by C B Samet
Most who knew of my abilities kept in quiet awe of them; but some saw me as either a threat or a challenge, while others revered me to the uncomfortable and inaccurate extent of declaring me a goddess. I’d discovered the hard way that life remained simpler if I ensured I was generally perceived as a mother, or wife, or teacher—nothing anyone might think of as extraordinary.
We set off at a run after Boyo departed.
Each day, with less food to carry, the horses’ packs grew lighter, and we could stretch their exertion a little longer.
The landscape shifted around us. Trees vanished. Then grass. Soon, the ground became dry and the air moist. When we were within view of the edge of the Waterlands, geysers and ponds became visible in the distance. We pulled the horses to a halt. Carrot squawked seconds before landing on my arm.
“I can lead us,” Baird offered. “I’m not afraid of whatever mysteries the future may reveal to me.”
“I’m not afraid either,” Hans retorted.
I gazed out over the misty land before us. My stomach pitched and rolled. I was afraid. I feared the future. Evil was spreading, and Mal and I didn’t know why—only that it had began after the volcano erupted.
The only thing keeping me in a bubble of sanity was ignorance about the future of the decline of man. As long as I didn’t know, I could pretend it would eventually take a turn for the better. If I learned it would get worse, I’d feel obligated to take action. What would that involve? Less time with my family? More frustrations on behalf of the university?
In addition, no one knew if our cure would work. What if I saw the future and saw that we’d failed? What hope did we have then?
Furthermore, everyone kept reminding me that I would outlive Joshua. I wanted a long life with my husband and my family; yet, I sensed my time with them was a precious, dwindling commodity. I didn’t need to see the devastation ahead to know it existed. Mal had once told me Joshua and I had decade upon decade together—so at least I knew I had some time.
Yet, if I didn’t offer to lead the group through treacherous land because of my own selfish fears, what was I exposing my friends to?
I can do it, I told Baird. Mal may be able to protect me from visions of the future. If I haven’t gone mad with Mal’s company yet, what harm can a few glimpses into the future hold?
He didn’t answer, but I sensed his disapproval at my offer.
Coco stepped forward. “As Captain of the Guard, any information I glean may be helpful to the Queen.”
I suspected she offered less to garner information for the Queen and more because her disciplined disposition and staunch sense of control wouldn’t allow her to trust anybody else to get her safely through danger while she remained helpless and blindfolded.
“We all stand to gain or lose,” Baird said. “We’ll draw grass straws for it.”
He dismounted and plucked four pieces of long, brittle grass and arranged them in his fist, with the bottom stalk sticking out. “One of these tips is bent at the end. Whoever draws the bent tip will lead us through the Waterlands.”
“Apparently, I don’t count?” Raven asked.
“My apologies.” Baird began to reach for another strand. “Did you want to be part of the draw to see who leads the way?”
“No. I have no interest in the future. Good or bad.”
He nodded and straightened. “You are right, though. I should have at least asked.”
One by one we picked the grass straws, inspecting for the fine bend on the end.
Coco raised her piece for us to see.
“The captain leads the way,” I remarked.
Raven climbed up from Fury’s back to sit on Phobus’ neck.
We tore off parts of a blanket—at least it wasn’t my red cloak this time—to make blindfolds. As we sat on top of the horses, we secured our blindfolds and put our trust in Captain DeFay.
17
For the first twenty minutes, Coco described what she saw—pools of water and spritzes of moisture. Then, she grew silent.
The hairs on my neck stood on end as I resisted the urge to tear off my blindfold.
“Coco?” Baird called.
Only the sound of gushing water in the distance replied. Beneath me, Phobus continued to walk steadily onward, and I could feel the slight bob of his head and turn of his neck.
“Leave your blindfold on,” Baird commanded.
I heard shuffling. Phobus continued walking, but his weight shifted uneasily. I placed a gentle hand on his neck.
“Baird, I’m coming with you,” Hans called.
Brilliant.
More scuffling, followed by the sound of hoofbeats. Fury whined briefly and then fell silent.
Baird?
Nothing.
“I guess I’m going to be the last fool to take off my blindfold.” I blinked against the bright sun. When my eyes focused, I sat alone on the horse with Raven. How had everyone else vanished?
Baird?
Still no response. As I dismounted Phobus, Carrot took flight. The strange silence was pierced by a distant scream.
“Abigail?” Raven’s voice hung on the edge of fear.
“Whatever happens, stay on Phobus. He’ll lead you to safety.”
“Then why don’t you get back on?”
She made a point, but from the ground I hoped to spot footprints or hoofprints to see in which direction everyone had dispersed.
A fierce stream of water suddenly emitted a meter away and tore ten meters into the air. Phobus startled at the sudden violent gush and took off at a gallop with Raven barely clutching at his mane.
The stream of water disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. I looked down at the hole in the ground. “Not particularly frightening.”
What did frighten me was being able to see in every direction, yet my friends were nowhere in sight.
Phobus and Raven had vanished. The optical illusion reminded me of the Veil Stone, where objects within its magic remained unseen unless one stepped within its umbrella of magic.
I walked carefully, as the soft ground shifted under the weight of my feet. I chose my way between the pools of water and quiescent geysers, focusing on keeping my gaze fixed to the front of me. Around me, the landscape blazed in beautiful pinks and oranges intermixed with blue water reflecting the sky.
As a chemistry teacher, who’d also taken a geology class in college, I knew the colors around the pools of heated water comprised various types of thermophilic bacteria. However—subjectively—the landscape stole my breath. I wondered if Natalie would appreciate the majestic rainbow. She loved color and beauty. When we traveled to market, she was drawn to jewelry, dresses, and ribbons. But I could never bring her here; not with the threat of the dangerous visions.
Abigail, work your way out of the geysers. We can reconvene on the other side. I’m through.
Did you see this magnificent beauty? I asked Baird.
Eyes ahead. No distractions. Don’t look at the water.
If Mal was here, he’d marvel in the beauty with me. Prior to his curse, in which he’d become a sponge for evil, he’d lived in confinement in his family castle in Karnelik; born in an age of constant war. He’d never seen a beach, or a waterfall, or a geyser growing up. He’d only known his castle walls and the towering icy mountains behind them.
A blast of water abruptly propelled toward the sky only a meter away from me. I tried to avert my eyes, but I saw Malakai.
“Mal!”
After several days of silence, he’d finally decided to visit me. I stepped my way closer, keeping my gaze on him as he appeared to be standing within the tower of water. Time slowed, causing the water to trickle rather than gushed upward.
Mal’s figure was replaced by menacing-looking men in strange clothing, all with long hair. They stood on the shores of Mulan, wearing expressions of hunger and greed.
The scene shifted to Boyo as he sailed across the ocean. With relief, I realized he made his way home to Bellos—or would make hi
s way home, as this was a vision of the future. We’d saved his life and freed him, giving him the chance for safe passage.
In the following image, Boyo was freshly bathed and slipping on a clean tunic. His hand caught the jagged edge of a candlestick holder. As blood welled on the surface, he cursed at the minuscule cut. A glow of soft light emitted from his abdomen, beneath his shirt and under the surface of his skin. As it illuminated his skin, the tiny wound healed. Then the smooth, round glow faded. My stomach soured. He had a Che Healing Stone. He’d kept healthy during the plague through magic. Magic he’d hoarded for himself.
Boyo hadn’t healed any of the captives who’d been in the shed with him or any of the sick people he’d encountered on his travels. He’d hoarded the magic for himself.
Moments later, Boyo, dressed in fine silk garments, bowed his head before a large bearded man in crimson silk. He sat on a throne of black skulls, forged from iron. The king of Bellos, I presumed. His pale green eyes seemed to reflect a blanched soul, devoid of warmth, and color, and compassion.
“Crithos and Kovia are ripe for the taking,” Boyo said, his voice deeper and more sinister compared to the friendly tone he’d used with our group. “They were weakened by something they’re calling the Omega plague. But they have magic. Queen Rebekah sent magic bearers to harness a cure. Regardless of whether the cure worked, the continents are weak—we can conquer them.”
“Patience Vinchenko. Emerald sees the time is drawing near, but first we must finish building our army and our ships. Our glory will come. We will reestablish the power and global reach once held by Ophelia Bornak.”
With another shimmer of water, I saw their massive fleet of ships and legions of armies. I recognized the shores of Marrin beach. They were invading Crithos, in a vision representing the distant future. How distant? Years? Decades? How long would their army take to build? How prepared could Crithos be for such a battle to come?
I thought of my role in the battle. The Avant Champion wasn’t created to fight people. Was I? The champion had been devised as a creation to fight Malos—to fight evil forces. While I had killed living beings—giants on southern Crithos, who had been corrupted by a greedy leader—I hated death. I hated considering it a solution to anything. But death would arrive on Crithos at the helm of these giant wooden ships.
I sucked in a deep breath as I stumbled back from the geyser. The world spun around me. As my stomach flipped, I looked at my surroundings. My mouth went dry. I stood alone and had lost all sense of direction.
I walked forward in a hurry, tripped, and plunged into a pool of water. Instead of falling into wetness, I fell through a rainbow tunnel. Bright colors swirled around me as I tumbled through the tunnel.
When I finally slowed to a stop, I saw Natalie, my daughter, kneeling in a shimmering blue and silver gown. Long curls of hair trailed down her back. She appeared older—in her early twenties, perhaps—and she wore an expression of both excitement and apprehension. A young man dressed as a page held out a crown on a red velvet pillow. Aman, Queen Rebekah’s counsel, gently lifted the crown with his aged, trembling hands and placed it upon her head as she recited an oath to serve Crithos.
Mother Moon.
Not Natalie. Not my daughter! Not the lifelong commitment to the crown. Being the queen was not an honor—it was a life sentence with the castle as a prison. No mother who’d spent company in the presence of the queen would wish such confinement on her offspring.
This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be the future.
I ran through the maze of the castle walls. Panic and claustrophobia caused me to hyperventilate. Stairs materialized before me. I took them two at a time. If I could get to the top of the watchtower and get some fresh air, maybe I could regain my wits.
At the top of the stairs, a wide balcony opened beneath a starry sky. I didn’t recognize this location as any part of the castle I knew. At the opposite end of the balcony, I saw myself lying limp in Mal’s arms. Someone else, someone I couldn’t see clearly, lay in a heap on the floor—surrounded by shattered, multicolored glass.
I moved to take a step closer to my vision of myself.
Mal’s apparition appeared in front of me, blocking my view. “Don’t look, Abigail.”
I tried to peer around him. “Why not? What’s going on? Am I injured?”
He moved closer, continuing to obstruct my view. “It is your death.”
“My—,” I stammered.
I turned glaring eyes on him. “Where have you been?”
He looked down at me with a slight grin on his lips, as though my question implied I missed him.
“There were instances where your insight would have been helpful,” I explained.
He arched an eyebrow.
I tried to look around him once more.
“Don’t.” His voice was gentle, with a depth of sorrow I seldom heard from him. “Please.”
I stopped and stared at him. I tried to remember if I’d ever heard him say ‘please’ before. “Okay,” I agreed.
“Let me help guide you out of this mirage.”
I nodded.
Slowly, he placed his fingertips on my scalp. A tingling sensation spread warmth over my head. Our surroundings dimmed as the sound of gushing water grew louder. Rippling water appeared, as though I stood behind a waterfall looking outward.
As he stepped back from me, Mal jutted his chin toward the water. “Go through there to leave the geysers behind.” His tone had turned dismissive.
“Wait. The images I saw. Are they all true?”
“Visions of the future are ... complicated. You may see truth but, without context, comprehension is difficult.”
“I can comprehend that I saved Boyo’s life only to have him encourage his king to invade us. I can comprehend that Natalie takes the crown one day.” The images of what I had seen paraded through my head as I talked. “Was I dying in your arms?”
He didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes averted to the ground and obscured by dark lashes.
“Mal, how is that even possible?”
“Stop.” He barked the word as a command, before looking startled at his own outburst. “Stop,” he repeated, in a softer, more pleading tone.
I scanned his face—sadness swirled with anger. “Have you seen my death before?”
He looked into my face, his doleful eyes filled with suffering. “Don’t you understand how difficult this is for me?”
I wanted to ask him the same question. This was my death we were discussing. Well, attempting to discuss. The way he seemed in genuine pain stole any fury I might have previously summoned to unleash upon him.
“Mal—”
“We can consult Orrick on the matter later. He’s better at interpreting the future than I am. Please, go.”
I turned and walked through the sheet of falling water. Confusion and frustration burned through me. How was my death difficult for him? What about the terror it put me through? How could he deny my questions about what I’d seen?
Sunlight seared my eyes. After blinking several times, I focused on the surrounding grass.
Grass. Not rainbow-colored soil and pools of water. I had reached safety.
Thanks to Mal. Mal, who’d abandoned me, and then mysteriously reappeared. Mal, who’d nearly cried at a vision of my distant death. How distant?
Nope. Don’t make yourself insane thinking about it.
Phobus trotted to me and gave me a nudge.
“I accept your apology for leaving me. Glad you made out, boy.” I scratched an ear and nodded at Carrot and Raven, as both were perched on my saddle.
In the distance, I saw Baird riding toward me on Butterfly. His blindfold hung loosely around his neck like a bandana.
“Abigail, are you okay?”
“A little shaken, but no more or less crazy than when we went into the Waterlands.”
“Butterfly went mad. All of my concentration focused on controlling her. I saw no visions.”
“Lucky f
or you.”
Fury nudged a wet nose into my palm until I petted him. Raven transferred from Phobus to Fury.
“You saw something. You’re still pale from it,” Baird said.
I pursed my lips.
“How bad?” he asked.
“Let’s just say I wasn’t parading through the castle while Marrington’s subjects threw rose petals at my feet.”
He dismounted and gently grasped my arms. “You want to discuss it?”
I shook my head. “We need to find the others.”
I wanted to discuss it with someone who could help me make sense of it. I would have to wait until I could visit Orrick again.
“You don’t actually.” Coco’s tone was brisk as she approached, staring at the scant distance between Baird and I with narrow, twitching eyes.
Hans, looking harried, ambled beside her with their horses in tow.
Baird released me and turned toward the other survivors.
“You can blame me.” Coco looked down at us from atop Prince. “Now we’re all burdened with images of our future.”
“Do you suppose we all saw the same future?” Hans’ ears burned red.
Baird gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Coco took sudden interest in stroking Prince’s mane.
I climbed onto Phobus. “Did anyone else see the king of Bellos plotting an invasion of Crithos?”
All three of them stared at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed in shock.
“I would venture to guess we did not all have the same visions.”
Hans looked oddly relieved.
Coco’s mouth still gaped. “An invasion?”
“An invasion.” I leaned forward, signaling Phobus to break into a lope. We headed east.
After a hard, cathartic ride, I slowed Phobus. The setting sun indicated we needed to make camp. Behind us, the sky was turning deep shades of orange and magenta. As I dismounted, tiny crystals crunched beneath my boots. I knelt and scraped pale, pink crystals into my palm. I touched my tongue to the small particles—salt.
“Gross,” Raven commented.