by David Estes
“No,” Roan said. He was growing tired of being dictated to by Lady Windy like he was another of her acolytes. He had not been given the mark of peace only to waste it. Time was of the essence. “I shall leave immediately. You may come if you wish, but I will not try to force you.”
“I should say not!”
Condor frowned, overhearing their conversation. “In the dark, you will be lost in the jungle. You could wander in circles for days.”
After the Tangle, Roan knew all about being lost, and that was the last thing he wanted. “I know it is much to ask, but please, guide me on this night. The Four Kingdoms is on the brink of destruction. This is the only way I know how to save it.”
Her face was as sharp as stone as she stared at him, her red skin glistening with moisture from the waterfall. “You would save the Phanecians too?”
“I would save any who desire peace. The warmongers and slavers must change or fall by the wayside. There is no room for their kind anymore. The Oracle’s prophecy has foretold it.”
Condor seemed to consider his words, but then said, “I cannot make such a decision on my own. I understand your haste, but please, let me first consult with one of the elders.”
It was a fair compromise. Roan nodded.
The word elder turned out to be more of a description than a title. The woman looked a century old, at the least. Two centuries, if Roan was being completely honest, but he had not heard of Terans being long-lived like the Orians.
She sat with her thin, bony legs crossed beneath her. Her hair was the color of storm clouds, though she only had a dusting on her pocked scalp. She was missing more than a few teeth, and those that remained were yellowed and chipped. Her skin was leathery and wrinkled, shriveled like a grape left too long in the sun.
When she spoke, her voice was as rough as sand scrubbed against parchment. “I have felt the change in the winds,” she said. “And now you are here.”
Roan didn’t want to stand over her, so he sat, pulling his legs beneath him.
Windy and Yela remained back, and Roan thought he’d seen a look of respect in the lady’s eyes as they’d walked through the cavern. She wanted me to stand on my own two feet, Roan realized. Her talk of learning all there was of Teran culture might’ve been the truth, but it was also a test. And he’d passed.
“You know who I am?”
“The Peacemaker,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.
His heart thudded. “You know of the Western Oracle and her prophecies?”
She smiled. “Of course. The Terans are not writers. We are artists and storytellers. Our history is complete, just not in the books read by your scholars.” Her gaze flitted to Windy and Yela, and then back to Roan. “Our history is here.” She tapped her nearly bald scalp.
“Will you tell me what you know?”
“The Western Oracle came to us many years ago. She wanted to learn about our god, Absence.”
“Why?”
“The priests and priestesses thought she was a scholar at first. They were flattered. They invited her into our holy places, answered her questions, but soon it became clear she was after a different kind of knowledge.”
Roan’s entire body felt weightless. The answers to countless questions seemed to hang on this woman’s lips. “What knowledge?”
The woman smiled. “You’ll have to ask her. Or Absence.”
“What?”
“The woman, who you know as the Western Oracle, communed with our god in his place of nothingness. What she learned there is lost to us, for she would not share it and our beliefs forbade us from asking.”
“But she wrote it down. She wrote it in her prophecies.”
“Then why are you here?”
Roan’s frustration grew. This couldn’t be another dead end, another question mark. “Because something was missing from those prophecies, and all of our questions have led us here.”
The woman nodded. “To find the man you call Bear Blackboots.”
Roan nodded quickly. “Yes. We believe he is the son of the Oracle. I don’t know how it is possible that he is still alive, but he is, and he is here.”
“I know. He came to Teran with his mother all those years ago. He scribed her prophecies.”
“Then why aren’t they complete?”
“They are. You are simply looking in the wrong places. Go to Shi. Condor will lead you on this very night. You have my blessing.”
Roan’s heart soared. Perhaps there was an end in sight. Perhaps this journey hadn’t been a waste. “Thank you.”
She dipped her chin slightly. “I hope you find what you seek. But I caution you: Do not become disheartened if it isn’t what you expect to find.”
In the complete darkness of night, the jungle was a frightening place, but Roan barely noticed it. His mind replayed his conversation with the elder woman again and again. What did he expect to find?
The truth, he thought. How could the truth be unexpected? He already knew the Oracle wanted peace. He just didn’t know the path toward it, not when no one wanted to listen to what he had to say, not when fear and hate and years of violence had twisted their perceptions.
The question nagged at him as they walked. The path, which was lit by torches held by their Teran escort, was narrow and overgrown—barely a path at all. It was on purpose, Roan suspected, so that the slavers wouldn’t be able to tell that people still lived in this place. Long, curling vines hung down from above, and they were forced to push the tendrils aside to pass through. Huge, rotting logs blocked the way forward, but they merely climbed over them, their fingers sinking deep into the soft wood.
There were sounds, too: the flutter of wings, night birds hunting prey; the high-pitched screech of bats; the rustle of dried leaves crunched by unseen creatures.
Even in the dark, Windy insisted on collecting samples of the flora and fauna, tucking them gently into a satchel carried by Yela. The bag had swelled considerably since they’d reached Teragon, and Roan wondered whether the scholar girl would be able to carry it by the time their journey was complete.
The jungle thinned out and then vanished entirely, replaced by green grasslands as far as the eye could see, the plains lit by both moons and an endless sea of stars.
They walked on.
“‘Not the winds nor the stars take the distance, but our very feet; for time is but a place where hearts may rest as the world changes with the seas.’” Windy grinned at Roan, her teeth green in the moonlight.
“A poem?” he asked.
Yela said, “Yes. A portion of my lady’s favorite. Written by a Calypsian, of course, a man named Japarti. The rest is quite dark. Would you like to hear more? She made me memorize it in my first year under her tutelage.”
“Please,” Roan said. Anything to escape his own mind.
“‘The dawn draws near, the night absolved of fear; but light brings blood, first drops, then pools, a flood.’”
Roan’s stomach churned—he was beginning to regret his decision.
“‘Good men perish, bad men survive; a place of sorrow, where destruction may thrive. Only one may tell this tale of woe; for the others have passed into the Void, their seeds to sow.’ Shall I go on?”
Roan nodded. The poet may have a dark side, but his words were more truth than fiction. And the steps did seem to be passing under his feet faster than before.
The poem carried on across the night, beautiful, sad, truthful. It was a tale of two kingdoms at war, painting a picture of lives lost, lives saved, and love unending.
When she finally finished, Roan’s vision was blurry with tears. “Thank you,” he said. “You recite it well.” He noticed Windy also trying to surreptitiously dash away tears.
Yela laughed. “I should say so! I had to recite it to perfection a dozen times before Lady Windy deemed it acceptable. Only then did she accept me into her scholarship program!”
“You make me sound like a tyrant,” Windy said. “Is it too much to test one’s dedication
and loyalty before offering free reign of my house?”
“I am only teasing,” Yela said. “Though, by the end I hated that poem more than I loved it.”
“And now?” Roan asked.
“I suffer it,” Yela said, leaving it at that.
“It is magnificent,” Windy said defensively. “And appropriate for this journey, I feel.”
“Because we walk in darkness?” Roan asked.
“No. Because we seek truth without fear.”
Roan could tell Condor was listening with interest to their conversation. “Why would anyone fear the truth?”
Windy waved her arms as if giving a sermon. “Because most people are sheep, at least where we come from. They would rather dine on lies and feel safe than swallow a truth that scares them. The Terans are different?”
“So it seems. The truth should only be feared if one is on the wrong side of it.”
A question had been itching at Roan for a while now, but he hadn’t wanted to offend his hosts by asking it. However, hearing such a statement from Condor seemed to open a door, or a window at least. “What of your god? The books say the Terans believe Absence is dead. Is this true?”
Condor nodded gravely, but didn’t shy away from the line of inquiry. “We have been unable to commune in blessed nothingness for more than a decade now. Some say our god was murdered, but others call it the natural evolution of time. Nothing lives forever, after all, not even the gods.”
“What do you believe?”
She seemed taken aback by the question, as if no one had ever asked her. “I—I sometimes think I feel something greater than myself.” She laughed. “But those are only flashes and I am still young and ignorant to the Seven Virtues. I have only mastered two thus far.”
For some reason, talk of the Virtues surprised Roan. “You still seek the Seven?”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”
“I thought with the death of your god…”
“Only Absence’s nothingness is gone, while the truth remains.”
Roan thought he understood. He’d faced tragedy in his own life. Inevitably, people died, but that didn’t mean the memory of them had to die too.
Silence fell as the group seemed to consider all that had been said. The moons continued their jaunt across the sky, missing each other by a large space. The green grass started to disappear, replaced by short, burnt stalks. Soon, Condor said, “We are here.”
Roan frowned, looking around. Shapes appeared through the murk, but nothing at all like he expected. There were no structures, just piles of rubble. No streets, no walls, no buildings. No homes. No people. The thought that this place was once the bustling capital of an entire nation was unfathomable.
“By the gods,” Windy murmured.
“Would other Calypsians be disturbed if they saw this?” Condor asked.
Roan considered the question. Though the Calypsians could appear coldly violent at times—the fighting pits of Zune proved that—he also knew that the idea of slavery repulsed them. No man, woman or child should be forced to serve another. “Yes,” he said. “They would. The easterners as well. I don’t know enough about the northerners to determine their beliefs, but the westerners would be angry too.”
Condor nodded. “And yet none come to help our people.”
Roan didn’t know if he should tell her about all that was happening in Phanes—the rumors of rebellion and troops marching on their borders. He didn’t want to raise her hopes.
Instead, he said only, “I will do what I can for your people when I return home.”
“Thank you.”
She led them on, the remains of a shattered village passing on either side. Roan stopped when a different shape caught his eye. It was rectangular, lying close to the ground. But that wasn’t what made Roan stop.
The object’s surface seemed to be…moving. Shifting, like individual grains of sand rolling under the force of a strong wind.
“What…is that?”
Condor followed his gaze, her expression tightening. “A grave.”
“But it’s…”
“Ants,” she said. “When one of our people die, we entomb them in stone, rather than the ground. A plant-based powder is dusted on the grave, which attracts this particular type of ant. It takes them many years, but eventually they will eat their way through the stone and devour the remains. Only then will the soul be released.”
Roan recoiled slightly. “But why?”
“So the person can reach all Seven Virtues. Rare are those who die with a claim on all seven. We give them more time.”
Roan’s eyes roamed past the grave, finally seeing what he couldn’t before. Dozens, maybe hundreds of similar graves, all shifting and moving.
He turned to the side and threw up. He stood and wiped his mouth.
“Are all your people so weak-stomached?” Condor asked.
Roan managed a thin smile. “No. I am one of the few who does not eat meat. The thought of the ants…” He covered his mouth and breathed through his nose, trying to stave off another swell of nausea.
“Let’s move on,” Condor said. “The night passes as we linger.”
The land began to rise slightly, and then curved to the right over a rise. Just below was a natural circle, hilled in on all sides. A ring of debris surrounded the space. Without really thinking about it, Roan counted the piles. Seven, he thought, remembering what he’d read about the Terans and their beliefs. One hut for each of the Virtues.
A temple, he realized. No, the temple. The Temple of Absence.
His breath hitched when he saw something moving in the center. Something large.
And it was digging.
When Roan tried to start down the hill, Condor put a hand out to stop him. “This is all wrong,” she whispered. “That animal should not be here. None—not man nor beast—should desecrate Absence’s grave.”
“Thank you for bringing us this far,” Roan said. His certainty was growing by the second. His entire life, he’d felt lost and alone. When he’d met Gareth and Gwendolyn and started this journey, that feeling had begun to subside. But now…the feeling was gone. For the first time in his life, he knew he was in the exact right place at the exact right time. As if in agreement, his lifemark pulsed in his chest. Slowly, he moved Condor’s arm away. “You need not fear. This is right. Return to your people and look for the day when your cities shall blossom once again.”
She stared at him for a moment, but then nodded. “Be safe, Peacemaker,” she said. She turned away and started back down the hill, the other Terans following.
He could sense Windy’s gaze, though his eyes were glued to the center of the temple. “Are you certain about this?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Then you shall go first.”
His eyes flicked to hers. She was smiling. It was a joke, or at a least partly.
Yela gripped his hand. “We shall go together.”
“I’ll be a half-step behind you,” Windy said.
Roan didn’t fear this, even if it turned out this beast would rip them all to shreds. If so, it was the fate he was meant for.
They started down the hill, not slowly, not quickly. Steadily. Yela’s hand was warm against his and he felt lucky to have her on this journey. The ground leveled out and they entered the temple, though he was careful to pass between the rubble of two of the seven huts.
One step at a time, they approached the animal, which was digging furiously, half of its large black form hidden in an ever-deepening hole.
A bear, Roan thought, his heart doubling its pace. It could be no coincidence.
The animal didn’t seem to be aware of their presence, its claws scrabbling at the ground, tossing chunks of dirt behind it. The pile grew as more and more of the beast disappeared into the hole.
Roan stopped, wondering whether to disturb the bear. Only its hind legs were protruding now, its sharp claws clinging to the ground.
Something be
gan to change. First it was the paws, which elongated, the dark fur disappearing, the claws retracting into the toes. Becoming feet—human feet. The legs were next, still massive columns of muscle and bone, but less hairy. The rest of the bear-turned-man remained hidden in the hole.
A voice, however, emerged. “What took you so long? I waited many days on the shore for you. I’d given up. But I couldn’t leave these lands without coming here first. Seeing the truth with my own eyes.”
Roan started. Was it—he—talking to him? “I—”
“That is my fault,” Windy said. “I spotted you in the stacks of the Archives. I saw you leave the book. I hid it from Roan.”
A deep rumble, something between a growl and indigestion. “Why?” There was danger in that tone. Unspent violence.
“The Peacemaker had something else to do before he came here. It was necessary for the prophecy to come to pass.”
The legs disappeared into the hole and there was a rustling. A moment later a head appeared, and then a massive body clothed in trousers, a belt, and nothing else. The man’s skin was coated in a thick layer of dark hair, and his cheeks and chin wore a tangled beard that reached to his chest. His hair was long and wavy, as thick on top as on the sides and in back. Roan knew immediately that this man was none other than Bear Blackboots.
“What do you know about prophecies, Lady Sandes?” Bear asked, his eyes burning brown coals.
“Only what I’ve read. Which is significant.” The scholar stepped forward, trying to look confident, but Roan could hear the doubt in her tone. She’s remembering what the Teran elder told her, about how their people don’t write much of their history down.
“Significant? You know nothing, woman.”
“Then enlighten us.”
“That note was for the Peacemaker. Not you. Not the other girl with you.”
Roan had waited so long for this moment, he couldn’t hold back his tongue. “They are with me. I trust them. We don’t have time to waste. Please, tell me why you brought me here.”
“Time? You speak to me of time? Your time is but a day next to the lifetimes I’ve lived. But I’ve endured. I’ve waited, too. She forced this on me, whether I wanted it or not.”