Prophecy's Daughter

by Richard Phillips

  “Another day’s ride,” Derek said, “but well worth the wait.”

  Derek then shut his mouth, and no amount of cajoling from Carol could coax him to expound on the matter further.

  The following morning, the riders climbed up into a steep, narrow canyon. A raging mountain stream roared over and around boulders that had tumbled down from the high slopes. Here the trees were few and gnarled, bent by their struggle against harsh winters and rocky ground. The way led ever upward. Patches of snow still lay in the shadows, and the air was brisk enough that Carol wrapped herself in her heavy coat.

  Evening fell as the group climbed out of the canyon through a saddle in the southwest ridgeline. Carol was pleased to see that the ground here was once again fertile and covered with tall pines. They were not as big as their giant cousins in the Great Forest, but they were pleasing nonetheless.

  The rangers returned from scouting with word that it would be okay to light fires. Hanibal’s men soon had three large campfires blazing and enough wood piled so that the flames could be maintained all night. Excitement erupted from the soldiers when two of the rangers arrived at camp packing a huge wild boar and a turkey. The night’s feast left Carol with a longing for sleep that she was unable to resist.

  Dawn found her sitting astride Storm beside Derek.

  “We’ll be there by noon,” Derek said. His face acquired a faraway look. “Once you see the vale, you won’t ever want to leave.”

  “I can’t wait,” Carol said.

  The news lifted the spirits of the entire contingent, all save Hanibal. She caught him looking at Alan, a slight sneer giving his lips an unflattering turn. The captain was of average height, with a shock of red hair and beard to match, his green eyes shining with intelligence and ambition. Carol did not think him particularly handsome, nor did she regard him as ugly. But he certainly carried the charismatic aura of a leader.

  By midmorning the company was well on its way down into another deep valley. Carol found the descent exhilarating. The trees again grew tall around her, and the trail was steep enough that Storm’s hooves occasionally slipped on the thick layer of pine needles that covered the ground. A deer bounded out of a thicket, startling Lonesome and causing him to give out a sound somewhere between a bellow and a squeal.

  “You’re real ferocious,” Derek said, snorting in disgust. “And don’t give me that look.”

  Carol heard Alan laugh and shared his sentiment. It looked for all the world as if the bear were scowling up at Derek.

  “Watch the trail up ahead,” Derek called back to her. “We have to go down between a set of rock walls.”

  “I’m ready.”

  They burst out of the trees as they reached the floor of the canyon. Directly to the east, a swift-moving stream roared through a narrow opening between granite walls that rose straight upward to touch the sky, blocking Carol’s view of what might lie beyond the constricted opening. Toward this gap in the cliffs, Derek headed at a trot, followed closely by the rest of the company.

  As she approached the spot where the stream swept out from between the cliffs, Carol noted that the distance between the rock walls was greater than she had originally thought, perhaps a hundred paces. Pines closed in on the stream, but the path remained clear of underbrush.

  The floor of the canyon wound its way between the magnificent cliffs for several leagues, the rushing mountain water switching back and forth across its width in a series of rapids broken only briefly by stretches of relative calm. Several times the way narrowed, leaving barely enough room for wagons to pass.

  As she rounded a bend in the trail, the way opened. A small cry of wonder escaped from Carol’s lips as she gazed forward. A verdant valley widened out before her, grassy meadows amidst groves where deer and elk grazed in abundance. What brought the cry to her lips, however, was her view of the sheer cliffs that formed the sides of the lowland. Those walls rose thousands of paces, turning the wide valley into an unassailable fortress for as far as her eyes could see.

  The mountain walls looked as if they had been hewn by a god bored with the normal order of things. And from high up on these walls, streams leapt outward to plunge toward the grassland below, spreading like the train of a bridal gown. All of the streams flowed into the watercourse that cut its path through the valley’s center, exiting through the narrow canyon from which Carol and company had just emerged.

  One particularly spectacular waterfall cascaded from the summit before smashing onto the rocks below, only to plunge over another ledge farther down. A misty plume obscured large portions of the canyon.

  “Wow!” Alan said as he pulled his mount to a stop beside hers.

  “It’s the most wonderful view I’ve ever seen,” Carol said.

  “No words can do such a sight justice,” said Derek.

  Carol trotted Storm closer to the riverbank and looked out into the clear water. Dark shapes hung suspended beneath the surface, facing upstream, slowly waving their tails back and forth to maintain their positions. As she moved along the bank, she spotted more and more of the fish.

  She turned Storm away from the brook, spurring her horse into a gentle gallop. Alan fell in beside Carol on his warhorse. They swept past the column of soldiers and pulled up beside Derek. “Alan and I are going to ride on ahead. We’ll link up with you before nightfall.”

  Derek nodded. “That’ll be fine. The other rangers have already swept the area, and it’s clear. The gap we just passed through is the only way in and out of the valley.”

  With that, Carol urged Storm after Alan. As the siblings moved up the valley, Carol discovered that it was wider than she had first thought. Again her senses had been fooled by the contrast between the meadow and the surrounding rock faces.

  Carol and Alan continued eastward well into the afternoon. Two leagues in, the valley split, one side running to the northeast and the other heading southeast. The two riders kept to the wider branch to the southeast and continued on.

  In one side canyon, a waterfall rushed over the edge of a cliff and onto a sloping rock wall to slide downward along the face. She had the urge to climb up the wall and slide down with the current, but another look at the great height and velocity of the water changed her mind.

  The siblings made their way back the way they had come, reaching the campsite Hanibal had selected close to a stream just as darkness fell over the valley. As the light of the setting sun crawled up the eastern peaks, it painted dark cracks and striations bright orange.

  Carol unsaddled and hobbled Storm, then walked around until she found the perfect location to make her bed. She rolled her blankets out on a cushion of pine needles beneath a majestic old king of the forest.

  As she made her way back to the campfires and dinner that awaited, a new realization dawned on her. She was going to love this wild place that was to become their new home.

  Being the children of High Lord Rafel, the kingdom’s top military thinker, both Carol and Alan had been educated in the details of planning from an early age. Perhaps even more important than strategy and tactics, the study of the logistics of moving large units and the organization required to establish functional encampments had formed a core part of their learning. The lord wanted his children prepared to lead an army into battle, which required moving soldiers over long distances.

  Unlike Alan, who found logistics an incredible bore, the subject had fascinated Carol. Now she put that knowledge to good use.

  As the days passed in Areana’s Vale, the wondrous area that Carol had named after the mountain goddess, Areana, a clear vision of the community structure and organization Carol desired began to coalesce. Several terrain factors, not the least of which was the winding nature of the creek, argued for small villages surrounded by farmland. These would be separated in the valley by at least a league, and each village would be self-sufficient. The organization into communities where farmers lived on the outskirts of their land enabled those who were not farmers to establish other busin
esses. Breaking Rafel’s caravan into small settlements had the additional benefits of trade among the communities and an inherent improvement in sanitation. Having confirmed that the valley was an exceptional place to build their new home, Carol had instructed Hanibal to send word back to the caravan.

  By the end of the week, Hanibal and Alan had presented Carol with a fortification plan that fit well with her small-village living arrangements. They wanted to establish a series of three forts in the eastern third of the high-walled canyon leading into the vale. The two cliffs that formed the bottleneck in the canyon, which Carol had named Areana’s Gorge, stayed within a hundred paces of each other for almost two leagues and thus were a perfect location to set up fortifications, with each subsequent fort accessible by a single drawbridge across the raging waters. This initial plan solidified when Derek confirmed the results of his earlier reconnaissance. There was only one way in and out of the valley.

  The first wagon came into view just before noon the following day and soon rolled by, following its soldier escort toward the primary campsite. A little girl sat beside her father and mother on the front seat and stood and waved when she saw Carol. Streaks of tears wound their way down the woman’s dirty face, her arms wrapped tightly around her husband’s shoulders.

  Throughout the afternoon, wagons made their way into the valley. By the time the last of the several hundred wagons rolled in, they had carved a road.

  One of the mess wagons brought up the rear, wobbling along on a broken wheel that had been patched with a tree branch. As it leaned from side to side, pots and pans clanged against the wagon and against each other, raising such a racket that a flock of ducks rose from one of the ponds, quacking loudly.

  Rafel arrived with the ranger commander, Broderick, and Battle Master Gaar, to be met by Carol, Hanibal, Derek, and Alan. They were soon joined by the priest, Jason. The entire group settled down in a meadow adjacent to the camp where Carol and company had lived for the last few days.

  Twilight fell before the meeting ended. Derek started a campfire, and the leaders of the settlement moved around the glow as darkness blanketed the valley. Carol, using the map that Derek had made, spelled out her plans for community organization. When she finished, she sat down to await her father’s comments.

  “I have some concerns with the idea of spreading all of our people out in villages,” Gaar said. “We couldn’t gather quickly enough if trouble arose.”

  “And why use just the south fork?” Jason added. “From what I understand, the north fork is even lovelier.”

  Gaar turned his iron gaze on Carol. “I agree with the priest,” he said. “I see no valid reason not to use both sides of the valley and to congregate our people closer to the mouth of the canyon, near the upper of the three fortresses.”

  Several moments of silence followed in which all eyes turned toward Carol. She locked Gaar’s gaze with her own. The lorness, a title given to human women of noble birth, felt the old surge of will flow through her, eliminating any sign of nerves and keeping her voice rock steady. “I realize that I have not yet had the opportunity to prove myself to your satisfaction, Gaar. I anticipated that you would doubt my judgments in matters concerning the military. That’s why I did not make any recommendations concerning our fortifications. I left that entirely to Captain Hanibal, who worked out the defensive plan in conjunction with Alan. Hanibal will explain all to you.”

  For the next two hours, Hanibal briefed the assembled leaders on the details of his plan and how he had integrated Carol’s ideas for community structure. The key to their overall strategy was the narrowness and length of the ravine that was the only entrance to the vale. The lowest of the forts would be positioned a third of the way down the two-league canyon, the midfort a little farther east, and the main fort would block the entrance.

  To make its way into the vale, an enemy force would first have to traverse more than a league up the main gorge before reaching the westernmost of the forts. There was no way to do so without being seen by Broderick’s rangers, thus making a surprise attack virtually impossible. Then, with the lowest fort always fully manned, Rafel’s forces would have plenty of time to bring the upper two forts to full combat capacity, even if the rangers somehow failed to detect an attacking army.

  Throughout the briefing, Gaar thrust pointed questions at Hanibal, but the captain parried them with ease.

  At long last, Gaar rose to his feet. “Hmmm. It just might work after all.”

  “I’d say my daughter was ready for you this time, my old friend,” said Rafel. “Carol met your challenge with someone whose military judgments you respect.”

  “But, Lord,” the high priest interrupted, “think of the waste of not using the north fork.”

  “From what I’ve heard and seen, there’s plenty of room in the south fork. Besides, I like the idea of preserving the natural beauty of this glen.”

  “At least let me establish a place of worship there,” Jason said.

  Rafel paused. “Do you see anything wrong with that, Carol?”

  Carol looked at Jason. She liked the old priest, and the people depended on him to fulfill their spiritual needs. He and his subordinates were also healers of considerable ability. She recalled how, as traumatized citizens fled from Rafel’s Keep, Jason and his three bishops had provided comfort to help the common folk maintain hope during their long journey.

  “I have no problem with such a request,” Carol replied. “There are a number of delightful canyons off the main valley, any one of which would make a fine center of worship. So long as the temple does not occupy the main vale of the north fork, I have no objection.”

  “Good,” Rafel said. “It is settled.”

  And with that, the meeting ended. Carol placed her hand on Hanibal’s shoulder. “You did a great job with your father,” she said.

  “And you with yours,” Hanibal said, nodding slightly.

  Long after the meeting had adjourned, Carol strolled among the trees and watched the stars, thinking about the work that lay ahead, reveling in the thought. Here they would build a new and better order, making the vale a peaceful and safe home in which to live. Carol slipped into her bedroll and fell fast asleep.

  Sometime after midnight she awakened to the sound of distant thunder. Sitting up, she struggled to remember the dream that had fled with her waking. The burn of the brand on her left shoulder and the pounding of her heart told her it had not been a good one.

  3

  Endar, Southwestern Border

  YOR 414, Early Spring

  Arn sat astride Ax, the ugly brute of a warhorse he had grown to love, and watched Kim hug her brother Galad as they said their goodbyes. Although Galad and a company of a hundred of his Endarian scouts had accompanied Kim down the west side of Endar Pass, Queen Elan’s orders had been clear. At Endar’s southwestern border, Galad was to allow his sister and her three human companions to depart on their mission to find High Lord Rafel.

  To her credit, Queen Elan hadn’t ordered Arn killed, despite the Endarian High Council’s disagreement about whether his place in Landrel’s prophecy boded good or ill. And she had determined, come spring, to have Arn and his friends, the master archer, John, and the bare-chested Kanjari horse warrior, Ty, escort Kim on Kim’s search for Rafel. In truth, it was not Rafel himself who was the target of their quest, but his twenty-four-year-old daughter, Carol. The thought of the woman Arn secretly loved brought a dryness to his mouth that made it difficult to swallow. It was a love destined to be unrequited. Seven years ago, Arn had spurned her, unwilling to allow his dark side to infect her life. She could not forgive him for that.

  But during Arn’s stay in Endar Pass, Queen Elan had shown him the ancient prophecy contained in the Scroll of Landrel. The prophecy had included a drawing of the woman Landrel predicted would brandish arcane powers that would threaten the wielder who called himself Kragan. That drawing had been a perfect depiction of Carol Rafel. And, just like on the huge statue of Carol that A
rn had seen beneath the foul city of Lagoth, the image of a fire elemental had been branded on her left shoulder.

  Centuries ago, Kragan had killed Landrel and taken a copy of that same scroll. Since that day, the evil wielder had searched for the woman he knew only by sight. And when he found her, he would seek to eliminate the threat she represented.

  Thus, despite his heartache, Arn’s mission was to find Rafel to alert him and Carol to their danger so that they could not be taken unaware.

  Arn had known that Carol studied under Rafel’s gray-bearded wielder, Hawthorne. But he also knew that the high lord had forbidden Hawthorne from putting Carol through the Ritual of Terrors, which would give her access to the elementals within the planes of fire, air, water, and earth. Without that, she could not defend herself against Kragan, even if Landrel’s prophecy about her potential was correct. Hopefully, Rafel had rescinded that edict after he and Arn had parted ways.

  Movement drew Arn’s gaze, pulling his mind to the present.

  Galad, resplendent in the Endarian uniform that shifted patterns and colors to blend into the background, turned away and signaled to his scouts. Then they jogged back the way they had come, their tall bodies disappearing into the pine forest, waist-length black hair blowing out behind them in the gentle breeze.

  Arn’s thoughts followed Galad back toward Endar Pass.

  Though their winter stay had been long, it had been instructive. He had learned much about Endarian culture and history. Most interesting to Arn was the story of Landrel, the ancient Endarian master of time-shaping and life-shifting magic. The Endarians both revered and reviled him. Landrel had been the greatest of the Endarian scholars but had rejected the high council’s decision to appoint him king, so that he could continue to focus on his research. But when his son, Vorgen, had contracted a rare and incurable disease, Landrel had funneled the life energies of two wolves and their five pups into the young man.