Chapter 9 #2
Another unwilling truth offered up to the ethereal stranger.
“How quickly they forget what life was like when they held his favor. Before the Great Betrayer Mikais doomed them all. The air smells of their blood just waiting to spill. Drayca approaches.”
The intrigue that pulled me into her turns to skepticism. Perhaps I mistook her craziness for mystery. She’s about four years too late with her prophecy of war.
“The Goddess of War already delivered her wrath to our shores. Synal invaded us and cities in Sapphire still lay decimated.”
I step to the side in an attempt to distance myself from the strange woman. A pale hand shoots out to grab my arm. Ice floods my veins at her touch, the cold seeping through the layers of fabric and chilling my bones.
A strong breeze whips around us, the clouds overhead blocking out the sun. The woman’s violet eyes fade into pools of pitch black. Her hold on my arm tightens, my heart pounding frantically in my chest. Magic goes dormant in my veins as if it cowers in the presence of an older, ancient being.
“The gods of the Golden Pantheon don’t concern themselves with mortal maps. Synal, Corinth … your lands are inconsequential to them. Nobus will decimate this realm with little more than a thought. The one with the power to unite us rises as foretold. Are you ready?”
“You have me mistaken for someone else.”
Nobus, Mikais, Drayca, Death—they’re all the same to me. Gods as useless as whatever lost prophecy she rambles on about. I am not whoever she believes me to be.
“Walk with me,” she commands, the clouds parting in a blinding flash of light as she drops her hold from my arm.
Magic pulls me, clawing at my skin in a desperate plea to follow the woman. Her brown cloak flits in the wind as she disappears around the corner of a building. My feet follow her down the cobblestone path, past stores, houses, and gardens.
“Are you a seer?” I call out after her.
“I’ve been called that by those with simple minds.”
The full weight of her indigo gaze lands on me, her eyes quickly transitioning from blue to purple and back again—the violet hue there one minute and gone the next.
“Fate is not something you can read. It’s not written in stone, but in the shifting sands of time. One can change it, if only they’re strong enough.”
I want to believe her words, and I might, if not for the twisting feeling in my stomach every night when foreboding images pull me from my sleep. Haunting hallucinations of swords, crowns, blood, and darkness. What awaits me is as inevitable as the setting of the sun or death itself.
The ethereal woman begins walking again, magic tugging me along gently behind her. Our steps echo on the cobblestone streets, the afternoon quiet after the clamor of the morning clean-up.
I’m not paying attention to where we are walking, only to the mysterious words spoken by the otherworldly woman. I don’t comprehend their meaning, but I understand their importance, no matter how ludicrous they might be.
She stops abruptly and turns to face me. “When the truth reveals itself, you must accept it. Trust the power that guides you and you might have a chance to save the people you love. But if you ignore it, Death will keep you.”
Her whispered voice caresses my cheek like a warm breeze. One moment she’s beside me and the next she’s gone. As if she vanished on the very wind that billows around me.
Frantically, my eyes search my surroundings, glancing in every direction in an effort to find the stranger before landing on the stable across the cobblestone street.
Mud coats Captain Murphy from the toes of his black boots to the knees of his leather pants. One foot rests on the wood-planked wall behind him in casual ease, no armor in sight. Hopefully he helped clear the road today so we can leave this gods-forsaken village in the morning.
I walk toward the stable, my fingers still trembling from the strange encounter. My magic is desperate for release. I need to get to the woods. I need to grow something and maybe even to decay something just this once.
Murphy pushes off the stable to stand fully as I approach.
“Who was that?” he asks in a gravelly voice that I have no doubt has made grown soldiers nearly piss themselves.
“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”
Not a lie and probably the closest thing I have to the actual truth.
Heavy footfalls echo behind me as I move into the stable to saddle my mare. I work quickly, shaky hands securing the tack as best I can while he silently watches.
“Where are you going?” the captain asks.
“For a ride.”
“I’ll join you,” he says sternly.
“I’d prefer you don’t.”
Calloused hands grip my upper arm, forcing me to stop. My magic jumps pathetically under my skin at his touch like a dog welcoming home its master after a long day away.
“It’s my duty to protect you.”
“Then give me your sword,” I bite back.
“Tell me who she is and what she said to you.” There’s a storm raging in his gray irises as he commands me.
“A woman from the village,” I start. “And she spoke nonsense.”
The audacity of him to demand such an answer from me. An answer that, if I’m being honest, I don’t have. She spoke of the gods, of fate and power and prophecy … but what did she really say? What did any of it mean?
“Are you going to give me your sword or not?” I ask incredulously.
With a solemn face, he unbuckles the sword-belt from his chest and places the sheathed blade in my hand.
“You spent the day in the village?”
I expected a scolding for venturing into a crowd of people who hate me without being properly armed. I don’t expect him to appear awestruck at generosity he surely deems uncharacteristic.
I secure the strap and buckle it between my breasts before mounting the horse. It’s only once I am fully seated and turning my horse to leave that I reply to him.
“Did you think I’d spend the day sitting on my ass?” I scoff, spurring the horse forward.
As I cross the stable threshold, he speaks. The words are barely audible, but I swear he groans as he utters his confession. “I’m trying not to think about your ass, princess.”