Prophecy

by Elizabeth Haydon

  Sweat began to form on his brow. “You’re sure of this?”

  Annoyance crept into the sympathy of her expression. “Don’t interrupt me—I’ve had to find all this out without any assistance from you, so you just stand there and listen and wait your turn. Sure? No. When I’m sure of something, I’ll say so. But I have more than a passing suspicion that I’m right, so please don’t chime in again unless you’re correcting my facts. Understood?”

  “Yes,” he said, lowering his eyes and smiling.

  “Twenty or so years ago, in an attempt to kill an old-world demon that came to this land by stowing away on Gwylliam’s ship, you had a piece of your soul torn out, leaving you in constant agony and giving that demon the power to find you. You went into hiding, letting everyone who knew you think you were dead, walking around in a shroud of mist, trying to find the new demonic host and to stop the petty wars it was causing. You’ve been rather unsuccessful at both, if you’ll pardon my saying so.

  “In the meantime, the demon that took the piece of your soul built a machine of sorts around it, something that looks like you, and is powered by your soul, but is generated from the F’dor’s own blood. It is responsible for much of the terror that has been bringing the land to the brink of out-and-out war, and should anyone ever encounter it and live, they would blame you for those acts, assuming they believed you were alive.

  “It’s not likely that they would, however. Not even the demon knows you are still alive, I would guess. Nonetheless, the Rakshas has been seeking you all this time on behalf of its master, trying to get your body and the rest of your soul, probably for the purpose of making you the F’dor’s new host. It is searching for you still, which is why you walk in a cloak that hides your whereabouts. How am I doing so far?”

  Ashe nodded numbly.

  “Oh, and I also know how you were mostly healed by the Lord and Lady Rowan. And that you’re a dragon, at least partially. That’s how you knew in which of several hundred hostels I would find Gavin.”

  “What are you going to do with this information?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Well, first, I’m going to hope that you don’t kill me now.”

  “I think you’re safe for the moment.”

  “Oh, good. Next, I plan to help you. I believe I’ve outlined how already, but you still haven’t put on the ring.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you afraid to?”

  “A little.”

  “Why?”

  Ashe sighed. “Rhapsody, this is not what I expected to hear from you.”

  She smiled, and a look of interest came into her eyes. “Really? Just what did you expect to hear?”

  “I have no idea, actually. I guess I thought you might need help, or wanted to let me know you were back.”

  “I see. Look, Ashe, you have been one of the few people since I’ve been here to actually assist me in finding the things I needed to; you’ve helped me, and I would really like to return the favor. I’ve been pretty isolated since I’ve been in this land; until now, I’ve spent my time chiefly with Achmed and Grunthor. Except for Jo, you’re about the only friend I have.

  “I know you’re used to being on your own, and have been unable to trust anyone except Llauron, but please, let me help you. I think you need a friend as much as I do; more, probably.” Ashe smiled. Rhapsody sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. “Please; I know you don’t want to trust me, but you have to, you really do. Sooner or later the demon will catch you off guard. You need someone to watch your back. Besides, no woman should have to beseech a man this much to put on a ring; it’s demeaning.”

  Ashe laughed. He came to the couch and sat down beside her, taking her hand. “I wish I knew what to say to you.”

  “As I told you before, there’s really no need to say anything. Please, Ashe, just put it on. It’s the first step in making you whole again. Once you are healed and out of agony; then I’ll work on killing the Rakshas for you. Here.” She held out the ring once more.

  Ashe took the ring in his palm, and slowly closed his fingers around it. Just holding it eased his pain; he could feel intense power radiating from it. He looked back at the woman on the sofa beside him; her eyes were sparkling with anticipation. His wounded soul cried out a warning, that this was an illusion, it was too good to be as it seemed. A trap, whispered the dragon. She’s from the demon, she will have us. Forbear. At the same time, that element of his nature was fascinated by the power of the ring. More than anything, his human soul wanted to believe her. He swallowed hard, and put on the ring.

  At first he felt no change. Then, after a moment, he felt a sensation of goosedown falling gently on his head, like snowflakes. He looked up but could see nothing. Then he felt something heavier, like a warm cloak, descend on his shoulders, and as if from the floor a strength rose through him, increasing the volume of his blood and the power of his heart. His lung capacity grew, and his dragon sense could feel the knitting and repair of thousands of vessels and the muscles within his chest cavity, the growth of new bone and new skin, until each wounded piece was made perfect again. And at that moment power roared through his newly perfect body, surging through his blood and to his mind, and his thoughts expanded, as well as his capacity to understand, as the wisdom of the ring permeated him.

  He looked back at Rhapsody, who was watching his transformation in awe, and knew innately that she was not a demonic minion, but was totally without pretense; she was exactly as she seemed. Tears came into his eyes at the thought, and a great shuddering gasp escaped him.

  The look of intense amazement on her face shifted rapidly into concern. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, smiling slightly, and released her hand. He could sense the blood return to her fingers, and felt guilty in the knowledge of how tightly he must have squeezed it. His fingers trembled as he unlaced the top of his cambric shirt and opened it. The ugly gash that had sundered his chest was gone, replaced by a thin pink scar and new, healing skin. He looked back at Rhapsody. Tears welled in her beautiful eyes, and she broke into a smile that made his heart leap.

  “How do you feel?”

  The pain was gone; he felt dizzy and hollow, but marvelous.

  “Better,” he said, mentally kicking himself for the inadequacy of his answer.

  “Good. I’m glad it worked.”

  Ashe, for yet another time that afternoon, was unable to express adequately the vast extent of what he felt: relief, joy, anticipation, validation of his hopes. How could he explain what this meant to him, to be freed of decades of anguish and suffering, to be offered hope for the first time in as long as he could remember? He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and in the back of his mind, the dragon cursed his inadequacy.

  Rhapsody, on the other hand, seemed satisfied. “Well, now that that’s over, will you do me a favor?”

  He took a deep breath. “Anything. Anything at all.”

  She patted his hand. “Would you do me the honor of bestowing on me your first pain-free embrace? I’ve felt terrible about what I did to you in the forest.”

  Rather than risk making a fool of himself, Ashe didn’t speak, but just opened his arms, and she came to him. He pulled her close, almost not daring to allow himself to sense her for fear the dragon would consume his self-control. Like a child entering the cold water of a swimming hole, putting one toe, one foot in at a time, he gradually allowed his senses to appreciate her. The scent of her hair was still like morning, as fresh as a meadow after a summer rain. The crisp fabric of her blouse held in the warmth of her upper body, a heat that made his hands shake.

  But before he could fall deeply into her she released him and stood up. “How about some tea?” she asked. Smiling. “I know you hate the way I make it, but you can steep it yourself. I’ll get the pot. Why don’t you rest here? I’ll be right back.”

  She left the room, Ashe’s heart following her out the door.

  38

  After she returned with the tea,
she sat down next to him on the floor and handed him a cup. He took a sip, then decided to plunge ahead.

  “May I ask you something?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Why did you do this?”

  “Do what?”

  He held up his hand with the ring. “This. And everything you must have done to get it.”

  Rhapsody looked confused. “I told you all that a moment ago; there is nothing I wouldn’t do for a friend. I told you what I would do, what being your friend meant, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there you have it.”

  “Are there any other reasons?”

  “Other reasons for what?”

  “Other reasons for giving me this incredible gift; for helping me like this.”

  Rhapsody was surprised. “Other reasons? Other than the ones I’ve just given you?”

  “Yes, if there are any.”

  She considered, looking down into her lap, and rested her hands on her knees. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I suppose there are two other reasons, but they aren’t as important as the first.”

  “Tell me,” Ashe said, looking down at her. He was very uncomfortable with their seating arrangements; she was sitting at his feet in the traditional position that a servant assumed in a human royal court.

  “Well, I’m not sure I can really explain this, but ever since I met Lord Stephen and saw the shrine he has to you in his museum, I believed you weren’t dead, and I felt a sort of inexplicable need to help you.”

  “Shrine?”

  “That might be a bad word for it, but Lord Stephen has a little area in the museum in his keep with a plaque dedicated to you and some artifacts that were yours. I asked him who this Gwydion was, and he told me a little of your story. It was somehow clear to me that he, I mean you, not only might still be alive, but, in fact, were. I can’t explain it past that.

  “As you know, I’ve had dreams and visions of the Future for a long time, and sometimes they are frighteningly accurate, so I tend to trust my instinct. That instinct said you were alive, and so I guess I became a little obsessed with finding you and helping you. I obviously didn’t know that you were Gwydion when we first met, but as it has become more and more apparent, I have done what I can to help you.”

  “And I can’t begin to express my gratitude,” he said, looking at her with an unfamiliar expression in his eyes. Rhapsody felt the color rise in her face, even though she was not sure why. His eyes were so strange; the vertical pupils were unnoticeable from a distance, but it was evident there was something different about them. Perhaps that accounted for the odd look.

  “What else? You said there were two things.”

  Rhapsody looked uneasy. “It might make you a little uncomfortable to hear it,” she said, her face continuing to redden, her eyes clear and green as the forest canopy, shining up at him.

  Ashe couldn’t bear to hope. “What?”

  She looked down at her hands again. “If things go the way we expect, you will eventually be the Lord Cymrian. Since I am Cymrian, you will be my sovereign lord, and I will be your subject, so I owe it to you as my liege to help you in any way I can.”

  The expression on Ashe’s face when she looked back up caused her to move away a little. It was a combination of sick disappointment and horror.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve reminded you of anything painful,” she said, wishing she had kept silent.

  It took him a moment to formulate a response. He fought to keep his voice calm and gentle. The last thing wanted was to frighten her with the intensity of his feelings.

  “Rhapsody, I don’t want you to be my subject.”

  She looked at him with a surprised expression, one that was even a little hurt.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath and dropped her eyes again, looking like she was coming to understand what he said.

  “Well, all right then,” she said slowly, “if that’s the way you feel, I’ll stay away from Roland. I can live here, I suppose. These are Achmed’s lands; they won’t be under Cymrian domain. Or I can probably go live in Tyrian; Oelendra said I was always—”

  She stopped as he moved like quicksilver to the floor beside her, seized her face and kissed her.

  His lips were warm and insistent, his kiss intense, if not intimate. Her eyes opened wide with shock, her lashes fluttering against his face. Rhapsody froze in his grasp; when he released her, unwillingly, she stared at him in utter amazement, then dropped her gaze when she saw the look of desperation on his face. She rose and crossed the room, running a hand self-consciously over her hair.

  After a moment she spoke. “You know, it’s amazing the lengths people go to just to get me to stop talking. Achmed once threatened to have me stuffed and roasted on a spit and fed to Grunthor if I—”

  “Don’t dodge this, Rhapsody,” Ashe said quietly. “It’s not like you.”

  “I’m not dodging,” she said, nervously twisting her hands. “I’m just trying to decide which action, his or yours, was the more extreme measure. I mean, he had chosen the marinade.”

  “Frightening. He was probably serious,” said Ashe, annoyed at the turn in the conversation.

  “I know he was serious,” Rhapsody replied, looking away. “What I don’t know is if you are.”

  “Completely.”

  “Why?” she said, incredulously. “What in blazes was that about?”

  Ashe watched her face, a look of disbelief replacing the shock that had been there a moment before. “I guess I just couldn’t hide it anymore, Rhapsody. I can’t bear you talking to me like I’m your lord, or your brother, or a stranger who cares nothing for you, or even just your friend. I may only be those things to you, but it’s not because I want it that way.”

  “What is it you do want?”

  Ashe sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then returned his gaze to her. “I want to be your lover, Rhapsody.”

  The confusion dissolved, and, to his surprise, her face relaxed and she began to smile.

  “Well, now I understand,” she said kindly. “You’ve been in terrible pain for so long, Ashe; and you’re feeling better. It’s natural that the things like that would come back as—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he said, a bitter ugliness in his voice that stopped her in mid-sentence. “You insult both of us. This is not a recent physical need to satisfy because the pain I’ve carried is gone. I have wanted this all along. Gods. You don’t understand me at all.”

  “No argument here,” she replied, her anger rising. “Now, why might that be? Let’s see—first you refuse to tell me anything about what you want, or what you think, or even who you are. Then, when you finally did tell me what you wanted from me, I believe the roles you outlined were ‘friend’ and ‘ally.’ Oh, yes, and ‘maid.’ Please correct me if I’m wrong—did you mention this other one and I just didn’t hear you? How stupid of me not to make the connection between these things and ‘lover.’

  “Perhaps I should have figured it out when you thought I was a courtesan, and then had the very bad taste to tell me so? Or maybe I should have realized it when you were telling me to stay away from you, that you didn’t trust me, to leave you alone? I don’t know how I could have missed it with intimacies like that on a daily basis, Ashe. That kind of sweet talk usually makes me want to find the nearest horizontal surface and lie right down.”

  Unable to contain her fury anymore, she turned away from him and put her clenched fists to her burning forehead. “I can’t believe it. You’re right, Ashe, I am stupid. All this time I thought you had learned to like me, at least a little, as a person, not as just another potential conquest. I felt comfortable with you because I thought you didn’t just want what they all want, that you were finally learning to trust me. It proves what a fool I am, I guess. I should have known it was too much to expect from anyone but Achmed.” The fireplace roared along with her, leaping flames filling the hearth, sp
lashing angry light around the room and onto the pictures on the mantel. The eyes of the grandchildren seemed to glitter in silent accusation.

  Ashe stood in that silence for a moment, examining the interwoven patterns in the carpet on the floor. Then he went to her and stood at her back, watching the flames twist and dance in confused fury.

  Finally he let out a deep, painful sigh. “No, Rhapsody, you aren’t the one who’s been the fool; I think I have that honor. Please, don’t start doubting your own senses. Surely you must know you were right about my learning to trust you.”

  Rhapsody stared at the fire. “Actually, Ashe, I think it would be safe to say that I know nothing about you, nothing at all.”

  “Please say you don’t mean that.”

  She turned and faced him, her face filled with regret. “I’m sorry; that would be lying. And you know that’s something I try never to do.”

  Ashe took her by the shoulders carefully, looking directly into her eyes. “How could you possibly doubt that I trust you, Rhapsody? Look at me. Can you see me?” She nodded slightly. “Well, that makes you the first person in almost twenty years. Even my own father hasn’t seen my face in all that time. Yet here I am, uncloaked before you, unarmed and open in your domain. And this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  Rhapsody gave him a gentle smile to ease the desperation she could see on his face. “I suppose so. I guess I’m just not sure what.”

  “I know you don’t understand the significance of some of these seemingly simple things, but that’s because you have no idea what it has been like for me to wake up every morning, year after year, wishing more each day that I was dead, and knowing I couldn’t even take my own life because it wouldn’t help.”

  He slid his hands down her arms until they held her own, and he spoke even more seriously.

  “Out there somewhere is an abomination that looks just like me, with part of my soul powering it, giving it abilities to inflict unspeakable acts. And for all this time it has been committing atrocities untold to innocents I can’t protect, because it is totally chaotic and random in its violence, even though it obviously is enacting a plan of cruelty that even my twisted mind can’t fathom. It has been my first thought, every moment, each time something bad happens anywhere. It haunts me with each heartbeat, with each breath.