Prophecy's Deception

by AS Hamilton

  In truth, Malithorn welcomed the distraction. His physician recommended that he relax more; apparently, the pains in his abdomen and chest were caused by tension. Liacoren, his senior human mage, and only trustworthy confidant, confirmed that the elvan healer spoke truthfully. She said the healer could only do so much to reduce the wear on his body and he should rest rather than seek further talented treatment.

  Relax, huh! Malithorn thought with a sneer. How does one relax while trying to rule a nation? Several actually. His father had conquered five nations and not only had Malithorn inherited them, he had conquered four more. It left him in command of the entire continent with only one exception; the dwarven lands in the south. His father had stopped at Andarea because the desert along Andarea's southern border was too vast to take an army over without significantly draining the resources here; once the rebellion was eradicated, Malithorn planned to move south and finish what his father had started.

  Malithorn lifted his glass for another sip only to realise it was empty. Regretfully, he placed it back on the table and leaned on the wide balustrade, making sure he could not be easily seen from below as he did so. His holdings were not restricted to this land; to the east and north, over the sea, he had conquered Cyendane and its neighbour, Sylvendane. Some ambitious dwarven conqueror invaded Cyendane a few turns ago. Having reaped all he could, Malithorn possessed no qualms about letting it go. He was now, at this very moment, arranging the sale of Sylvendane to those very same conquerors. Why fight a war that would cost them millions in coin and thousands in men when he would sell it at a fair price? The fact that Sylvendane and Cyendane were originally dwarven lands was an irony he could appreciate. Lastly there were the islands of Casinca and Veldana. They were of little value as territory, but control of them provided control over the nearby trade routes, making the victories worthwhile.

  It was a challenge he had enjoyed for the most part. His father had settled in Andarea because of the prosperous lifestyle they could achieve with very little effort. The mines were quite productive and the lands fertile. They could harvest its resources for practically nothing. You did not pay slaves. Many of the pre-existing elvan residences were sumptuously furnished with deep-piled rugs, ornate marble, and furniture both practically and artistically crafted. Tiles were laid in patterns both simple and intricate depending on the room. Somehow these tiles also produced warmth throughout the winter and yet remained surprisingly cool in the summer. Real, live gardens featured in many rooms, with waterfalls, canals and pools incorporated into the designs.

  Balustrades were carved into fish swimming up a stream, columns turned into guardian dragons, chair and table legs became foxes, jagrery, birds, inchanu, and may-en-ghi. Tapestries made feature walls in colours deep and rich or soft and pale. Some spanned entire walls of up to, and more than, thirty metres across. They depicted sunlit groves, majestic golden-horned bucks, ethereal unicorns, dazzling waterfalls and imposing mountain scenes.

  That the elvan valued their space and light was evident in the cathedral-sized rooms and the use of wide, clear panes at every opportunity. Malithorn grunted — that probably had something to do with how damnably tall they were.

  The most attractive aspect of conquering Andarea though, was the technology. Keldon had discovered early on that the elvan were hiding some very advanced technology. The country had already isolated themselves from the countries surrounding them by using specially-trained mages to create or enhance cliffs and mountain ranges and widen the rivers. They rejected advances made by the dwarven and humans in forms of energy production using coal and wood. Instead they used their talent to implement energy systems that utilised natural energies like the sun, water and wind. Not only did their ability with talent speed up the development of their society, it could also be used to create and run their technology. They went further than that, their cities were designed to incorporate wiring to run lighting, heating and cooling systems and plumbing amongst other things. Inventions that harnessed the energy of sun or water ran cooling cabinets, appliances, and lighting and temperature management systems. The confusing thing for Malithorn was the seemingly random way they applied their technology, for instance, they used their talent to create an underground transport system, but still rode horses like a bunch of primitives. Mind you, that could be because they had disabled the underground transport network just before Keldon first invaded. His father had said they had done it to prevent him from getting control of it and using it to move his troops around the country with more efficiency. According to Thane Jeriteen they had almost figured out how to make all the missing parts and would soon begin getting it back up and running.

  They had the potential to create weapons far more advanced than the swords and bows they chose, but refused to do so. Liacoren told him that it had to do with their connection to nature and their beliefs about preserving living things. According to Liacoren, the elvan accepted they needed weapons to protect themselves, but decided to limit the weapons they were willing to have in their society to those that were restricted in the ease and frequency with which they could kill. Although, he'd seen many an elvan warrior take down a dozen soldiers with a sword in mere minutes, so it did not make much sense to him. A further contradiction was the way their mages could kill hundreds at a time using a flood or quake. Liacoren argued that these were exceptions, for that was only when the elvan were at war. He could accept that much of talent was powered by nature and, for this reason elvan technology was designed to either protect it or not diminish it at a rate greater than nature could recover. He certainly appreciated the way they merged nature and technology or concealed the technology within the very construction of buildings. Many of the seamless panoramas of glass used for walls and ceilings could also be turned into large viewing screens when connected to a co-toor. A co-toor was a device used to control practically everything. Some were not much larger than his hand, others as big as a couple of large books. They ran the cooling and heating systems, the energy systems and could even be set to have your bath fill at a specified temperature at a pre-determined time with your preferred music streamed through the in-built audio systems. Where once the elvan had used scrolls and then books, they now used co-toor. They even captured thoughts, turning them into something tangible, able to be seen. The problem was that not all humans had been able to learn to use many of these innovations because they required talent. His father had started a program of adapting the talented technology for human use, but it was a process that required immense patience.

  For a race with so many amazing wonders in their possession they did damnably little with it. Trade was almost non-existent aside from some export of balessia, several types of grains, and fabrics and clothing. None of the technology. None of the minerals. The jewellery and belts made it out, but not the stones on their own. The trade in animal products alone was worth millions in sovereigns! Andarea had so many unusual species, forgetting the extinct or mythical ones. Since Keldon took over, the trade in exotic birds, pelts and miracle cures had generated a substantial portion of the realm's wealth.

  So much potential and they barely used it. By the wisdom of the sages — they had no money! Most transactions were conducted on a barter basis. The tailor made you clothing, you let them collect eggs from your hen house. No one watched to see he did not take more than he needed. A healer would walk into a store, walk out with all her supplies and not a cent passed palms. It was the kind of thing you would expect from such a primitive race. They had the ability and the potential, but not one of them with the brain power to make real use of it.

  Of course the 'cities' needed to be expanded in order to centralise the communities. It was both sensible and good for the economy. Many of the tree-top residences had to be torn down, they simply were not practical. As were those inventions operated solely by mind-will that could not be altered. Some they managed to fix. The doors, for instance, could be closed by will, the fans activated, the lighting adjusted. However, if he could
not complete the basic act of using his mind's will to open or shut the door, after trying to learn for turns, it was not going to be of any use. They replaced these facilities with voice activation, motion sensors, pressure plates, or buttons as the elvan already had the infrastructure to support it. These, he was able to sell to other countries.

  For a while, it had been ideal. He had not known of 'tension'. He had not known of frustration. He had known only of the incredible power of being in control of a vast empire. Malithorn frowned as a woman's screeching cackle echoed loudly in the courtyard below. 'It could not have been that funny,' he scowled, sweeping up his wine glass and stalking back indoors. Turning, he made the gesture to close the doors. He paused on his way to the lounge to make the same gesture above a leather-encased cabinet. The lid opened and a shelf holding several decanters rose to the top of the cabinet. He removed a frosty decanter of water and filled his glass.

  Instead of sitting, he turned to the curving seamless view provided by the windows stretching across the room. The room and windows were designed so that the sunlight never fell on the faces of those in the bed, yet always filled the room with light. It was perfect. As was the panorama before him, the furniture they crafted, and their technology, aside from the issue with talent. The elvan were good at that; making things look perfect. But they were not so perfect on the inside. It was from the elvan his father contracted the illness that caused his death. In the elvan the illness was not fatal, although it could be incredibly debilitating for them. For humans it was a slow, gradual demise, but death would indeed come. Supposedly his father's death was a part of one of the elvan's damned prophecies, although, apparently, not The Prophecy.

  It had all started some twenty turns ago. Back then, Malithorn had insisted on being present at the interrogation of key prisoners, he still did on occasion. During the questioning of an elvan mage, Malithorn had ordered the prisoner's accomplice brought in; he had planned to torture one to extract information from the other. The pair had tried to rescue a prisoner several days beforehand and had been captured. One of the guards had overheard the mage call the accomplice seeca, which was an elvan term that indicated close friendship. That made the accomplice useful because he meant something to the mage, perhaps enough to force the mage to answer their questions. But the accomplice had broken free and, snatching a blade from Malithorn's tool case, threw it with fatal accuracy at the mage. As the prisoner was subdued he declared that 'The Prophecy' would see an end to the name of Abbarane. Such provocative words demanded further investigation. After several hours of fruitless interrogation, Malithorn had to adjourn the interview and see to other duties. The next day several rebel executions were scheduled. Malithorn had successfully persuaded his father that this event should be done publicly as it would demonstrate the futility of the rebel cause. It would also draw out more rebels, as they would be compelled to intervene.

  The day of the executions, the rebels made a concerted and forceful attack, just as Malithorn had hoped. But he had under-estimated their response and the square where they were holding the executions had been over-run by rebels. It turned out, though, that the move served a double purpose, the rebels not only rescued many of those to be executed, they used the attack as a cover for rescuing the very prisoner who had spoken about The Prophecy. Malithorn refused to believe it had been a coincidence that they had taken that particular prisoner. It had led to a security review and an intense interrogation of the mages, but ultimately, nothing came of it.

  It was also during the rebel attack that his father had contracted the elvan-borne disease. Malithorn believed it had been deliberate because his father told him that one of the elvan that was meant to be executed had headed straight for him as soon as he was freed by his rebel companions. As he approached, he had sliced his own arm with the sword he'd been given and then, during the fight, he had pinned Keldon in a corner, and deliberately rubbed the bleeding cut on one of the wounds Keldon had sustained, mixing his tainted, disease-ridden blood with his father's.

  Malithorn blamed himself, his father would not have been there but for Malithorn insisting that his father make the show of strength. Over almost a turn, his father wasted away while Malithorn pursued all leads to the ominous text called The Prophecy in the hope it might help him save his father.

  Many historical texts recorded prophecies, including the elvan nation's defeat by Keldon. It was not some vague notion that had chances of happening, like: a storm will occur next winter. The prophecy had stated: The ruler of many shall sweep forth in a blood tide and claim all as Abbarane's. It named them! There were others; detailed predictions that had occurred. That prophecy had been called: The Prophecy of Desolation. Others were called The Prophecy of this or The Prophecy of that. But this one, this one was just called The Prophecy.

  Even though both prophecies had been seen eight centuries ago, they were very different texts. While The Prophecy of Desolation gave intricate detail, The Prophecy seemed like it was more a puzzle than a prediction. Despite having the source of The Prophecy within his reach, he had been unable to decipher it. The seers from the family line of Toorian featured often as seers of prophecies. Tooriana had escaped them, but Toormeena had not. Although she was not a willing servant, Toormeena was intelligent enough to know when it was best to cooperate and when she could get away with refusal. Sometimes she had to be educated about where that line was drawn, but most of the time she could see it clearly enough.

  'Yes,' she had replied quietly when Malithorn had asked her to confirm that she was the seer who saw The Prophecy. 'I saw the vision and related it to my grandfather, Toorimus, who recorded the verse as The Prophecy,' she had said.

  'Can you add any detail?' Malithorn had asked her.

  'Some visions are like that, Lord Abbarane, they offer no direct insights,' the seer had answered calmly. Malithorn remembered how unperturbed she had seemed despite the threat of torture.

  'The Prophecy of Ashes, The Prophecy of the Fall, The Prophecy of Seth-haren. They are all lesser-known because they, like The Prophecy, are in verse, offering nothing concrete. There are dozens more, Lord Abbarane. The truth is, not all visions are coherent or complete, we record them never-the-less.'

  That had been the turning point in his life, when he became familiar with anxiety and frustration. He whiled away turns maintaining and furthering their holdings, but every time he returned there was the riddle of The Prophecy. After his father's death, there had been no real pleasure in advancing his holdings. Now, he sought to end this prophecy that had inspired these tribesmen to retaliate.

  A tapping on the door made him turn. 'What is it?'

  The door inched open and a dark-haired man stepped just inside the room. 'My Lord Abbarane—'

  'Ah, Deveron.' Malithorn glanced at the clock. 'Right on time.'

  The human mage bowed deeply before saying, 'I understand you wish to speak with Thane Kennelm, my lord.'

  At Malithorn's nod, the mage continued, 'I have contacted his mage just a moment ago to ensure they were ready, my lord, shall I begin sending?'

  Malithorn gestured for the mage to do so and at the mage's nod, started speaking. Deveron would use his talent to send what he said to Nathan's mage, both mages would speak as if they were the person being communicated with, so to Nathan, his mage would speak as if he were Malithorn and Deveron would speak as if he were Nathan, so Malithorn addressed Deveron as if he was speaking to Nathan directly.

  'You sent a message that you plan to leave Ancoulan tomorrow to head the search, Nathan, does this mean you have a new lead?'

  'I believe so, my great lord. One strong enough that I feel the need to pursue it myself.'

  'And exactly what is this lead?'

  'The horse has been seen—'

  'The horse! What about the bloody elvan?'

  Nathan heaved a sigh. 'My lord, you need to keep in mind, the colouring of the horse is very rare. White with patches of grey among dwarven chargers is just as unusual as the colo
ur of the hair and eyes of the Saviour described in The Prophecy.'

  'The horse means nothing, Nathan, the elvan could have abandoned it at any time. He could even be using it to draw you away from him.'

  'An astute point, my great lord. However, The Prophecy mentions the beast. In such a short verse, time and words are taken to describe this animal. To me, that indicates the horse is significantly connected to him. Elvan develop bonds with their horses, the mages speak to them using their talent and they become friends. Even if the elvan has abandoned the horse, my great lord, the horse can still be interrogated by a mage.'

  That was true, Malithorn thought. Yes, the mages always set up shields to protect their animal companions, but his loyal elvan mages had proven that they could get through those shields. Perhaps Nathan was on to something after all.

  Malithorn smiled. 'I knew you would not disappoint me, Nathan.'

  'Thank you, my great lord. Did you also receive my message about what Regen revealed about The Prophecy?'

  'I did. I found it intriguing and a little implausible that this prophecy speaks of two elvan, but do not object if you target female elvan as well. Colnba has assured me that the mages remain vigilant in ensuring no assassins will get close enough to harm me.'

  'Very good, my great lord.'

  'Send a report once you have caught up to your horse, Nathan.'

  'Yes, my great lord.'

  Malithorn signalled to Deveron that he was finished. The mage looked down for a moment as he ended communications with Nathan's mage.

  When Deveron looked up again, Malithorn said, 'Send the servant in on your way out.'

  The human mage bowed deeply. 'As you wish, my great lord.'

  Malithorn moved away from the window to sit on the burgundy, leather lounge. Sinking into the deep-cushioned seat, Malithorn winced at a twinge in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, just as Liacoren had instructed. Rubbing his forehead, he made a low sound of impatience. He was tired of the riddle and anxiety The Prophecy and its cursed saviour caused him.