The Last Prophecy

by Russell Loyola Sullivan

  “So the chalice has not always been in Great Temple Reach?” Devyn asked.

  Simon hesitated. “No, that part is less certain. The seat of knowledge was said to be where the sun rises. It’s always bothered us that being in the west we are not where the sun rises. We had deduced it was merely a way to say it was where enlightenment could be found. But still—”

  “Odd,” Devyn said.

  Brenna nodded. “Yes, the history of Sunterra goes back another thousand turns, but before that… Oh, I remember the name! It was called Arapendia before Sunterra. No wonder I couldn’t recall. What kind of name is that for a city? No one knows where it was situated; it has been lost beneath the sands of time.”

  “As unknown to me as the first name,” Devyn said.

  “We need to find out more,” she said.

  “We can’t go back to the garrison; there we would end up with a lot more than answers.” Devyn felt the swell of that terrible loss, as his mind pictured the bridge going into the garrison. “We need to find another way.”

  “The Desperate Lands,” she blurted out.

  He and Simon looked at her, waiting for more. But he could see she was pondering something.

  “What about the Desperate Lands?” Devyn finally asked.

  “One of my teachers mentioned that some old papers she had read said the original temple was not at the garrison but in the Desperate Lands. That must be where the lost city is located. I remember it now as it had so surprised me at the time. I tried questioning her further, but she bade me leave it alone, as it might displease the lord.”

  Devyn gave a whistle. “The Desperate Lands; there’s a place covered in obscurity. It’s a desolate land where only a few survive, if any. It’s where criminals escape to, and few ever come back. It’s said to be ruled by the ghosts of those who have perished there.”

  “You believe all of that?” she asked.

  “I know enough to stay away.”

  Simon bowed. “It’s a place where even Ogmia has vacated, so says our history. It is why when we pray we face the west, so as to avoid the evil of the glare from the Desperate Lands.”

  Devyn gripped Simon’s arm. “You were merely facing away from the evil that Wallace and his family have laid upon the lands.” He added a chuckle for good measure.

  Simon tapped Devyn’s hand. “You would be wise to take care of both your soul and your mortal being should you ever have cause to enter that terrible place. The old city might be there; I have faint memories of such discussions among the clerics when we were younger and wiser in what we thought was our purpose.” He lowered his head. “I’m not very helpful with any of this. I wish I knew more.”

  Devyn tapped Simon’s hand in return. “It’s okay, Simon. Just knowing you trust us enough to be with us says it all. The others follow your lead. Finally, at least a few meet my eyes and wish me a good day, something that was in short supply before your arrival. We all have our mission and our abilities. Your abilities we were greatly in need of.”

  Simon looked over at Brenna. “Perhaps I could have done more.”

  Brenna got up from the table and put her arms around Devyn. “Well, let’s do some research at the university before I scare you with such a journey. And Simon, you’re in charge of making sure my mother’s cakes are worth eating.”

  “I heard that,” her mother yelled from the kitchen.

  Devyn grabbed Brenna’s arm and kissed her. “I’m not afraid of the Desperate Lands; I have you to protect me.”

  *****

  At the university Devyn and Brenna found very little to read about the Desperate Lands. It was as if the entire region did not exist. No history, no people, it too much resembled what happened when someone or something was shunned, eradicated by an order from those who possessed such a power; everyone would whisper the stories, then even the whispers would find the ear of the powerful. The ax would be swift, and then there would be silence.

  It was clear the Desperate Lands existed, and what lore remained alluded to it as a once bustling center of civilization. Its lack of recorded history spoke eloquently enough of another reality.

  They stayed on in Highrest for a second day, shifting their attention to the Antiquity Library, where old and outdated manuscripts were said to be housed. They searched the many shelves for any mention of the Desperate Lands, and anything to do with the names Arapendia or Sunterra. Their research proved fruitless. They were about to end the visit when the attendant paid them a visit.

  “It’s not often that we get visitors who take so much time searching the stacks of the library.” The old woman smiled a greeting. “Usually someone will drop in for a rest, a place to enjoy the quiet, and perhaps use the time to read some book haphazardly pulled from the nearest bookcase, and then they’re on their way. I don’t believe either of you have sat down since you entered.”

  Brenna glanced at Devyn before she spoke. “We were having a discussion about the Desperate Lands.” A tiny lie would not hurt. “My husband here says the main city in the Desperate Lands, a city now lost to obscurity, was called Sunterra, while I say it was called Arapendia.”

  The old woman’s eyes sparkled. “Well, well… two names that never get mentioned, no matter where you might roam in our lands. You must be scholars, yet neither of you is correct. One of the lost cities is Arapendia, but it was not the main city. The first and main city that existed in that land was named Copartia. And you might well wonder why I know this.”

  A twinkle lit up her eyes, eyes much younger-looking than her aging frame might have suggested; she reminded Brenna of a young girl trying to keep from telling her best friend a secret she had promised someone else she’d keep.

  “And will you tell us?”

  “I have lived a long and wonderful life, and I love being part of this burial ground for all that was. It makes me remember my past, and yes, my beloved husband. My name is Ketan; forgive me for not mentioning that.”

  Brenna extended her hand in greeting. “I’m Brenna, and this is my husband, Devyn. We’re celebrating. We were married here in Highrest a few turns of the seasons ago, and I thought this a nice outing from having him chase me about the room.”

  “My guess is you would be in your room letting him catch you should that be all you two were about.” She winked. “Your secrets are your own. My intuition tells me you’re about good business.”

  Ketan took a seat. “My late husband was a coin merchant at the currency exchange. He loved to tell stories of why coins had value, and why simple barter was no longer possible or efficient. He was also a scholar, and even with me he asked not to pursue why he had become a coin merchant and why he had to leave his former life behind.

  “His favorite story had to do with the first currency of the old world and how it came about. In his story he referred to the place as the main city of the Desperate Lands, and he made it seem like he did not know the name of the city. It was only a short time before he died that he told me the name: Copartia. He said it was a dangerous name to utter.”

  Brenna noted the sadness that took over those youthful eyes she had witnessed earlier. “Did he say anything else about the city?”

  “I care little for that danger now. And no, but there’s a book on the history of Copartia. When my husband was about to die, he told me that one of the last things he had done as a cleric was to hide that book here in the library. He said he had to save it for the generations.”

  Devyn spoke this time. “Could we see the book?”

  “Oh my, yes. My husband somehow knew it was very important and that someone would come looking for it. Something tells me you two are who he meant.”

  Devyn nodded. “We do indeed have an urgent need to uncover what we can.”

  The old woman scurried off and soon returned with a small leather-bound book. “Please treat it gently, and it’ll serve future generations. You can bring it back to me up front when you’re done.”

  Brenna lowered her head. “So sad. We come i
nto your home and bring such sadness.” She took Ketan’s hand. “We’re so sorry we’ve spoiled your day.”

  “Oh no, dear. You’ve done nothing of the sort. It merely feels like a solemn occasion in which some ritual is unfolding. I feel him close. Perhaps he’s the one telling me that you two are the ones who must have the book. And so, I’m allowing myself to feel the connection.” She kissed Brenna on the cheek and strolled away.

  Brenna waited until Ketan was out of earshot. “So unfair that her sorrow is our good luck.”

  “It might be that her sharing fulfills what her husband would have wanted… and what she needs.”

  Brenna playfully slapped his arm. “Now who’s the caretaker?”

  Devyn bowed. “At your service, my lady.”

  They sat and read about Copartia. The opening text referred to a time before, thousands and thousands of turns of their world around the sun ago, a time when mankind slept in caves and only animals roamed the world. Then came a time when history was written on the walls of stone.

  Neither of them had ever read documents concerning happenings from such a time.

  The text went on to talk about beginnings and endings, strife and growth. It gave mention of the gods and the prophets of the gods, ones who knew how great the universe was but how prone it was to catastrophic collision and turmoil, even as more evolved forms of life sought to strike a presence.

  Neither she nor Devyn could totally understand what was being said, even as they tried to reread and discuss what the text meant to convey.

  Eventually the pages talked of things they better understood: central water, crop-growing and cattle-raising, dwellings that were more than tribal gathering places. For such a small book, it contained a stretch of humanity that neither of them could fathom.

  Then they came to the story of a second city, a holy city: Arapendia. And there they fell upon what Ketan had told them, the story of the currency. Even as far back as the scrolls took them, or perhaps before, the greatest currency of the land had been tied to jewels—black jewels, jewels so strong that they could be stamped into steel without suffering a blemish. The holder of the jewels could own the lands and the people; indeed, the world itself. For the jewels gave forth information of the future, of incidents to unfold, details of inventions that would serve all of Kielara. But the jewels were few and could never leave the sacred city of Arapendia, or their worth would be taken away.

  And indeed, the sacred city was looted by those who were the trusted; not a trace of the black jewels was ever found, though it was assumed that the looters had taken them as well. The sacred city then barred everyone other than a caretaker from entering the temple.

  Brenna tapped his hand. “Oh, no.”

  Turning the pages, they read where more invaders tried to enter Arapendia, but failed, the army retreating in disarray; the temple was said to have wailed at its inability to fathom how it was being attacked by those it sought to protect.

  It would never be desecrated a second time.

  Arapendia from that time forward protected itself by only what Ogmia knew it to contain—a place along with the main city, Copartia, now hidden from the outside, lost to the rest of the world, was forever on its guard.

  A little over halfway through the book, the chalice was mentioned. The exact time period was not given; rather, the writing described a massive temple built to house and protect the giver of prophecy. Inside the temple was transcribed all of the prophecies, each one written on a stone, a stone so used to build the temple.

  Devyn and Brenna stopped reading at the same time. They both saw the heading of the new chapter they had turned to: “The Black Jewel Room.” The chapter went on to explain that one particular prophecy in rare instances appeared in repetition. When it did, the chalice would disappear to that room until the prophecy was fulfilled.

  “Oh my,” Devyn said. “I had half hoped that the prophecy Simon gave me would prove to be false. It is clear now that the chalice was not in the garrison, as the garrison does not hold the original temple.”

  Brenna grabbed his hand. “We have to go to the temple in the Desperate Lands.”

  Devyn laughed. “Simon will love to hear this.”

  Chapter 18

  Company on the Trail

  He was surprised by the number of people who had come to see the two of them away.

  His commanders had assured him his army would be bigger and better on his return. Aleena waved from the steps of the recent shop she had built to produce the crossbow she had perfected.

  Jeremy had insisted they take more coin than they would normally take, explaining that the coffers were not full enough to sustain a hurricane, but a wind-driven rainstorm would leave them standing and able.

  Oran and Elian had finally agreed to not refer to him as “lord”; in return he gave them each a Brandy to care for in his absence.

  When Brandy—the two of them—followed him, he stopped and explained that they had a job to do: make sure his commanders learned how to care for animals.

  Brenna asked what his goats might think of his new friends. He answered that his goats would be happy to have new friends.

  They took what they needed: a packhorse, provisions for themselves and the animals, along with a tent, bedrolls, food, and water. They moved out from their garrison, took the road around the outskirts of Highrest, and joined the main road down from the Steel Mountains.

  It would be a long journey south, then east, and then south again into the Desperate Lands. They had made enquiries of tradesmen and travelers, but all had the same story: that territory was a place to stay away from. Fact or fiction, no pertinent information was forthcoming. No matter. Brenna was intent on solving the mystery of the prophecies, and he was intent on ensuring she stayed alive while she did it.

  Their horses were eager to be out and moving, the slow pace of their careful passage down the mountains loosening them up for the more arduous journey ahead. They stopped at midday, a short rest, and continued on their way again. By afternoon the foothills were behind them, and they turned east, the sun at their backs as they traveled.

  They passed the time speculating on what the words of the prophecy might convey. The conversation would invariably turn to the friends and family they had left in charge of their new home, and the difficulties to come of attempting to build a force that could take on Wallace. When that conversation turned to Wallace, there would follow a silence, each pondering the impossible task of crushing such an opponent.

  The next afternoon sun was hot, so different from the cool sun that had greeted their prior morning in the mountains. The forest disappeared behind them. They were approaching the Upper Dry Wastes. The view ahead became a most peculiar formation of rocks; not the rocks that made up mountains or hills, but instead the structures looked like spires of smooth stone, with a sort of cap at the top. They came in all sizes and stood alone against the sky, or in a few places were tangled together in groups of two or three.

  He could not fathom how these unusual formations were created, but they gave the landscape a unique and eerie appearance. Even the colors of the formations, from reds to rust to grays, were vibrant and sculpted compared to any landscape he had ever seen.

  He took a drink from his waterskin. “Well, it’s still not too late to turn back.”

  “I had forgotten how strange this part of the country was.” Brenna reined her horse up beside Fury. “Could I have a drop of that, please?”

  “You’ve been here before. Never told me.”

  “Don’t tell you everything,” she said. She took a drink, passed back the waterskin, and gave him a wink. “My grandparents came from a small village just south of here. We came to visit these monsters once or twice when I was a child. On one such occasion, grandfather had some business in Guild’s Anvil. On the return trip he took us out to visit this place. He said the tall spires were men who had been turned to stone after being caught in a gigantic storm. The storm was so powerful that it also blew
away the sea that once covered this land all the way to the Desperate Lands. He said that before then, ships had sailed back and forth between two worlds—this large continent and another land that was far across the great ocean to the east. He told us that trade was prosperous for both sides, the lands green and teeming with creatures. The great storm took everything—the trees, the animals—and left behind only the sand-watchers to mark the desecration.”

  “That’s quite the story. I wonder how much of it has any truth? I can see where the story of the men being turned into stone comes from. They do look like giants.”