by Jayla Jasso
“This should cleanse the stone’s aura as well as open it up to speak to us,” Zafira explained, settling into her chair.
“Speak to us?” Jiandra repeated softly. Sweat beaded on her brow as she watched the water.
Zafira sipped calmly from her tea, staring down at the stone. After a moment, she leaned forward to peer intently down at it, then closed her eyes as if to listen for something.
Jiandra glanced nervously around the room, waiting.
Zafira opened her eyes. “The Omaja has come to you, Jiandra, because the Old Gods willed it to be so. You should take this stone and go to the hidden waterfall deep in the woods here. Place the stone in the pool at its base, and the gods will appear.”
“What? Gods appear? But I don’t—want gods to appear. I just want to help Solange.”
“Your answers lie with the Old Gods. They will speak to you directly. They will help you.”
Jiandra fell silent.
Solange leaned forward. “I have a question for you, Wisewoman. It is not about the stone.”
Zafira nodded. “Ask, Your Highness.”
“What lies ahead for Villeleia? Will I rule Villeleia in peace and prosperity, as did my father?”
Zafira nodded and closed her eyes to meditate for a moment before answering. “Your question is a bold one, Queen Solange. You are appointed to rule Villeleia, and you possess wisdom beyond your years to do so. But I hear a warning for you. Despair and destruction are in Villeleia’s path, and a powerful usurper covets your throne.”
“What usurper?” Jiandra protested angrily. “The assassin that shot an arrow at her a few days ago?”
“I don’t know. I cannot see her face.”
“Her?”
“Yes. It is a woman.”
Jiandra glanced at Solange, then back at Zafira. “How can we stop this?”
“Jiandra, you must seek out the Old Gods at the hidden waterfall. They will tell you what to do,” Zafira insisted gently.
“How do I find the hidden waterfall?”
“Start at Whisper Rock and ride your horse due south into Cobbleton Wood. You must go alone. The gods will appear to you if you have the stone. I have no more answers for you now.”
“Is there anything else you can do to protect Solange?”
Zafira thought a moment. “Perhaps I do have an item the queen could use. Just a moment.”
She went into the back room, then returned with a small velvet pouch tied with a drawstring. She seated herself at the table, opened the little bag, and dumped its contents onto the tablecloth. It looked like a small, flat rock, etched with a strange design and concave on one side.
Zafira picked it up, taking Solange’s hand. “Press your thumb into the rune, like this.”
Solange did, and disappeared. Jiandra shrieked.
Zafira chuckled, then pulled Solange’s thumb away from the depression in the runestone. She reappeared.
“As long as you have your thumb pressed into the rune, you’ll be invisible. But be careful; people can still hear you talk or move about. Perhaps this will be of use in the coming days of turmoil.”
FIVE
The next afternoon while her two younger siblings were in the barn sorting the grapes that Elio and the farm hand were hauling in, Jiandra dropped the stone into a leather pouch tied around her neck and concealed it under her clothing, next to her heart. It seemed to resonate with an energy of its own, a kind of warmth, and she instantly felt a strange familiarity with and attachment to it. She donned her cloak and headed to the stable to saddle Otto, then led him outside and swung herself up onto his back, tucking her skirt in around her legs. Drawing her hood over her head, she set out for the thick forest outside Cobbleton, apprehension growing in the pit of her stomach.
Cobbleton Wood was dank and still. Riding deep into the forest, Jiandra eventually picked up the faint sound of the waterfall Zafira spoke of. She and Otto drew near to it, and she dismounted, stepping gingerly over the tangled roots and fallen leaves to make her way to the small pool at the base. The waterfall itself was about twelve feet high, and the water made a soft rushing sound as it tumbled to the small basin below, then drained out into the stream beyond that.
Jiandra’s heart hammered as she removed her hood and pulled the leather pouch out from the front of her blouse. When she withdrew the stone, it was glowing with some ghostly inner light. Startled, Jiandra dropped it into the wet leaves at her feet, then bent down and scooped it back up, brushing the wet moss off and cleaning it on her skirt. Hopefully the gods were not offended by her fumbling about, she thought as she stepped over brush and branches to get closer to the edge of the pool.
Kneeling there beside the edge, she paused and brought the stone to her lips, closed her eyes in a prayer for strength, and then tossed it into the water. The pool immediately began to swirl with a purplish color, in a slow, clockwise spiral. She watched in awe as the spiral shifted and flowed in the opposite direction, now going counter-clockwise. Gradually, the waterfall stopped, and the rock wall behind it became visible. As her gaze was drawn up its smooth surface, before her eyes, the rock’s face changed, developing a glassy appearance, and then she saw someone there.
She bowed her head low to the ground, not daring to look up or speak.
“Jiandra,” his deep, resonant voice reached her ears.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, tears stinging behind her eyelids.
“You have nothing to fear from me, dear one.” His voice was compelling and beautiful. “Look up.”
She slowly raised her head and opened her eyes. A shadowy silhouette of a cloaked, hooded figure gazed back at her from the glassy surface of the rock. She felt his gaze rather than saw it—nothing in his facial features was visible at all. “Who are you?” she whispered.
“You may call me Zehu.”
“Zehuraster the Protector?”
“Yes.”
“My Lord!” Jiandra bowed her face low, trembling.
“Do not fear, Jiandra. I am a friend to you. I have protected you from the time you were small.”
She swallowed, staring up at his dark, massive silhouette on the rock wall, trying to make out something of his face.
“I know you well, and I know how hard it was for you when your father and mother were killed. You have assumed their responsibilities without a single complaint; you have labored long and hard, denying yourself leisure and peace of mind so that your siblings would have comfort, and you have done well in raising them.”
Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. She had not expected such words of compassion and comfort.
“Your farm has prospered. Your siblings are healthy and happy. You are a shrewd businesswoman, a capable manager, and a tireless worker. Geoff and Margaret would be proud of you, as am I, brave Jiandra.”
“Thank you, my Lord Zehu.”
“Now Villeleia has entered a time of trouble, Jiandra, and you must be strong. You will be a mighty warrior for Villeleia.”
“Warrior?”
“For this reason the Omaja came to you. I have given it to you, and no one shall have the power to forcefully take it away.”
She glanced down at the shifting, swirling streams of glowing purple plumes in the water where the stone lay, pondering his words.
“I will teach you the powers of the Omaja. The first is Knowing. Take up the stone and place it in your palm.”
She reached out with a trembling hand toward the pool and grasped the stone. The waterfall remained frozen, and the apparition of Zehu stayed in place. She held the stone in her palm as he’d instructed.
“Do you see that hawk flying low overhead, just above the treetops?”
Jiandra peered up through the tree branches. Indeed, a hawk soared in a slow circle overhead.
“What is he thinking?”
She glanced at Zehu’s shadow, and then back up at the hawk.
“Focus the stone’s Knowing onto the hawk.”
She closed her eyes and imagi
ned that her mind was connected to the hawk by an invisible tether. Suddenly, she saw a flash of a vision, through the perspective of the hawk high above. He was tracking a squirrel through the trees, thinking about his hunger. The acuity of his vision was astounding.
“Oh, my!” Jiandra glanced back at the shadow on the rock wall. “I saw through his eyes, Lord Zehu!”
“Knowing is the first of the Omaja’s powers, child. I entrust you with this ability because I know what you will do with it.”
Upon saying this, he disappeared, and the waterfall resumed its course. Jiandra sat staring at the stone in her hand for a long, long while.
Finally, she mounted Otto and rode out of the forest toward home.
#
“Lords of the Council of Advisors and noblemen of Villeleia,” Sir Cassimere Barkley, the Advisor-Over-Defense, addressed the assembly hall. “Queen Solange,” he added reverently, bowing low to her.
She regarded him silently, giving him a nod of approval.
“We have called this assembly to discuss a most pressing matter of security to the crown and the nation of Villeleia. As you know, there was an assassination attempt made on the life of our beloved young queen two days ago. An arrow was shot from the northeastern turret of this very palace. The assassin escaped, but we have recovered his arrow as well as a scrap of metal from the turret itself. All bear the distinctive marks of our northern neighbor, Nandala.”
The noblemen gasped, murmuring angrily among themselves.
“This is a grave offense, a capital offense, against Villeleia’s sovereignty and her queen,” Sir Barkley declared over the din. “It must not go unpunished!”
“Here, here!” shouted the nobles and Council Advisors.
Sir Barkley continued. “Too many Nandals take uninvited refuge in our borders. They are not citizens of Villeleia; they have no allegiance to our queen, to our customs, nor to our national security. They are a threat and a pestilence in this land.”
There was resounding agreement from the assembly.
“This Nandal assassin must be hunted down like the cur he is, and every Nandal in the land is a suspect. I recommend we round the entire population of them up and detain them until we find the assassin. We shall question each and every one until we extract the truth from their sneaky lot.”
“And then cart them all back to Nandala!” came a loud cry from a noble in the assembly.
The hall erupted with thunderous agreement.
“The farmers will not give up their hired hands so easily,” warned another voice from the crowd.
“Farmers should be hiring Villeleians!” someone else shouted.
“You’ll put farms out of business, detaining all the Nandals,” a third voice spoke up.
Agitated bickering ensued.
Sir Barkley called for order. “Any farmer who hires and harbors Nandals in order to save a few coppers should be taught a lesson. But the vote before us is whether or not to round up the Nandals within our borders for questioning.” He turned to meet Solange’s steady gaze. “For the sake of our country, for the sake of our queen, the conniving Nandal assassin must be brought to justice.”
Sir Barkley’s proposal passed forty-six to five, to deafening applause.
#
Jiandra was at Mrs. Bagwell’s shop later that afternoon buying cloth when the back door opened and the two little Nandal children’s dirty faces appeared. Their eyes met Jiandra’s, and she smiled at them, absently fingering the Omaja Stone that hung around her neck in the pouch. As they continued to stare back at her, she realized she was reading their thoughts. She felt their utter terror, bleakness and desolation, emotional pain of an intensity that shocked her.
She began to see a vision through their eyes. She was in an alehouse, hiding under a table and watching from their point of view as two drunken patrons grabbed a young Nandal woman’s skirt.
Who is she? Jiandra asked mentally.
Mother, came an internal reply. One of them pulled the young woman roughly into his lap. She was struggling quietly, trying not to call attention to herself. The men called her a whore, laughing and sloshing their ale. One of them tried to kiss her while the other pawed at her legs. Jiandra watched alongside the children as the men dragged her up the stairs to the second floor while the little boy and girl remained huddled together under the table, hiding. Then the pubkeep’s jowly face appeared, shouting at them to come out. They shrank back, but he reached out and grabbed the little boy, struck his face, and tossed him to the floor. His sister crawled out to help him up, and they scrambled off together to a musty, narrow staircase leading down to a cellar.
Jiandra stifled a sob in her throat and shook her head to dispel the vision, just as Mrs. Bagwell tossed the children a small bundle and shut the back door. Jiandra dropped her coins on the counter, scooped up her order, then rushed out of the front door of the shop and hurried around to the back, searching frantically for the children.
They were not far down the alley. She ran to catch up with them, bent down and caught their skinny arms, startling them. They stared at her with frightened, suspicious eyes, unsure of what to do.
“Where is your mother?” Jiandra demanded. “Where’s your mum?”
The children stared at her.
“I want to—to help your mother. Can you take me to her?”
They broke away from her and ran, dropping Mrs. Bagwell’s bundle of stale bread on the ground.
“No, wait!” Jiandra started after them, but realized she was only frightening them further. She walked back to where the bundle of bread lay, and knelt on the ground, tears streaking down her face. After a moment, she dusted the sack off and propped it against a nearby lamp post, and left.
#
It was near dark when Jiandra arrived back at the hidden waterfall in Cobbleton Wood that evening. She jumped down from Otto’s back, sobbing.
“Take it back; I don’t want it!” She flung the stone at the waterfall. It skipped off the tumbling sheet of water and fell into the basin with a thunk, and the pool began to swirl with purple. When the spiral changed direction, the waterfall halted just as before, the glassy wall appeared, and in it, Jiandra saw the looming shadow of Zehu.
He did not comment, but she could feel his presence all around her.
“Forgive me, Lord Zehu, but it was horrible, what that thing showed me today! I can’t bear it. I cannot be your warrior. Forgive me.” She dropped to her knees on the ground. “Two innocent babies watching helplessly as their mother was…abused, for no reason. I couldn’t help. The terror and hopelessness in those children’s hearts was too much for me. I can’t bear it. Take the stone back. Give it to someone else. Please.”
Zehu remained silent.
“I couldn’t save my little siblings from the loss of our mother and father either,” she whispered sorrowfully, covering her face with her hands. She hugged her knees to her chest, and cried bitterly.
Zehu spoke. “Jiandra.”
The way he called her name calmed her a bit.
“I am sorry,” he said simply.
Moments of stillness passed between them, with her muffled sobs the only sound to disrupt the quiet.
Eventually he spoke again. “Your pain is difficult for me. I feel it too. I want to intervene and stop the suffering, but I cannot. Mankind must go the way it will. Jiandra, which way will you go?”
She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Will you reject the stone and turn away from the Knowing it gives you, even if it means those children and many others will remain in torment and fear? Or will you bear the pain of Knowing, so that you can help the helpless?”
“But I can’t help them!” she protested, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “I tried to talk to them, but they ran away, terrified of me. I was going to try to follow them, but I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“Jiandra, dear one.” The compassion in his voice stilled her. “I am sorry the stone’s power has brought you th
is misery and torment.”
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
“The Omaja’s Knowing has brought you to a choice. You must choose whether to leave the stone behind and forget what you saw, or help them.”
“I may leave the stone behind?”
“I will not force you to take it up from the pool again.”
She thought about that. “You say that I can help them?”
“Yes.”
“What shall I do?”
“Their mother is a maid at Hagglefinn’s pub just east of Kingston, on Lichton Road.”
Jiandra swiped at her tears, nodding and rising to her feet.
“You must not delay long. Go tomorrow and take the stone. I will guide you.”
She scooped the stone up out of the water, hoisted herself onto Otto’s saddle, and rode out of the darkening, silent woods in a gallop toward home, her cloak flying out behind her.
SIX
“Proof discovered that the assassin was a Nandal! All Nandals to be detained in the search for the queen’s would-be assassin!”
Jiandra’s heart sank upon hearing the crier’s announcement as she rode through market square the next morning. She kicked Otto’s flanks with her heels, nudging him into a canter past the busy center of Kingston, heading in the direction of Lichton Road.
She soon passed an armed garrison of troops marching through town, with townspeople scampering out of their way. The soldiers had already captured six Nandal men and three women, dragging them alongside their formation, their hands tied with ropes.
No! Jiandra urged Otto faster through the winding streets of Kingston. At last she spotted Lichton Road and followed it, scanning ahead for any sight of Hagglefinn’s pub. A family of Nandals—a man, a woman, and three children—were running along Lichton Road, clutching their few possessions in their arms.
“Hide in the woods!” Jiandra screamed at them as she rode past, pointing north. “Get off the road! Soldiers are headed this way!”
They stared up at her, uncomprehending. Jiandra spun Otto around. “Get off the roads! Run, that way.” She motioned to the nearby copse of trees. “Into the forest!”
