Shadows of Prophecy

Archer, who still held the unconscious Tess with her head on his shoulder, answered in heavy tones. “It may be that the time to preserve the temples has passed.”

Eiehsa looked at him, her eyes unreadable, and finally nodded. “It may be that the temples have come to life.”

Archer looked down at the woman he held, still unsure what he thought of her and what she had done. “That may be,” he agreed. “May the gods save us all.”

“The gods,” said Eiehsa, with a mixture of bitterness and sarcasm, “are to blame for this all. Delude yourself not, Master Archer. ’Twas not simply the Enemy and his brother who brought the evil upon the world, nor the love and fury of the Ilduin. The gods themselves created such a power among men, then turned their backs and let that power take its own course. Once the Ilduin had made their awful choice, then the gods proclaimed their wrath and rent the world asunder, as if they could never have foreseen such an event. Mayhap it will be the Ilduin who save us from the gods, Lord Archer.”

Archer looked sharply at her, trying to read the knowledge that lay behind her words, but could find nothing more than what she had said. Nor did she seem inclined to add to it. Instead she turned and began to tend to the children. A gust of wind blew down from the glacier that ever topped this mountain, driving a chill down inside his cloak. Archer at once shrugged it higher on his shoulders and wrapped more of it around Tess.

His arms ached with the effort of holding her these many miles, yet he did not begrudge the ache. He begrudged no pain that life brought him, for penance and suffering were his adjudged lot. Nor did he feel sorry for himself. Atonement was his burden, and his alone. He walked to the entrance of the cave and looked out at the roiling black clouds. The Enemy sought them.

With a shake of his head, he turned and began to look for a safe place to lay Tess. The cavern was cold and dank, but the Anari were already building a large central fire, and a natural chimney somewhere above sucked the smoke away, while drawing in fresh air from the cave’s mouth.

Archer soon found Tom and Sara, and was pleased to note that Tom seemed to be stirring. Ratha and Giri appeared as if from nowhere to help him lay Tess upon her spread-out bedroll. For an instant she appeared lifeless; then, to Archer’s vast relief, she rolled onto her side and curled up.

“How is Tom?” he asked Sara.

She looked up, her face much calmer now, and with perhaps even the hint of a smile. “He improves. He is dreaming, and from time to time he murmurs. His wounds appear healed.” But then she looked at Tess, and her face saddened. “But what it cost her!”

“I think it cost you, as well,” Archer said, squatting down to take her chin in his hand and turn her face so he could better see it. “No Ilduin has ever called such force from the sky without the aid of her sisters. Whether you knew or not, she drew on your power at that moment.”

Sara shook her head. “That is fine. What does it signify if I tire? Tom is alive.”

Archer merely nodded, then rose, feeling suddenly very old and very tired. “Keep an eye on Tess, I pray you. I need to speak to the elders.”

Then he strode away across the cavern floor toward the fire, where the Gewindi elders were gathering. Women all, they were the lifeblood of the clan, the keepers of knowledge and the arbiters of all problems.

They warmly invited him to sit with them, making space near the comforting flames. For a while they spoke little, as if gathering their resources and thoughts. At a second fire nearby, the cooking had already begun, and the smells of food hung in the air.

Eiehsa finally spoke, her voice deep with the knowledge of many years. “The prophesied times are upon us,” she announced.

Five other heads bobbed in agreement.

“For the first time in our lives, we have seen the true power of the Ilduin unleashed. This can mean but one thing.”

“Ardebal,” one of the women said.

“Yes,” Eiehsa agreed, seeming to stare into Archer’s soul. “Ardebal has awakened. And he stalks Gewindi-Tel.”

It had been two generations of men since Archer had heard the Anari name for the Enemy. And something in the old woman’s face said she knew far more than any was meant to know.

“Yes,” Archer said. “I believe he looks for Tess and Sara. Earlier on our journey, Lady Tess said that she felt what seemed like an oily presence trying to crawl into her mind. I had thought this was perhaps the hive mind of Lantav Glassidor, whom she slew in Lorense. But during that fray, and at times since, I have sensed the presence of the old Enemy. I think perhaps it was he who tried to crawl into the Lady’s mind, and he still who seeks to capture her.”

“Well might that be,” Eiehsa said. “But you know more of this than you have said. You know far too much of the Enemy to be merely a passing mortal. Long are the legends of your life, Master Archer, even counted in the days of the Anari. It is not merely Ladies Tess and Sara whom the Enemy seeks. He seeks you, too, does he not?”

Archer paused for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Yes, Mother. It may be that he does.”

“And do you know why?” Eiehsa pressed. “It behooves us all to know exactly where we stand in this morass, lest we step onto what we think be firm rock and instead sink into a quicksand.”

For long moments Archer stared into the leaping flames of the fire. Around his heart, an ancient carapace began to crack, and into the cracks seeped a pain nearly as old as the world. Along with the pain came a harsh certainty. He turned his head to look once again at Eiehsa.

“I am,” he said, his words weighted as if with lead, “Annuvil.”

“The elder brother,” Eiehsa said. “Beloved of Theriel, against whom Ardred made the war that ended the First Age.”

“Aye, Mother,” Archer said. “It was my brother and I that destroyed the world.”

“Nonsense,” the woman said. “Unless the old tales be twisted by the mists of time, it was your brother whose selfishness and jealousy led to the founding of Dederand. It was your brother who raised an army against the people of Samarand, and kidnapped and murdered Theriel on your wedding night. It was your brother who inflamed the rage of the Ilduin and brought down the rain of fire. Bear ye not the weight of his ill deeds, Lord Annuvil. It profits you nothing and costs you much.”

“I bear only the weight of my own deeds,” Archer said. “But that weight enough is heavy for a soul. Offer me not the blessing prayer of Adis, for I cannot turn from who I am, or what I have done. But let us speak no more of this, I beseech you. The present times are dark enough without the darkness of the past laid also upon them.”

Eiehsa and the other Anari closed their eyes in the same instant, and their lips began moving, mouthing words Archer could not discern. For a long moment it was as if every sound had been sucked from the cave; the fire itself seemed to stand still between them. Then, as one, their eyes opened.

“The pain of Annuvil and the Ilduin stands among us,” Eiehsa said, rising, her voice carrying throughout the caves. “Born of the jealousy of Ardebal, simmered in his hate, seared by his rage. Good stood as evil threatened, yet the soot of the evil still blackened the sky.”

All talk among the Anari had ceased; every eye in the cavern was upon the old woman, who spoke with a rolling resonance that seemed to draw strength from the rocks themselves.

“Now,” she continued, “in the darkness, good stands once more, and once more the scent of black hate hangs in the air. Our people are enslaved, our Tel-mates murdered and our telner turned to ash. Silent were the Anari in the last days of the First Age, standing apart and claiming no side in the madness. But silent are we no more. If it be Ardebal whose evil darkens our lives, let it be Annuvil and the Ilduin whose goodness leads us into the light.”

Try as he might to find words with which to interrupt, Archer could but sit and listen, knowing what was to come, knowing the awful price that would come with it. A part of his soul rebelled against the thought, for he wished to add no more death to the tally in his account. Yet he knew that could not be. Death had stalked him through the ages, and now it stood up behind him once more.

Eiehsa’s voice rose to a crescendo. “Lord Archer, Lady Tess, Lady Sara, into your hands I deliver the heart and might of Gewindi-Tel. And, I dare say, the heart and might of all my people. We shall go to Anahar and there make firm our pledge to your service. For it is in your service that we shall find our delivery.”

She bowed her head slightly, then extended her hands. “I beseech Elanor to grant us healing through these brave souls who have journeyed here to join us. And upon Keh-Bal, I swear to their service the fealty of Gewindi-Tel. Let any who dissent speak now, or be bound by my oath.”

The silence in the cavern seemed to thunder in Archer’s ears. None spoke. None saved himself from what Archer knew was to come.

“We are thine, Lord Archer,” Eiehsa said, offering her clasped hands. “Our wisdom, our dreams, our blood, we put into your hands. Honor us by accepting this oath.”

Seconds seemed to drag into hours as Archer weighed his decision. To refuse the oath would be an act of unspeakable rudeness among the Anari. To accept it might well be their death sentence. He felt a presence and was astonished to see Tess conscious and at his side, with Sara, Giri and Ratha close behind. They too looked to him for guidance, and had throughout this long journey. It was as if the weight of all hope rested on his shoulders and his alone.

Then a look passed between Tess and Sara, and Archer realized in that moment that he was assuming too much. They, too, as Ilduin, would bear the weight and worry of the Anari oath. And, he realized, they, too, had gifts to offer and a prize after which the Enemy lusted.

Tess nodded silently.

Archer turned and clasped Eiehsa’s hands. “I accept your oath, Mother. And I pray that I and my companions will be worthy of your service.”

After a meal that was almost a feast, as if the Anari were celebrating having bound their fate to Archer, Eiehsa and the other clan mothers began to relate stories of the First Age.

Archer slipped away to stand guard at the cave mouth, perhaps because he couldn’t bear the recitation yet again of past horrors. Except, thought Tess as she settled in to listen, he had shared those tales himself, almost as if he felt a need to remind his listeners of the dangers of arrogance and jealousy.

It amazed her, however, to realize that he was the Annuvil of the story he told, the elder brother who had won the love of Theriel, only to find himself caught up in a war, a widower almost before he was wed.

She wished she might reach out to him in some way to ease a pain that must have ridden him hard these many years, but he had taken himself away somewhere. Besides, she doubted any words she might speak could heal a wound so old and deep.

“The Firstborn,” Eiehsa said, her voice carrying to all ears that cared to listen, “were immortal, created by the gods to fill the world with beauty and song. But they were also created in the image of the gods, and with that came less than perfection, for the gods themselves are not perfect.”

Immortal? Tess’s mind couldn’t seem to grasp the idea that Archer was immortal. In fact, thinking about it, she could only consider immortality to be a curse. The joys of life were ever so much sweeter when the days were numbered.

But even the notion of immortality paled beside the prospect that the gods were imperfect and had made their creations with the same imperfections.

She tucked that nugget away for later consideration, for she sensed that therein lay a very important bit of information.

Important enough, perhaps, to save the Anari from their persecutors.

The clan mothers began to sing together again, this time with a rhythm and melody that seemed to creep along the spine and seize the mind in a spell.

Then Eiehsa flung a handful of sparkling sand upon the fire, and out of the flames a figure grew.

8

All sound in the cavern vanished except for the singing of the clan mothers. Even the flames, leaping higher, seemed to dance. The reddish glow from the fire caught on the stalactites, making it seem that bloody teeth surrounded them, ready to bite.

The figure continued to grow out of the flames, yet it was not of the flames. It was the figure of a young woman, dressed in white. A beautiful woman with cascading blond hair and eyes the color of a midsummer sky. Taller she grew, until she towered over them gracefully, so that all in the cavern might see her.

The hem of her long dress appeared to ruffle on a breeze not borne of the fire from which she sprang. In her hands she held a small bouquet of white roses, and on her lips was the soft smile of love.

She reached out one hand and clasped another’s, a figure that coalesced beside her. He was tall, taller than she, and his face was marked with both love and youth. Long dark hair he had, and an innocence about him that made the heart ache.

He drew closer to the lady, and their lips met, sealing a kiss that whispered of eternity.

Then another appeared, a fair and beautiful man whose face also shone with youth, and overshadowed the dark man. But on his face there was no love, only lust and anger.

An instant later the fair and beautiful young man wrested the woman away from the darker one. She struggled against him, but only briefly, for he killed her with a savage blow of his sword before she could defend herself.

Then the images from the fire became ugly and dark, a quickening kaleidoscope of war, of death. At the head of an army the dark man sought vengeance, his sword raised high. He was met on the field of battle by the beautiful golden man and another army.

The view changed again, filled with fallen bodies, and weeping men and women. A city burned.

Then a circle of eleven appeared, eleven women who joined hands and began to sing together.

A new vision, of fire raining from the sky, of a city blasted until nothing was left but a plain of black glass as far as the eye could see.

Then back to the circle of women, who stood tearfully, with their heads bowed. Then, one by one, they dropped each other’s hands and looked around as if waking from a dreadful dream.

As one, they crumpled to the ground in despair, as if they hated what they had done.

And one by one they were gently carried away by the Anari.

Finally a huge temple began to rise from the flames, carved by Anari hands, guided in every detail by the women from the circle, women who now looked haunted and full of grief.

“Anahar,” said Eiehsa, her voice rising above the other mothers. “The temple that was given to all of us to keep the knowledge alive. The temple of atonement. The temple we guard with our lives.”

Turning, she cast her gaze upon Sara and Tess. “You have been sent to learn the mysteries. We have showed you the tale behind them.”

Her voice rose, reaching even the farthest recesses of the cavern. “We have been chosen. We are the Guardians. Our lives are but grains of sand in the river of time, but the temple is eternal. It will be our salvation. Hearten yourselves, my brothers and sisters, for the fight for our freedom will be but the first step on the long road to defeat our ultimate enemy.”

She pointed to fire again, flinging yet another small puff of sparkling dust, and the image of the fair and beautiful man rose again, now with his face twisted by hate. “Never forget he would see us all dead, for he has nothing to live for except power. Keep him in mind. He ended the First Age and would gladly end the second. He comes cloaked in beauty, with his heart full of death. He is Ardebal, Lord of Chaos!”

For an instant the figure loomed over them all, threatening; then, in an eyeblink, everything returned to its natural state.

The clan mothers sat, appearing exhausted; the fire settled back into its pit. Only the angry red teeth of the cave remained to remind them of what they had just seen.

Tess felt a hand steal into hers and turned to see Sara. She squeezed the younger woman’s chilled fingers, hoping the gesture was reassuring. But in Sara’s eyes she read the same feeling that filled her own heart: How were the two of them supposed to do this impossible task that had just been set for them?

Sara returned to find Tom still asleep on his pallet. For a moment his eyes flickered open, and it almost appeared as if they glowed orange, though she knew it was only the reflection of the fire’s glow. Still, his face was pale, and weakness was evident in his limbs.

Acting on an impulse almost beyond her understanding, she cradled his head in her arms and opened her bodice, tucking his lips to her nipple. His response was equally instinctive, as he began to suckle in his sleep. Sara caught her breath, both from the pleasure of the touch and from the realization that she could feel liquid emerging from her breast, flowing into his mouth. For a moment she wondered how this could be, for she had never been with child and certainly never delivered one. Yet the moment seemed to fit with her heart’s call, and she closed her eyes and hummed a quiet tune as he nursed.

“I have heard the tales of Ilduin succor, saved only for the lady’s mate and children,” Eiehsa whispered.

Sara opened her eyes with a start, then caught her cry before it emerged as she looked into the old woman’s kind face.

“Forgive me, Lady Sara,” Eiehsa said. “I did not mean to startle you. But not often does one witness a miracle, though many have my eyes beheld these past days. Still, this seems to me the greatest of all, for the love of the Ilduin was deep in legend, and their milk is said to heal even the most shattered soul.”

“I know not why I did this,” Sara said, stroking Tom’s hair as he now slept at her breast. “I knew only that I must do it.”

“That is often the way of love, Lady Sara. To ponder the reasons is often to miss the moment in its passing. You gave yourself into that moment, and even now color is returning to the young lad’s face. It was your love that he needed, Lady. Your love and the milk of your kindness. And that you gave. I would that we all gave so freely.”

Sara smiled and bowed her head. “Thank you, Mother. Though I fear I am not worthy of such praise. It is neither effort nor sorrow to care for one I love so dearly. But can I carry that same burden for the world at large? For that is the burden which seems placed upon me, and upon Lady Tess. We are unskilled and can act only on the calling of the moment. I fear we shall need much more than that if we hope to prevail.”

“Now, now,” Eiehsa said, reaching out to stroke her shoulder. “Tomorrow will be upon us soon enough, and in its coming it will bring troubles of its own. Fret not for those, my child. Simply care for Tom in this moment and trust your Ilduin blood to guide you in the next.”

Sara felt Tom sag into a deeper sleep, and she gently fixed her bodice and lowered him to the pallet. Then she turned to Eiehsa, tears glistening in her eyes.

“I fear I would slay a thousand souls to save him, Mother. As I watched the legend in the fire and recalled how I felt when Tom was wounded, I knew all too well why my sisters came together to mete such destruction. Love is a great thing, Mother. But it can also be a curse.”

“That it can, Lady Sara,” Eiehsa said. “And it is upon each of us to choose which it will be. Ardebal’s love created the fire, Lady Sara. Your love creates healing.”

“But also have I bled fire, Mother. When my own mother was murdered before my eyes, I bled Ilduin fire upon her killer and tormented him into his last moments. I am no goddess of life, and I know that. I pray that I also am no goddess of death.”

“Your young heart carries a heavy load,” Eiehsa said, squeezing her hand. “The past and the future can crush you in their vice if you permit it. Perhaps the best that you can do is to banish both and live in the kindness of each moment. That is all any of us can do.”

Sara sighed. “In this moment, then, I long for sleep. If you will pardon me?”

“Of course, Lady,” Eiehsa said. “I too need rest, as do we all. Let us pray for a sleep that carries us into the heart of Elanor and heals our pain.”

“Or,” Sara said, “for a sleep that carries me into the heart of my darling Tom and nestles him forever in mine.”

“Ahh,” Eiehsa cried softly, a wide smile breaking over her face. “To be young and in love again. It warms my old bones, child. Thank you.”

With that, she left for the circle of her companions, and Sara slid in next to Tom, holding him to her, praying that his dreams would find her heart, as well.

* * * *

As others were falling asleep in the cavern, Tess made her way outside to find Archer. He proved to be but one of several who were standing guard over the cave and its occupants, but he stood apart. He always stood apart, she realized. In some indefinable way, he was separate.

The thought of that loneliness filled her heart with a sorrowful ache as she approached him. He didn’t turn his head, didn’t take his eyes from the mountains and valleys he watched so intently, but he knew it was she.

“Why do you not sleep with the others, Lady?”

She paused, still six paces behind him. “Sleep eludes me,” she said finally, then crossed the distance to his side.

He gave a brief nod but still failed to look at her. She watched his face, chiseled harsh by the starlight, cast in secrecy by the deep shadows around his eyes. He looked like a figure out of myth—or nightmare. Sometimes she found she wasn’t sure which. Nor did she care. The sight of him always struck a chord deep within her.

“So,” he said, “you have seen the story of the end of the First Age.”

“Aye.” She turned her gaze from him to look out over the shadowy rills of the mountains. “’Twas much as you told it.”

“There is only one tale. It can be told in many forms, but there is only one tale.”

She nodded, neither knowing nor caring whether he saw. “I find,” she said slowly, “that much as I thought I was confused and frightened when I awoke amidst the carnage of the caravan without memory, I grow more confused with each passing day, not more enlightened.”

“’Tis always that way when one realizes that much is demanded of one…but exactly what that might be remains a mystery.”

“Aye.” She sighed. “I’m also frightened. I’m frightened that I might fail when so much hope is placed in me.” Her fingers rose to caress the bag of stones around her neck.

“We all share the same fear, my Lady,” he said, his voice a deep, quiet rumble. “This time was foretold for centuries, but foretold or not, I think none of us is prepared.”

Tess might have laughed at that, except for the lock that dread held on her heart. “I fear for Tom.”

Now he did glance at her. “Why? He appears to be recovering.”

She gripped the stones tightly. “How did I get the stones back? I saw with my own two eyes as they sank into his flesh and sealed his wounds.”

Archer shook his head. “I know not. I found them in your hands when you were unconscious after the healing. I returned them to the bag, and the bag to your neck.”

“Did you see what they did to him?”

Archer hesitated. “In all honesty, my Lady, I was distracted by the rain of fire from the sky.”

Would she could laugh, for somehow his response was so understated it seemed to cry out for humor. But laughter had deserted her, at least for now.

“I don’t know how that happened, either.”

“You spoke the last prayer of Theriel.” Now he turned toward her, facing her, his posture almost accusing. “If you cannot remember anything before the caravan was slaughtered, how is it you recall a prayer that has not been spoken in centuries?”

Tess shook her head, feeling even more frightened, and now frustrated, as well. “I do not recall my words.”