Shadows of Prophecy. Rachel Lee
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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