Amáne of Teravinea - The Prophecy (The Teravinea Series Book 2)

by D. Maria Trimble

  When I heard Catriona’s name, I squeezed Ansel’s arm nervously — probably a little too hard. He winced and gave me a look. We stood up, I put my arm in his, and slowly we started our walk to receive my mother’s ashes. As we walked, I could hear whispers and comments from the crowd. Sometimes my extraordinary hearing was a blessing, but at times like this, it just hurt.

  “Who is that walking with Amáne? If that’s a marriage arrangement by the Healer, I can’t imagine why he would stoop so low.”

  “I wonder what Amáne offers him to accompany her [snickers]. You know she could never afford that gown on her own.”

  “He is obviously of a much higher class than she. How embarrassing for him.”

  I wanted to shout at them to mind their own business, but my recent training focused on the ability to exercise self control. It wasn’t easy, but for now I managed to hold my tongue. How hurtful people can be.

  We made our way up to the Healer who then handed me my mother’s ashes in a ceramic urn. Catriona spent her life as a potter. I had selected one of her pieces that I loved since I was a small child — fascinated, as it depicted scenes from the City of Teravinea in its days of dragons. My mother made it a point to save that urn for me. Did she anticipate it would be used to house her ashes?

  The urn was heavy, not just because it was ceramic, but the ashes themselves weighted it. I had to let go of Ansel’s arm in order to carry it with both hands, for fear of dropping my mother’s remains.

  As we walked back down the aisle, my ankle — the one with the hideous linking mark of the black lizard who had bitten me — suddenly flared up in a shot of pain. I stumbled. Thankfully, Ansel caught me by my elbow and I recovered. But not before half the town noticed, fueling additional opinions and whispered discussions.

  The sudden pain confused me. The venomous bite from the black lizard creature had been healed for weeks. I thought I’d successfully put behind me that harrowing experience in the dungeons of Castle Teravinea. But the sharp stab brought it all back. Ansel could see my distress and I hoped that he believed it was because of my embarrassment by my near fall. I didn’t want to burden him with my fear and my pain.

  He kept a hold on my arm, and a pleasant look on his face so as not to magnify the attention as he whispered to me, “Are you okay, Amáne?”

  “Yes, I think so. Thanks.” I succeeded in keeping a neutral expression, not entirely sure of how okay I truly was. My ankle heated up. My head hurt. Why now?

  The comments from the crowd again drifted my way. I was thankful that Ansel could not hear them.

  “He doesn’t know what he has agreed upon. She’s quite the odd one.”

  “She always was a little off. No wonder the Healer had to go outside of Dorsal to find someone for her.”

  Even the kinder remarks were not easy for me to bear.

  “Wow, that’s Amáne, Catriona’s daughter? I never knew she was so beautiful.”

  “Why did she always hide her beauty?”

  “My, how she’s changed.”

  Accepting compliments was difficult, and added embarrassment to my current troubles.

  We finally made it back to the benches under the tent. I lowered myself slowly. A cold wave of fear went through me as I tried to understand what could have triggered the sudden pain.

  Ansel looked at me with concern, but I managed what I hoped was a reassuring smile. As long as it didn’t get any worse, I should be able to endure it. We still had to go through the reception segment, where closer friends would offer their stories and memories of the loved ones who had passed.

  The last urn was accepted and we were moved to our respective places to receive our friends and fellow celebrators of life. The queues started forming and for some reason there were quite a few people lined up to offer their condolences to me. Much more than I anticipated. My mother was loved in Dorsal, and most knew her, but when I surveyed the people in my queue, I saw many that I was sure were not close. Then I noticed that quite a few of them were women and young girls, and I suppressed a smile as I guessed that they all just wanted a closer look at Ansel. He seemed to have drawn the town’s attention.

  My headache and my ankle continued to throb on and off in waves. At times I hardly noticed, and at other times I could hardly bear it. Meanwhile, I acknowledged, kissed and hugged countless townsfolk, each uttering their version of “May she find happiness with her ancestors,” and “Peace to Catriona,” and “May she rest in joy.” The ones that knew my mother well offered a short narrative about her from their memories. If they had a longer story, they presented it to me on a piece of parchment to read later.

  Ansel was gracious enough to act as a member of my family and participate in the reception queue alongside of me — shaking the well-wisher’s hands or nodding politely. No one seemed to be really sure of his relationship with either my mother or myself. I preferred to leave it that way. It intrigued me the way the ladies and young girls batted their eyes at him. This was another of those feminine practices that remained foreign to me. How could a female’s blinking eyes gain the attention of males? It was beyond my comprehension.

  Finally, people I knew and cared for. Fiona made her way to the front of the queue with her twin sisters, Rio and Mila. The little girls hugged me, but immediately their fascination of my gown got the better of them.

  One on either side of me, they ran their dainty hands over my sleeves, enjoying the feel of the silk. “Amáne ...” they said with honest feeling, “may your mother find happiness with her ancestors.” Unable to suppress their interest in my gown, they had to add, “How beautiful you look in this silk.”

  “I see your sister has trained you well, you two,” I said, allowing a smile.

  They handed me a rolled-up parchment. “This is a story we wrote for you. It’s about how your mother helped the Healer when we were born. Our mother said if Catriona were not there helping at our birth, we both might not be here today.”

  “Thank you. I look forward to reading it.” I was truly touched that they took the time to write something that meant so much to me. A wave of regret flowed through me as I once again lamented the fact that I was an only child — no one to share my grief. Fiona was truly blessed with these girls.

  “Amáne, peace to your mother,” said Fiona with sincerity as she hugged me. But neither could she contain her curiosity, “Don’t tell me this is Serislan silk?”

  “I ... er ...” I snuck a side look at Ansel, having no idea what kind of silk I wore. He thankfully had heard the question and gave me an almost imperceptible nod and a smile. I turned back to Fiona and assured her that it was.

  Fiona smiled. She’d caught my ignorance. “Serislan silk is the finest you can buy. The Kingdom of Serislan is known for their extraordinary silk.”

  With a quick glance at Ansel, she said to me, “I see the Healer has finally made some arrangement for you.” She showed more than the necessary amount of enthusiasm. Always obsessed with marriage and marriage arrangements and betrothals, naturally this would be her first assumption.

  “Fiona, let me introduce Ansel, the Healer’s nephew and friend of mine. We are just friends — no arrangements.” I emphasized the word friend both times.

  She held her hand to Ansel. He took it in his, bowed, and pressed a kiss upon it. I thought she was going to collapse in front of me as she tried to hide her blush. He took Rio and Mila’s hands as well, and kissed them. They looked as though this would be a moment in their lives they would never forget. I mouthed a thank you to Ansel for including them in his attentions.

  Fiona then pulled me closer and in a reprimanding tone, said, “Nonsense, Amáne! Just friends? Are you blind? Do you not see how he looks at you? You’re breaking that boy’s heart!”

  “I am not!” I said a little too defensively.

  Fiona became distracted when she saw her betrothed further back in the queue. She called him up to the front to join her. I noticed Ansel raise his eyebrows when she called Kail’s name. I
glared at Ansel as a warning not to say anything embarrassing to him. Unfortunately, he missed my clue. When we were at the Dorsal Outpost, after Ansel’s rescue, Kail’s name came up a couple of times. Ansel did not have a positive impression of him.

  “Kail, I want you to meet Amáne’s friend, Ansel.” Fiona said, tilting her head and drawing out the word friend a little longer than necessary.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Kail.” Ansel said as they each nodded their greeting.

  “Yes,” I jumped in before Ansel could say any more, “I’ve told Ansel how you and I used to spar. You taught me a lot about swordplay over the years.” I gave Ansel a ‘watch what you say’ glare and noted that he caught it this time.

  “She’s actually pretty good,” said Kail, “... for a girl.” A knowing tip of his head to Ansel, like a private joke for men only.

  ‘For a girl?’ How dare he? I no longer had any interest in protecting Kail. I would have run him through myself if I’d had the energy — and if my head wasn’t ready to explode.

  “Amáne,” Kail continued, oblivious to my anger, “we haven’t practiced in a long time. You wouldn’t want to lose your skills. Let me know if you need me to work with you sometime. I’ll be fighting in the games later today if you care to watch.”

  Ansel just barely disguised his laugh with a cough. I flashed him a seething look and he quickly hid his amusement.

  Knowing I couldn’t very well teach Kail a lesson here and now, in front of all these people, I gathered myself once more to practice self restraint. I took in a deep breath and with an even tone that actually surprised me, I said, “Thank you, Kail. I’ll let you know if I need your help.”

  Fiona acknowledged the remaining well-wishers who had become impatient with her for taking so long at the front of the queue. Even still, she didn’t miss the interchange between Kail and me.

  Realizing that the love of her life had angered me, she gave me an apologetic look, and then said to her little group, “All right, Kail, Rio, Mila, we must be going.”

  Turning back to me, she grabbed my arm. “Amáne,” she whispered as she cocked her head toward Ansel, “do not disappoint him. He’s meant for you.”

  At last there was one person left in my reception queue, but my stomach turned as I saw who it was — Jeslyn, a girl a little older than I, who lived only to attract men’s attentions. She had broken many a heart in Dorsal and was one of my least favorite people. There she stood purposely last to greet me, but with her eyes focused on Ansel. It added to my irritation. Jeslyn was no threat to me of course, because Ansel and I were just friends. Besides that, she embodied the type of female of whom he was weary — ‘weak, oblivious to anything outside her small circle of concerns,’ as he once put it.

  She approached, “Peace to your mother.” Her words came without any sincerity. Brushing past me, she moved directly to Ansel as she turned on her smile. I praised him to myself when he lightly took her offered hand and tilted his head in acknowledgment, but did not kiss it.

  Jeslyn regarded me and said, “Amáne, you look horribly tired. I’ll be happy to take your friend around the Gathering and show him how we celebrate life here in Dorsal. I’m sure you won’t mind.”

  Hmm, I could only imagine the way she’d like to show him how we celebrate life.

  Word had obviously gotten to her that I introduced him as my friend. Before I could respond, she took his arm and pulled him in the direction of the main festivities. The pain in my ankle continued to increase, my head felt like a battle raged inside. I did nothing to stop her.

  I grudgingly admitted that Jeslyn was right, although my teeth were clenched in reaction to the way that she said it. I felt exhausted, and probably did look it — I couldn’t stand up for one minute longer. Making my way to the nearest bench, I sat heavily. A twinge of pity went through me as Ansel — having been tugged at quite a distance already — turned with a ‘help me’ look on his face. I looked at him and could only shrug my shoulders, mouthing the words, ‘I’m sorry’ as she drug him away.

  I became immediately angry with myself that I had let him leave so easily. Then I turned my anger at him for allowing himself to be led away so easily. Perhaps he was not as weary of that kind of person as he had me believe. I could have used his support — I was scared. But on the other hand, I didn’t want him to be aware of my pain. In fact I applauded myself that I managed to hide it so well. Ansel had a way of reading me that was uncanny. Besides, I had Eshshah’s support, and that was all I really needed.

  Maybe it was the heat of the day, but now my head felt about to explode. My throat became dry. I had no choice but to find the Master Brewer’s tent and get some watered ale. I limped painfully, wishing I had my walking stick that Ansel had made with Eshshah’s likeness carved at the top.

  As I arrived at the Brewer’s tent, three men pounded past me on horseback, and nearly ran me over. They charged through much faster than they should have in the middle of a crowded gathering. The explosive sound of the horses’ hooves striking the ground reverberated in my head as they galloped by. My pain increased. Thunder went off in my ears and flashes of lightning behind my eyelids. I squeezed my eyes closed and put my hands over my ears, barely able to prevent the scream in my throat from escaping my lips. Something compelled me to turn toward them and watch as they passed. A chill like icy fingers went up my spine as the three horsemen slowed their pace. Inexplicably, one of the three — a most horrid looking man — turned his head toward me and caught my gaze, holding it for just a brief moment before continuing on their way. His piercing stare left me shaking in terror. Who were these men?

  Disoriented, I stumbled into the tent ready to collapse, when the Brewer’s wife came to my aid.

  “Amáne, you don’t look well. Come in, dear. Sit down.”

  “Thank you. I’m okay, I just need to rest for a minute.” She eyed me doubtfully.

  I let her lead me to a table where she sat me down. Immediately, she brought me a tankard of watered ale.

  “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.” I fumbled with the drawstrings of my coin purse. “Keep your coins, Amáne. If I could not offer an ailing neighbor a drink without charging her, then what kind of person would I be?”

  I could barely utter a thank you as I struggled to lift the mug to my lips. Although I was parched, all I could get down was one small sip, which I hoped would stay down.

  Crossing my arms on the table, I rested my head for just a minute.

  From far away I heard my name, but couldn’t answer. I felt a hand on my shoulder and flinched.

  “Amáne!” I heard the concern in Ansel’s voice as I made an effort to lift my head. It felt like it weighed about five times as much as it should have. I managed to raise it enough to follow the direction of his voice, but I couldn’t see him. He gently pushed my hair back from where it stuck to the moisture on my fevered face. At last he came into view.

  “She came stumbling in here about an hour ago,” said the Brewer’s wife, “I couldn’t get her to take more than a small sip of ale. I let her sleep. The poor thing probably had too much going on for her today in this heat.”

  “Thank you, madam. I’ve been looking all over for her. I’ll get her to the Healer.”

  He turned to me. “What happened?”

  “It’s my ... my ankle — the one with the scar.”

  His face went pale as he figured out which “scar” I meant. Then annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought maybe you were tired and needed a break. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let that girl drag me away.”

  I shrugged.

  “Come on. Let’s go. The Healer needs to know.” Ansel bent down to pick me up, but I protested.

  “No, no ... I can walk, please, Ansel. Don’t pick me up.” I would have been mortified.

  I closed my eyes and whispered to Eshshah.

  “I’m with you, Amáne,” she said

  Her strength flowed into my body. With an exaspera
ted sigh, Ansel held his hand our for me as I rose from the chair. I breathed deeply. Even with Eshshah’s help, I barely managed to suppress the pain in my head as well as my ankle. With great effort I willed one foot in front of the other, mumbling my gratitude to the Brewer’s wife as we left the tent.

  I found myself no longer able to hide my pain from Ansel. I forced myself to stay upright as we went to find the Healer.

  “You shouldn’t be walking. I should be carrying you. I don’t know why I even listen to you, Amáne.”

  “Maybe because of my extraordinary powers of persuasion?” I offered, trying my best to make light of the situation and relieve him of his worry.

  He just shook his head. “Don’t ever keep something like that from me again. I should have paid more attention. I’m sorry.”

  “Ansel, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

  We made our way to the Healer. One quick glance at my face and she sat me immediately.

  “I can’t very well examine your ankle here,” the Healer said, “there are too many people around. I don’t know why this is happening now — it’s been healed for weeks.” She took my face in her hands and studied my eyes. Hers reflected serious concern.

  “Lord Ansel, take my horse and get her back home,” Gallen said. “I’ll ride home in the cart with the Healer.”

  “Remove her boot as soon as you get there and have Eshshah treat her,” the Healer instructed.

  Ansel retrieved Gallen’s horse and brought him to where I waited, “Sit in the saddle, Amáne, I’ll sit behind you and make sure you don’t fall.” Ansel said as he cupped his hands to give me a leg up.

  “No, Ansel. I’ll sit behind you.”

  “Get up in the saddle, Amáne,” he repeated. Since I had no fight left in me, I obliged. He lifted me up to the saddle. I didn’t sit like a lady in a nice gown with both legs on the same side as I should have, but swung my leg over. Manners were not a priority at that moment.

  Ansel mounted up behind me and put one arm around my waist as he took the reins in his other hand. I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes tight, and melded with Eshshah to keep from screaming as the horse’s gait jostled me in the saddle.