Prophecy's Quest

by A. S. Hamilton

  She laughed at the sight he made, which was a relief for the young mage because the discussion after the confrontation with the patrol had been quite tense. At least Sariah had allowed that, despite the less-than-judicious decision to put the horses in a trance, things had turned out well enough.

  'Not the best of fashions, no, but sensible,' Brynn conceded, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he glanced at Kaydyr. The hawk that allowed the blind warrior to see through a binding created by talent sat on her shoulder and Brynn found the bird's inscrutability disconcerting.

  Still, the warrior could not suppress her smile.

  'When it gets to mid-day, you will struggle to keep that armour on,' he retorted gruffly in the face of her amusement.

  'I have travelled through the desert before. I will be fine,' she assured him sweetly, enjoying his discomfort. 'My armour retracts, so it will not hinder me.'

  It was true, Sariah wore the traditional armour of the fenjo, the justice keepers of the lands before Keldon invaded. The black-plated armour retracted down to a circlet and collar piece. Her plated skirt also retracted down to belt piece. Brynn shrugged in a 'suit yourself' manner as he folded and packed away the black scarf he had exchanged for the lighter-coloured scarf — black material on his head in the desert was likely to attract the heat, whereas the lighter material he now wore would deflect it. Toormeena had given him the black scarf when he saw her in Sal-Cirus. The seer had run her hand through his hair, using talent to remove the dye and revealing the black and silver streaks in his hair. Before he left, she had also given him an amulet of sorts, which had led him to a sword they had retrieved just before embarking on their journey to the At-hara.

  As if in partial concession to Brynn's point, Sariah retracted her helm down to a circlet and removed it so she could tie her black and red-gold hair back. She then arranged the scarf about her head, letting it drape over her shoulders as she did not wear armour over her arms and the scarf was long enough to cover her to the elbows if she arranged it properly. Finally, she used the circlet to hold it in place.

  Brynn pulled off his blue tunic and tossed it over Sershja's saddle so he could pull on a lighter, long-sleeved shirt of the same creamy colour as the scarf but embroidered with dark-gold cotton. Sariah caught glimpses of may-en-ghi hidden within the design. According to myth, the scaled cats once served the dragons. The feathery manes that framed their horned heads made a fierce visage, and while the weaver had only used swirls, their skill was such that Sariah was able to clearly see may-en-ghi in the shapes.

  They had been travelling for six days in all, first crossing the Khira Desert and continuing through the Andorek Forest to the Vehana Lake district and the groves and orchards there, which provided an opportunity to stock up on fruit. Then, they made the short crossing over the plains to get to the Inalla-nara River and the northern end of the Mehani Woods where they followed the route Brynn had taken on his way in to Sal-Cirus in reverse, heading south through the Alarus Forest and following the Syven-nara River to the western pass through the Jagrery Ranges and the At-hara. Normally the entire trip would take two sennats with a minimum of rest stops. A sennat, which was the equivalent of a week, was eight days long. Brynn's talent had considerably reduced their travelling time, though, because he could increase the speed and the stamina of the horses. It would cost them later, though. When they stopped the horses would feel an exhaustion greater than the sleep of winter and would need time to recover. Although Treya, being older had not needed as much of the talented boosts, so was likely to recover sooner than Sershja.

  They had reached the edge of the At-hara last eve and had rested for the night. Now they would head to a rebel-made oasis where they would rest the horses and Brynn intended to give Sariah back her ability to see. The young mage knew it was no coincidence that the same prophecy that described him also spoke of a blind person, one who would come to see again, if he interpreted it correctly. And on his way to Sal-Cirus to speak to the seer about that prophecy, he had met Sariah, a blind warrior. He knew he needed to restore her sight and the time in the desert oasis would provide the opportunity to do that.

  After travelling in companionable silence for a while Sariah said, 'You have been troubled since Sal-Cirus, what did Toormeena say?'

  Brynn gave her a brief, sidelong look. 'Do you ever feel like everything you thought you knew suddenly did not exist?' Brynn shook his head. 'My apologies, of course you do. You lost your family and your sight in that raid on your village.'

  Sariah was thrown slightly by the indirect answer, but she realised the seer had said something he had not expected, possibly something to which he was still adjusting. 'Do not worry about it, I understand. Was the seeing dire?'

  Brynn's brow furrowed, 'Not exactly. It was... confusing.'

  Sariah nodded to his covered hair. 'Did it have something to do with looking like the Saviour when you returned?'

  'I have always looked like this. I was born with this hair, these eyes. I never knew the true colour of my hair, my seda always dyed it before any colour showed,' he explained, using the elvan word for parent. 'She told me it was for my safety and I trusted her unquestioningly. My eyes, well, I never really thought about it. I have spent so much time on the planes learning to be a mage, I never had time to consider my reflection.'

  'Only to find that you are the Saviour, a heavy burden to discover is yours.'

  Brynn's chuckle verged on the bitter side. 'That… that is not necessarily so.'

  'How do you mean?' she was more curious than confused, with seers, it was never straight-forward. Sariah's adoptive father, Riqu, was a mage, and she had heard him speak of seers often enough to know that even mages were unnerved by them.

  Brynn shook his head again. 'I have not worked it out myself, yet,' he sighed.

  This admission earned a sympathetic nod from the warrior. 'You will in time. You are a mage, you have a head start on the rest of us when it comes to seers. You do look young for a mage. May I ask your age?'

  'I am still two turns off my fortieth spring.'

  That made him only thirty-eight. Sariah could not hide her surprise, she had known he was young, not even courting age, but she had not expected him to be quite this young... 'Of course!' she exclaimed, startling Brynn. 'The Prophecy put the age of the Saviour at Spring Bloom,' she said, referring to the elvan celebration for the transition from childhood to adolescence.

  This made Brynn smile, although he kept his thoughts to himself. To tell her that, technically, he had been much older in the vision showing the seer a vision of himself when he was younger would lead to more questions. Questions he could not answer yet.

  'Little wonder you have been trained so extensively,' she said. 'Despite the fact that our perspectives do not often align, I know Riqu's training took a lot of turns and effort, and I respect that.'

  'Does he know that?'

  The question made her pause. 'I think he does. Especially when he taught me the simple illusions, I made it known to him then.'

  Brynn laughed and said light-heartedly, 'What? The warrior actually has uses for talent?' Then he added more seriously, 'A respect of other's views is not always easy to maintain, you honour Riqu in your acknowledgement and acceptance of your differences. I know, even being a mage, I do not always agree with other mages. Many mages also dismiss me because of my age, it does not bear me well in a debate.'

  'Yet, I know mages older than you who do not use their talent so well. Riqu never really tells me the details, I suspect he thinks I would find it too tiresome, but I know, however innate, talent is not as easy to master as some mages make it seem.'

  It would have been easy to tease the warrior, to make another joke about mages being of more use than she would admit. He decided not to because she had started the conversation out of concern for him. 'For some it does require a great amount of concentration. My seda is a healer, but she will occasionally use empath to heal land or to speak with lost spirits. It can be very c
hallenging for her at times. She trains me as if she feels I need the same discipline she does when using talents that challenge her, even though she knows the planes and paths are not a foreign place for me.'

  'So, what is it like, being able to see these planes and paths?' Sariah asked, more to distract him from his problems, although she had a genuine, but general, interest.

  'It is hard to describe...' Brynn said finally. 'A plane is not something you can box and label, they are constantly changing environments accessed by a number of means. Most of them require turns of training under an experienced guide.'

  'Riqu has said as much, yet he seemed to imply that it would be different for you, well, for the Saviour.'

  'Ah...' Brynn murmured in understanding. 'You want to know how I am different? What makes me fit to be mentioned in a prophecy as opposed to many other older and more experienced mages?'

  Sariah shrugged, adding a brief smile of apology. 'I was trying to be diplomatic.'

  Brynn, in turn, shrugged it off. 'No, need. As I have said, Belon — and Linuk, my main tutor — have both noted that it is different for me. They never said it was because I was the one mentioned in The Prophecy. All they would say was that I demonstrated more innate ability than their other students. The main difference is that I am constantly linked to the planes. You see, for much of my life, I have been aware of a connection to another on the planes, shaen-duura, Belon called it.'

  'I have heard of it. Riqu said it is like jenishae, but more intense.'

  Jenishae was an experience common to all elvan. The term described the connection of souls, an instant bond when familiar spirits came into contact, for the elvan believed a spirit lived many lives in different vessels and, at times, those spirits recognised each other. Humans described it as love at first sight, but with jenishae it was more a case of close friendship. Shaen-duura more closely fitted the idea of love at first sight, but, it too, could occur without anything more than friendship forming between those who felt it. Because of their talent, it was said that mages were more sensitive to connections between spirits, and it was unsurprising to Sariah that Brynn said he felt he was connected to another spirit. Riqu told her that he had shared shaen-duura with his rahn, which was the elvan term for life partner. Her father had said that he had 'felt' his partner through the planes for most of his early life and when he finally met her, it was a relief.

  'I think it's because of this shaen-duura that we are always striving to connect, and this gives me an innate ability to move on and bend planes to my will. But Linuk and Belon have cut my theory to pieces. I have all the talents, they say, so she does not need to possess any. They say it is likely she will not have any talent, as we will be balanced then—' Brynn looked over at Sariah, making sure to meet Kaydyr's gaze, '—and you know how mages are about everything being balanced. However, I have proved them wrong before, even if those occasions have been rare,' he gave Sariah a roguish smile. 'And it is more likely to snow in the desert before either of them would admit it, I tell you.'

  Sariah laughed. 'I can imagine.'

  'I think this connection means that I do not have to seek paths like most mages, rather I tend to feel them. Belon does not trust this method, she believes it is less tangible, less certain. When I move through paths of the future, I use instinct to select the paths I travel, rather than thorough deliberation.'

  'Let me guess, Belon disapproves of this also,' Sariah said.

  'No need to guess. She is not comfortable with my rapid assessment of paths and she thinks I rely on instinct too much, risking negative consequences. She will not heed my argument that the paths of the future change the instant you view them anyway, so I see little sense in trying to chase the perfect path. No outcome is certain. A farmer could get up one day and decide to clean the barn before going to the market. He snags his hand on a nail and has to stop and tend the wound. Because of this, he leaves late, missing the thief that would have robbed him had he left earlier.'

  Sariah grinned as she thought of how she had met Brynn. 'Or a warrior, much like myself, may decide to follow the mysterious elvan she is curious about, instead of continuing with her search. She then sees him being pursued and ends up helping him and he helps her find her brother.'

  'Precisely. The planes are like my home. I know them well and have little difficulties finding my way amongst them.'

  'Just as long as you do not lose us in the desert!' Sariah quipped, making Brynn chuckle and shake his head.

  'Such doubt! And after you trusted me with your sword, too,' he said, referring to when they first met. Brynn had been facing a group of over twenty soldiers with just a short sword and Sariah had ridden in to aid him, throwing him one of her twin blades.

  Day 1 – Early Morning

  At-hara Desert

  Jador settled his pony, Jess, out of sight behind some thorny bushes that were thriving well enough to conceal her if she lay down. She did, folding her legs neatly beneath her and stretching to nibble the dry grass nearby. She was well-trained and, Jador believed, quite intelligent. Sometimes it seemed that the spirited, bay pony could almost understand what he was saying.

  He could just see Daniel from here, and what he saw broke his heart. Daniel's head hung limply against his sunken chest, just as his skeletal frame hung from an eseme tree. Eseme were usually grey or white and about as thick as a pony was long, with grey and white leaves in the shape of large circles. The size of the tree made Daniel seem twice as small and fragile.

  Jador could see no other people in the clearing where his nephew hung, which disconcerted him. There should be at least six guards. He did not think he would have much chance against six of them, but he had to try.

  His nephew was the leader of Sentinel, a mercenary group of sorts, except their main skills lay in tracking and hunting, not as soldiers. The Thane of Ancoulan, Nathan Kennelm, had been put in charge of finding a prophecised elvan called the Saviour by the Great Lord Malithorn Abbarane. The son of Keldon Abbarane, who had conquered the elvan nation forty turns ago, had taken over from his father when illness took the conqueror's life. Malithorn was determined to thwart the elvan prophecy that promised to end Abbarane rule and, now that mages said the Saviour was about to begin his path, Malithorn was making more concerted efforts to find him. Those mages also said the Saviour was travelling to Sal-Cirus, and so Nathan had hired Sentinel in an attempt to intercept him along his way.

  Jador had warned Daniel that Nathan was too dangerous to work for. Nathan had a reputation for being a cruel and ruthless man whose impatience was deadly. His nephew had assured him that he could handle the Thane, but despite Daniel's confidence, he must have said or done something that offended Nathan. One day his nephew was fine, he had been preparing to start on his rounds checking in with the patrols. Jador was heading out with his own patrol and Daniel had promised him he would see him soon. But when their patrol met up with Daniel's, his nephew had not been in the lead, the Thane had. He'd said that Daniel had been hung over, but his nephew never drank to excess. He might have an ale with the men, but never more than one or two. Jador knew, then, that something was wrong.

  Then his own patrol had been killed by the very elvan Nathan was pursuing, but somehow the elvan had missed Jador. So the elderly tracker had brought Nathan to the spot hoping the Thane might reward him and let him return to Ancoulan, for a rest, Jador said, considering how old he was. When he got back to Ancoulan, his fears had been confirmed, Daniel had been taken out to the At-hara, the servants, told him. And so Jador had returned to his craft and tracked Daniel out here.

  He started to approach the clearing cautiously. The number of eseme and senah trees was unusual. There must be a good source of water in this area or the eseme would not be here at all. The senah were tiny when compared to the eseme. The trunk of the senah was only as large as a man's torso and their light brown colour blended with the whites and greys of the eseme. They required only a fraction of the water the eseme needed, as demonstrated by t
he thin, pale-green leaves. The scrub that grew in the shade of the giant eseme formed thick vegetation around the base of each tree, protecting the roots. Some of the berries and little flowers were edible and a vital source of food if travelling with a light pack. What was more important to the tracker though, was that the bushes provided enough cover to move undetected, if he was careful and kept low.

  He had to pause to rest several times, his joints and muscles protesting at the slow movement and crouched position. He thanked the gods he could still see well as he was still several meters away when he spotted the guards. Stripped down to shirts and shorts, they were lounging under the trees playing dice. Any commanding officer would bust them down to privates upon finding them in such a state. Jador's hopes lifted, he could have more of a chance than he originally thought. From the slurred voices and occasional loud guffawing, he guessed the flasks they were taking swigs from were not filled with water. Jador shook his head, in this heat, it was remarkable they were still conscious.

  Noiselessly, he backed away. First, to find their horses and drive them off. He planned to use his crossbow to take the guards out from a distance, but if he missed one and they got to a horse, then Nathan would soon be on his trail. There must be a source of water here somewhere, and that was where the horses would be.

  He found them, hobbled near a spring a short distance from the camp. Jador rested for several minutes, almost holding his breath as he listened for the Thane's soldiers before he set about releasing the horses.

  Quietly, he led two at a time a good kilometre from the camp to ensure he did not attract any attention and hoping the horses would run on to the next source of water. He was relying on the beast's instinct to get away from the desert and return to more comfortable climes. He drove them off with just a hard slap, but it was enough to send them into a canter. For a long time, he watched the last one disappear. So far none had returned. The tracker rested again for another half hour, just to be sure. Keeping one for Daniel would be futile, Daniel was too weak to ride on his own.