The Grove (Guardians of Destiny)

by Jean Johnson

  Saleria nodded—then bounced up on her toes and kissed his other cheek. “That’s so you remember I do care, even when you’re not in charge of the body. Now bring Aradin and his lips back, please, so I can kiss him and them properly.”

  He chuckled and started pulling the Witchcloak into place. “Impertinence, milady. I’ll have him give you a swat on the rump for me, once we’ve swapped.”

  * * *

  Saleria waited for her turn in the discussion of prophecies among all the Guardians on her Bower mirror. The sharp-nosed, face-shrouded Alonnen was talking. She glanced briefly at her lover, who was gently decanting some sort of sap-infused potion into a set of jars, but didn’t call out to him. He had his task this afternoon, and she had hers.

  At least she had the time for this discussion, rather than having to hurry everyone along so she could work on draining the eastern locus tree post-lunch. Now that she was the actual Guardian of the eastern rift, she could drain it from within the Bower directly, a very neat convenience. Which left her waiting for her turn to speak.

  “. . . But that’s just it. ‘When the floodgates open’ could refer to something on my end of things, but I can’t say even to the lot of you what it is. A lot of these prophecies so far point toward this corner of the world, either Arbra or Fortuna or Mekhana or its neighbors, but none of them peg it exact,” Alonnen concluded, cap-covered, scarf-wound head waggling in a visual shrug. With even his eyes obscured by those green-tinted lenses he wore, he looked more like a puppet from a children’s show than a man.

  “Guardian Saleria,” Kerric stated, turning to her. It was an interesting visual effect because his chair actually swiveled one way and the view of a book-lined wall behind him swerved the other, as if he really were surrounded by a circular library. “You said you finally sorted through the copies you received from the Katani Department of Prophecies? What have you to share with us?”

  “Well, I did share the earlier one, from Seer Haupanea from two hundred years ago,” she stated. “Now, I know you all don’t think the verses, ‘Gone, all gone, the synod gone, brought back by exiled might; By second try, the fiends must die, uncovered by the blight’ have much to do with a potential Netherhell invasion. But ‘fiend’ often refers to the denizens of those blighted dimensions, and that Nightfall Isle—founded by an exiled group of brothers—is trying to reconvene the Convocation of the Gods.”

  “We’d know more about it if Guardian Dominor weren’t so distracted by Serina’s pregnancy,” Guardian Ilaiea snorted.

  Saleria wondered what the pale-haired woman had against the as-yet-unmet Guardian Serina. She had to let it go, however. “As I was about to say, Guardian Ilaiea, I have here another prophecy by the same Seer, Haupanea, which seems to speak much more directly of the events in question . . . and Seers have been known to make several prophecies about one really big event, or a related series of events.

  “This one I actually thought would be important for all of us to hear,” she added, selecting the scroll from the table she had moved near the mirror. “Because the title of it is ‘Song of the Guardians of Destiny.’” That got her their respectful, quiet attention. Nodding to herself, Saleria unrolled the scroll. “Here is the full prophecy:

  “When serpent crept into their hall:

  Danger waits for all who board,

  Trying to steal that hidden tone.

  Painted Lady saves the lord;

  Tower’s master’s not alone.

  “Calm the magics caught in thrall:

  Put your faith in strangers’ pleas,

  Keeper, Witch, and treasure trove;

  Ride the wave to calm the trees,

  Servant saves the sacred Grove.”

  “So it mentions Kerric’s Tower and your Grove,” Ilaiea scoffed, interrupting her at only the second verse. “So it’s coming true. Tell us something new.”

  “I am trying to, Guardian,” Saleria stated sternly. “There are eight verses in all . . . and the third verse is when things start getting hairy:

  “Cult’s awareness, it shall rise:

  Hidden people, gather now;

  Fight the demons, fight your doubt.

  Gearman’s strength shall then endow,

  When Guild’s defender casts them out.

  “Synod gathers, tell them lies:

  Efforts gathered in your pride

  Lost beneath the granite face.

  Painted Lord, stand by her side;

  Repentance is the Temple’s grace.”

  She paused and gave the others a pointed look.

  Pelai, still sitting in for Guardian Tipa’thia of Mendhi, sat forward, her tattooed brow pinching in a frown. “Synod gathers, tell them lies? And a verse about a Painted Lord? If the synod referred to is the same one that means the Convocation of Gods and Man . . . then does that mean something will happen at the Convocation to set this all off? Or . . . well, it could refer to the Mendhi Temple of the Painted Warriors. Our most formal gatherings are called synods.”

  “I don’t know,” Saleria stated, shrugging. “There are four more verses to go.”

  “The part about Gearmen makes me think of what we’ve discussed of Mekhanan engineers,” Alonnen mused. “And it’s very clear that the demons are involved somehow . . . which does not make me happy.”

  “Nor I,” Sir Vedell stated. “Arbra has borne the brunt of far too many normal attacks by the Mekhanans. I do not like the idea of throwing demons into the mix.”

  “What are the rest of the verses?” Guardian Sheren, the eldest female in the group, demanded. “Can we please get back to that? Go on, Guardian Saleria. We’re listening. Or we should be.”

  “Brave the dangers once again:

  Quarrels lost to time’s own pace

  Set aside in danger’s face.

  Save your state; go make your choice

  When Dragon bows unto the Voice.”

  “Dragon?” Ilaiea interjected. She was hushed by five of the fifteen Guardians attending this meeting. Saleria squared her shoulders and kept reading doggedly.

  “Sybaritic good shall reign:

  Island city, all alone

  Set your leader on his throne

  Virtue’s knowledge gives the most,

  Aiding sanctions by the Host.”

  “That is definitely Senod-Gra,” Keleseth, Guardian of that city, muttered. She gestured for Saleria to continue before anyone could hush her, too.

  “Faith shall now be mended whole:

  Soothing songs kept beasts at bay

  But sorrow’s song led King astray.

  Demon’s songs shall bring out worse

  Until the Harper ends your curse.”

  Saleria paused, but no one interrupted, so she gave the final lines.

  “Save the world is Guardians’ goal:

  Groom’s mistake and bride’s setback

  Aids the foe in its attack.

  Save the day is Jinx’s task,

  Hidden in the royal Masque.

  “. . . And that’s it. All eight verses,” she concluded. “Eight Guardians, eight verses. Lines speaking about demons more than once, and how it’s the task of the Guardians of the world to save it.”

  “Well, the first verse has already happened,” Guardian Kerric asserted before anyone else could speak. “The serpent was the mage—technically mages—who tried to steal the power of my Fountain. First the mage who also tried to take over Sheren’s and Rydan’s Guardianships, Xenos or something, then that fellow Torven, who betrayed the trust expected of my Maintenance staff. And the Painted Lady in question is my own beloved, Myal . . . so there’s the link to the other verses from the Synod Gone prophecy, the romantic aspects of it as it were.”

  “And I can definitely confirm the second verse is about my Guardianship,” Saleria added. “I am the Keeper of the Grove, I am being helped b
y Witch Aradin Teral, there is a wave of magic that needs to be calmed . . . whatever role we are to play in all of this, part of it comes from the Grove calming down.”

  Mother Naima chuckled. “Guardian Serina would no doubt say that’s a sign her project to calm the world’s aether for the reinstigation of the old Portals is coming true . . . since that’s what she wants you to do anyway. Calm the magics of your Fountain, and you should be able to recreate the old Portals across the length and breadth of Katan. If I’ve followed her lectures on the subject aright.”

  Aradin abandoned his project, hurrying over to her side. “—Excuse me for interrupting,” he called out, moving into the mirror’s viewing range. “But from what Guardian Saleria, my Guide, and I have been able to figure out, it’s going to take a few years to get the energies of the Grove quelled to that level of stability. Portal magics are nothing to muck around with. A Gate, you can push through a small patch of the aether, but a Portal requires far more stability.

  “Don’t expect to step from here to Fortuna in the span of a heartbeat within the next three to four years. In fact, don’t expect to step from far northern to far southern Katan within the next three to four years,” he finished dryly. “But we will work on it, yes.”

  The abbess chuckled. “That’s all she can rightfully expect, that you’ll work on it—and I’ll tell her so if she starts getting frenetic about it. I . . . hold on a moment.”

  She shifted away from the mirror, face craning past its edge. Aradin, seeing he wasn’t needed, gave Saleria a reassuring touch on her back and moved off to resume his work once more. A moment later, the middle-aged woman with the white wimple and head veil leaned back into full view of her mirror, her expression a delighted smile.

  “Well, now, Natua be praised! Serina’s actually in labor this time, and not just false pains. I should have enough time to wrap this up, but hopefully it won’t go on too much longer. I’ll want to be on hand for the traditional Natallian blessing of the newborn. So let’s not take forever parsing out who gets which verse to study and dissect, hm?”

  “Study and dissect?” Sir Vedell asked her.

  “Well, yes, of course,” Naima said. “If those of us who think the verse refers to our own purview study it in depth, we can look for specific local instances which match the prophecy. That will free up the rest to study the prophecy as a whole, looking for larger patterns, or for anything pointing it at some other place or person instead. It’s a good way to divide the labor.”

  “I concur,” Kerric said. “That was my own thought.”

  “Well, the next one would probably be my purview,” Alonnen stated. “I’m the Guardian tasked with keeping an eye on the Mekhanans, and ‘Gearman’ and ‘Guild’ both reek of Mekhanan society.”

  “I suppose Tipa’thia and I will have to keep an eye on the fourth verse,” Pelai said. “It could mean any Painted ‘Lord’ anywhere around the world—any male Painted Warrior—but combined with the words ‘synod’ and ‘Temple,’ which is where Tipa’thia’s Guardianship resides, it should mean something will happen in Mendhi. Also possibly ‘beneath the granite face’ or whatever the verse said.”

  Saleria nodded, since that was the correct wording for that line. She looked at the middle-aged woman with the pale platinum hair. “Guardian Ilaiea, you questioned the line about dragons?”

  “It . . . well . . .” For a moment, the normally self-possessed woman looked a little flustered, before she gathered her dignity and her authority. “The Draconan Empire might have something to do with it, but they haven’t had any real dragon-sightings in hundreds of years. The Moonlands, however, have dragons aplenty, but we’ve been separated from the rest of the world by the will of the Gods Themselves.”

  Guardian Koro spoke. Like Alonnen, he had once again hidden most of his dark hair behind a deeply cowled hood, and his eyes behind deep blue viewing lenses. “Somehow, I doubt the mighty Draconan Empire—the ‘Dragon’ of the southern hemisphere—would ever deign to bow to anyone.”

  “The power of the Singer of the Moonlands is not to be mocked,” Ilaiea retorted. “We are the Voice of the Moons, and wield power beyond your comprehension.”

  “Guardians, please,” Kerric interjected, his expression calm but his tone conveying a hint of impatient eye-rolling. “We are all on the same side. We do not need to play ‘my Guardianship is more powerful than yours’ . . . because if we judge solely by the size of the power-flows we handle, Guardian Saleria has all of us beat, as she commands the powers of three singularities at once.”

  Saleria blushed at the mention of her power, and cleared her throat. She wished she could be like Aradin and return to some other task, but she had to stay here and be a good Guardian for the sake of the world.

  “Sybaritic good, island city, and Host all refer to Senod-Gra,” Keleseth reconfirmed. Second eldest of the Guardians, not quite as old-looking as Sheren but still quite gray-haired herself, she nodded firmly. “That would be my Guardianship, and I can tell you that while I’ll allow quite a lot to happen in the City of Delights, demon-worship is not one of them. I’ll keep a very vigilant eye on what’s happening out here.”

  “It does say ‘Host’ and not ‘Hostess,’” Guardian Miguel stated, speaking up for the first time since greeting everyone at the start of the meeting. “Perhaps it refers to your successor?”

  Keleseth opened her mouth to argue, but Guardian Sheren got there first. “Oh give it up, Kel. You know you’ve been looking at possibly retiring in the next few years. I’d be retired myself, if I had a successor I could count on. Guardian Dominor’s promised me that his younger brother Koranen and my apprentice Danau can somehow combine their abilities to make up for Danau’s deficits, but I won’t rely on that until I’ve seen it for myself, and tested it for a good year solid—I suggest you start casting around for a good male successor for your own needs, and follow the prophecy.”

  “I already have a perfectly good female successor,” Keleseth replied.

  “But if you follow the prophecy exactly, we have a chance of success,” Guardian Koro reminded her. “That means picking a male successor, not female.”

  “If that is true, do you, Guardian Koro, really think the Dragon Empire will bow to the Voice of the Moonlands?” Guardian Ilaiea asked him archly. “Since you seem to be on their side.”

  Saleria couldn’t be sure, given the hood and the tinted lenses, but she thought she saw Guardian Koro narrow his eyes at the older woman. Guardian Kerric cleared his throat firmly. “Gentleladies, gentlemen, we are getting off topic . . .”

  “I’ll keep an eye on the verse that mentions the Dragon,” was all Koro said to that. “It may not be within my jurisdiction, but I do know something of the Draconan Empire, being a sort of . . . neighbor . . . to the Five Lands.”

  “As will I, since it involves a Voice of the Gods,” Ilaiea stated primly. “And I can think of no better than myself, or my daughter. We are, after all, the Singers.”

  “That’s just fine, but that leaves us with two verses I personally cannot place,” Guardian Sir Vedell told the others, capturing their attention. “Something about harpers and something about jinxes, a king being led astray, and a royal mask or disguise of some sort. Does anyone know what any of that means?”

  The others shook their heads, save for Kerric. The Guardian of the Tower flicked his hand out in a vague gesture. “Possibly the seventh stanza refers to the old Fountain of Garama. If I remember correctly, Garama has a sect of quasi-priest-mages called Harpers, and that would tie into the Synod Gone prophecy, which speaks of the line, ‘By eight who are kin, by six familiar, one runaway, one unknown.’ If we take the ‘eight who are kin’ to mean Guardians Dominor, Rydan, and their six brothers, then that leaves six of us who have been able to identify our verses, plus a ‘runaway’ and an ‘unknown’ Guardian.”

  “About the only advantage we have,” Pelai stated, “is t
hat those last two verses are indeed last. Two have come true so far . . . but if I recall correctly, Guardian Kerric, your verse took place almost half a year ago. Guardian Saleria’s is only just now coming true. We do have some time, still, before knowing who the unknown and runaway Guardians need to be becomes important to the prophecies.”

  “Some time, yes,” Kerric agreed, “but just because there have been a couple turnings of Brother and even Sister Moon between my situation and Saleria’s is no guarantee it will take another six months between hers and Alonnen’s, since he’s the closest Guardian to Mekhana and that verse. In fact, it could be another six months from now, or it could be only six days. But you are right, in that those two verses appear to be at the end of the chain of events leading up to the lot of us hopefully thwarting a Netherhell invasion.

  “Guardian Saleria, do you have copies made of both prophecies in question?” he asked her, turning back to the Keeper.

  “Yes. My scribe spell-copied a good dozen prophecies onto these scrolls,” she said, lifting the one in her hand. “It starts with the ‘Guardians of Destiny,’ since that one speaks the clearest of the problem, then moving on to the Synod Gone, one that seems to speak of Senod-Gra and demons, and a few others of lesser importance. The Guardians one is the most significant, so Daranen put it at the top. I can pass them through the Fountainway to you, Guardian Kerric, for distribution.”

  “If you would send them now, I’ll make sure they get rerouted. Is everyone ready to receive a copy of these Katani prophecies?” Kerric asked.

  Saleria watched the miniature scrying windows flanking either side of Kerric’s face. When all nodded, she murmured a levitation spell, lifting one scroll after the other up into the air, then muttered a second spell to open up the Bower Fountainways. With a tumble of the rods and a flutter of the ends of the silk ribbons tying each scroll shut, they vanished into the Fountainway, headed for Kerric’s hands.

  She had already received five similar prophecy-laden scrolls from the others, as each Guardian had come prepared to share their findings. Mother Naima looked eager to be off soon, to witness the birth of Guardian Serina’s children. Saleria had no such convenient excuse to get back to work, just the more tedious task of helping prepare potion ingredients for Aradin. Although if I brought some sort of stool or chair to the Bower to sit on, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so tedious, she thought, listening to Kerric redistribute her offerings. I could sit and sort ingredients while I listened to the others talk. Yes, I think I’ll do that.