Prophecy's Daughter (The Endarian Prophecy Book 2) Page 9

  “It will be risky,” said Carol, “but with Kim using her Endarian magic to heal while I expel the elemental, we might be able to save Katya.”

  “Couldn’t Kim act alone?” Arn asked.

  “No,” said Kim. “For this to work, the two of us must join minds. I can only do that with someone of my blood.”

  Arn looked from one to the other. “But Carol isn’t Endarian.”

  “She’s my half sister. Tonight, in a grassy clearing, we will perform the ritual. Today I must prepare.”

  “Then I will leave you to it,” he said, rising to his feet.

  Carol surprised Arn by following him outside. “Let’s go find my father. It’s time that I told him what has happened.”

  “Lead and I will follow,” Arn said.

  Carol seemed somewhat ill at ease in his presence. That, at least, was familiar, if unpleasant. Although he had intended to broach the subject of Landrel’s prophecy, he remained silent, discomfited by the moment.

  She led the way to the building where Arn had met with Rafel. This morning, however, the space was empty. She stopped at a long, low structure that served as a dining hall. Along with Ty, the high lord sat eating with several officers and soldiers. All of Rafel’s men rose as Carol entered, while the Kanjari remained seated.

  “Come sit with me,” Rafel said. “Gaar will move over to make room.”

  True to his statement, the grizzled battle master scooted down the wood bench, forcing everyone else to move down. Two lieutenants on the end of the bench grabbed their plates and shifted to the next table.

  “What happened to you yesterday?” Rafel asked his daughter.

  “First I need to eat. Then I’ll share all the details.”

  “Fine.”

  Carol rose from the table and looked down at Arn. “Come on. Let me introduce you to our cook.”

  Arn rose to his feet and fell in line behind Carol. “I’m looking forward to making his acquaintance.”

  The line had decreased in size to the point where only a dozen soldiers waited in front of Carol and Arn. The two grabbed tin plates and utensils and made their way to the counter, receiving eggs, sausage, and bread. Arn grabbed a mug of hot tea, noting the odd smell that wafted up from the steaming brew.

  Seeing his questioning look, Carol explained, “We’ve had to use some of the local plants as substitutes in our brew. An acquired taste.”

  “So long as it has a little kick to get the day started,” said Arn.

  Carol smiled. “Don’t worry about that. I think you’ll find that the stimulant property is not one of this tea’s weaknesses.”

  A quick sip confirmed Carol’s comments. The tea had an aroma that cleared the sinuses, but Arn found the flavor to his liking. The cook was out of the kitchen, and so Carol could not make an introduction, but that hardly mattered to Arn’s stomach. They resumed their seats, and conversation died out.

  He had forgotten how much he had missed real food prepared by cooks who knew their trade. Carol also seemed to be enjoying the repast, as the time between bites allowed for little chewing and no speaking.

  Carol’s face was as stunning as he remembered but held a maturity that had not been present when he last saw her at Rafel’s Keep. The stress of the caravan’s long journey had hardened her, but determination and strength of spirit still shone in her brown eyes.

  Finally Arn mopped the last of the eggs from his plate with the remainder of his bread, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and pushed himself back from the table.

  Then, remembering his manners, he said, “Sorry. It’s been a while since I ate at court.”

  “This is hardly court,” said Rafel, “and we seem to have a shortage of napkins or people to wash them. I suspect it will be some time before we have regained that level of civilization.”

  He turned to look at Carol. “And now, if this headstrong daughter of mine is done eating, maybe we can head over to the meeting hall for a full council.”

  As Carol rose to her feet, she placed her right hand on Arn’s shoulder as she stepped over the bench, steadying herself. The gesture brought heat to his cheeks. Ty’s mischievous grin did nothing to settle his rampaging heart.

  The morning passed swiftly as Carol told the story of her encounter with the protectors. Arn sat silently as Rafel, Gaar, Jason, and Alan peppered her with questions. Ty and John, who had quietly entered the hall after the larger group, looked on as well.

  The high lord alternately cursed and frowned as he listened to his daughter’s account. He turned to Arn. “What do you think?”

  Arn looked at Carol, trying to override his reluctance to be critical. But they all deserved his honest assessment. “It would have been better if you’d killed them all.”

  “Exactly!” said Gaar.

  “I cannot bring myself to kill those who have surrendered.”

  “When Derek hears of this,” Gaar said, “there’ll be no holding him back. It’s a sure bet that they are the ones who cut Jaradin up and left him for dead.”

  “We can send him and a squad of rangers after them,” Rafel said.

  “Sending Derek out won’t accomplish the mission,” said Arn. “These beings are wielders. But my knife protects me from magic. That makes me the only one who can do this work.”

  “Maybe so,” Rafel said, “but this isn’t your fight.”

  “My lord,” Arn said, “I like this place of yours, and if it pleases you, I’d like to remain. That makes it my fight.”

  Rafel placed his hand on Arn’s shoulder. “I want you to remain. You don’t need to prove yourself to me.”

  “I know. But this task calls to me.”

  “We’re going as well,” John said.

  “You’d better believe it,” added Ty.

  “Not this time,” Arn said. “The wielders will have placed wards around their camps that will alert them if anyone comes near. Only I will be able to pass through them undetected.”

  Ty grasped his battle ax. “So, we wait outside the line of these wards while you do your thing. At least you’ll have us there to pull your butt out of the fire if something goes wrong.”

  “No,” Arn said.

  “You can say no all you want to, but I go where I please.”

  “That goes for me, too,” said John.

  “Your friends are right,” said Carol. “It’s stupid to operate without a reserve.”

  “That may be true in military endeavors but doesn’t apply to me,” said Arn.

  John picked up his bow and rose to his feet. “We’re going.”

  Arn shook his head in exasperation and rose from the table.

  “Gaar will outfit you with supplies for the journey,” Rafel said. “Good hunting.”

  With that, his two comrades followed Arn out into the afternoon sun.

  They were soon mounted and passing westward through the lower fortress and into the canyon beyond. Carol, Kim, and Alan escorted the trio to the spot where the priests had left the canyon of the cliff dwellers. John and Kim dismounted to embrace, a sight that filled Arn with envy. He caught Carol gazing at her Endarian sister sharing a tender kiss with her husband and, for a fleeting instant, thought he saw a yearning cross Carol’s face.

  But she nudged her gray mare to the right, bringing her horse alongside Arn’s. Once again, Carol placed her hand on his arm. “Take care” was all she said before moving away as Kim and John mounted up.

  As he turned Ax toward the trail, Arn glanced back to see Carol wave, a gesture that he returned, battling the emotions that filled his heart.

  The trio of riders made their way rapidly down the valley and into the forest, where the tall trees deepened the gloom of evening. As the light faded, Arn realized how glad he was to have his two friends along. The sense of companionship lifted his spirits, and John’s ability to see in the dark enabled them to stay on the protectors’ trail.

  At dawn, the trail turned northward, skirting along the foot of the mountain range, where scrub oak and grass
became the dominant vegetation in rolling hills cut by streams. Ty was the first to spot the campsite. A small pile of ash marked the location of the dead campfire. John reached down to feel the ashes, stirring them with his fingers.

  “They’re cold,” John said. “The protectors are still a day ahead of us.”

  “That’s okay,” said Arn, stepping down from Ax’s back. “By the look of things, I’d say they were fairly confident that they weren’t being followed. You don’t build a campfire when you think you’re being pursued.”

  “Nope.” Ty stooped to examine the tracks. “They rode hard for about twelve hours and then settled in for the night.”

  “Why not?” asked John. “Carol had let them go with a warning. Wouldn’t they assume that nobody would pursue them?”

  “I wouldn’t make such an assumption,” said Arn. “Still, it looks like they did. Let’s rest the horses and grab a bit of sleep. Then we’ll pick up the trail again. I’ll take first watch.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Ty, who released the palomino and flopped down on the ground. He was asleep almost immediately. John grabbed a bite of dried meat, unsaddled, and followed Ty’s example.

  In three hours, they were moving again. The sun shone brilliantly, although the temperature had dropped since dawn. A cool breeze cascaded down the mountain slopes from the northeast, whipping up bits of dust and leaves and sending them whirling through the air. Arn picked up the pace, sending Ax trotting along the trail that plainly showed the passage of the priests’ horses.

  The day faded quickly. As evening encroached, the men came upon signs of a second camp. This time the ash-covered coals were warm.

  “They can’t be more than about six hours ahead of us,” said John. “I’ll bet they’re setting up camp for the night right now.”

  Suddenly the hair on the back of Arn’s neck stood on end. He dived sideways, catching John full in the stomach with his shoulder, driving him down into the dirt. A river of fire flowed out of the woods, striking the tree where the archer had been standing. Ty dived behind a boulder just as another ball of flame erupted above him.

  Arn was already up and moving through the woods. He angled to the right, then turned abruptly back to the left and off to the right once again. He moved by instinct, his mind no longer functioning on a conscious level. Brush tore at his buckskin shirt, scratching his face. He ignored the pain, plunging ahead with the speed and silence of a great cat, seeing not with his eyes but with his mind.

  A priest appeared with his back to Arn and died barely realizing that his throat had been cut. Arn caught the body, cushioning its landing so that no sound issued forth. He continued moving, turning to the left. He felt the presence in front of him in the darkness before he saw the wielder. Darkness within darkness. Stillness within stillness.

  The protector was aware of danger, crouched, a faint magical chant slurring from his frightened lips.

  Arn smiled. The priest’s magical wards would not serve him this night. The chanting stopped as Slaken entered the protector’s skull just behind his left ear. Warm blood spurted across Arn’s hand, accompanied by the cloying, copper smell of death.

  A loud yell accompanied the sound of another fireball crackling through the cool night air. Arn heard the twang of a bow, clear and pure as the plucking of a guitar string, followed by a swish and a soft sucking sound as an arrow wrapped itself in flesh. A heavy thud was followed by the sounds of a man running across the glade. The sound suddenly stopped.

  “By the deep!” Ty said. “I didn’t even get to swing my ax.”

  “Will you shut up so we can tell if anyone is still out there?” John said from somewhere off to the right.

  Arn listened carefully, not just with his ears, but with the sixth sense that was never quite separate from him. Indeed, it felt as if they were now alone. He made his way over to where a priest lay on the ground, his leg twisted beneath him unnaturally. A black-feathered arrow pierced the protector’s right eye.

  “If this isn’t the craps,” said Ty. “Here I almost get my hair burned off, and I don’t even get a crack at the bastards who tried it.”

  Arn moved in a slow, ever-expanding circle around the campsite before returning to John and Ty. “Nobody’s here.”

  “Yeah,” said John. “Between the one I shot and the two that you cut up, that accounts for the three priests that Carol said she let go.”

  Arn bent to examine the ground closely. In the gathering gloom, he was unable to see clearly, so he motioned to John. “Take a look at these tracks.”

  John leaned down, then slowly paced back along the trail several paces. “They made camp just long enough to get a fire going and toss scraps around to make it look like they stayed for a while. Then they made the trail out of camp, as if they’d kept going. And just over there, they doubled back and split up for the ambush.”

  “These guys wanted to be followed,” said Arn.

  “You’re saying that these bastards are good,” Ty said.

  “And that’s bad news,” said Arn.

  Arn moved to each of the bodies. Satisfying himself that the dead protectors had nothing of import, he turned to face the mountains. “Back it is then.”

  Ty whistled, and the palomino stallion raced into the clearing.

  As Arn swung and mounted Ax, he felt his eyes drawn to the northwest, the direction in which the dead protectors had been traveling. Somewhere out there a storm was building, one that threatened the woman he loved. But for now, he would return to Areana’s Vale to brief Rafel and resist the urge to ride toward the danger that called to him, ignoring Slaken’s call. Taking a calming breath, Arn turned to follow John and Ty.

  12

  Areana’s Vale

  YOR 414, Late Summer

  Standing three paces from where Katya lay faceup in the lush grass, Carol watched Kim, as did Dan and Kira from the edge of the clearing. The full moon bathed the meadow in a ghostly glow. The Endarian princess moved as if in a trance, her feet barely touching the ground, or so it seemed in the moonlight. Stopping beside the child, Kim began to sing softly, the verse raising gooseflesh on her skin. Dew gathered rapidly on the grass, a soft glow hanging in the air of the clearing.

  A thought popped into Carol’s head unbidden, calling forth stories she had not heard since childhood, the memory of which made her long to be a girl once more. The air had taken on a thick feeling, not of dampness but like the charge in the atmosphere before a thunderstorm breaks, the feel of too much energy confined in a small space and seeking release.

  A sudden breeze sprang up, cool and soothing against Carol’s damp skin, blowing her hair across her face. The glow in the clearing coalesced, condensing like the dew until it had formed tiny orbs of light that clung to blades of grass. The breeze whirled slowly around the clearing, bending the grass as it spiraled inward. Along that path, the drops of dew and light began to flow, slowly at first and then building until they formed a gentle stream moving around and around, ever closer to the Endarian and little girl at the center.

  Carol’s heart ached, tears running down her cheeks to fall in the grass and be swept along with the dew. The enchantment of the song built upon itself, too haunting to bear, too full of love and longing to endure, too mystical to resist.

  Kim turned, and Carol saw that the stream of dancing lights had reached her so that it splashed up onto her bare feet, clinging to her skin to climb upward with the breeze. The stream flowed along Kim to form beads of light that floated around, up, and away. A gentle wind caught Kim’s hair, bathed in a soft halo of light and mist. Her hand gestured toward Carol, who felt herself pulled toward the Endarian, almost as if she were floating.

  Kim reached out with both hands, feathering them lightly along Carol’s cheeks, her index fingers coming to rest on her sibling’s temples. The ground shifted so that Carol lost her balance. She was falling, trying to cry out, but she could not.

  “Relax, my sister. I have you.” Kim’s voice wafted soothingl
y into her mind. Carol relaxed.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “You are where you have always been, but have never seen. You are in our world.”

  “The Endarian world?”

  “You are in our world, yours, mine, everyone’s. Look around you, not with your eyes but with your being.”

  Carol released her awareness. She was in the glade. She was in the ground. She was in the plants. An incredible living energy flowed through the surrounding plant life, drawing from the soil, drinking in the nurturing strength like a babe suckling at its mother’s breast. She was aware of insects buzzing, birds chirping in the forest, animals moving deep in the woods. Their energies flowed from the same great source.

  Once again she felt reality shift, this time almost imperceptibly. She was dimly aware of a deep throbbing. As she tried to locate the source, she felt her awareness expanding outward. Something moved within the ground, growing steadily more distinct. A great energy throbbed within. On her world’s surface, mighty oceans moved, tides rising and falling in a steady rhythm, water flowing through a million streams. She felt small.

  Then the globe itself diminished, and she was falling through an eternity of stars in a bottomless sky, falling even though her body was still rooted to the tiny world that tumbled with her through the incredibly vast expanse. Carol’s breathing became ragged as vertigo assailed her. Then once again she felt the pulse of other orbs hurtling through the vastness of space, a deeper, more distant sound on the edge of consciousness. The universe itself thrummed with life. She found herself struggling to comprehend all that she saw.

  The enormity of the revelation overwhelmed her. Once again, she focused on her world and its land, growing to encompass her awareness. So filled with life. She let the awareness wash through her, its enormous presence imparting a sense of security, of the rightness of nature, of her small but wonderful part in nature. And then she felt something else: a faint sense of wrongness, small but terrible. The world was ill. A cancer was spreading, although she could not determine its origin.

  “The elemental realm.” Kim’s voice spoke in Carol’s mind. “They aren’t of this universe. A great many years ago, a man of arcane knowledge discovered a way to tear the fabric that separates the dimensions. In so doing, he enabled the elementals to gain access to this world. Their magic is not our magic. Endarian lore draws upon the powers of this universe, relying on balance, the transfer and shaping of natural energies.