Prophecy (The Destiny Series Book 4)

by Christine Grey

  Aesri touched her sleeve and she startled.

  “Sister, we are going?” Aesri whispered.

  “Going? What are you talking about?”

  “I am going for help. I must let Dearra and Carly know about their children. I am taking with me as many as I can that will be in danger from Trina, but it will not be long before she sees threats all around her, and then no one will be safe. I wish I had time to tell you more, but we must go before we are no longer able. Look after Brin. Ask him…ask him about the prophecy. Gather as many as you can in support of our cause. Stay strong, sister.”

  “How am I to tell who is to be trusted?” Siusan asked in a hushed voice.

  “Surely you know some who believe as we do. Start slowly. If you know one or two, they will know one or two more. Find a phrase that you may speak to one another as a test. In that way, we will come to know our friends. Do not despair, Siusan. Rah is with us.”

  Siusan smiled. “That will work. Say that again.”

  “Rah is with us?”

  “Yes, He’s with us.”

  Aesri nodded, seeing the logic of it. To anyone who did not become part of their cause, the words “Rah is with us,” would elicit nothing more than a nod, a smile, or perhaps a response of “He is,” but for those who would become part of the resistance, they would respond “He’s with us,” and in that way, they would know one another. No Etrafarian who ascribed to the quest for purity would ever use the contraction, He’s. In addition, the phrase Rah is with us, would not draw suspicion, but it was by no means a common expression, so it would not come up in conversation unless it was spoken on purpose.

  “Siusan, please be very careful. You have a good heart, but you can be headstrong in your beliefs. That has not gone unnoticed by Trina, or the rest of the council. They will be watching you very closely now.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “I will do my best, but if I become too docile, they will suspect me even more. If I stay with Brin—as I have been—maybe I will avoid their gaze for a while.”

  “I must go, but…” Aesri put her hand on Siusan’s elbow and squeezed it lightly.

  “But?”

  “Brin. You understand that it is impossible, do you not?”

  “I am not sure what you mean,” Siusan protested.

  “Yes you do, but I can see that now is not the time for this. Be safe.”

  Aesri embraced her quickly and was gone.

  Trina was still going on and on, and the Etrafarians were hanging on her every word. Siusan did not know where this road would lead them, but she was afraid that the journey was likely to be dark and treacherous.

  Chapter 16

  “Is there any stew left?” Brint asked. He popped the last bite from his bowl into his mouth and looked at Tabitha expectantly.

  “Three helpings not enough?” she said, dipping a wooden spoon into the pot and giving it a stir.

  “Not really, no. I’m starving.”

  “Hardly starving,” Tabitha said with a smirk. “You look like you could miss a meal or two with little effect. I think you'll be able to make it until morning.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Brint said. “I notice you make sure you get plenty to eat as well, sister.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tabitha snapped. “Are you calling me fat?”

  “Not fat, exactly. Maybe a little curvy around the edges, but with your size, you should be able to carry the extra weight well enough,” he said with a chuckle.

  Brint always teased her, but this time he had gone too far. He knew how sensitive she was about her height, and now, for him to imply that she was fat, even jokingly, was too much for her to bear.

  Logan was looking at her, watching to see her reaction. Holly said nothing, but blushed as if embarrassed to even be there.

  Tabby’s hands shook, and she felt the first sting of tears form in her eyes. She reacted without thinking and let the spoon that had been gripped in her hands fly. A solid thwacking noise assured her that she'd hit her mark. That and the fact there was a red spot on Brint’s forehead, and gravy running down from his forehead and onto his nose.

  “Nice temper, Tabitha.” Brint wiped his face with his sleeve.

  “Why don’t you shut your mouth?” Logan said with a growl. “She does not have a temper. You are always telling her she does. Even she thinks she does, but I have not seen anything other than normal feelings. She does not explode for no reason, nor does she lose all control when she is angry or upset. Just because you realize that you behaved like an ass is no reason to try to turn it around so that the blame lies with her. Be a man, for Rah’s sake, and admit you were out of line.”

  “What business is it of yours what I say to my sister?” Brint stood up and approached Logan.

  “I make it my business to look out for people I care about, unlike you, who has all the sensitivity of a rock. Fat? Really? She is tall, because she is Breken, but there isn’t an ounce of excess weight on her, and as far as being curvy around the edges, I have to tell you, it looks pretty good to me.”

  “What the hell?” Brint charged forward.

  Logan was easily five inches shorter than Brint, but he refused to be intimidated or to give an inch to the hostile Breken.

  “Stop it!” Tabitha yelled at the two of them, but she might as well have been whispering for all the effect it had.

  “What did you just say about my sister?”

  “You heard me.”

  “And what are you doing looking at her in that way? You’re lucky my father isn’t here to hear you talk like that. He would tear the skin from you…slowly.”

  “If your father were here, I would tell him that his daughter is beautiful, and has nothing to be ashamed of, even if the unfeeling clod who is her brother says otherwise.”

  “I was only joking! She knows that, don't you, Tabby? Tell him!” Brint turned to Tabitha where unshed tears sparkled in her eyes, and he froze.

  “Yes,” Logan said. “It looks as though she finds you extremely funny.”

  “Tabitha I—”

  “Where is Holly?” Logan asked suddenly.

  “Holly?” Brint whirled looking for her. “She was just here! I just saw her!”

  “Well, she is gone now,” Logan said.

  ***

  Holly stumbled blindly through the woods, not seeing where she was going, and not caring, either. The tears that were coursing down her cheeks fell silently to the leaves below. All that mattered was that she gets away. Far away. Every little-girl fantasy she'd ever had about Logan had been trampled. Worse than that—shattered. There was no hope now. Every word Logan had spoken was like another arrow in her heart. She'd tried to deny what was right in front of her, tried to tell herself Logan was simply being friendly, but now, there was no doubt.

  He loved Tabitha. The way he sprang to her defense calling her beautiful, commenting on her curves…he'd said more words at one time than Holly could ever remember him uttering, and they were all for her. It was always Tabitha.

  Holly batted fronds out of her way, and her pace quickened. Perhaps, if she could move with enough speed, she'd be able to outpace the pain threatening to overwhelm her. A part of her mind told her she was being foolish. It was never more than a crush, her mind argued. He had never done or said anything to make her think he cared more than he showed.

  Still, she'd hoped. How many times had she heard the story of her parents, of how her mother had loved her father from the time she was a girl, and how she'd waited, patiently, through all the years until, one day, her father discovered that he'd loved her as well. Her father did not always have much to say, but to her, he was strong, steady, and perfect in almost every way. In Logan, she'd seen some of the same qualities she'd come to admire in her own father, and she'd imagined a romantic awakening, much like the one her parents talked about.

  That was never going to happen, now. She understood, she really did, but she couldn't help but blame much of her pain on Tabitha. If she hadn't b
een around, Holly was sure Logan would have seen she was perfect for him. She would never push him to be anything other than what he was. She understood what it was to be of mixed blood, and she could help him with the pain he felt as a result of it. Better yet, they could have returned to Maj to live, where no one cared about such things, even in the slightest. Her father and mother would certainly have welcomed him with open arms, as whatever made Holly happy, made them happy.

  The air cooled around her, and it was the chill that drew her from her wild, rambling thoughts. The forest had grown denser, closer, more menacing. Very little of the sun’s rays were able to penetrate there, and the light took on a dusky quality, casting deep shadows. She was forced to slow her step, but even at the slower pace, she didn't see the hole as anything more than just another shadow. One moment she was walking on solid ground, and the next there was only air beneath her feet.

  She screamed and threw her hands out to break her fall, and when she did, she actually slowed. It was almost like the air had grown thick enough to support her weight. To her, it felt like when she would jump from the overhang into the lake at home. At first, she'd be falling freely, but then she'd hit the water, and the momentum was slowed. Yes, it was very much like that, but dry. Still, she hit the ground hard, her teeth clicking painfully together.

  She sat up, and the world tilted oddly before righting itself once more. All she could think was that, somehow, she'd succeeded in floating…sort of. It was the closest she'd ever come to it, anyway, and judging by how far she'd fallen, she was very, very grateful that she'd achieved even that much.

  All right, so she was alive. She didn’t feel badly hurt, but there was a metallic taste in her mouth, and a quick assessment told her she had a lump near her temple. Not bad, over all; it could have been much worse.

  Now what? No one knew where she was, but they were probably looking for her. At least, Brint would be. He always looked out for her. Tabitha didn’t know how lucky she was to have Brint. She'd always taken her brother for granted. Now she had two men to care for her. The thought brought on a fresh spate of tears.

  “Stop it,” she said aloud. “Crying won’t help. You must think!”

  If she floated once—sort of—maybe she could do it again. She replayed the moment in her mind, and held her hands out to her sides, trying to recreate the motion.

  Nothing.

  She tried lifting her hands and throwing them down, almost like a bird trying to flap its wings.

  Nothing.

  “Come on! Float!”

  Nothing.

  She sat down on the dirt floor and held her aching head in her hands.

  And then…a thought.

  We will be watching, he had said. Surely, he didn’t mean all the time, but hadn’t he told her to call and he would come?

  “Dibbuc,” she called out hesitantly, and then, again, with more force: “Dibbuc!”

  There was a brief sifting of dirt from the ledge above her, and a small form appeared. The light was poor, but there could be no doubt: it was him.

  “You have fallen?”

  “Yes! Oh, Dibbuc, thank you for coming! Please, please, you must help me!”

  “Yesss, yesss, Dibbuc will help. You wait.”

  Wait? Where did he think she was going to go? He disappeared out of sight. It wasn’t long before Holly began to panic as seconds ticked by into minutes, and still he did not return.

  “Dibbuc? Dibbuc, are you there?”

  Dibbuc appeared once more at the opening of the hole. “Shh, sssilly girrrl! You mussst be quiet. We arrre not the only onesss in thessse woodsss.”

  “What does that mean? What? What’s in the woods?”

  “Ssstand back a little,” Dibbuc said, ignoring her question.

  A thick rope dropped down beside her. No, not a rope—a vine, fibrous and course. Holly took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She grabbed ahold and pulled. To her credit, she made it a whole three feet before dropping back to the dirt in a puff of dust. She coughed and sneezed, twice, in rapid succession.

  “Ssstop playing now. You mussst hurrry!”

  “Who’s playing? Can’t you help me?”

  “Dibbuc isss too sssmall to lift you. If you want out, you mussst do it yourrrssself.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You arrre welcome.”

  “Come on, Holly, you can do this,” she said aloud. “Just put one hand over the other.”

  She grasped the vine again, but this time when she pulled up, she wrapped her foot in the vine beneath her to better support her weight. It was awkward. The vine did not wrap as easily as a rope would, and her skirts got in her way, but she managed it. An image of what might happen if she fell again, with the vine wrapped as it was, sent a shudder through her. She closed her eyes, clenched her jaw, and forced herself to reach up for another handhold. She untangled her foot, pulled, and worked her leg into the vine once more.

  Slowly, jerkily, she worked her way upwards. She felt her palms being rubbed raw by the coarse plant, but dared not look at what she hoped was merely sweat.

  Several feet from the top she heard Dibbuc hiss. “I go now. You can make it.”

  “No! No, don’t leave me!” but there was no response, and she knew that he had gone. She slipped a couple of inches, but immediately tightened her grip. She looked down. “Well, that was stupid.” She looked up instead. Up was better, and happily, much closer.

  Her arms were starting to shake. If she wanted to get to out of this hole, she knew she couldn’t waste any more time, as her strength would not last much longer. Only a few feet more and she would reach the top.

  The problem now was that for every bit of progress she made, she lost half back when her hands slipped down the vine. She could no longer fool herself about the wetness on her hands; it was blood. The dim light near the opening of the hole had revealed that clearly enough, but she had no time to ponder what damage she might be doing. She had to grunt through the pain until she reached the edge.

  “Well, hello there,” came a voice that was merry and light. She looked up into the eyes of what appeared to be an Etrafarian.

  He winked at her, and she was so startled that she lost her grip.

  “Careful now!” he warned, and in the next heartbeat, she felt his hand wrap around her forearm.

  As small as he appeared, he was tremendously strong. He hoisted her up and out of the hole with no more effort than if she were a bit of goose down. She stood there, struck dumb by the site of the little man before her.

  “Now, isn’t that better? It is always much nicer to carry on conversations when both parties can be assured they are not going to die in the process, don’t you think?”

  Still, she was unable to respond. He was just so…odd! For one thing, his hair was blue! Not like so black it appeared blue, but blue, like the sky. It was even shot with white in places, but not streaks of white, more like patches, which almost gave the illusion of clouds. If that wasn’t strange enough, his eyes were silver, and instead of the pupils being cat-like, like most Etrafarians, they appeared almost reptilian in nature. Though the difference was subtle, she noticed it because in the dim light, his pupils should have been more open, more rounded, and instead, they were but slivers.

  Was it possible he was blind?

  “Have you looked your fill, young lady? Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but it is getting near on to dinner time, and I expect three more before nightfall, so we had best be getting back before they arrive, or we will be dining past midnight.”

  “Three more?” she asked stupidly. She knew she was being incredibly rude, but she was so stunned by the strange little man.

  “Of course, of course,” he said with laugh. “Your friends will be along any time now. I’m sure that Boodle has caught up to Logan by now.”

  “You know Logan?” she asked warily.

  Who was this man? She was sure she had never seen him in Etrafa. How did she know she could trust him?

  “Quit
e right. How do you know? Let us think together. Reason together, as it were. If I were not to be trusted and meant you any harm, would I have helped you out of the hole? No, of course not,” he said, answering his own question.

  "How did you know I was thinking that?” she asked, backing away from him a step.

  “Hmm, good question. Probably because it is what I would have been thinking myself, and I always assume everyone is at least as clever as myself. It is always best to not talk down to people, don’t you agree? One can always adjust downwards, but if you start too low, it tends to hurt feelings, and it is a terrible way to begin a conversation, no?”

  “I suppose so, but—”

  “Excellent. Well then, if you are ready…as I said, much to do, much to do, and Boodle has certainly spoken to Logan by now.”

  The whole conversation was beyond strange, but all she could think to ask was, “Who’s Boodle?”

  ***

  Logan led the way, stopping now and again to kneel and examine a blade of grass, or a bend in a branch.

  “I don’t think he knows where he's going,” Brint said quite loudly to Tabitha. “I can track as well as anyone, and there’s no sign Holly ever passed this way.”

  “Do you want to lead?” Logan asked without looking up from the trail. “I would be more than happy to allow you to make a fool of yourself. Once or twice more today and you may be able to break the record for number of times someone has put their foot in their mouth without choking to death.”

  Brint did not respond, for which Tabitha was immeasurably grateful. They needed to find Holly, not waste time arguing amongst themselves.

  There was a scurrying from the brush, and Tabitha tensed. A lizard, not much larger than her hand, emerged and rushed onto a log in front of Logan. It stood on its hind legs and bobbed its head from side to side in quick, darting movements. Logan knelt before it and spoke.

  “Hello! We are looking for—”