by AS Hamilton
Padding carefully across the rough roof tiles to a dark corner between the forge and the building next to it, he scanned the area around him. There were a lot of lights on in the buildings around him, but most shutters and curtains were closed. Crouching, he scanned for minds that might be alert to his movements. Sariah's contact had told them that an Abbarane-aligned elvan mage, mysteriously referred to as the Assassin Mage, also stayed in Toormeena's building, so Brynn was careful to mask his talent use. No minds seemed to be alert to his presence though. Brynn made his way to the eastern end of the alley, stopping once when the patrolling guards approached. He used several bolts for hand holds in the wall across the alley and then made the jump before he could think about what would happen if he fell.
The jolt on landing jarred his joints, but Brynn was glad that at least he had not fallen. Once he started climbing, Brynn found it was relatively straight-forward, as there was a floral pattern cut out of the balcony walls, which gave him a choice of hand holds. His ascent was further helped by the height between balconies, or, more precisely, the lack of height. The building was designed by humans, thus, the rooms barely accommodated elvan height. All Brynn had to do was climb to the balcony wall and reach up.
When he reached the seventh level, he rested. Toormeena may be in the room on the other side of the wall, but he needed to check for guards and scan for talented wards that might alert Abbarane mages of intruders. Even with the extra caution, locating Toormeena should have been easy, after all, he was familiar with the distinct aura of the Toorian line. But Toormeena was not there.
Brynn extended his search, aware that there was an elvan mage who may be close enough to detect him if he got too close to the mage's ghanri. Finally, he glimpsed Toormeena's aura, veiled heavily in planes-anchored wards. It was little wonder Riqu had not managed to find a way to free the seer, there was so much talented netting about her, her spirit was barely discernible. What Brynn found unusual was that the wards would only trigger if Toormeena tried to leave the room.
'Fate blesses and curses in a single breath,' Brynn muttered.
Pushing himself back to his feet, he prepared to traverse several more balconies. Not only was Toormeena two more floors up, but her room was on the north-east corner, not the south-east!
He looked down; at regular intervals along the eastern base, bright, strong beams of light lit up the walls between the balconies. At seven stories up, the building was more dimly lit than the lower portion, but Brynn decided to go up to the ninth level, before heading towards the northern end of the building. Sizing up the distance between balconies, Brynn tried to keep his mind off the distance to the ground. He was not afraid of heights, but he was not enthusiastic about the jump, either. At least the balcony rim was wide enough for a careful run.
Brynn lined himself up and took a steadying breath. The trick was to look where he was going without looking too far down. Taking off, he measured his steps, managing to space them so the last one was on the end of the balcony wall. It was only a matter of instants that he was in the air, but he found himself holding his breath. It whooshed out of him as he landed in a crouch on the other balcony. Carefully, Brynn rose and looked behind him. He had landed about a quarter of a meter in from the edge. The young mage smiled, and as he lined himself up for the next jump, he felt a little more confident. His next landing was less smooth, and Brynn had to grab the balcony edge to steady himself. He had still cleared the drop with the same space to spare, but he reminded himself to pay attention to not just where he landed, but how he landed.
At intervals, Brynn paused to rest and check on the Abbarane mages. A number were trying to trace the missing harem, but Brynn was dismayed to find an elvan mage was, indeed, in the building. A moment of investigation, though, found that not only was the mage on the other side of the building, in a room on his own, but he was thoroughly preoccupied by a search of his own. What was most surprising was that it was a Debanikay-trained mage, and he was not searching for the missing harem, but an individual. It would have been interesting to discover who and why, but Brynn did not want to risk it, he had ventured dangerously close already. The mage's preoccupation was a blessing from Fate and he intended to take full advantage of the gift.
The first thing Brynn noted when he reached Toormeena's balcony was that the door was open and a pale-blue silk curtain was billowing on the breath of a breeze. He listened for any signs of guards and scanned the planes again, before pushing the curtain aside and looking in.
The room was large, larger than he expected for one who was kept prisoner. Immediately inside the balcony door was a long wicker divan with deep cushions of gold and blue. It was flanked by two wicker armchairs. Two delicate glass tables separated the chairs, and were accompanied by tall lamps with glass-etched shades. A candle on each table flickered in glass lanterns etched in the same style as the lampshades. The air was filled with the scent of gardenias and nectarines, a result of the oil in the upper portion of the lanterns, Brynn decided, as no plants were present in the room.
Stepping inside, he could see a large four-posted bed in an alcove to his right. Brynn was familiar with the style as the elvan regularly designed rooms with walls of windows and would use curtained beds to create a sense of privacy. The bed had its dark-blue silk curtains drawn, but Brynn could see candles flickering in enclosed lanterns along the top of the bedhead, which made dancing abstracts against the fine fabric. The only other light came from the candles and the glowing embers in the fireplace opposite the bed. Two more chairs were in front of the fire on a sumptuously-thick, pale-blue rug. Tapestries depicting forest scenes hung on either side of the fireplace and a mirror hung on the wall opposite him, but nothing else decorated the walls.
It was so quiet that Brynn could hear Toormeena breathing steadily, either asleep or meditating. Then, her breath stopped for a moment, before quickening and a shadow moved behind the curtains. A bare foot slipped between the curtains to step onto the dark, polished mahogany step surrounding the bed.
Toormeena wore a gown of pale blue with silver embroidery, its draping hem and sleeves creating an ethereal effect. Everything about her was graceful, from her slender legs to her delicate fingers. Her hair was silver-blonde, waist-length and as straight and smooth as water from a fall. Wide, grey-gold eyes were crowned by silver-blonde lashes. Soft, pale lips moved from apprehension into a welcoming smile.
'Torahn,' she breathed, using the elvan equivalent of addressing a monarch.
She took his hands and dropped to one knee, placing her forehead to the back of his hands. Brynn realised she wore a silver circlet shaped into filli-geren to keep her hair back as the cool metal touched his skin. The miniature dragons seemed at home in the meadows of her hair.
'Please, Toormeena,' he lifted her up as he spoke.
'I did not know which night it would be, but I knew it would be soon. This evening I felt the room unusually stifling, and so I left the door open. I wonder now if a deeper intuition was at work.'
She was excited to see him, Brynn realised, as she pulled him towards the fireside chairs.
'I am...' Brynn looked down, not knowing why he felt ashamed, probably because he did not wish to bring her disappointment, but he could not deceive her. 'Toormeena, I am not Torahn.'
She froze for a moment, her eyes searching his face and then she smiled and ran both hands through his hair. As she did, the dye Brynn had been using since he was an infant dissipated in a fine mist, revealing black and silver rivers.
Brynn speechlessly stared at his reflection in the mirror — how was it that he had never realised it? Was that why his mother always insisted on dyeing his hair outdoors, away from mirrors? And so often, too…
'Of course, they never told you,' Toormeena said. 'They needed to protect you. You are, Brynn-a-kai of the House of Brynn-a-kai. The chosen of the chosen. You will, one day, be Torahn.' She ran her delicate fingers over his face. 'I would recognise this face on the darkest of nights in the darkest
hour of my life. In fact I have clung to this visage,' she ran her thumbs over his cheeks as she spoke, 'during my many hours of despair. You brought me that vision, Torahn. All those centuries ago you stepped through time and gave me a message to pass on to you when you came to me this night. I have spent my life remembering that message, knowing I would be integral in bringing peace to my people.'
Brynn shifted his gaze to focus on the seer. Then he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. 'I sent you The Prophecy?'
Toormeena remained silent, knowing he was still absorbing the information.
Brynn felt weak in his knees. Not only was he a torahn in the future, but he gained the ability to send a seer, this seer, a vision. For a moment he could not think. The implications of what Toormeena was saying were almost beyond him. He was barely forty summers old and Toormeena was telling him that one day he would lead this country. That, on its own, was daunting. But to also be told that in the future he would send a vision eight centuries back into the past… Only planes-walkers could manipulate time. That would mean that one day, he would learn to be a planes-walker! It was what all mages with ambition aspired to become and very few actually achieved it. Another thought occurred to him as it dawned on him for the first time — Toormeena was thirty turns old when she saw the vision, that would make her over eight hundred turns old. Brynn had met elder elvan before, but for some reason when he thought about Toormeena, he did not think of her as an elder. He wondered at that, was it because he had sent her the vision and had therefore 'met' her when she was so young and thus, still thought of her as young? Brynn found it all quite confusing and decided it was something he would think more on later. At the moment, he needed to focus on his mission.
'If I sent you the vision eight centuries ago, I must become a planes-walker.'
Toormeena nodded. 'You do.'
Brynn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'We have a lot to discuss.'
The seer dipped her head in agreement and, after a moment's pause, nudged Brynn into one of the chairs by the fireplace as she dropped gracefully to the floor at his feet.
'Please,' Brynn shook his head, 'do not sit beneath me, even if I am Torahn. You, who have borne the burden of the vision I brought you at such a young age, should be the one revered.'
Toormeena had run her hands down his arms as she sat and still held onto his hands. She was about to respond when Brynn suddenly understood why she sat on the floor. Right now, she looked unharmed and healthy, but she bore severe injuries as a result of the torture she had suffered during her incarceration. As a result, the seer found it difficult to sit upright without pain.
A hand swept to his forehead. 'Do not heal me, Torahn—'
Brynn gently grasped her hand and kissed it lightly. 'I know,' he told her. 'I can see the tight weave of talent about you and know that to heal you might bring us unwanted attention.'
Pushing the chair back, Brynn sank to his knees to sit on the floor with her. Toormeena pulled one of the cushions off the chair and lay on her side with her knees bent slightly. Her silky hair fanned out behind her, like moonlight. She gestured for him to join her, he did, his back to her chest. He was not sure why he chose that position, it just seemed right to him and when Toormeena wrapped an arm about his waist and grasped one hand, it reinforced the feeling.
'We will be a while,' she said as he settled his head on the pillow near hers.
'Tell me how you know it is me who brought you this message eight centuries ago.'
'You will, by now, be familiar with The Prophecy of Desolation.'
Brynn murmured confirmation, 'Linuk showed it to me.'
'That day, I saw that prophecy, The Prophecy of Desolation. I saw, as all other seers saw. Thousands of people — farmers, crafters, mothers, fathers, children — die. They littered fields and cities like autumn leaves. Just…
'gone.
'Their lives, their relationships, everything they built. All gone.' Toormeena's voice wavered, heavy with emotion.
'The greatest devastation of that terrible prophecy is Sal-Cirus… The children had been sent there to hide behind the protection of the Crown and what army that remained. No defence was given. No swords raised. Full surrender was proffered as the adults placed themselves before the children. But, consumed by a dark mind, the soldiers slaughter them.' The seer's voice caught as she relived the vision.
'The most dreadful sight of all is seeing the Crown cut down by Keldon himself. Diannra… Kind, gentle Diannra. Her pale cheek rests upon the soft wool of the carpeted floor, her pale-blue hair stained red, the light in her dark-lilac and pale-blue eyes forever dimmed.
'And Caradon, kneeling by her side. The loss upon his face, the grief... Forgive my sensitivity, Torahn; you must remember that, for you, many of these things have come to pass, and, indeed, are before your time. But when I first saw this, it was my future.'
Brynn squeezed Toormeena's hand in comfort, her whole body was trembling.
Toormeena patted his hand in return, taking a moment before continuing. 'I can see in Caradon's stricken, blue eyes that he takes the responsibility of this devastation as his own, blaming himself for what others have wrought and he could do nothing against. This is the end of The Prophecy of Desolation. As you know, it ends with a shadow coming up behind Caradon and in a flash of steel, Keldon claims all as Abbarane's, his blood-tide having drowned a nation.'
Toormeena took a deep breath and as she let it out, made herself release the grief that came with remembering the dire vision. With a lighter note in her voice, she said, 'This is not the end of the vision for me. Unlike all other seers, instead of Caradon's blood staining my view, I see a flash of gold that almost blinds the eyes of my spirit. It is sunlight. As the haze clears, it reveals a long valley; its short grasses a wondrous pale green. At the end of the valley lies Keyenet, its walls rebuilt. Upon those walls, elvan and human alike, stand together. Before me, astride a dwarven charger, white with patched grey—'
'Sershja!'
Toormeena gave him a patient smile. 'You have named him,' she noted. 'On this remarkable horse is an elvan unlike any I have encountered. He is older than you, but as you will be able to tell from my description, it is indeed you. I will call him 'the Chosen' so you do not get confused.'
Brynn nodded.
'In my vision, the Chosen stands with regal bearing, his head high. His long, flowing hair is a most dramatic and curious colour, being black so dark I think of coal with rivers of silver that blaze in the sunlight.' Toormeena paused to run her fingers through Brynn's hair. 'His is a distant beauty and only my instinct tells me that beneath the impenetrable façade lies gentleness and kindness. In him, I feel all talents; to see all, hear all, speak to all. He can turn his will into reality just as he can turn his shape into any form of his imagining. He is, at his heart, a healer, like his mother, and in him is the ability to heal all; the land, his people, even the planes themselves.'
'I do indeed have all the talents,' Brynn confirmed.
Toormeena nodded slightly, unsurprised by his statement. 'His hand rests upon the shoulder of an elvan female standing beside the charger. For her, the term beauty is insufficient she radiates such magnificence. Somehow I know, as I witness this vision that she possesses a terrifying power, a power borne by her bloodline, but barely contained by it.' The seer paused, even though she had seen the vision centuries before, she was still filled with awe every time she remembered this part.
'Her hands rest upon the hilt of a sword,' Toormeena continued. 'It is such a blade as I have never seen before, for it possesses a life essence of its own. I wonder how a thing of metal can have a soul and I fear it. Am frozen by my fear. There is something about this blade that connects these two, but it is more than this link that the blade holds. This mystery is not one that is revealed to me though.' Toormeena stroked his hand. 'I think that is one for you to solve and I am just meant to tell you where to look.'
Brynn almost sighed, but held it in. It seemed the more
she told him about this prophecy, the more daunted he became.
Toormeena did not seem to notice his growing apprehension as she continued. 'Then, my gaze is drawn from the sword, as if someone places a hand upon my cheek, their finger beneath my chin. Suddenly, I find myself gazing into infinite blue... I give a little start as the vision changes and I find myself in a sand-swept desert. The blue turns out to be the Chosen's eyes.' Again, the seer paused and said to him as an aside, 'Never have I heard of or experienced a path like this, Torahn. Indeed, it being my first prophecy, I ended up being a little misled about them for a short while,' she told Brynn. 'As a seer, you will know yourself; paths happen. You see them, you can do nothing to what you see, cannot interact with soul, beast, or rock, no matter how much you may 'will' it. For a while after you brought me this prophecy, I spoke to those I saw on the paths of the future, until my mother told me the reason they did not respond was because I could only 'see' this plane. The prophecy I experienced with the Chosen was unique, she explained. In the Chosen's vision, he interacts with me. And I know, I know, he chose me because he saw me looking for a future after seeing The Prophecy of Desolation. I was the only one to do so, and that is what caused him to seek me out.
'I remember thinking, I could drown in those eyes. So deep and dark and blue. His spirit was reflected in those pools and his spirit was strong. Like the ocean, seemingly a peaceful, calm entity on the surface, while hiding an immensely-powerful force beneath.'
Brynn did not feel very powerful, right now. Indeed, he felt more like he was in deep water with no sign of land on the horizon. It made him doubt whether he was strong enough to swim to the safety of the future this prophecy promised.
'The Chosen draws me into his gaze,' Toormeena was saying, 'and then it is as if I can see through his eyes. The sun is warm on skin I do not have. I can feel the presence of others and I turn to see may-en-ghi all about me. They are arrayed in a manner that suggests they are attending on The Chosen, as if he is their leader. If you do not know our history, you will not understand,' Toormeena said as an aside to Brynn.
