Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1)

by Lauren Amundson

  I understood what Bahlym meant. Appear meek. Be quiet. Annoyance bubbled up inside me. I felt the anger from The Edge demanding that I obliterate these obnoxious cretins. Didn’t I have the right to ask questions? I forced myself to calm down. I am in a new world. I needed to sit back and leverage my scholarly ability to observe. I tried to be the shy, scared girl I was only a couple of months ago. The girl who Prince Jaysen called a rabbit. But all I realized was that I had no intention of being a quiet observer. I was no rabbit. Not anymore.

  But I wasn’t an idiot. I wasn’t from this place and I didn’t know the mores. I would cooperate for a while. I allowed the captain to usher me out of the museum. A line of the horseless buggies, locomobiles, was waiting for us. He opened a door to one of the locomobiles for me, and I climbed inside. There were two rows of seats facing each other. I sat on the far end of the one facing forward. Bahlym and Captain Mekrim climbed into the other side.

  We sailed over the flat grey streets, zipping by people interacting with technologies beyond my comprehension and buildings formed from the contortions of materials at their atomic nature. Each new sight that assailed my eyes through the window of the locomobile confused me more than the sight before. Mist tapestries distorted to complexities beyond any Weaver’s imagination engulfed the entire slice. The Mist felt stale. Powerful, but overworked. Even the smells that assaulted my nose were unrecognizable. Everything smelled pungently bitter, like the world had been doused in bad cooking oil and fried up for days.

  I focused on the glass of water in my hands; on how, despite the insane velocity with which the locomobile propelled us down the road, the water remained didn’t have so much as a ripple of movement. I tilted the glass slightly and the water listed, verifying that it hadn’t become solid. I began to sweat, the fabric of my shirt clinging to my skin. I felt lightheaded, as if I’d stood up too fast, but, of course, I was sitting down. My stomach heaved.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I announced as steadily as I could.

  “Loco-sickness,” Bahlym said, not unsympathetically. “Don’t focus inside the mobile. Try looking at the horizon.”

  “But there is no horizon!” I said, panicked. The buildings interrupted the landscape.

  “The distance then,” Bahlym said. “Your brain and your body are telling you two different things. Your body knows you aren’t moving, but your brain can feel it.”

  I did my best to focus on the points furthest out into the distance, but the buildings were so close together, like weeds tangled over themselves. But finally, when I thought that I couldn’t last another second, the Guardians took pity on me, and we stopped. I gazed out the window, but seeing the top of the building was as impossible as seeing the horizon. I’m sure there was a top, but I couldn’t get an angle from inside the locomobile to see it.

  “Where are we?” I asked, before remembering that I wasn’t supposed to be asking questions.

  “The Tower,” the captain replied.

  But it didn’t look like any tower that I had ever seen before. Towers are circular, made of brick and attached to castles. As I stepped out of the mobile, I realized I was wrong. I could not see the top. This rectangular spike scratched the sky. Literally. It extended into the clouds. “You’ve made a building to the stars,” I whispered in amazement.

  “Hardly,” Captain Mekrim said dryly, rolling his eyes. “It’s merely a cloudy day.”

  People gathered around me, shouting words that I didn’t recognize, and pushed up against me, throwing me into Bahlym. He placed one hand on my lower back and his other hand on my shoulder. My skin crawled at his touch. I shifted my hip under his waist and grabbed his hand that clutched my shoulder. He landed on the composite stone ground with a thud. The crowd scattered then reformed like a flock of spooked pigeons.

  “Don’t touch me.” I glared at his gasping form. “Arwan might trust you, but I don’t know you.”

  He panted for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. “The daemon trusts me?”

  “Yes.” I extended my hand. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

  He eyed my hand for the moment. “If I grab that are you going to kick me?” He laughed, then clutched his side, moaning and giggling at the same time. Eventually, Bahlym stood up and motioned me through the door, very careful to keep a bubble of space between us.

  We paraded into the building’s immaculately decorated foyer. The crowd remained outside, but pressed up against the glass wall of the building. Several full-grown trees reached toward the beige ceiling. The trees, fully summer green, did not seem to understand that it was autumn and their leaves should be turning.

  “Looks like word’s already gotten out,” Bahlym noted. “I’ll make a statement to the reporters. We will need to come up with a plan, but for now, I think you need to rest.”

  I felt the same as I had when I was twelve and had no memories. Everyone else around me knew what was going on and what they were doing. “No. What is happening to my world? I need to know what you know. Now.” My bewilderment was making me angry, and I didn’t want to be confused anymore. The captain sucked air in through his mouth in a mixture of surprise and irritation. But I did not care, so I pushed on. “If I am here, it is because I am supposed to be.” I parroted what people had been telling me for weeks. And for the first time, it did not sound so crazy. Maybe because everything else going on seemed even crazier. “And furthermore, as a diplomatic ambassador, the first from my side of The Edge that you’ve had in a thousand years, I demand to be treated with the respect due to me in my station.”

  “In this Slice, women do not demand,” Captain Mekrim said, looking down at me over his nose.

  “Well, get used to it. On my side of the Slice, respect and authority are not based on gender. I’m here to stop The Edge. Waiting around in this highly impressive tower isn’t going to achieve any results.” In my anger, I formed the Mist into a bubble shield of glass shards. Perhaps not very diplomatic, but both men seemed to be paying more attention to me. “Shall we head for your general now? How does this work?”

  “Oh, my sister is going to love you,” Bahlym whispered to me as the captain huffed a few times but then picked up his own flat stick, which looked similar to but slightly larger than the one that Bahlym had spoken into before.

  “What’s that called?” I asked, pointing to the device he held in his hand.

  “No, it’s fine, Captain. It’ll be faster if I do it. Fewer audible transmissions,” Bahlym said and then turned to me as he took his audible out of his pocket. “I’m going to proceed with the Protocol so that the general will be informed that you are here.”

  The captain snorted. “See that everything is in order.”

  “I will take care of it,” Bahlym assured the testy captain. “You are dismissed. Protocol demands an officer remain to help the Promise. It would make sense that it be me, since I live in this building.” The statement that Bahlym lived in the building—and the not-at-all-veiled indication that the captain did not—seemed to offend him more than the fact that Bahlym was fewer audible transmissions calls away from the general. He hung around for a few more seconds as Bahlym began to speak into his object.

  A huge crowd pushed against the glass walls of the building. The number of people had increased by a factor of at least twenty while we had been standing in the foyer. I waved at them. Bahlym noticed and shook his head at me. He pulled the object away from his face. “Oh, no. No. No. Let’s go find a private parlor. Ugh. I’m glad I was the one out there and not… well, just about anyone else.”

  “Maybe that was part of the Promise,” I teased. He considered the point thoughtfully before leading the way from the foyer down a corridor. I trailed after him. A few doors were shut, but most were open. He went into one and I followed, smiling at the young woman standing beside the door. Like a statue sprung to life, she immediately bowed at Bahlym and grabbed a vessel on the table beside her and poured two glasses of water for us. After placing the glasses on
a low table between twin sofas facing over it, she returned to her station beside the door, waiting attentively.

  “Hi, I’m Hailey,” I said, but she stared forward as if she did not see me. I pointed to myself. “Hailey.” Then pointed to her, questioningly. Annoyance crossed her face and her eyes narrowed. “Hailey,” I said again. But in response, she made a shushing sound. “Sorry,” I muttered.

  Bahlym gestured to one of the sofas, but like a moth to a flame, I walked straight to the back wall, adorned with ceiling-high bookcases, stuffed with knowledge that maybe even the library at the Keep did not contain. I lovingly traced my fingers down the spine of a random book. No matter the differences between our lands, as long as there were people who valued books, I was sure that we would find something in common.

  Bahlym returned the audible to his pocket. “I should be getting a call from the general himself within a few minutes. The appropriate Protocol has been initiated.”

  “Cadets, captains, commanders, generals… Is everyone here a Warrior or only the ones I’ve met so far?” I asked, tearing myself away from the books. I sat on the sofa he had indicated when we had entered the room.

  “Warriors?” he said, slightly surprised by the word. “No, that would imply wars to fight. We’ve not had one in eight generations. But all the leaders of the government are also technically in the military. A captain is eligible to run towns, a general the Empire.” He sat down on a second sofa, that faced mine, separated by a single table adorned only by a bowl of fruit.

  “You run multiple towns then, since you are between a captain and a general.”

  “Oh, no.” He chuckled. “I could, but I run somewhat more. My father owns one of the largest Mist Channels in the Empire, but I run it in addition to my duties as a cleric. That’s why I am a commander. My father is a general, although to a much lesser degree one than the general, of course. What about you? What does your husband do?”

  “I’m not married.”

  Bahlym turned red. “Oh, I assumed.” He motioned to my belly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I said more caustically than I meant. “It’s not exactly ideal, but I’ll be okay.”

  “I mean no offense. It’s—how was your womb open for fertilization? Why would your family allow such a thing?”

  “I don’t think it was ever closed…”

  “Here… well, there will be talk and confusion,” he stammered.

  “You may not be a warrior, Commander, despite your Warrior-sounding title, but I am. Also, I’m a Scholar, if not officially according my country’s customs, but I have a standing job offer to create a university in a country that has none. I’ll make my own way.”

  “You’ll make your own way?” Bahlym’s eyebrows rose.

  His pocket made a sound like a very large bell. I jumped.

  “Ah, that would be General Zirban. Excuse me.”

  With all the newness that surrounded me, I’d not started to process the fact that I was going to be a mother. Assuming Bahlym was correct and could indeed feel the child’s Mist, he or she would be a Weaver. I suppose that I should feel scared or upset, but I only felt excited. I’d never thought about being a parent.

  “Seven o’clock tomorrow, at the moment the day becomes dusk.” Bahlym’s pronouncement severed me from my thoughts. “It will be broadcasted. We need to find you clothing a little more appropriate for the event, but the girls at the desk can handle that, I’m sure. We will be traveling to the capital city via a flight carriage. We are to meet the carriage at ten in the morning.”

  “This isn’t your capital? But it’s so big!”

  “It’s our fourth largest city. A million people live here, but we number twelve in the capital. Enough talk about cities, which I am sure must be a terrible bore. I imagine you want to see your quarters and get freshened up.”

  “No. You promised me answers. I don’t care about the Protocol you keep talking about, but I need your help. I’ve got no idea what’s going on.”

  “Very well.” Bahlym sighed.

  “How do we make The Edge stop eating away our world?” I asked.

  “This Edge is not eating it. It is melting the rocks that make up our world. If it continues, the entire world will be destroyed. The Prophecy promised to send someone to put the land together and quench the rocks.”

  His words reminded me of my first Mist Apparition. It spoke of a land scorching and smoldering that needed someone to quench the rocks and put the land back together. I shivered.

  “That person was to pass through at the very point you did. That’s why the children and I were there. It’s a pilgrimage of sorts.”

  “Over the years, how many people have passed through?” I asked.

  “Only you. The Guardians made a Promise and you are who we got.” He sighed and then continued. “Many years ago, there was a war among the gods. One faction, in an attempt to overthrow the other, created a powerful creature named Azabin, but the gods did not understand what they were creating. Azabin rebelled, believing that he deserved to rule the universe. The destruction he inflicted was unimaginable.”

  “An evil god?” I asked. “But the gods were neither good nor bad.”

  “Azabin is not a god, but a creature created by the gods as a weapon. A weapon that took on its own life and was no longer controllable. You seriously know nothing of this?”

  “No.”

  Bahlym whispered under his breath, but then continued. “The gods locked Azabin into the center of our world, condemning our entire planet. But the Guardians, unwilling to allow humankind to suffer for the gods’ folly wove a tapestry bound by prophecy. A young man was chosen and blessed. From his bloodline would come a descendant who could destroy Azabin.”

  “What does that have to do with The Edge?”

  “The Edges” Bahlym emphasized the plural, “are Azabin’s prison.” He walked over to a bowl and pulled out an orange. “The world is round. We trapped Azabin inside and spilt the world into six pieces.” He peeled the orange rind into six equal pieces. I had the feeling this was a tool they used to explain the mythology to children. It was effective. “We call the pieces ‘Slices.’”

  I took one of the pieces and put it in my hand. I had been taught that the world has a curvature to it, of course. Nothing in nature is truly flat. I had seen the formulas proving the degree to which it curved. I’d been taught that the world was like a leaf, hanging off a limb of the universe. There was a curvature, but like a leaf, our world had boundaries. We believed that we were just one creation and there were hundreds—maybe millions—of others far away on other planets. I’d never thought that another creation was just on the other side of The Edge or that there could be more than one Edge. So if the curvature did not end and continued on with the same pattern, the world could be round. Was there an Edge in the Ocean, beyond which lay another Slice? “Are you saying that, besides our two Slices, there are four others? What proof do you have?” This was too confusing. Too much to absorb.

  “Everyone knows that there are six Slices. And I know that Azabin has been recovering. He is melting that which binds him. He can never escape. He will melt the whole world if he is allowed to continue. And only the person who will cross our Edge at the exact point at which we saw you this morning is the person who can kill Azabin and put the land back together.”

  “Are those the red eyes that I have seen in The Edge?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Azabin was those red eyes.

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “I have.”

  Bahlym shook his head slightly in disbelief.

  “So, if there are other Slices, are there other edges?”

  “Of course. Six slices, five edges. That’s what makes up our globe.”

  “I thought there was only one Edge and that was bad enough. Now you are telling me that there are a total of five?”

  “Your slice has two Edges,” Bahlym pointed out.

  “So you say. There’s an ocean on the other side of
the continent. I guess there could be an edge in it.”

  “There is,” Bahlym said.

  “And do those red eyes live in each Edge?”

  “Not exactly. Think of the Edges as parts of the same prison. Azabin is in the center of the world and in the Edges. It’s all connected.”

  “So if I could be inside an Edge, I could walk from it down to the center of the world and then back up a different Edge?”

  Bahlym nodded.

  “And you think I can fix this? I can remove all these Edges?” I asked.

  “You or your child.”

  My hand fluttered to my belly. “If I cannot fix it, then my baby can?”

  “Yes, but you will be the one to oppose him.”

  “How do you know?”

  He didn’t answer me, but walked over to a bookcase and pulled down a manuscript and read from it. “As our parents, the gods lock away the Being, we retort. We imprison this power in the Earth with a promise that a younger brother will come, countered by his own kin.” Bahlym closed the book. “Of course, the words are gender neutral.”

  “I don’t have a brother or a sister.”

  “You can’t remember your childhood. Maybe your sibling blocked your memories as part of the Counter.”

  “It doesn’t say I’m a mother.”

  “That was a different prophecy. Not part of the Promise.”

  “Erasing my childhood is a ridiculous way to ‘counter’ me. What could I have known or done by twelve?”

  “A singularly special destiny paired with no childhood memories is a terribly uncanny coincidence.”

  “So what about the book?” I asked as I pulled it out. “A teacher of mine died to give this to me, claiming a group called the White Knights would try to take it from me.” I remembered Kael’s statement when I had been in the dungeon. Nazarie had killed the wrong girl. Did he know about the Promise? Did he save me from the Knights? “My teacher, and others,” I continued, not elaborating on what others, “must have known about the Prophecy, even though I’ve never learned of it.” I set the book down on the table. Bahlym opened it to a random page in the middle. I looked down at the funny characters.