by David Wind
As Mikaal’s words registered on The Eight, the shock on their faces from Mikaal’s breaking of the Staff faded. Then, Master Jalil stepped forward. “Although he knew it not, what Mikaal did was naught but what I foresaw centuries ago…what the Staff itself required. And when it is time, the Staff may be able to be rejoined—but if so, only Mikaal and Areenna can do this, no other.”
The Speaker turned angry eyes on Jalil. “And if one is…if one dies?”
Jalil shook his head. “The Staff dies. And the one who remains will take in the powers of the other…within them lay all the powers of the Staff, both of the good and of the dark.”
Areenna wasn’t listening to Jalil; rather, she stared at The Speaker, comprehension cutting through her mind like a sword. They want control of the Staff, she told Mikaal.
I see it, Mikaal responded and, while The Speaker continued to glare at Jalil, Mikaal bent and picked up the two pieces of the Staff.
When he did, The Speaker turned to him. “Think you we want the power of the Staff?”
“Think you,” Areenna responded, stepping between Mikaal and The Speaker, “you can control it?”
The Speaker settled herself on her long body so that her face was level with Areenna. “Control the power, no. Protect it from them, with our very lives.”
Areenna did not ask; rather, she quickly joined with Mikaal, and they jumped into The Speaker’s mind, relying on the openness shared before entering the power of the Staff. When she met no obstacle, they settled within the ancient cavernous mind and searched until they found the truth.
Withdrawing, she put out her hand. Of one mind, Mikaal handed her the two pieces of the Staff and in turn, she handed them to The Speaker. Protect them.
The Speaker accepted the pieces of the Staff and handed one-half to one sorceress, and the other half to another. The two snuck women left, and when they retuned empty handed, The Speaker said, Child, it is time to call on a power you rarely use. Look to the future.
Areenna stared at The Speaker. I have no control over visions.
With a grimace that passed for a smile, The Speaker grasped Areenna’s face between her hands. Behind her, the seven sorceresses formed a semi-circle and swayed rhythmically.
Areenna reached for Mikaal’s hand. The Speaker stopped her. No! This is for you. He cannot! He has his own way of this. Areenna felt the danger with The Speaker’s warning and dropped her arm to her side.
With a gentle lead, The Speaker took Areenna’s thoughts downward, through her body, to the source of her powers and abilities—and then she brought her further. There was a block, a snap, and she slowly drew Areenna into a place glowing with soft golden light. This is where you call up your visions. There can be no distractions. Then, when you are ready, push inside. You will have no control, not yet, just accept what is given. Later, after you have learned more of yourself, after having gained the proper understanding of not only why you are but also who you are, you will be able to control and direct a vision.
The Speaker dropped her hands, but stayed joined. She looked at Jalil and Mikaal; and motioned them back. She did the same with the seven sorceresses. Be ready, she instructed Mikaal. With the space cleared, The Speaker returned to her pupil.
I will stay with you for the first attempt. Let me show you. As the thought faded in Areenna’s mind, she felt rather than heard The Speaker’s instructions and, lowering herself to the very edge of the golden glow, she pushed gently against it and hit a block.
Be gentle, do not push, such will not work; allow yourself entry, give yourself permission to see.
Areenna listened to The Speaker and gradually, carefully allowed herself to surround the golden glowing area and, without pushing, she fell through an endless array of whirling stars and suns until, suddenly, she was floating high above Nevaeh and could see everything from east to west. Settled within the vision, she turned toward the Great Sea and watched the approaching ships of the Dark Masters.
CHAPTER 6
STANDING NEAR AREENNA, Mikaal saw her eyes roll backwards and her body stiffen. Before she could fall, he caught her.
Good, guided The Speaker. Lower her to the ground.
Mikaal gently lay Areenna on the ground, and then sat cross-legged at her side.
“This will take time,” The Speaker warned, speaking aloud once again.
Mikaal looked at her. “I will stay with her for as long as it takes.” He grasped her hand and closed his eyes.
“Try not a joining. It will affect her poorly.”
With his eyes closed, Mikaal smiled. “Joining...have you learned nothing about us, Sorceress? Have you not realized what we are—what you have created within us? I have not joined with Areenna, but I see what she sees, clearly.”
Then he watched.
<><><>
Two hours after sunrise and an hour after they’d rounded the curve at the tip of Nevaeh’s southwestern corner, Timon steered northward toward the small fleet of boats he’d left behind. He signaled the three queens to stop, and the ship slowed quickly.
Next to Timon, Roth gazed at the varying layers of rocks that made up the palisades. “It seems a lifetime since we left.”
“It does,” Timon agreed.
Roth nodded to Timon and went to Enaid. “Have you any contact with Mikaal? Have you sensed either of them?”
Already long past the point of worrying about what was happening to her son, Enaid shook her head. “Nor has Neleh. But I know something important is happening.”
She turned to Neleh, her eyes arching. “Little one?”
Neleh smiled at Enaid. Then her eyes traveled to Roth. “I felt Mikaal a little while ago, and then the sensing went away. “
“Away?” Her words puzzled Roth.
“Away,” she repeated. “There was no danger; it was as if a wall rose.”
He looked at his wife. “We have a choice. We can return to Tolemac now and begin to plan our defense and build our forces, or we can go to the Island, and find them.”
Enaid, Ilsraeth, Atir, and even Neleh stared at him as if he was crazy. “To the Island?”
But, it was Sirod who spoke. “They will have to leave the Island. Will they walk to Tolemac?”
Neleh looked at the two kraals in the pen, Areenna’s gray Hero and Mikaal’s blue Charka. Riding astride Charka, Gaalrie stared back at them as if the treygone knew they were talking about Areenna.
Roth looked from Neleh to Enaid. “We must get Sirod’s people to Freemorn or Tolemac and settle them. But time is—”
“—worry not on time,” Sirod interrupted, “The People need nothing but a guide. We come not as refugees, fleeing some terror, but as part of all. We will do our share, both to fight the Dark Ones, and become part of the peoples of Nevaeh. Be not concerned about how we adapt. Every day, our lives have been devoted to adapting so we could reach this moment.”
The emotions carried by her words lightened the heaviness weighing on Roth, for his concern of The People. He understood, perhaps better than most, because of who he was and where he came from. He knew The People evolved from a heritage that held a direct line to when he had been born.
Roth had his suspicions as to exactly who ‘The People’ were, but until he could find a way to be certain, he would say nothing. Perhaps when the coming war ended, he would go back and pull up the digital records he’d hidden upon his arrival. What he was confident of, from hearing Sirod’s explanations, was that The People’s origins were from the Middle East, escaping before the nuclear missiles destroyed their homeland in the Mediterranean. He stopped himself, shaking away his wandering thoughts, knowing he needed to concentrate on the present.
“They’re in good hands with you, Sirod,” Roth said. “I will have my Sixes take you to Freemorn, where you will meet Areenna’s father, King Nosaj. It is Areenna’s wish that The People settle there.”
“As you say, My Lord.” Sirod smiled and bowed her head.
“And now, My Lord?” Enaid asked.
“Timon,” Roth called. “Can I hire you and your vessel to take us to the Island?”
“Hire me? No, My King; ask me, absolutely!”
“I am asking.”
“It is done!”
Before his last word faded, Gaalrie let out a frantic cry, jumped into the air, and disappeared northward. Roth looked at Neleh, who had half shouted, half-cried at the same instant. “What is it, Neleh?”
“Areenna,” she whispered. Her eyes went vacant. “I don’t know what, but something is happening.” She stiffened. “Mikaal is with her… they are… they are caught in a vision.”
A moment later, her eyes returned to normal. “They are safe, but they are… not present.” Neleh looked at Enaid. “Saw you too, Areenna?”
Enaid nodded. Her chest hurt; her breathing was harsh. “I saw. Mikaal was with her, but not with her.”
Yes. He keeps her grounded; it is his part in the vision.
Enaid looked at Roth. “As soon as you have everything settled, we go to the Island.”
<><><>
Unlike any other vision, this one did not just roll across her inner eyes; rather, it came to her as a tale visually narrated by a storyteller who knew exactly what it was Areenna wanted to see. All she need do was think about something and it appeared.
She thought about the ships she had seen when she’d fought the Dark Master after his escape from the Twin Peaks, and those ships lay before her eyes. There were more than she had seen the first time—hundreds; and, as she looked at the ships, they separated into three smaller groupings.
She drew close to one, and seeing its immensity, became aware that each ship held a half-thousand or more ghazi. The fleet itself carried more ghazi warriors than there were people in Nevaeh. Around each ship floated a shifting fogginess that hid nothing from her eyes, but kept the ship under shadows.
Withdrawing upward, Areenna resettled herself and pushed the vision forward. She observed the ships’ landings, each fleet going to a strategic position. The first fleet landed at the southwestern Palisades of Fainhall. She shifted her focus to the second fleet, and found them headed toward the southeastern shoreline, between Llawnroc and Aldimor. A sudden swirl of clouds hid their landing point. Frustrated, she sought the third fleet and again, found the clouds hiding them as well. She estimated their destination as either Aldimor or Northcrom.
She continued to watch the future unfold, a spectator within the vision. The days passed quickly, bare flashes within her mind until the initial battles took place. Fierce and bloody, the Nevaens fight hard, but the size of their foes and the two massive wraiths attacking from the rear cause the Nevaens to fall to the large ghazi army. Fainhall, Kashold, Freemorn, Llawnroc, and Aldimor fall until the armies of The Eight Dark Masters combine at the outskirts of Tolemac to complete their conquest of Nevaeh; yet the vision wavered as if it were loose in time.
The armies of Welkold, Lokinhold, Brumwall, Northcrom, and Morvene, along with those lucky enough to escape the other battles, comes together at Tolemac to defend Nevaeh.
The vision shifted suddenly and below her was a mountain pass with thousands of Nevaens riding through it. Then the pass disappeared and again Tolemac spread below her.
The remnants of the Nevaen forces gather outside of Tolemac’s keep. They comprise twenty thousand men, women, and even children who spread across a quarter mile, the banners of the remaining dominions flutter in the cold pre-dawn breezes. The fighting is fierce and blood of the fighters runs thick on the ground of Nevaeh. The battle lasts for two days, then, on the third day, the ultimate conflict between ghazi and Nevaen begins.
Roth and Enaid are at the forefront of the army, flanked by the kings and queens who remain alive. Atir, Layra, Ilsraeth, and a dozen other Women of Power form a line behind the High King and Queen. Before them are the Dark Masters, who send a female sorceress to offer Roth the choice of surrender or defeat and death.
Without the need to confer, Roth turns them down.
The instant the sun crests the horizon, the Dark Masters order the attack, and the two lines charge each other. Then, just before the armies met, the vision stopped, and Areenna frantically gasped for air as she surfaced to consciousness.
Mikaal came out of the shared vision and, ignoring the pain of his strained and stiff muscles, turned to Areenna and pulled her close, holding her until she was calm.
She took in the warmth and gentleness emanating from him, and pulled it deep within. You saw?
I saw, he replied.
We must warn them. Roth and Enaid, everyone!
We will, Mikaal promised.
How bad? The spear-like thought intruded within both their minds.
Areenna looked at The Speaker, who hovered snuck-like a foot away, her eyes boring deeply into hers. Very. We must get to them, warn them, help them prepare.
“There was something about the vision, something not right,” Mikaal realized aloud.
The Speaker’s eyes bored into his. “What?”
Alarmed, Master Jalil stepped next to the sorceress and knelt slowly. “How was it not right?” he asked in a soft voice.
Mikaal looked at Areenna before saying, “We were not there.”
Areenna cleared her throat. “It was not solid. It wavered in and out—it felt not anchored, not a part of… of time… not reality…more a story.”
One of the robed sorceresses came over and placed food and water before them. When she withdrew, The Speaker ordered, “Eat, drink, gain back your strength, then we look at the vision together.”
Areenna suddenly realized how hungry and thirsty she was. How long…
“The vision lasted three days,” Jalil responded aloud.
“Three… so long,” Areenna whispered.
CHAPTER 7
THE RESIDUAL EMOTIONS from the vision transferred to the food, which, except for the bitterness lingering in her mind, was tasteless yet nourishing. As she ate, her thoughts fixed on what she’d seen.
She recognized the coldness within her—a warning chill of things to come—as if it was in her blood. No! I do not accept this!
Putting down the bowl, she glanced at Mikaal and then at the others. “I—” she began, but a loud screeching call interrupted her. Seconds later, Gaalrie dropped through the foggy mist of red haze and into Areenna’s arms.
The weight of the bird knocked her backwards, but Mikaal had sensed what was happening and reached out to steady her just before the treygone reached Areenna.
Wave after wave of soothing emotions rolled over Areenna as Gaalrie pressed her beak on the junction of Areenna’s neck and shoulder and clung tightly to her.
Reacting to the rejoining, she hugged Gaalrie, until finally, she eased her hold on the giant bird, and Gaalrie settled herself in Areenna’s lap. Just as she was about to speak again, The Speaker’s deep croak invaded the moment. “We must talk of the vision. Show us.”
With both hands on Gaalrie’s soft feathers, Areenna turned to the black-skinned woman. “Join me. And you, Master Jalil.”
Opening her mind, she drew them within and brought up the vision. When she finished, and the others separated, no one spoke. It was perhaps three minutes after the vision, when The Speaker began, “I saw no hope within the vision, only defeat. How can this seeing be true? We have spent the centuries of our lives to end th—“
“Stop.” Jalil’s voice was no louder than the rubbing of one callused finger upon another, yet everyone heard him.
“Think you all that this one vision sets the future so solid?” He shook his head slowly, his eyes sliding from one to another until he had looked into all ten sets of eyes within the circle. “Defeated are you to think the vision immutable; the darkness absolute—”
How dare you! The old Master glared, the power of his mentally thrown words struck deeply. Think you, the future is set in stone, that all paths walked and the steps taken are inflexible? What then was the purpose of my survival, or of Ailish’s sacrifice? What purpose was yours to watch
over Nevaeh if it leads to failure? Did you not see the wavering? Did you miss the uncertainty within the vision itself? Did you not see how it shifted in the middle to another place and then returned? What meaning does that hold?
The after-effects of his words vibrated within Areenna’s mind. “I know not if the future is locked in place, nor does it matter. We will do everything possible…whatever is necessary, to stop what I have seen.”
“How?” Jalil asked simply.
Areenna shook her head. “How can I know when I do not yet understand why Mikaal and I were not within the vision?”
“Perhaps,” The Speaker speculated, her snuck body rising a few feet, her amber eyes locking on Areenna. “You are not there because you and he—Mikaal, are involved in another area, or are bringing more fighters to aid them.”
“Or perhaps we are dead,” Mikaal said. “We are talking of things of which we have no knowledge instead of planning what is necessary to stop them.”
“Yes.” The old Master nodded. “That road is open only if you do not accept defeat now.”
“Who is the woman with The Masters?” Mikaal asked The Speaker.
Her eyes fastened on Mikaal. Until a few months ago, we knew not what she was becoming. Her name is Lessig. The Black Witch enticed her with promises of power and trained her in the dark ways, all the while hiding her from us. It was but two years ago that we learned of her, a disciple of the Black Witch. What we knew not until recently, is that The Masters had been training her without the Black Witch’s knowledge. When Roth sent the old Afzaleem to her death, The Masters drew Lessig closer to them, replacing the old one with the younger. Afzaleem is she almost, and in control of the exiles of the northeast. She possesses powerful dark abilities. She will soon surrender her entirety to The Masters, if she has not done so already. At that juncture Afzaleem will she be and with more power than had even the Black Witch. Soulless and heartless, she is a woman of vast powers who can see only the dark. Even now, Lessig is in the badlands between Llawnroc and Aldimor, growing her army of mutated creatures, turning them into slaves to serve the darkness. As we talk here, thousands move to her. Certain are we that she has spies in the dominions, exiles and women of power.
