Prophecy: Child of Earth

16

In the night, Oelendra woke from a dream of deep darkness. She stood as she had twenty years before with Llauron, the son of Anwyn, at the feet of her sister, Manwyn, the prophetess of the Future. She trembled in her bed as the words of the madwoman came back to her.

Beware, swordbearer! You may well destroy the one you seek, but if you go this night the risk is great. If you fail you will not die, but, as a piece of your heart and soul was ripped from you spiritually in the old land with the loss of your life’s love, the same will happen again, hut physically this time. And, that piece it takes from you will haunt your days until you pray for death, for he will use it as his plaything, twisting it to his will, using it to accomplish his foul deeds, even producing children for him.

Oelendra bolted upright in her bed. The fur blankets were wet with sweat and tears; she was shaking violently. Slowly she crawled out of bed and made for the fire. It was dying quietly on the hearth, with but a few infinitesimal embers remaining, clinging to the gray ash. Oelendra blew on the embers; they gleamed red-orange for a moment, then settled back into the impotence of the overly weary. There is nothing left, they seemed to say. Admit it; there is a limit to even the most raging fires eventually. This is what it looks like. Oelendra did not need the reminder. She had seen the same thing each morning in the looking glass.

She had not had the dream in years, a decade even. Why now? The sword had returned; she had felt it when it came forth from the earth, only to feel its fire drift farther and farther away until it was gone. But now she could sense it once more, at sunset and with the rising sun; it was very near. Oelendra looked into the dark fireplace and sighed as the last spark burned out. She rested her head against the mantel and closed her eyes.

“I’d like to alter our route to Tyrian a bit.”

Ashe craned his neck forward hear her voice better. She was dressing in the small closet, her words muffled by the ever-present timpani of the rain water dropping from the forest leaves.

“Oh?”

The curtain pulled back, and Rhapsody came into the room, lacing her boot leggings. “I’d like to go by way of the Filidic settlement at Gwynwood. Since you trained at the Circle, I assume you can find it again—yes?”

The wind around them died down suddenly, leaving a pulsing silence. Ashe silent for a moment as well. “I believe so,” he said finally. “My training was a very long time ago.”

Rhapsody blinked in surprise at what sounded like uncertainty in his voice. He had led her all the way from Canrif through Bethe Corbair, Yarim, and Canderre, into the northern part of the forest of Gwynwood itself to the lair of the dragon without a map or a misstep of any kind. He traveled the virgin woods and endless fields that reached to the horizon in all directions as if he were some vagabond lord and they were his own lands. It seemed strange that he was unsure of the way to enormous Filidic settlement at the foot of the Great White Tree, which in her estimation was somewhere nearby.

“Well, if you can’t find it, I’m sure I can,” she said, shifting her pack to the other shoulder. “I imagine if I were to concentrate I could hear the song of the Tree from here. In fact, I think we are very near the outer ring of huts now. Are we in Navarne now, or actually in Gwynwood?”

There was a long moment before he spoke. “Gwynwood.”

Rhapsody pulled the other bootlace taut. “I thought so. I believe I’ve been through this part of the forest with Gavin.”

“I can find the Circle,” Ashe said; there was a slightly terse tone to his voice. “Why do you want to go there?”

“I need to send a message back to Ylorc, to let them know my plans have changed. I can’t go off for several months of training and not at least let them know I’m safe and where I am. Llauron has messenger birds. He would send a missive to Achmed if I asked, I believe. But if this is a problem for you, I certainly understand. As I’ve already said, I don’t want to impose.”

Ashe shook his head. “I’ll take you to the Circle; I don’t wish to broach it, however. I will wait for you in the forest to the south while you send your message, and then escort you the rest of the way to Tyrian.”

Rhapsody smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m grateful.”

Ashe turned over in the chair and sighed. He stared at the tiny window for a moment, then closed his eyes.

“If you are, you can show it by letting me go back to sleep. It’s not dawn yet.” next morning the sun was back and the forest floor had dried sufficiently. They set out, closing the door on the little hut regretfully, and slipping in front of the waterfall once more.

They walked in near silence. Ashe’s hood was up again, and it seemed to swallow his thoughts as well as his countenance. Rhapsody’s own thoughts were roaming far and wide, scattering themselves before her like leaves in a high wind.

She closed her eyes and listened for the song of the Tree; she heard it almost immediately, deep and resonant, humming in the earth and the air around her. It was a slow song, full of dormant power, with much the same timbre as a yawn and stretch after a long sleep; a song of awakening.

A thrill shot through her, resonating in her skin. There was a sense of rebirth all around her, and she felt part of it, here in this place of spring. She was smiling for the joy of it when a thought occurred to her. She stopped and turned quickly to Ashe.

“You took your forester training here? From Gavin?”

“Yes.”

Rhapsody looked off through the trees to the south. “There’s a waymarker blazed in a small-leafed linden tree to the south of the Circle lands, about halfway to Tref-Y-Gartweg,” she said. “Do you think you can find it with from that limited description?”

“Yes,” Ashe said again. She thought she heard a slight smile in his voice. Having seen his face, and found it to be pleasing, picturing him smiling was more pleasant than it had been before when it was left to the supposition of her imagination.

“Well, then, why don’t we plan to meet there tonight? It’s about three foot-trod leagues from here, so I should be able to make it if they don’t delay me.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Only until tonight. If I don’t come, go on without me. I don’t want to be responsible for keeping you from your love one more moment than necessary. I’m sure there are foresters heading south to Tyrian into whose company Llauron can put me.”

Ashe shook his head. “Don’t do that,” he said; the warmth had left his voice. “The fewer people who know where you are going, the better, Rhapsody. I wouldn’t even share that information with Llauron if you don’t absolutely have to.”

Rhapsody sighed. “You know, you and Achmed have a lot more in common than I ever realized,” she said, pulling up her hood. “All right, I’ll be discreet.

Goodbye, Ashe. If I don’t see you this evening, thank you again for your aid.”

“You’re welcome. I will walk you as far as the hostels before we part. And you will see me this evening.”

She smiled. “I’m certain I will—as much of you as you’re usually willing to let me see.”

The wind picked up, almost swallowing his soft reply.

“I’ve allowed you to see far more than most. Let’s hope neither of us lives to regret it.”

Outside the ring of forest huts that formed the widest circle of the Filidic settlement was a hostel, a series of small wayfarers’ cottages with a main lodge between them. Rhapsody recognized the group of buildings as one of the pilgrim hostels. It was to one of these hostels that Llauron’s Tanist, Khaddyr, had brought her when she first came to the Circle.

Ashe had circumvented a number of similar hostels before pointing her in the direction of one somewhat smaller building.

“Why this one?” she asked. “Why not one of the dozen or so we passed earlier?”

“I think you might find Gavin here,” Ashe replied.

Rhapsody laughed. “It’s easier to find a specific grain of flax in a ten-stone sack than to find Gavin anywhere you are looking for him,” she said. “He could be anywhere on this side of the continent.”

Ashe shrugged. “Well, then he has just as much chance of being here as anywhere else,” he said nonchalantly. “Do you need to see him specifically?”

“No. Anyone who can get me to the Tree Palace without being stopped will do.”

“Then you are in the right place. Just ask one of the foresters; I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to oblige you. But Rhapsody—only one. And keep your hood up. I’ll see you tonight.”

Rhapsody watched him walk away into the trees and disappear from her view. She turned back to the budding forest before her.

A few acolytes dressed in the cowlless robes of the Filidic order were walking through the hostel’s grounds, chatting with each other. Rhapsody waited until they had faded off into the woods, then walked up to the door of the main building and prepared to knock.

Before her knuckles touched the door it opened. Standing there, looking surprised, was a brown-skinned man with a full, dark beard, attired in the green and brown garb of the foresters regiment, the woodsmen who served as guides to the pilgrims on their journeys to pay respect to the Circle and to the Great White Tree. Rhapsody froze so as not to rap him in the face.

“Gavin! I’m sorry.”

“Rhapsody?” Gavin stared at her, then smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to ask a favor of Llauron,” Rhapsody said. “Do you think you might be able to get me in to see him?”

“I imagine I can,” he said, stepping out of the cottage and pulling the cord handle to shut the door behind him. “I’m on the way to the Tree Palace now, in fact. Llauron holds a meeting of the chiefs after each new moon. You’re welcome to accompany me, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” she said, following him off the doorstep and through the glade. “I’d like that.” She hurried to keep pace with his swift passage through the greenwood, and made note to compliment Ashe—who was about the same height as Gavin—the next time they met up on how nicely he had managed to reign in his stride to keep her from having to chase him as they walked.