The Allseer Trilogy

by Kaitlyn Rouhier

  He walked over to her and she grabbed his hand, dropping the glowing orb into his palm. It was heavier than he expected and slightly warm to the touch.

  “The greater you are able to focus on the creation, the more tangible it will be,” Samira explained. “If I were to drop the amount of power, you’d see it shift into something inferior to what it is now. Watch.”

  The orb began to dissipate and become lighter. Eventually it became little more than a few wisps rotating in the air and then it faded out of existence entirely.

  “That’s amazing,” Isa said, her face lit up with glee. “What else can you do?”

  “Let’s not get too detailed today. You still have a way to go before you can even do that much. I suggest keeping up with this training in your spare hours. It’ll help move this process along.” Samira said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve worked up quite an appetite defeating you two.”

  She sauntered towards the stairs, leaving Garild and Isa alone. He turned his gaze to his partner and she shrugged her shoulders, her smile sheepish.

  “Guess that was all for today,” she said, wincing as she raised a hand to her head. “It’s been a while, huh? I forget how much this hurts.”

  Garild was starting to feel it as well, the vast fatigue that came with using his powers. He could feel a headache forming, threatening to spring to life and wreak havoc in his skull. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine. If it gets too bad I’ll go mix something up for it. What do you want to do with the rest of the day? Trista is busy talking with the healer about what work we’ll be doing, so I’m free for a while.”

  “She didn’t want you to join?” he asked. Isa had worked closely with Trista over the months, learning all she could from the talented healer. She’d been a perfect student, picking up on her lessons with ease.

  “Oh, no. It’s not that. She demanded I take the day off and there is no point in arguing with her.”

  Garild smiled. Trista had a temper as fiery as her hair. “Fair point. What do you think of Sharmir so far?”

  Isa shifted, her eyes drifting to the open window. “It’s… different. It feels so strange to be away from it all - like we’re in a different world almost. You get so wrapped up in the beauty of this place. It’s easy to forget that back home, people like us are being murdered. I guess I should be thankful we’re safe, but I also feel guilty too, you know?”

  He knew the feeling all too well. So many of their friends had gone off to face the dangers in Taverin while they had remained in relative safety, tucked away in their little corner of the world. Now, they were across a vast ocean, finally safe from the horrors being witnessed and felt by those they’d left behind. Isa looked to him, her eyes full of sadness. It always surprised him how much she felt, the depths of her emotions that he’d failed to notice before. She had always seemed so innocent and naïve, her happy-go-lucky nature giving her an air of nonchalance, as if the things that were happening were incapable of touching her.

  He’d seen past the mask after what had happened in Sanctuary. After she’d lost Ian, that façade had slipped, revealing the old soul buried beneath. “I know what you mean. It’s hard being this far away, to not know what is going on back home. I hope we’re able to do something good with our time here. We might actually learn something useful.”

  “I hope so. If anything, maybe what Samira is teaching us will have some use in the future. With the way things are going, who knows what will happen.”

  “We’ll figure something out. I think we made the right choice coming here. If anything, it helps give us a little perspective.”

  Isa met his gaze, a smile on her lips. “Something has changed in you, hasn’t it?”

  It was Garild’s turn to blush. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

  Her smile widened. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s nice to see you happy again.” Before she could embarrass him too thoroughly with her observations, she changed the subject. “Did you ever find out who we need to get that letter to? I think Trista mentioned the name Brandon.”

  Garild felt his heart resume beating. He was thankful she’d shifted the conversation away from him. He didn’t know if he was ready to open up to her, to share such feelings with this woman he was just starting to really know. “Ah, the letter. Well, there is a slight problem with that.”

  Isa tilted her head. “And what’s the problem?”

  “It…well, it belongs to Rand.”

  She looked confused, one brow arching. “Rand? And…there’s something wrong with that?”

  “I was warned by Samira that giving him that letter is likely to earn us his eternal wrath. She said we’d be banished from Sharmir and drowned in the ocean, or something like that.”

  “Sounds a little extreme,” Isa said. “You sure she wasn’t exaggerating a bit?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out either. I need to think on it, maybe talk to Trista. We don’t know him that well and I’m not willing to risk our stay here for a stupid letter.”

  “Well, that’s out of the question for now. Have any other ideas?”

  “Go explore already, you dolt, and get out of my study,” Samira said, her voice reverberating in his head. “Just go somewhere. I’ll lead you to something interesting. Just pretend you know your way around. Might even be romantic.”

  “Damn it, Samira. Get out of my head,” he demanded.

  “Just trust me.”

  “Let’s go explore a bit,” Garild said to Isa, trying to hide his irritation. “I’ve heard there are some neat places around here. We should go see them.”

  Isa looked ecstatic. “Yes! That sounds great.”

  “Told you,” Samira said.

  They left behind the stifling study and stepped out into a jungle refreshed by rain. The air was misty and it coated their skin in tiny droplets as they walked. It was an odd feeling to have it be raining and still feel blighted by the heat. Back home, rain came with a chill wind.

  “Where am I going, Samira?”

  “Just keep going straight for now. I’ll let you know if you’re going the wrong way,” she assured him.

  Isa was quiet as they walked the path through the jungle, her eyes soaking in all there was to see. She looked right at home with the vivid colors surrounding them, her flowing, yellow dress making her look like a flower herself.

  As promised, Samira guided them through the forest, leading them on a rather scenic stroll through the jungle. They passed waterfalls and a thicket of some of the largest flowers he’d ever seen, their massive pale petals dripping from the recent rain. At one point he nearly stepped on a frog that was twice the size of his hand. The lazy croak it let out sent Isa into a fit of giggles, her laughter filling the forest. She grinned from ear to ear as she watched it bound off into the underbrush.

  The trail dumped out into a small clearing. A rather unassuming building had been erected in the center of it, and unlike most of the buildings he’d seen in Sharmir, this one was built out of wood. It was crudely shaped, more of a hut than anything, the entrance covered by a thick panel of fabric. He could have sworn he heard a humming sound coming from within.

  Isa cocked her head. “It sounds like someone singing,” she said.

  “What is this place, Samira?”

  “I saw a door in your mind, some sort of barrier between Sanctuary and the outside world. You’ll find one much like it in that house,” Samira explained. “Unlike your old stone friend, this one won’t try to melt your brain. She’s quite pleasant, if not a bit confusing at times. I sent away the scholars for the time being. Take all the time you’d like.”

  Garild looked towards the hut with renewed interest and a bit of fear. He’d been half dead when he’d met Akra, the talking stone edifice that guarded the only way in or out of Sanctuary. Whatever she was, whatever power lingered there, it had tried to kill them rather than let them out into the world. It wasn’t a reassuring thought that there were more like her.


  “She’s not going to hurt you, Garild. Quite being a baby,” Samira chided.

  Isa turned to him, a question on her lips. “What’s here?”

  “It might be easier if I just show you,” he said. Isa had experienced the terror of Akra after Sanctuary had fallen, after they’d all fled their home. Luckily for her, she was barely able to recall what had happened, her mind too scrambled at the time to keep that particular memory.

  With hesitant steps, he made for the entrance. The singing coming from within stopped as he reached out his hand. It was eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from the jungle and the frantic beat of his own heart. He took a deep breath, pushed back the curtain, and stepped into the dim hut, squinting in the dark for a sign of whatever lurked within.

  Isa peered inside. “Garild?”

  “Just wait a second,” he said, completely unsure of what to do. He took another step and about fell backwards out of fright when a dark lump in the center of the room began to glow, basking the room in an amber light. Isa let out a squeak and sprang for his arm, hands gripping him tightly. She peered over his shoulder and stayed quiet as a mouse.

  It was a great chunk of rock, the very tip of it reaching just past his head. The wide surface was delicately carved and depicted the face of a young woman, her features small and delicate. Her hair flowed around her like tiny streams, flowers enwrapped in each twirl and curl. It seemed so lifelike, as if you could reach out and feel skin beneath your fingers and silken strands tangling in your grasp.

  There was a tingling sensation across his forehead. He could feel it, threads of power cautiously probing his mental wall. It wasn’t trying to force its way in, whatever it was, but rather seemed to be requesting admission, softly knocking at the door to his mind.

  Isa went stiff behind him. She must have felt it too. “Isa, it’s okay,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he believed himself. He reached out tentatively towards those threads, dropping his guard just the slightest bit.

  A soft, feminine voice greeted him and he jumped at the sound. “You’re new,” the voice mused. “I’ve never felt your mind before.”

  He sent a response to that mysterious voice. “W-who are you?”

  “The scholars have given me the name Hetra. My true name is lost, swallowed by the ages. I cannot remember it.” She sounded almost sad, her voice growing thin as she spoke. “Have you come to share with me? I do so enjoy it.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Share what?”

  “Stories. Memories. Thoughts. I have been bound here for so long, will continue to be bound. I simply wish to see, to hear, to feel.”

  Garild relaxed and pried Isa away from his arm. “Isa, drop your guard a little bit. Introduce yourself.”

  “What exactly am I introducing myself to?” she asked hesitantly, eyeing the great, glowing stone in the center of the room with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

  “Just trust me,” he said, stepping a little closer to the stone. The amber glow flared brighter, illuminating the space around him. He dropped his walls a little further, allowing those tendrils to creep inside his mind. It was an entirely different feeling then he had been expecting. There was a gentleness to this being, an overwhelming feeling of curiosity that reminded him of a child.

  Isa gasped behind him and he turned towards her. Her eyes were locked on the stone, her hands clasped tightly against her chest. “It… spoke,” she sputtered. “W-what is it?”

  Garild motioned for her to come closer. “I don’t know, honestly. You don’t remember it but there is a stone just like this one guarding the way in and out of Sanctuary. This one seems friendly though. It wants us to talk to it. Samira told me about this place, and I don’t think she’d let us waltz in if it was going to hurt us.”

  “I hope you’re right about that,” Isa whispered. She crept closer, her eyes never leaving the pulsating light. He nearly jumped when her hand found his, her delicate fingers intertwining with his. He looked down, unable to keep the surprise off his face. She refused to acknowledge the action, her eyes soaking in the details of the stone edifice.

  He shook off his confusion, turning his attention back to his mental wall. “I’m going to pull you both into a central space so we can all talk at once. Are you okay with that, Isa?”

  She glanced at him, her eyes huge in the amber light. “Yes, that’s fine. I think.”

  Garild gave her a reassuring smile and closed his eyes. He focused, weaving his energy into a secluded space in his mind, crafting it to look like the forests of Sanctuary. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to be able to roam through his mind, to be able to freely pick through his thoughts and memories. He’d share what he was willing, nothing more.

  He reached out, grabbing hold of Hetra and pulling her essence into the space he’d created. She appeared among the glowing trees, not as a carved stone, but as a person. She appeared no older than they were, wearing a flowing white gown that tangled in the glowing leaves littering the forest floor. Her hair was a coppery blonde and it cascaded past her shoulders, the gentle waves ending at her hips. Pale green eyes held him in her gaze, eyes that held far more wisdom than her age would suggest.

  It was a struggle to pull his eyes away from her. She was something otherworldly and mysterious. Turning his focus away from the beautiful apparition, he reached for Isa and pulled her into the illusion. She materialized in his peripheral, her eyes drifting around the forest before falling on the woman before them. There was a brief flicker of surprise that was quickly replaced by carefully restrained curiosity.

  Hetra smiled. “It is so good to have new visitors. I’ve grown tired of the other ones. Always the same questions, the same stories. What is there to learn from such stillness?”

  Isa stepped closer to Hetra, studying her. “Hetra, what are you exactly?”

  “The scholars tell me I’m a relic. I no longer remember what I once was, what I am now. My purpose has been taken from me. Reaching back into that great void, trying to pull out something that is lost. It is fragments, glass shards of memory from a time when I lived, but I cannot grasp them. They cut. They bleed. Was I a guardian? I think I protected people.”

  Her speech was broken, eyes unfocused as if she were drifting in another time and place. She was both far away and present, lost somewhere in the middle. Garild couldn’t help but ask, “Protected them from what?”

  Hetra looked towards him, pale green eyes glowing. “Something dark slithered over this world once. Fangs sunk deep, corrupted flesh. The world drowned in a sea of screams. We were safety, warmth. We kept the void at bay, kept it from consuming all.”

  Perhaps they’d been corrupted, whatever power rested in those stones. Akra had spoken just as she did, but her mind had snapped and what had been left behind was a cunning malice. Hetra had maintained her innocence. She hadn’t been completely broken by the passing of time. Garild looked to Isa who replied with an uncertain shrug. He wasn’t sure what to ask, what to tell.

  “Hetra, there is another just like you. I met her. Would you like to see?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, eyes glowing brighter. “I feel them sometimes, calling across the world. They speak to me, but it is whispers. Faint. Far. I don’t understand them.”

  Garild reached into himself, pulling together the hazy memory of his time in the caves. It seemed so long ago, so distant. He dredged the memory from the recesses of his mind, revealing it for them to see. He could feel them picking through it, watching with interest.

  “I don’t remember this cave,” Isa whispered. “My mind was still healing. How you and Kirheen made it through… you were both so brave.”

  Hetra basked in the memory, her eyes glazed as she watched it unfold around her. “Akra was strong once, stronger than many of us. She became a spider, her web spun and spread through that dark cave. She wanted to feast, to eat the fear. What were you afraid of? What did you let her eat?”

  Garild shivered at the words, t
rying not to think about that overwhelming buzzing that had tried to pierce their minds, the fear as a phantom taint had spread over their bodies. She’d used that fear against them, had tried to pry open their minds with the terror of seeing a lie become reality.

  Hetra let out a sharp hiss and huddled to the ground, her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were twin sparks glowing so bright he couldn’t meet her gaze. There was fear in her posture - fear and anger. Power poured off of her in waves and it filled his mind, putting pressure against the walls he’d built to contain them. A tree to his left splintered and cracked, the sound reverberating through the forest. “What is this?” she spat. “Why are you showing me this?”

  Garild took a cautious step back, putting out his arm so Isa would do the same. He could feel a power meld with his own, Isa lending her strength to help reinforce his walls. “Garild, I don’t like this. Something is wrong.”

  Hetra moaned, shielding her eyes from them. “Has it returned? You’ve seen it, that blight. The terror. Will the world drown once more, lost in a sea of screams? Dark, so dark. No, no, no. It mustn’t. It can’t. We are not ready. We have no strength in this world.”

  Garild lowered himself to one knee. He could feel tension and fear in her like a bundled chord. He reached for it, tried to loosen its grip. Her power radiated outwards from that fear, forcing him back. “Hetra, what did you see? What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

  “You’ve fallen so far… so far. Do you not know your own power? The corruption lies dormant, coiling around the crystals, ready to strike. Shadows will descend. What have you done to anger the gods? You’ve seen it - you have. The creeping black, death to all but those with the gift. Can you stop it? Are you strong enough?”

  It was too much, a jumbled mess of words that he couldn’t decipher. The pressure was building, sharp lines of pain arcing through his skull. Even with help, his walls were buckling under the pressure. The tress began to crack around them, sending icy blue sparks into the night. Isa let out a low growl, straining under the onslaught of power. “Garild, we have to do something. This is too much. She’s going to break us!”