by Dana Davis
Sage Truth
Book 2 of the Teadai Prophecies
by
Dana Davis
Copyright 2009 by Dana Davis
All Rights Reserved
Published by SynergEbooks
http://www.synergebooks.com
Teadai Prophecies Trilogy
Deadly Fate: Book 1 of the Teadai Prophecies
Sage Truth: Book 2 of the Teadai Prophecies
City of Gods: Book 3 of the Teadai Prophecies
Others by Dana Davis
Breach of Worlds
For Darryl
Gypsy, noun:
one who goes from place to place;
nomadic;
itinerate;
plural, Gypsies
Chapter 1
The Energy soiled, the old ways, the lost ways, shall be discovered. Children of the Goddess will be tempted. Transcribed by Elder-Gypsy Siri Nebarin from the Teadai Prophesies, section II of The Book of the Goddess, Scroll of New Beginning, shelf VIII, archive IX.
The ledge dropped sharply into the canyon below as the full moon rose above the cliffs and created shadows against the landscape. Adelsik wedged her otherself between a boulder and a massive tree to keep from falling, her back pressed against wet dirt. Rancid smells from nearby putrid root plants caused her to gag, so she envisioned a scarf, and when it appeared, carefully tied it around her nose and mouth. If that didn’t keep her stomach under control, she would secure yet another across her face. It worked and the smell no longer made her gut heave. Distant howls filled the stagnant night air and she shivered. More illusions to frighten her, make her submit.
This isn’t real. It’s just the Netherworld. I’m slumbering.
The ground gave a sudden shake and she lost her footing. One hand managed to grip a large branch that cut into her otherself’s skin, and she struggled to keep from plunging into the canyon below. She still harnessed the Energy from previous attempts at changing this nightmare the stranger had created and put all her fear and strength into altering the landscape once again. The quake stopped and the canyon began to turn into the sandy beach she was so familiar with here in the Netherworld. But the image didn’t last. Sweat slicked the skin of her otherself from failed attempts to change the landscape, and she clung desperately to the jutting branch as her feet dangled off the edge of the cliff.
How did the woman keep her here, hold her in this nightmare? She felt as though she stood in a real place, not just one of the stranger’s imagined dreamlands, and would think long and hard about arguing with the woman in the future. Although Adelsik’s pride no doubt got her into this predicament, she wasn’t ready to submit to the woman’s tutelage. This stranger wasn’t a Gypsy and had no right to teach her. And she certainly had no right to treat Adelsik as an idiotic child.
There had to be a way to stop this. If the woman insisted on teaching her then perhaps Adelsik should put some of those forced lessons to practice. She swung her leg up and managed to pull herself back onto the ledge. With her back pressed into the cliff, she managed to slow her breathing and concentrate, focusing her mind on altering the terrain. Nothing.
“You can’t win against me,” the woman’s voice boomed from all around.
She couldn’t see the stranger but that didn’t matter. Adelsik held the Energy. She had power here. She concentrated again, this time pushing anger and frustration into her thoughts. Something pushed back, kept her Energy from working, and she fought harder. Her body trembled with effort but she held on to her thoughts. The easiest memory image for her to create was the beach where she’d received the calling. She fought to create it, to change this nightmare into that peaceful place.
Then, just above the moon, blue sky began to roil through the darkness. She was doing it. Light began to spread and her heart thudded in her ears. Thank the Goddess! Blue sky grew larger than the swollen moon and stretched to wipe out the night. Hold on. Just a little longer. The image suddenly crashed in on itself. She tried again to create it but nothing happened.
The ground shook and she grabbed onto another branch for support and pressed her back into the dirt. This time the cliff began to crumble and fall away beneath her. Panic overwhelmed her as she clawed the dirt behind her in a vain attempt to keep from plummeting into the canyon.
“You know how to stop this,” the stranger’s disembodied voice said. “You know what to do, youngling.”
“I’m new-oathed!” How often did she have to remind the awful woman? She could see her nowhere. Strength drained out and she could no longer fight. This was only a dream, a nightmare. She should be able to change it. Or at least wake up. She could do neither.
“You are a youngling. My Energy will hold out much longer than yours.”
The ledge beneath Adelsik’s legs crumbled and she hung there, like fruit on a vine, just waiting to plunge to the ground. “All right! Please! I’ll obey you! Just don’t let me fall!”
At once, she found herself standing on a quiet beach, her beach, and she gazed out at the water. Sea birds called overhead in the sweet warmth of the morning sun. Ancient ruins dotted the cliffs behind her. Tears stung her eyes and she swiped at them.
A tall woman with bright red hair appeared before her, a pleased look on her face, and the freckles on her nose seemed to move on their own. She hooked thumbs into her belt.
Adelsik couldn’t make out this woman’s footprint, the transparent image just above a Gypsy’s head that hinted at power. Footprints always appeared in the Netherworld. This woman had to be an errant Gypsy, one who had learned to harness the Goddess Energy on her own. But Adelsik had never heard of anyone, even the strongest Gypsy, who could hide a footprint in the Netherworld.
Could this be one of the women who had beaten Haranda and Thad’s otherselves and sent them back to their bodies weeping and bloodied? She studied the red-haired woman as her heart banged against her ribs like an angry drummer. Do I really want the answer to that?
“Shall we continue your lessons, youngling?” The woman offered a calm gaze this time.
Adelsik nodded with false obedience as a new fear settled in her gut.
* * * *
Beir Lake was larger than she first thought, and despite the blood insects that seemed determined to punch tiny holes in every part of her exposed skin, Adelsik was glad to be out of the forest. The Means had dumped them right in the thick of the trees, which made her as jumpy as a rabbit in a hawk’s path. She never liked forests and especially hated the sound of howling animals, even when they were distant. The air was thick and her lungs strained with each breath, which kept her from initiating conversation. Sweat seemed to stick to every body part, adding to her misery, and her clothes felt perpetually damp.
Though she had slept last night, morning had greeted her with an achy head and sore muscles. Gypsies didn’t get ill so that wasn’t what plagued her. Perhaps she had dreamt but nothing came to memory, very unusual for someone who always recalled her dreams. The nagging sensation of something forgotten lurked in the back of her mind. Was it important? She was responsible for relaying Netherworld messages to her kin. Well, she and Gypsy Wren Dinsen. If the woman didn’t mention anything then perhaps there was nothing to worry about.
She shook off the unpleasant thoughts and studied her kin as she pulled her long braid up and secured it around her head, pinning it up with several hairpins, much the way Kal wore hers. All the women in her quest wore their hair off their necks out here in this stifling, Goddess-forsaken place. Even the men secured theirs back with leather laces.
Adelsik had taken her oaths a few days after Thad, thankfully. Her status gave her authority over Henny and a new
determination to stay as outwardly calm as she could possibly muster.
Gypsies held themselves straight and proud. Wren and Elder Finlor gave perfect examples of outward calmness just now. The quiet Elder was Adelsik’s height, a stout man with dark skin, tiny eyes and an affinity for puzzles, but he had an imposing nature. With lines framing his eyes and mouth and gray at his temples, he looked to be in his fifties, but he had already seen two-hundred years. Elders couldn’t earn the title until that age, and many were much older. Finlor’s rank kept him just below Elder Siri Nebarin, the highest ranking Gypsy who was with Thad’s quest someplace along the Tandiar River. Wren, who stood as tall as many men and towered over Adelsik, wasn’t Elder age, yet. Despite her white hair, she appeared somewhere in her thirties with a strong chin, prominent nose and looped braids that swung with her head movement.
Of course, Adelsik had no idea how Wren and Finlor managed to ignore most of what made her want to scream. Probably something to do with their years harnessing the Energy. She’d had little chance to memorize her Gypsy handbook before they left the Land of the Goddess, and whenever she lapsed on a rule, Wren was quick with a reprimand. Her palm still itched where she’d received the Goddess Kiss, and it was all she could do not to scratch it on every tree trunk she passed.
She kept Henny close as they followed the others, but her eyes drifted to Tsianina Koni, who had taken oaths the same day she had. The island woman had plucked two flowers from the forested area and tucked one over each ear. Gypsy Tak strayed no more than an arm span from Tsianina. Tak was a teacher and had years of training to his advantage. Whenever asked about rules, he was always quick to answer, as though he longed to be in front of a class again. He seemed very interested in Tsianina, probably because she was from an island village similar to his. His braided black hair hung as long as hers, and tanned, hairless skin revealed carved muscles as he moved quietly along the ground. The island woman noticed him on more than a few occasions. In fact, Tsianina hadn’t stopped humming since they left the forest, something that also grated on Adelsik’s nerves.
Muroth and Murel, the towering, twin guards, strode in front. These two Gypsy servants, who were also skillful warriors, gave Adelsik a sense of comfort as they led the way. Both carried swords that looked too heavy for most people to lift. One of their hands could easily fit over Henny’s entire skull.
“Careful steps.” Camlys pointed to a small hole in their path.
Adelsik silently chided herself for not noticing the hole and stepped over it. Henny had already gone around.
“Eyes on your path,” Camlys added. “We don’t need any injuries.”
It took all of her strength not to groan at the tall hunter’s protective nature. It didn’t seem to matter how often Adelsik reminded Camlys of her new-oathed status. Since the Goddess had aged Adelsik when she first stepped into the Land of the Goddess, she was now the same age as Camlys, nineteen. When would she get the respect she so longed for? The respect she deserved?
The Maricari hunter didn’t behave toward Gwen in the same manner she treated Adelsik. In fact, those two often chatted with each other. They were quite a pair, both as tall as Wren, but leaner. Camlys had a quiver of arrows strapped to her back, and Gwen, with her multiple red braids, kept a dagger sheathed at her belt. Adelsik studied that red hair and a memory pressed against her thoughts for an instant before it was gone. She rolled her shoulders again.
There were thirteen in this quest and the hunters took turns drawing the cart packed with essentials and trade goods. They’d brought no goats with them, though Adelsik still wondered why. But as long as she didn’t have to tow the cart, she would keep her mouth shut about it. She missed Maesa and Haranda, her former clan sister and mother, but she wouldn’t whine about that, either. Oh, how she envied Maesa going off to Zarenia’s fine home in Pash’dad. That girl came from money, more than existed in Adelsik’s root life. And Gypsies had money too, lots of it. If only the bloody middlings would accept them, then they could travel in highborn style, not wearing peasant clothes, traipsing through forests, and sleeping on the ground so as not to draw attention.
She slapped at another bloodsucker, eyed the large lake and wished for a bath. She caught Wren’s look and wondered if the white-haired Gypsy thought the same thing. Perhaps they would have that opportunity later. The sun crept lower and the twins searched for the best place to make camp for the night. Somewhere along the lake provinces, in this bloody nowhere area of the world, was an ancient text buried near a tree.
Adelsik glanced around and shook her head. There were trees everywhere! How would they possibly find the one mentioned in the Prophecies? And why in the name of the Goddess wasn’t Eletha Lavine in this quest? The treewalker could probably locate the thing in a flash.
The Vedi had vague information of the text’s whereabouts and even less information about the people who lived along Beir Lake’s shore. There were supposedly three provinces here, all of which despised Gypsies. If wild beasts didn’t make Adelsik nervous enough, outraged villagers certainly did. A Gypsy’s flesh burned and sliced as well as any middling’s.
She had mastered the lessons with unification crystals and was confident they could defend themselves against a mob, but that didn’t quell her nervousness. Henny was still a youngling and she felt very protective, a side effect of the oaths. The poor girl seemed to attract the bloodsuckers and slapped furiously at her exposed skin.
“Calm yourself, Henny.” Silbie’s voice sounded heavy. “I’ll cook up a dispeller tonight. Keep these bloody insects from sucking us dry.”
Wren gave the cook a thoughtful gaze then blew a bloodsucker from her arm and turned to the twins. “I suggest you hurry and find us a place to camp.”
They nodded in unison, which Adelsik had noticed they often did, and trotted ahead. Soon Muroth, or Murel—she still couldn’t tell them apart—ran back and informed them of a nice clearing close to the water.
Not long after, camp was set up, and Silbie had a nasty smelling concoction boiling over one fire and night meal over another. Everyone relaxed except the twins.
Henny crinkled her nose. “That smell is going to keep me away, as well as the insects.” Her golden locks were wrapped around her head like Adelsik’s and sweat beads formed on her forehead and temples. “And do we need fires in this heat?” She dabbed at her neck then fanned herself with her crying cloth.
Elder Finlor eyed her. “Don’t complain, girl. At least you’re not losing blood anymore.” The stout body-healer refused to heal anything he felt minor. And he had informed them numerous times that insect bites didn’t require his attention. He focused those tiny eyes on Henny when she grunted. “Keep that up and I’ll give you something to complain about, little one.” That last endearment was a substitute for the youngling title and Henny’s face showed she understood the threat. They were careful not to use Gypsy titles where middling ears could hear. “The smell won’t kill you.”
“Yes, Cousin Finlor. But I’m not certain which is more disgusting.”
“Insects are more bothersome of the two,” Tsianina said. “I’ve smelled worse than Silbie’s potion. Much worse. And this heat is nothing compared to a lava flow.” Her tone was cryptic and Wren studied her.
Adelsik wondered just what had happened to the islander at Lombreeth’s hands. She remembered Tsianina’s willingness to scrub privies for an entire moon cycle. That anyone would ask for such a punishment, even for forgiveness, was beyond Adelsik. The island woman had been tricked in some way by Lombreeth and blamed herself for putting her kin in danger. Lombreeth was still a threat, though Adelsik had never even seen him, and from Tsianina’s reaction every time his name was mentioned, she didn’t ever want to see the horrible beast.
She studied the cook a heartbeat. She had resigned, somewhat reluctantly, to the fact that a Gypsy servant was as cherished as any other kin, because they’d taken the oaths and the Goddess had accepted them. Though they couldn’t harness the Energy, they wer
e no longer middlings.
Middlings helped ease the frustration at her lowly Gypsy status. They were below all Gypsies, even younglings, and she was glad she no longer lived among them. Why was I so distressed about leaving my root family? They’re just middlings, after all. Her former behavior seemed silly now.
The Goddess had chosen her for something special, and all the breeding in the world couldn’t make a middling into a Gypsy. She had that, at least, even if she was near the bottom of the kin line. Pride swelled for an instant but dissipated when she got another whiff of Silbie’s stinking concoction.
“Can we have a quick bath?” she asked Wren, when the woman stepped near her.
“Girl, you know my thoughts.” Wren glanced at the sky, her looped braids swinging with her head movement. “Yes. We can be done before night meal.”
The women bathed, followed by the men, and soon all sat around the fires in the oppressive heat and ate. Adelsik found she was more thirsty than hungry and decided to harness just enough Energy to keep the heat at a distance, enough to fool her body into thinking the air had cooled. Awareness filled her as the silky power spread throughout her body and the heat began to grow distant. She let out a relieved breath.
Wren eyed her and raised a brow. “If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, Adelsik Nunsey, it’s not fair to the servants.”
Sudden guilt flooded her. She released the Energy into the ground and made apologies to her kin. They accepted, of course, and she was miserable again in the heat. She knew how to hide her Gypsy footprint here in the mundane world, and since Wren couldn’t have seen it, she must have cautioned Adelsik out of instinct. Haranda had spoken of Wren’s instincts on many occasions. The woman’s talent stemmed from her multiple Energies of urging, mind-healing, calming and slumbering, all aspects that created intimate contact with others.