brown hair ringed a pale, bald head riddled with spots, while his short stature, protruding nose, and single bushy eyebrow demonstrated that, even in his younger years, he had never been a handsome man.
“I don’t know your faces,” he said, gruffly. “What brings you here? Tell me quickly, and there will be no trouble.”
Though his eyesight wasn’t the best, he had taken note of our weapons and didn’t seem to worry over them.
“We’re travelers,” Isaru said. “We were hoping you might have some spare food, or even water…”
The eyes narrowed, seeming to peer deeply into us both. Something gave me the feeling that the old man was seeing something far beyond appearance.
“Travelers,” the old man said, testing the word. “Not many travelers out this way. North or south? Both are equally hard.”
“North,” Isaru said. “To the Ruins.”
The old man grunted. “Nothing there but wars and death.” Then, he looked directly at our swords. “You are both young, but something still tells me the two of you are well-acquainted with those blades. Well, perhaps one of the gangs will take you…should you prove my hunch true.”
“We don’t have much to offer,” Isaru said. “We can offer news of Colonia, and even the Red Wild.”
The man’s expression became interested. “The Wild, you say. Well, there’s a place I don’t hear news of often. Little slips past the Selvan. Colonia, I learn news of fairly often.” He grunted. “Far more often than I should like, at times.” He gave us an appraising glance, as if trying to decide whether we were worthy of trust. At last, he sighed. “Come in, then. I suppose if you were going to steal from me, you would have done so and not asked.” He opened the door wider. “Even if that was the case, I’ve food and water to spare. Not much, mind you, but enough to fill your bellies for another few hours; I count news of the Wild as fair trade for that.” Again, he looked at our blades, and an expression of curiosity crossed his features.
We stepped into the shade of the cabin while the old man shut the door behind us. It was only slightly cooler inside than out, as a small fire was set in a hearth in the room’s back. A black pot hung over the fire, from which an appetizing aroma issued. Two open windows provided a cross breeze that brought at least some relief. There wasn't much more: humble, wooden furniture, such as a small circular table, well-made if old, surrounded by three wooden chairs with no adornment. There was a small single bed in one corner, with a thin blanket and mattress, while the far wall contained shelves filled with wooden cups, plates, and wooden figurines. The figurines were probably whittlings: old men seemed to be good at those for some reason. One of the carvings was of a Radaska dragon in flight, which sat next to an elephant, which was next to a fish. A shelf along the opposite wall was filled with plants, lined up beneath one of the cabin’s two windows, various cacti and herbs. One plant on the end, the largest, drew my eye because it was like nothing I’d ever seen before, being almost tree-like in appearance, but bearing small, silver berries. It had to be a plant from the Wild I was unfamiliar with.
“Please, sit,” the man said. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
Isaru and I took our seats at the table while the old man remained standing and reached for a couple of cups, cleaning them in a bowl of water first. I supposed he didn't get much company. He next poured water from a pitcher, then handed us the cups.
“Thank you,” both Isaru and I said.
The old man then went to grab a bowl, which he filled with more water. He set the bowl on the table, along with two clean hand towels. Once done drinking, I cleaned my face and hands.
When we were both done, he took the bowl away and set it on an end table on the opposite wall.
“I was cooking just for myself, but I tend to cook large meals that last the whole day; this will serve as enough for the three of us. I hope you enjoy fish stew.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Isaru said.
“I am glad to help in what little way I can.” The man sat down, blinking his eyes. “I am called Rasi of the Desert. Well…I was not always called such, but that is what the people who live out here call me.”
“I haven't seen anyone live out here,” I said. “Besides you, of course.”
“There are people if you know where to look. Most live far from the road to avoid trouble with the Covenant. There are good folk and bad…but mostly good. Even the bad ones don't bother me, preferring the riches of the barges that come downriver. I treat any well who treat me well.”
We had agreed, beforehand, to use assumed names. I doubted anyone would recognize us, but it was still safer. The man already knew we had news from the Red Wild, so Isaru using his real name might be especially risky.
“I am Elec,” Isaru said, “and this is Alara.”
“And you are married?”
Isaru shook his head.
“Are you Elekai?” I asked.
Rasi’s smile was missing at least half of his teeth. “No, child. I am simply Rasi of the Desert. I am a hermit, but I am not a misanthrope.” He nodded. “That, I think, is the best way to describe me. Upon a time, I traveled far and wide. From the Red Wild to the Eastern Kingdoms, and even to Nova itself.”
“Have you fought in the Covenant’s wars?” I asked. It was the only reason I could think of for why he had gone to Nova.
“You guess rightly. It was long ago, when I was a young man.” He didn’t elaborate on the subject. “While Elec speaks as if he is from the East, you, Alara, speak as though you are a Colonian born and raised.” Rasi once again took his seat. “An odd pairing, to say the least.”
“Alara and I have traveled far and wide as well,” Isaru said. “Not so much as you, I’m sure, but we have taken such jobs as we could, and we hear that there are many opportunities in the Ruins.”
Rasi nodded. “Aye, that there is. But the Ruins are a well – at the bottom you may find water, but that doesn’t stop you from drowning.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Those who enter the Ruins do so out of the direst need. Few who enter ever leave it again…even if most who enter intend to leave at first opportunity.” He looked at each of us seriously. “I advise you to consider carefully whether it is the right course. Yes, there is work in plenty, but there is also great danger. It is no place for a young man and woman with their lives ahead of them.” He considered for a moment. “Then again, you would not be traveling the road north if Colonia and Coloso were open to you, so I assume that your options are limited.”
Isaru nodded, to signify that was the case. Rasi had come up with his own story, and Isaru wasn’t going to do anything to discourage it.
Isaru and Rasi continued to speak about many things – the old man’s carvings, the plants on his wall, some of the old man's stories. I didn't really feel the need to speak, so I just listened…but sitting still in addition to the heat of the cabin was starting to have its effect on me.
I closed my eyes at intervals, leaning back in my chair and propping my head on the wall, until I stopped fighting it and found myself fast asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
I AWOKE TO FIND MYSELF in a forest filled with tall, silver trees that towered into the blue sky. Through the thick, numerous branches, sunbeams fell and illumined dancing dust motes, lighting the xen-covered glade that spread out before me. Within the glade was a crystalline pool, its blue water deep and pure. From the pool, a trickling brook ran over smooth, rounded stones, stones covered with both green moss and red xen. A thin trail snaked down the forested hillside, following the brook.
I lay basking in the sun with eyes closed, without a thought or worry. There was only the peace and bliss of being alive, the cool air on my skin, the fresh air crisp and thick with the aroma of trees, flowers, and earth…
“Mia!”
My eyes popped open to see a tall boy standing at the edge of the glade. No, not a boy. My brother.
And he was glowering at me.
“Gods, have you spent all day out here? Mother is furious.”
And like that, the spell was broken. As he walked into the glade, it was hard not to feel as if my space was being trampled on.
I stood, pulling on the blue shawl laced with sapphires that I had cast aside earlier. What did my mother care for where I was? It seemed as if the only time she ever noticed me was when I wasn’t there.
Isandru stood, a single eyebrow arched, his gray eyes stern and unyielding. He had the frustrated look of someone who had been tasked at tracking me down, and only after hours of effort, had finally succeeded at finding me.
He crossed his arms disapprovingly. “It turns out when you make a habit of skipping lessons, even our mother takes an interest.” Despite Isandru’s harsh tone, there was at least some sympathy. But it was only some. “Come on. I won’t waste a minute longer.”
I clenched my jaw, but said nothing. I knew I was in the wrong, but he didn’t have to be so harsh about it. He saw me as the spoiled princess who never got in trouble for anything. That wasn’t really true, because it always seemed as if I was doing the wrong thing, even when I wasn’t consciously going against what my parents had told me to do.
Isandru’s interruption was made all the worse, because I had felt so close to prophesying, that elusive state where the mind wanders someplace between wakefulness and sleep…to the place where the gods speak. I had been having a dream…a strange dream. It was of Annara, I was sure of it. There were other things, too, such as a red city, fires burning, and dragons in the sky. I had seen her face, if only for a moment, and she had even looked at me directly. I had been looking through another’s eyes, and such things only happen in prophecy.
Trying not to sulk too much, I grabbed the basket that had contained my lunch and joined Isandru. Together, we walked out of the forest glade, finding the trail that followed the brook. A heavy silence hung between us.
To the unobserved eye, it was easy to criticize the Prophets as the laziest of the Sects. After all, they did most of their real work while sleeping. Certainly, my parents weren’t thrilled that I had chosen to train with them, but it was the Sect to which I had been the most drawn. What was more, I had the Gift for it, which was rare enough. Elder Marius, the Elder Prophet of the Seekers, had been giving me lessons ever since I was thirteen —almost two years, now. Even if I was the daughter of the king and queen, he wouldn’t train someone without talent, and he’d said that my potential was greater than anyone he had ever instructed. Despite this, he always pushed me to work hard, saying that hard work was more important than raw talent.
Unfortunately, this retreat would be seen by my parents as yet another sign of my laziness, but I had come to the forest to seek a prophecy. I hated spending any more time in the Palace than I had to, and tried to find every opportunity I could to get away.
What was more, I had finally had a dream and I believed it meant something.
Even if my parents now believed that I did have the Gift of Prophecy, they still hoped that I would train for a different Sect – something they seemed to mention at every possible opportunity, especially my mother. It wasn’t as if I was bereft of other Gifts. I could speak to dragons, communicate thoughts with only my mind, and even hold my own in a duel, even if fighting wasn’t my specialty.
But I wasn’t drawn to those things the same as I was drawn to prophecy. To me, the Prophets were the most interesting figures in the Elekai’s history. They bridged past and future; Prophets often specialized in either Envisioning, the viewing of the past, or Prophecy, the foretelling of the future. And often, it was hard to tell one from the other. Prophets were usually a strange sort, solitary and taciturn, and often seen as misanthropic curmudgeons who preferred the company of trees to people.
That wasn’t far off, in a lot of cases, but Prophets also had the opportunity to shape history in a way other Sects didn’t. They were entrusted with the will of the gods, and served as guiding lights who saw the big picture when most people were concerned with the present.
Being a Prophet wasn’t ea
sy, especially when it was so misunderstood. And yet, I had wanted to be nothing else my entire life.
Isandru and I had only been walking a couple of minutes when I had a strange premonition that someone…or something…was watching us. I looked out into the trees, but they looked as they always had. Still, the feeling lingered. Elder Marius has taught me that a Prophet follows their intuition, and that rational thought can be a hindrance to truths only revealed by instinct. It was a hard lesson to learn, because it was difficult to discern the difference between rational thought and instinct. Rationality said there was nothing in these woods save my brother and myself, because there was no evidence of another person. At the same time, Instinct told me someone was watching.
And yet, I said nothing. Of course, my brother was impervious to the feeling, concentrating only on getting me back for our mother’s judgment. My father would most likely be present for that, but my mother would be the one to dole out the punishment. Usually, it was nothing too troubling; for me, being locked in my chambers or forced to clean with scullery maids for a few hours was not really punishment. They were just opportunities for me to think without interruption.
My brother and I spoke not a word as we continued to walk. I hated the way Isandru walked; had it been any faster, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up. He was much taller than me, and besides that, I was wearing a dress. Such clothes weren’t really made for tromping in the forest, but I had hoped that by seeing me wear it, my parents would assume that I was at my lesson with Elder Marius.
Isandru was always one to follow the rules. I had never known him to break a rule or to go against anything our parents or instructors dictated. In that way, we were complete opposites. My parents always held him up as an example to emulate, and every time they did that, my soul railed against it. Isandru loved to read and learn, and worked harder than anyone I knew. He was better than anyone his age at sword forms, and the only thing I was better at than him was prophecy, something for which he had no Gift. Even if this had been my first real Prophecy, Marius had said my dreams and their symbolism pointed to the fact that Prophecy would be my strongest Gift. For all of Isandru’s Gifts, he didn’t have a drop of Prophecy in him.
