Wanderer's Song (Song of Prophecy Series Book 1)

by P. E. Padilla

  The man squeezed her for a long time, stopping only to bring his hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I know that look, Fahtin. Nothing I could do would convince you. Even tying you up would not stop you.”

  As soon as her father released her, she stepped to her mother and repeated her actions. Ritma Achaya wept softly into her daughter’s shoulder.

  “You make sure you take care of each other,” she said as she traded Fahtin for Aeden in her hug. “You do what needs to be done and come back to us.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Fahtin said.

  Aeden remained silent, not sure what he could say.

  “I don’t need to tell you to protect my daughter, your sister,” Darun told him. “I pray you remain safe and are able to come back to us someday.”

  “You be safe as well,” Aeden said, knowing it would be an easier task for the caravan than for him, once he left.

  They spent a half an hour outfitting themselves with supplies. They had sturdy backpacks filled with food, necessities like rope, tinder boxes, a few medicines, and cooking implements. Soon, they were ready to depart. With a touch of sadness, Aeden handed his fiddle case to Darun. He would have to leave it with the caravan. There was no room for it in his travel pack.

  “I would suggest to you,” Jehira said, “that you travel west, toward the Sitor-Kanda Academy.”

  “Why would we go there?” Aeden asked. “A gathering of book-loving fools, that place. What good will it do to visit there?”

  “It is much more than that, Aeden,” the old soothsayer said. “At the very least, you might find answers to questions about the monsters hunting you. What are they? Where do they come from? What are they after? Can they be dissuaded from their search? They might answer all these questions and more.”

  Aeden rubbed his chin. He would like some of those questions answered.

  “But more importantly,” she continued, “Sitor-Kanda was not always what it is now. Do you not recognize the name from the Bhagant? It is an important part of the prophecy.”

  “What do you mean, Jehira?” Fahtin asked. “Since I haven’t heard anything about it—other than what everyone knows—I’m guessing that part of the Song hasn’t been translated for Aeden yet.”

  “It has not,” Aeden confirmed.

  “The so-called ‘Hero Academy’?” Darun said. “I’ve heard, like Aeden mentioned, that it is a great bunch of people who like to read and research, to no real purpose.”

  “They train heroes there,” Raki added. “Real heroes. They are warriors and mages and are very powerful.”

  Darun sniffed. “Those are just tales the children tell. There are no real heroes in the world, not since Erent Caahs’s death more than twenty years ago. The Academy may have trained real heroes at one time, but they have degenerated into a school for clerks and scholars.”

  “You are both right,” Jehira said, “and you are both wrong. I do not know exactly what occurs at Sitor-Kanda today. It is an island, isolated from others both physically and figuratively, so news of that place does not travel widely. I do know the history of the place, however, and I believe it would benefit you to visit there.”

  Aeden watched the old woman as she spoke. She was always truthful, but even more than that, with what she was saying, she was sincere. She truly believed—and strongly, it seemed—that they should go there.

  “I don’t understand, Jehira,” he said. “What benefit to visit a dusty collection of books? Should we not visit the Great Enclave and ask for help from the Clavian Knights in battling the creatures? Is that not our only chance to destroy those that are chasing me?”

  “Aeden,” Jehira said. “I sometimes forget that you are so young and that you do not know things that are obvious to me, even to others in the family. Have you not heard of the establishment of Sitor-Kanda, the purpose for which it was created?”

  “I’m afraid not. All I have heard was the jokes the clan used to tell about their vast island fortress and how it is all to protect their precious books. The legends of heroes trained in that place are just stories that have grown with time.”

  “Ah, but that is not true. Recall the part of the Song that goes:

  Sitor-Kanda dah korita dara sai

  Malatirsay apronka deh arjisteta sain

  Sabmen cognis aun qot ua selim

  Prein acha ua Malatirsay deh horota sain

  “The name Sitor-Kanda means ‘Home of magic.’ The general meaning of the passage is this:

  Home of magic lies awaiting

  Malatirsay come to train

  All the knowledge and world’s power

  Gathered for Malatirsay’s benefit.”

  That made Aeden think.

  Jehira continued. “We have little time, but I will tell you of Sitor-Kanda and then you can be on your way. You will have to decide if you will take my advice or go another path. At least you will do so with information and not ignorance.

  “In the distant past, nearly three thousand years ago, magic abounded in the world. They did wondrous things in those days, things which we cannot imagine in our world as it is now. But along with wonders, there were terrors, too.

  “There were those who thirsted only for more and more power. Not just magical power, but any type. Political power, wealth, control over the animals and elements, all of these were sought by evil men and women. Opposing them were those who found other things important: freedom, happiness, love. There came to be battles between these two types of people, and the results were terrible. But they paled when compared with what happened as those of like mind on either side banded together to fight common foes. Like a candle’s flame in the face of the full moon, the previous terror was a weak imitation of what eventually came to be.

  “The violence escalated, and eventually it seemed as if the world was divided into two opposing sides, with no parties neutral. During this time, the greatest prophet of the age, Tsosin Ruus, received the vision that is largely included in the Bhavisyaganant, the Song of Prophecy.

  “He tried to stop the war—which is what it had become—but despite the respect all had for him and the power he had, he was unsuccessful. He could see his own future, that he would not be able to affect the course of events in his own lifetime, but he dedicated himself to preparing for that future time, the time of his vision, the end of all things.

  “I will not go into detail about all the things the prophet did, for we do not have the time. What I will talk about is the establishment of Sitor-Kanda, something he was reported to have said was his greatest achievement in life.

  “Twenty years it took, the last twenty years of the Prophet’s life. He used all his influence, all of his own wealth he had accumulated, and all of his life force itself to complete the project. He was able to secure a vast tract of land, almost the entire island of Munsahtiz, that came to be called Sitor-Kanda. Only a small part on the southern tip of Munsahtiz does not belong to the Academy. It was held back as a watch post for Salamus, the nation that previously owned the island and which owned much of the land surrounding the sea in which Munsahtiz is located.

  “The island is situated on the inland sea called the Kanton Sea and was of limited strategic value in the war, surrounded completely by allied nations. As soon as Tsosin secured the land, he began building, and as the stone structures went up, he infused them with magic.

  “Tsosin Ruus was a great prophet, and his planning skills were beyond compare. For two decades, the grounds and buildings were developed, much larger than anyone ever thought would be needed. Many scoffed at him, saying that he had finally gone mad, but he continued. He planned forty-nine different schools within the Academy, each teaching a specific subject. Combat, magic, language, history, metalworking and other crafts, each a large college by itself, but all still part of the larger Academy.

  “He was questioned about his work. Many thought it was a secret project as part of the war effort, but as the years passed, it was clear this was not the reason for its constructi
on. Whenever he was asked directly what the purpose of his grand building project was, his answer was simple. ‘It is to train the Malatirsay in the last days so that the world is not lost to darkness.’

  “The Prophet’s life was finally drawing to a close, as was the war. The world had been ravaged by wild magics, and it seemed as if power was leaving the world. It was almost as if the vast store of magical energy in Dizhelim was used up, and so spells had less of a magical reservoir to draw on.

  “By the time the Prophet died, the magics that could be performed were a sad imitation of the wondrous things that had been possible just short decades before. Many users of the different types of magic actually fell to a strange sickness that afflicted only them. Some suggested that it was Dizhelim itself striking back against them for almost destroying the world. Whatever it was, those who could use magic lessened in number.

  “At this time of turmoil also, the gods withdrew from mankind. It was not known where they went, if anywhere, but they no longer interacted with men as they had before.

  “It was a dark time for the world, but not as dark as that which was prophesied. Seeing his work done, or at least started, the Prophet finally passed peacefully from the world. He left the record of his visions of the future, along with one of his greatest tools for ensuring that future could be successful: Sitor-Kanda, the Hero Academy.”

  Jehira looked into Aeden’s eyes, making sure he understood what this meant. Aeden met her gaze and nodded. Relief washed over her face and she let out a breath that she probably did not know she had been holding.

  “So,” she said. “You see that the entire purpose for Sitor-Kanda was to train the Malatirsay. If it has lost sight of that purpose itself, it still holds within it secrets that could aid such a one in a quest to do what has been prophesied. At the very least, knowledge and possibly aid can be obtained there. Isn’t that worth traveling there, especially with no other promising plans?”

  “Aye,” Aeden said. “It is. We will go there. I still don’t believe I am this Malatirsay as you claim, but it’s clear that the monsters are chasing me. If there are heroes still, maybe they can be found at the Academy. If there are not, some information about our enemies would be welcome.”

  Aeden looked at Fahtin as he said it, raising an eyebrow to her in question. She nodded, mouth a straight line.

  “Then it is settled,” Darun said. “The best of luck to the both of you. The moment you find that you could use our help, no matter the cost, you come back to us. We will travel the same path as we have in years past. Fahtin, you will know where we will be.”

  “Thank you, Darun, Ritma, all of you,” Aeden said. “I would not leave you if it were not for your safety. I promise that when it is safe for you, we will return. Until then, I will miss you.”

  A round of quick goodbyes followed, Aeden shaking hands with the men and hugging the women, Fahtin hugging everyone. They finally found themselves in front of Jehira and Raki.

  “Thank you for all you have done, Jehira,” Aeden said. “I will miss our lessons.”

  “I am sorry we could not translate the entire Song, but you will learn more about it. This I know.” The old woman hugged him and kissed his forehead, his cheek, then his other cheek. “You are the Malatirsay. Believe in yourself, and you will do wondrous things.”

  After Fahtin said goodbye to Jehira, they both stood in front of Raki.

  “Goodbye, my friend,” Aeden said. “I am sorry you could not come with us, but it is better this way. Protect your Nani and the rest of the family. We will meet again someday, when the danger has passed.”

  He hugged the boy and then stepped aside to let Fahtin do so.

  With a last forlorn look at those gathered to say goodbye, he and Fahtin walked out of the camp. He wondered if he would ever see his family and their brightly-colored wagons again.

  26

  Khrazhti looked out from the stone fortress she had taken for her stronghold. This world had too much light. She was becoming accustomed to it, but it irritated her, like a prickle along her back, not quite painful but there constantly. It made her want to strike something.

  “My Lady High Priestess?” Daosa, one of her generals, said. “Do you agree?”

  She turned her eyes to him and watched him flinch. They were the palest blue, and glowed no matter the lighting conditions. She thought they were probably more impressive in Aruzhelim, the world from which they came, because theirs was a world of darkness. There was not all this accursed light in her home.

  “Daosa, I understand your concerns. I do not share them. We have but one task on this S’ru-forsaken trash heap called a world. We are to find the opposer and destroy him. I would sacrifice any number of our troops to this end.”

  “Yes, My Lady, of course.”

  Her general was unable to meet her gaze as her eyes drilled into him. He was a good soldier, competent and loyal. She softened her eyes.

  “You must understand. S’ru, god of all the world, has spoken. We were sent here to prepare for his coming to this place. You must use all your skill and strategy to find the One and to destroy him. If you can prevent our own forces from being obliterated, that is good, but not necessary, as long as we have sufficient resources to complete our task.

  “For those troops with the twinkling talent, it is a moot point. When their physical bodies are no longer able to keep their essence, they will be spawned anew in their birthing place. All that is lost is that they are no longer of use to us here in this world. These creatures who inhabit Dizhelim, these ‘humans,’ there are very few with the ability to destroy any of the animaru. We will be victorious, and S’ru will have his domain in both worlds, Aruzhelim and Dizhelim.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” The general saluted. “I will see to it. We must be close to the One. A whole patrol has gone missing. No other could have managed it but the one foretold.”

  Khrazhti nodded. “Perhaps. Keep me informed of your progress. You may go.”

  The general turned on his hooves and walked from her presence. She watched him go. His form was that of a hairy two-armed animaru, not quite so tall as her. He had hard hooves on the bottom of his feet, so he needed no clothing or boots on his lower limbs.

  Khrazhti, high priestess of the dark god S’ru, thought of the difference between the denizens of this world, this Dizhelim, and those of her own world of Aruzhelim. On her world, all creatures were animaru. There were none of the other forms of life on this world, the insects and animals.

  The animaru came in many shapes and sizes, but the vast majority shared attributes. Most had two legs or rear appendages and two arms or front appendages. There were those with more or less, but that was not common. Most stood upright on the rear appendages, though some dropped to put their arms to the ground when running or fighting.

  One thing almost all shared was that they were dark. Black, gray, brown, they were different shades, but all of them dark, like their almost lightless world. In a place without much light, color seemed unnecessary.

  All but her. She was of average height among the animaru, neither massive nor diminutive. She was in the same shape as the humans in this world, if a little taller than the ones she’d seen. Legs, feet with toes, arms with hands. She did not crawl about on all fours as some did. She walked or ran on her two legs.

  Of course, that was to be expected. She was, after all, part human herself. She was not supposed to know this, but she did. Though her body was colored a light blue, the same color she had seen in the sky when she came to this world, and though she had only a crest of hair along the top of her head and long ears that slanted back from the side of her head, she looked remarkably like these humans. She couldn’t pass herself off as one, of course, nor would she want to, but she did resemble them.

  When her god sent her there, she was commanded to coordinate with one of these humans. That one was apparently a powerful creature among these other beasts. While she was discussing her plans with him at his own stronghold, she had
seen a woman whose shape did not match those of others she had seen. Though she was generally the same, there was an imbalance to her, an asymmetry. A large lump at her midsection seemed to have grown over the weeks she had observed her.

  Khrazhti had stared at the woman while her host babbled on about something or other. It was fascinating to her. How had it happened? What did it mean? Was it something she could use to defeat those on this world?

  The man had stopped talking and watched Khrazhti watching the serving woman. He had laughed and told her the woman was “pregnant.”

  “What is ‘pregnant?’” Khrazhti asked.

  “She is ready to bear a child, to give birth.”

  “I do not understand this ‘birth,’” she said.

  “Do your people not bring children into the world live like this?” he asked. “Do you lay eggs or something else? How do you make more animaru?”

  Khrazhti had almost lost her composure for a moment. Her blue eyes flashed and she looked at him with incredulity. “More animaru? There are not more animaru. All were created at once, thousands upon thousands of years ago. There have been none created since.” It was not the whole truth, of course, but she would not tell him that. Her case was unique.

  “Really?” The human looked shocked. “Then what happens if animaru are killed? How are they replaced?”

  This human did not understand. “Do you not understand that animaru cannot be ‘killed?’ We are not alive, such as you. Our world is death, we are all of death. Death cannot be killed. We may be harmed and must take time to recover our power, but we cannot be destroyed, other than those with the twinkling.”

  The human looked to be taken aback. “The twinkling?”

  “Those who, by their nature, are weaker and whose shells can be destroyed. When their bodies are ruined in that way, their essence returns to the area in which they were spawned in their original creation.”

  “I…did not know that,” he said. His color seemed to fade, as if he had been subjected to a strong light. Color seemed to play a big part in things on this world.