“Son,” he said, speaking solemnly, “your dream is no ordinary dream, as you must have figured out by now. The answers will come, but we all need to be ready.”
This did not console Iseac, but caused an even greater anxiety as different thoughts ran through his head. It was going to be the longest wait of his life.
Chapter 2
The Visitor From Bremah
Unlike most other days, Iseac woke up early without the normal prompt from his father. The day he’d been waiting for had finally arrived. He walked over to the corner of his room and took out the last polished stone from the jar he was using to count down the days leading up to Tamican’s return. The anticipation filled his appetite, driving away his usual desire for food.
“I’m not hungry this morning,” he told his mother as she offered him breakfast.
“Are you okay, dear?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Iseac replied.
“You need your strength if you are going to get any work done with your father. Now come, sit and eat something, son.”
Iseac saw no point in arguing, so he sat down and began nibbling on his food when his father walked into the house. Passing the kitchen table, he said, “Remember we’re going to see Tamican today, so take an extra shirt.”
The rest of that morning was a blur for Iseac, as his thoughts were consumed by Tamican’s visit and the stranger she was supposed to be bringing with her.
At noon, as directed by his father, Iseac changed to a clean shirt and they made their way to the inn where Tamican was staying.
“You can tell me all about your visit with this person Tamican will be introducing you to when you return.”
“What?” Iseac replied, looking at his father. “Do you mean you are not coming with me?”
“No, not this time,” Lenard replied, remembering Tamican’s words; He would like to meet him alone.
“Why?” Iseac asked.
“I believe the person coming with Tamican wants to meet you, and not us.”
Iseac did not like the idea that his father wasn’t going to be there.
“You will be fine,” Lenard said, seeing the concerned look on his face, “and besides, you will be in capable hands.”
They made their way into the inn and up the stairs to the room where Tamican was supposed to be staying. As they approached the landing, they saw her stepping away from her door. She greeted them on the landing and asked Iseac, “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he replied with the subtle eagerness of a boy as they made their way downstairs.
A few people sat at the bar, with some serving girls wiping off tables as they exited the inn.
Outside, Iseac stood beside his father, who patted him on the shoulder.
“I will see you at home,” he said to Iseac before nodding his head toward Tamican to excuse himself.
“Walk with me,” Tamican said, drawing Iseac’s attention away from his father leaving. She appeared to be dressed in less flamboyant colors than last time, but her dark purple and red slit gown still seemed bright under the gray sky that was a stark contrast.
The grounds were muddy from rain the night before. As they walked, they passed several familiar shops with few people on the street. They turned right into a narrow alleyway between two buildings and continued walking. They made their way past several more shops with their names mounted on wooden plaques above. Though it was past midday, the clouds still held.
Iseac could see passersby on the other side of the street between sections of buildings parallel to theirs. Tamican stopped in front of what was once a wood shop.
She followed the side of the building and stopped close to the back, where there was a smaller building that appeared almost as an extension of the main shop in front.
The door at the entrance was flush with the side of the shop, and if it wasn’t for the landing in front, no one would notice. Just as Tamican stepped on the platform, someone inside the house spoke.
“Come in,” a male voice said before she had a chance to knock.
Amazed, Iseac looked at Tamican, who did not seem the least bit surprised.
“We hadn’t made any real noise on our approach, so how did the man inside know we were at his entrance?” Iseac wondered as she opened the door and stepped in. He followed closely behind her.
Iseac wasn’t sure what to expect, especially after his last meeting with Tamican. Hopefully this time someone would finally explain to him the meaning of his dream. He took in a deep breath to slow his racing heart; he had waited a long time for this moment.
Inside, the house was warm from the fire burning at the hearth. A rug was spread out in the center of the living room, with three oak chairs at the edges of the rug.
On the right side of the room was a bookshelf with a hanging map to the left of it. The place looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. Some of the fixtures had a notable amount of dust on them, and the smell in the room was that of a place not long swept.
The man who stood in front of him was slightly older than his father—not as tall, with his head shaven. He wore a deep green cloak intricately designed in the front. Iseac could tell from the pattern that it formed a symbol if pulled together. His trousers were dark brown, tucked inside his black riding boots. His tunic was light blue and it extended halfway to his knees; this was supported at his waist by a brown belt.
The man gave Iseac a warm smile as he introduced himself, calling him by name. “Peace and prosperity, Iseac. I’m Gabram.” He bowed his head slightly.
Looking up at Tamican, he greeted her with the familiarity of an old friend, and she responded in the same manner.
“Please have a seat,” he said to Iseac, gesturing to a chair by the hearth. As Iseac did, Gabram began to speak with Tamican. They moved toward the entrance door, but something caught Iseac’s eyes. The ring on the man’s finger—he’d seen it somewhere before, but where, he wondered. And then it struck him. The lightning on the ring: he was a Patron. His father had told him stories of meeting a Patron and about their rings, and now he was in the same room with one.
From what he was told, Patrons were always present at the inauguration of a king or queen, and that it had been that way since the creation of the four Kingdoms.
Outside of that, he knew nothing else about them.
Iseac could not make out what they were saying at the level in which they were speaking.
“I hope we meet again soon,” Tamican exclaimed, catching Iseac’s eye.
“I will see that he gets home safely when we are done,” the man said, seeing Tamican to the door.
Iseac rubbed his hands on his thighs while trying to maintain his impassive look, but the anticipation of finally getting an answer filled him as Gabram walked back.
He pulled one of the chairs by the fireplace and sat a few feet away, directly in front of Iseac.
He then proceeded to ask Iseac questions about himself and his family, which Iseac wasn’t expecting, thinking he was going to go right into the matter of his visit and not waste any time getting to know him.
Iseac answered each question, still in disbelief that a Patron had traveled all this way for him, a twelve-year-old boy, to explain his dream.
“I know you have been waiting for some time now to find out about your dream and that you feel a particular connection to the one you told Tamican,” Gabram said. “That is the reason I’m here, to tell you what you are…” Gabram began to explain to Iseac what his dream meant.
This was not what Iseac was expecting, but then, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to expect. The words his father had said the first time they had left Tamican—“We all need to be ready”—played in his head.
Looking back, he could see why Gabram was trying to ease his way into what he was about to tell him, knowing that it would change his life forever.
“Terrowin was the youngest Anamerio we had on record, called at age fifteen, until today,” he said. “You are the second I now have had the p
rivilege of meeting. Do you know what Anamerio means?”
Iseac shook his head in response.
“It means soul finder or seeker. An Anamerio or Anamerian is a person born with the rare ability to see or tell key events before they happen, serving as a counterpoint in restoring or bringing balance to all things. Only one lives in every dispensation, and this is due to their rare trait called The Falling. A gold wreath is always present in their more significant dreams, like yours. As an Anamerian gets close to the end, the leaves on the wreath start to fall. This continues for the rest of his life until he passes. When this happens, the wreath is passed on to their successor, who sees it in his dream right after, and that is why it is called The Falling.”
Gabram could see shock and disbelief on Iseac’s face as he listened, trying to process what he was being told.
“You have a special gift, Iseac, and I have come to help you develop it,” Gabram said.
“It’s just a dream and can’t mean this,” Iseac thought, trying to convince himself that it could not mean what he was being told, but he knew inside that wasn’t true. He knew he was connected to the dream, but it did not explain why he was chosen.
“Nothing is special about my family, so why me?”
“I do not know,” Gabram replied honestly as he studied Iseac, seeing him slowly accepting the news.
“What happened to the last Anamerian?”
“He passed away three years ago,” Gabram said.
Iseac remembered that was when it started happening.
“I need to make preparations and would like to meet your parents. Can you take me to them?” Gabram asked.
Iseac nodded in response, still bemused. He could see that Gabram seemed convinced he was the Anamerian; he did not think he was.
After their meeting, Gabram walked back with Iseac to his home, where he met his father and mother. Iseac’s mother tried to maintain her composure as she offered Gabram a drink before returning to Lenard’s side. Around the Patron, his parents showed a feeling of awe that Iseac had never seen, but who wouldn’t? Outside of royalty, very few people could say they’d had a Patron in their home.
Iseac was excused so Gabram could speak with his father and mother alone, but this time he had an idea of what they were going to be talking about—this special person he was supposed to be. He was called in about an hour later and asked to see Gabram off.
Outside, Gabram told Iseac that with his parent’s permission, he would meet with him every fortnight for the whole day.
“I am Kayma to you; it means guide,” Gabram said, “and you will address me as such whenever we meet until I tell you otherwise. Have a good night and I will see you soon.” He walked away into the night.
Chapter 3
The Anamerian Unlocked
As arranged, Iseac met with Gabram at the house behind the old wood shop every fortnight. “Having a perfect understanding,” Gabram said on his first day, “is the key to bringing balance in anything.” He handed Iseac a map, instructing him to study it. This was how he began his first day of education and training. Throughout Iseac’s first year, Gabram never explained the reasons for the task he was assigned until the end of the day when he was tested, which made things sometimes frustrating. It was mainly academic at first, learning about the different cultures and land across the Kingdom. He also learned about different weaponry, their strengths and weaknesses. He left home for the first time just past his fourteenth birthday to study the history of the Anamerians and also to develop his innate ability in the use of the quarterstaff by a master of this weapon.
It was hard leaving home for the first time, especially for his mother, even though she knew he was only going to be gone for several months. Their life as a result of his gift was changing faster than most parents could be prepared for.
He remembered the emotional good-bye with his mother standing at the door of their home, waving as he rode off with his father to meet Gabram close to the border of Tru’tia.
“We’ve always been proud of you, son,” Lenard said as they stood by their carriage. Those words seem to break Iseac, who had been trying to be strong. He was sniffling as his father pulled him into an embrace. He brushed Iseac's hair once and then released him.
"We will see you soon," Lenard said, watching as Iseac made his way to Gabram, who was waiting. He was gone for a year.
It all changed from that point, and for the next several years as his training intensified. The time he could spend at home became less. This was particularly hard on his relationship with Elena, a girl from his hometown, whom he was suppose to be betrothed to.
At eighteen, Iseac was prepared for his first test. He stood in the center of a sandy arena surrounded by blocks of wood six feet tall. The blocks were paired in sections of four, with a three foot gap between them. A platform slightly higher with a bench was built next to the arena and there Gabram and his Quartermaster, Darum, sat, watching.
The morning air was cold, but the anticipation of what was about to begin kept Iseac warm. The rule was simple: he had to make sure he wasn’t hit three times in the next three hours or it was all over. Very few people ever made it to a master, and this was his chance.
There was no warning sign from both men watching him as it began. He had to fight and defend himself for three relentless hours. The attacks came from all corners as men dressed in sandy green camouflage rushed into the arena with their blunt weapons. Sometimes two attacked him at once, other times, he had four. Iseac stayed focused on the people entering the area, ignoring those who were running around on the outside, trying to confuse and distract him.
The first hour went by quickly and by the second hour, he was beginning to feel the strain from the constant motion with his quarterstaff. When the third hour rolled in, he was covered in sweat. He had two strikes within a short period as he lost track of time from fatigue. He knew there was no way he could stave off the six people who were rushing toward him, so with his last strength, he leaped over their heads. He was struck by a long-spear as he landed.
“Enough,” the quartermaster commanded on his third strike and everyone in the arena stopped. It was all over.
Iseac dropped on one knee, holding onto his quarterstaff, disappointed that he lost. Gabram and his Quartermaster, Darum, walked into the arena.
“Well done,” Darum said, standing next to Iseac with his hands clasped behind him.
“I can’t believe I failed,” he thought, not completely listening to Darum.
“You made it, Quartermaster Iseac,” Duram said with a level of pride in his tone. “I will see you inside.”
It took a second for those words to sink in even as Gabram came over to congratulate him. Iseac could not believe it; he had made it.
“You held them off longer that most other masters, except yours, Duram, of course. Over four hours is very impressive,” Gabram said, tapping Iseac on his shoulder.
At age nineteen, Iseac was finally prepared to meet the Patrons of the eight temples. He had learned over the years about the Patrons and the organization that remained a mystery to most people, even after hundreds of years. The Patrons were keepers of the secrets of their world and the true nature of man.
They were gathered at the Grand Hall, where he was summoned. Iseac remembered feeling eyes following him as he walked up the hallowed room with the Patrons sitting in a circle, the Chief Patron at their head.
The Patrons sat on a flat, cone-shaped stool of pure marble that rose three feet from the floor. The tiles on the floor were designed in the pattern of a star with eight points, each end pointing to a seat. The Patrons each seemed to reflect the lights hanging from the walls that appeared to separate them as they sat with their legs crossed.
Gabram had made sure Iseac met each of the Patrons during his training, and Iseac recognized each of them as he made his way to the middle of their circle.
He recognized Buldric with his black curl, who was the Patron of Mevi-tra, also known as the land o
f rocks because of its landscape. Muras, with green eyes like seaweed, was the Patron to Wing-high, which was located east of Bayshia. Erasmus, with slant eyes, was the Patron of Tollan, north of Tru’tia, a land surrounded by bamboo trees. Casimir, with his broad shoulders, was the Patron of Seer-Root, built around a swampland in the midlands. Adal, with his dark skin, was the Patron of BanSun, located in the sandy plain known as the home of the sun. Cyriac, the oldest of them all, was the Patron of Air-light, located on the eastern region of Ditra-Vashine, with the Kadan River to the east.
Gabram, with his shaven head, was the Patron of Rod Stone, where they were now gathered on Mount Va’lenna; Thorlak, with his white beard, was the chief Patron and head of Amera-line, located on the icy plain in the north. Each man had the symbols of his keys engraved on his ring as presiding Patrons of the various temples.
Lips did not move, but Iseac could hear the chief Patron Thorlak speaking. His voice was soon joined by another and then another until they all joined as one, forming a single voice. The day had finally come, and he took in a deep breath to clear his thoughts as he stood in the middle of them.
A single pulse like a wave ran through his body from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, sending a surge of energy that slowly overcame him until he felt caught in a whirlwind. The walls around his mind slowly began breaking. Images outside his surroundings flashed in and out of his mind as wave upon waves of unknown memories rushed through him. The surge converged in his head, and he felt lost in the world that was opening up to him.
While this was going on in his head, the amulet on his chest, given to him by Gabram, came to life. The thread of golden lines at the center of the amulet moved in and out of each other, unlacing themselves until they revealed a fuchsia-colored crystal—the amulet of the Messenger.
Once the amulet was lit, the Patrons slowly released their focus from Iseac, and the pressure that seemed concentrated on his mind began to abate. The once-dormant parts of his mind lit up like a kindling stick and began to burn bright even as he continued regaining his strength. When Iseac opened his eyes again, he knew the history of each Patron, his lineage, and the history of the land. The room they were in was a hub; it allowed each Patron to access the power of the respective scrolls.
The Silver Arrow Page 2