by A. R. Wilson
With a deep breath, he stepped onto the path. Thick, lush grasses of a dozen different varieties littered all around him. Many of their heads were either heavy with seed or boasting a flower. The sheer diversity defied logic. That was when he noticed the trees. There had to be at least one of every known species of trees in the entire world scattered throughout this place. Even a giant ghostwood stood off in the distance. Flowers and shrubs poked out in a splendid array. It was a gardener’s paradise. A perfect oasis hidden in the depths of the earth.
How is this possible with no sunlight?
The woman guided them to a wooden bridge connecting the paths on opposite sides of a broad stream running through the cavern. On the other side, she glanced back at the men before continuing on. Her features were so plain she could blend into a crowd, and yet beauty radiated from her. The kind of beauty Jurren saw in his beloved grandmother as a young child. And though this woman was as old as that dear memory, she looked younger than Heluska.
When the path curved to the left, she veered to the right where a ring of stones sat next to a tree with wide-spreading branches. She walked into the middle of the circle. Turning to face Jurren, she hesitated a moment to look at him as though they were old friends.
“I have been waiting for you to come here for a long time now.” Her gray-green robe skipped along the trampled grass as she moved to sit on one of the stones. “There is little time. Already the hours of the day betray you. I have seen much of what has happened. And what is yet to come. But the Eternal has held my hands to wait within these walls for you.”
Jurren stood outside the circle of stones while Kidelar walked to sit near the seer. Though she was a full head shorter than the man while standing, they came to eye level when seated.
She turned toward the scholar. “I have been saving something for you as well. Here, take these.” Ellesha Shan Shair held out a small sack.
Kidelar opened the bag and poured out three black stones the size and shape of chicken eggs. A metallic sheen reflected purple streaks along their surface.
“What do I —” Kidelar started to ask.
The seer priestess gave him a smile that cut his words short. Her even gaze shifted to Jurren. “Do you believe in the Fates of this world?”
He did not even bother to put a polite tone into his response. “No.”
Why did Kidelar’s jaw fall slack like that? He knew how Jurren felt about the Fates and their claims toward sovereignty. What kind of a person believed in gods who argued among themselves?
“Why not?” Her voice held no accusation. No demands. It was a simple request of wanting to understand.
“I have always doubted them. Everyone around me, my entire life, has placed their hope in the Fates. But I cannot. I have distrusted their claims for as long as I can remember.”
A lock of her brown hair fell in front of her shoulder, and she ignored it. Her soft, smiling eyes stayed locked on him.
“Then we share a common bond. Like you, I distrusted the Fates from my youth.”
Was this some kind of trick? If so, it was not the kind of ploy Kidelar found amusing.
Jurren took a few steps forward to sit on the stone closest to him, on the opposite side of the circle. After giving a nod of thanks, Ellesha Shan Shair continued.
“The Grand Wizards insisted on my full devotion to the Fates, and I refused. That is how I ended up here. Not because of my desire to perform magic, as was stated at my sentencing, but because I embraced what they feared most.”
Kidelar seemed to freeze, afraid to miss any detail. Jurren watched him from his peripheral vision while the seer spoke.
“There is something, or rather someone in this world much greater than the Fates. More powerful than all the combined wisdom, strength, and courage of every wizard in all the lands. Those who seek Him will never hunger or thirst for hope beneath the fears of this life. He has shown me the path for you to find your daughter.”
Caution threw a guard over Jurren’s heart. Was this another one of her attempts at looking into his mind? It was just a few days ago that he confessed his wanting to believe in such a hope to his wife. Was this woman trying to reflect the desires of his own heart? Or did she personally know this hope she spoke of?
Ellesha Shan Shair averted her eyes. Lowering her chin, she lifted her eyebrows and fully extended her arm with her palm facing upward. Jurren glanced at her hand then back at her eyes. The blank expression suggested deep meditation. A few moments later, her fingers curled back into her hand and returned to her lap.
“Faith comes by hearing.” Her voice maintained its calm tone from before. “I cannot introduce you to the Eternal. I can only speak to you of His existence. It is up to you to seek Him in your own heart.”
“Why did you do that?” Jurren glanced at her hand. “The way you trailed off from speaking about hope. What was that?”
She tilted her head to the side as though trying to find the right words. “The Eternal does not speak to us as the Fates do. The Fates require spells, incantations, and potions to receive their knowledge. The Eternal speaks to the heart.” She placed her hand on her chest. “He speaks to the soul. Sometimes softly, sometimes intensely. He was showing me the need for you to seek Him yourself. Not because of anything I say, but because of what you experience in the days to come. He says that’s just who you are.”
Nothing in her posture alluded that she expected him to believe any of this. Strange. Her belief in a reality without Fates was merely that: a reality. It didn’t seem to matter to her one way or the other whether he believed her experience or not.
“And if I don’t seek this Eternal you speak of?”
“It will make finding your daughter more difficult.” She clasped both hands together in her lap. “Either way, your journey will be challenging and at times painful.”
“Pain lies before me whether I follow your Eternal or not? That’s not much of a bargaining tool.”
She shrugged. “Pain can be as useful as it is uncomfortable. It is a signal of danger, disease, need, over-indulgence. All discomfort has a purpose, a good purpose, if we take the time to look for it. But not all with eyes are able to see.”
“And if I do seek this Eternal?”
“He has promised to give you strength for the journey. Both this path and the one to come. It is a promise He gives to all who seek Him. However, each of us has our task to perform. Mine is to wait here. Yours is to journey beyond the Avian Expanse and take hold of the Sword of Einiko. Once it is in your grasp, you daughter will be freed from her imprisonment.”
Kidelar straightened as she spoke those last words. Tucking the egg-shaped stones back into their sack, he gave her his full attention.
“How do we do that?” Jurren leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Ellesha Shan Shair stood and beckoned him to come closer. Keeping one hand extended toward him, she held another hand out to Kidelar. “Before we begin you must understand, this is the only way for you to see everything I have seen. And if you are a seeker of truth, this vision will never fade.”
“You said ‘before we begin’. Begin what? What exactly are you asking me to do before you tell me how to find my daughter?”
“There is little time, Jurren.” She wrapped her fingers around Kidelar’s hand, her other arm dipping to emphasis her desire for him to draw closer. “Please, if only for a moment, trust me.”
CHAPTER 11
Jurren paused before standing to take her hand. This was the same person who carved images of his past into the walls of her cave. He considered asking her why she made the image of him poised to kill Tascana and that child, but thought better of it. Was there any answer that would satisfy him? Or any he could believe?
With Kidelar grasping her left hand, she calmly waited for Jurren to join them. He walked nearer to her. Her touch was meek but firm as she took his hand.
Instantly, a flood of images cascaded through Jurren’s mind. Torrents of flashing lights a
nd sweeping landscapes surged in and through him. The smell of smoke and death raged in raucous waves. Screams of pain and shouts of victory pulsed at him from every direction. Sensations of freezing, burning, piercing, and tearing raced along his flesh. He tried to pull back. Tried to move his arms over his eyes. The images kept coming and coming. Ever-increasing imagery heaved against him like a hurricane. The overload stacked on top of itself. Heaps of faces, noises, lights, odors, and other sensory throbs pummeled him to the ground.
Crouched, arms wrapped around his head, he screamed. Would it ever stop? Jurren could not be sure if he really was crouching or screaming. He wasn’t even sure he was still alive.
Then everything went still. A dull ringing hung in his ears. He became aware of being pulled too tight and realized he was curled in a fetal position. He released the grip around his head.
A horse nickered. Jurren opened his eyes and saw the red burn of a fading sunset. Turning toward the horse sounds, he saw Arkose napping near their animals. Kidelar lay on the ground between them with his hands pressed against the sides of his head.
“Wh-what happened?” Jurren stammered over his words.
“I can explain... in a moment.” Kidelar seemed to be suffering from the same overload. His words stuttered as though speaking a language he barely knew. “I need... collect... my thoughts.”
A breeze picked up. The feeling caused water, cold, and screaming to gush over Jurren’s eyes, thrusting him back into the torrent of images. He curled onto his side, trying not to vomit. Somewhere amid the onslaught of sensation and warning he understood it meant Tascana was in danger. The kind of danger he always intended to protect her from.
With one arm wrapped gingerly around his middle, Jurren pushed himself onto his knees. The moment his eyes lifted to look across the ground, another surge wracked through him. Trees, silver, water, and rings crashed into his mind. This wave brought the prickling of betrayal and deceit.
After it passed, he realized he was back in a fetal position with legs tucked under himself and face pressed into his forearm. “Please let this stop.”
Another wave of nausea pushed up. He clamped his lips together.
The voice of Arkose waking nearly brought a wave of new images.
“Oh no! What happened?”
A hand touched Jurren’s back.
“Don’t touch me.” The words sputtered out. So many faces. So much suffering and loss. “Gimme... a minute.”
“Are you hurt? I am so sorry I fell asleep.”
“Please... gimme a... minute.”
“Okay.”
Jurren felt the body heat of Arkose sitting down next to him. Another wave splashed through Jurren’s mind.
Oh sweet mercy, let this end.
Breathing came easier as Jurren kept his eyes closed. After a few minutes, he creaked one eye open and then the other. A tingling in his arm warned it might fall asleep. He tried to push back up into a squatted kneeling position.
“Are you okay, Jurren?”
“I will be.” He closed his eyes, grateful the nausea had started to subside.
“And Kidelar?”
“That seer definitely has power. She gave us some kind of vision then —” Jurren opened his eyes, keeping his gaze toward the ground. “Somehow she brought us back here.”
“What was the vision?”
“The next three years all slammed into five seconds.” Another wave rose, and Jurren closed his eyes to breathe through it.
“Three years?”
“Maybe ten. I don’t know.” He rubbed his hands over his face, trying not to gag. “My head is still spinning.”
Kidelar groaned. Jurren glanced at the scholar sitting in a similar kneeling position.
“I cannot see where Tascana is located, but I know who took her.” The scholar stumbled at the last word and closed his eyes. After taking a few breaths, he continued. “There is a halfling warlock named Einiko. He wields a sword of terrible magic and power.”
As Kidelar spoke, images slammed together in Jurren’s mind, confirming the story.
“We have to find the Sword of Einiko.” The scholar opened his eyes then snapped them shut. “It is hidden far to the south. In a castle. With no name. When we find the sword, it will guide us to the horsk dragon... I think.”
More images smashed through Jurren. It was like reliving a memory. Jurren inhaled deeply, trying to calm his mind. The images slowed, and he pushed his will forward to search the scenes for one that showed him rescuing Tascana. A floodgate ruptured in his soul. Clenching his fists against the onslaught, he waited for it to pass. He tried again to calm his mind. Each time he attempted to pull out a piece of information, his senses were right back in that hurricane.
After a few more tries, Jurren gave up. “Why didn’t she just tell us where my daughter is rather than this chaos?”
“I wish I knew.” Kidelar’s words sounded as strained as Jurren felt. “I need more time.” That last word hung for a moment. “What is this?”
Jurren lolled his head to the side, then sat up.
Kidelar held a rolled piece of paper in his hand. “She gave us a map.”
Something inside Jurren warned him if he looked at that map the flood of images would keep coming. He had to prevent Kidelar from unrolling that paper. At least for now.
“What were those egg-shaped rocks she gave you?”
The scholar pulled a small sack from the pouch strapped to his side. Black and purple glimmered in the fading light of dusk as Kidelar rolled them out into his hand.
“Wow, those rocks really sparkle.” Arkose shuffled closer to Kidelar.
Jurren looked away from the dazzling rocks, afraid they might trigger another wave.
Streaks of violet light snaked along the ground around him. Jurren risked a glance over Arkose’s shoulder to find Kidelar had dropped the stones and was backing away from them. Cracks formed along the egg-shaped rocks, spilling out arcs of purple light. A low rumble sounded.
The horses pranced and started to turn away. Kidelar took a set of reins, as did Arkose, and all three men retreated from the stones.
Shadow, flame, and thunder exploded within the purple streaks of light. Jurren scuttled back several more feet, brandishing his sword to the ready. Scaly wings filled the sky. Fire streamed upward. Was it a horsk dragon? No, it was far too small to be an equal of the beast who kidnapped his daughter. The creature rising before him couldn’t be more than fifteen feet from nose to tail.
Another wave came over Jurren, and he bent forward. Amid the bedlam around him and within him, he sensed this was Ellesha Shan Shair’s plan all along. Not to put them in harm’s way, but to give them a means to cross the Avian Expanse.
Clamping his eyes shut, Jurren focused on his breathing. He stood to find himself eye to eye with a reptilian face the size of a horse’s head. A metallic sheen glistened along each scale of its hide, unlike the flat, sanded appearance of the horsk dragon’s armored skin. No spikes or fins anywhere, except a small crest at the back of the head. Four limbs crouched low as wings spread wide.
Scaly lips pulled back in an odd smile as it spoke in a gravelly voice. “Greetings, Jurren, son of Raynen, from Hess Bren.”
It can speak? Wait, it knows of my father too?
Jurren cinched his grip on his sword. “How do you know that name?”
“The seer has shown us things too.” The dragon lowered his rear haunches to a near sitting position, tucking his wings in against his body. Two more dragons of similar size stood behind the first. “We will be your solution to crossing the Avian Expanse.”
“And why would a dragon want to help a man?”
“It is our sworn charge to take you across the great canyon and aid you in your search for the Sword of Einiko.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.” Jurren’s sword felt heavy in his hand.
“My dear ward, you are wasting time. If you trusted the seer well enough to take her hand, then trust me as well
.” The dragon gave a snort of impatience.
Another wave rushed through him. In his mind, Jurren saw himself seated on the dragon while fighting a goblin army. The vision flashed for only a moment. Opening his eyes, Jurren searched his gut instinct for what to do next. Should he trust this dragon? And that seer?
“My companions and I need to talk a moment first, Dragon.”
Stamping a clawed foot on the ground, his black scales gleaming, the dragon continued his agitated breathing. It rose onto all fours. “There is no time for such things.”
Jurren sheathed his sword. “Look, Dragon, maybe you don’t —”
“I understand the plight of Bondurant better than you.”
The dragon’s gravelly voice triggered a mental picture of burning trees and screaming. A knot of horror wormed in Jurren’s stomach, and he fought to keep from yielding to the rising smell of burning flesh.
“My wife,” Jurren managed to say, trying to push the scene from his eyes. “I must save my wife.”
Looking to Kidelar, Jurren saw in the scholar’s face the warning screaming into his own heart: The people of Bondurant were in danger and must be warned.
With a shake of the head, the dragon leaned in even closer to Jurren. “You won’t have anything worth saving if we do not take the sword from Einiko before he finds a way to finish his plans with your daughter.”
More waves crashed through Jurren. Images of Tascana screaming, cowering, and running flashed around him in an explosion of fate. Jurren put his hands to his head, begging the visions to stop before he went mad.
A great thump ripped Jurren’s attention back to the present. Dust billowed around the dragon’s feet, settling on its all too close muzzle, from the beast pounding at the ground.
“Forgive my intrusion into your recovery, but we do not have the luxury of waiting for either of you to sort out the vision you received.” The dragon pulled back into a squatted crouch. “You must grab your supplies so we can depart. Now.”
Somewhere between taking in the dragon’s words and enduring the cascade of images, Jurren managed to get a “go” from his gut instinct. But his heart needed an answer too.
