Prophecy's Deception: Book 1: Andarean Realms Prophecies Series

by AS Hamilton

  'Can you assist him? I just want to check on someone.'

  Hagen nodded and moved off to help the child onto Sershja.

  Brynn caught up to Sentary. 'Sentary?'

  The elvan turned red-gold eyes to Brynn, a frown creasing his brow. 'I am sorry, I do not remember meeting you.'

  'We have not met before. You have a sister, Sariah.'

  Sentary dropped his head. 'I had a sister, Sariah—'

  Just then, Sentary reached out to grab Brynn's arm as his legs gave way. As Brynn caught him, he sent for Treya. Hagen came over and helped Brynn get the elvan up onto Treya's back.

  Once he was stable, he looked down at Brynn and said, 'My sister's life was taken in the same attack that took my parents and made me a slave. Are you a friend of theirs? You look too young to have known them.'

  Brynn placed his hand on Sentary's. 'Your sister is alive Sentary. In fact, she is the reason we are here tonight. She's back at the camp, covering our trail, but when she catches up, you can see her for yourself.'

  Tears were streaming down Sentary's cheeks. 'She's— Really? She is alive?'

  'She found out you were alive from someone who recognised you at an auction and has been seeking you ever since. If she was not so concerned about making sure no one followed our trail, she would be here, right now.'

  Sentary managed a weak smile. 'That is just like Sariah, always looking to protect everyone else with little consideration for her own safety.'

  Day 3 – Night

  Mehani Woods

  'Will there be anything else, milord?'

  Nathan waved the tracker away. Once the man had closed over the tent flap, Nathan sat at the small table. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and savoured the scent of roasted hen. It was a small mercy that one of the patrol was a very competent cook. Nathan had forgotten how tedious tracking could be. It was different when you hunted, by the end of the day you generally had at least one kill to show for your efforts. At least the trackers demonstrated that they possessed commendable tracking capabilities.

  Daniel's men still had no idea that their courageous leader would soon be hanging from a tree. Not hung, such an end would be too easy, too quick for the audacious fool. No, he would be bound to a tree on the edge of the At-hara desert. If the sun, thirst, and starvation did not kill him then the dhire-ghi would happily finish him off. The bird possessed the splendour of a rainbow and the nature of a vulture. It had a short, compact neck and body, but long, striking tail feathers of wispy orange-gold, grey and silver. The elvan called it cruel death because the bird did not care if you had expired or not, it would eat as soon as you were too weak to defend yourself.

  Nathan smiled broadly, remembering how he had informed these men that due to the demands of the search and an all-night drinking binge, Daniel had become ill. They had reluctantly believed him, for enough people had seen the mercenary leader in the main hall apparently drinking with one of the women well-known for keeping men 'company'. He had followed this news by saying he was implementing a new leadership structure and could not wait for Daniel to recover.

  Nathan knew his move was not totally unexpected. After all, he was not the first thane to demonstrate his superiority by ousting a mercenary leader for a few sennats. They naïvely believed that when Nathan returned from this eight-day patrol, the recovered mercenary leader would persuade the Thane to leave the patrolling to the mercenaries. A line or two about Daniel being delayed chasing up other patrols after he recovered would placate the trackers for several more days. By the time they realised Daniel's absence was permanent, Nathan would have asserted complete control over them — they'd be too frightened to contest him.

  This patrol was made up mainly of Daniel's original group. The other patrols would be reassured, because if Daniel's own men were content, they, too, would remain so. The decision to merge Edgar's group with Daniel's had been a whim. Edgar was skimming from the taxes he collected for Nathan and the penalty for such things was death. Anything less, and every hound and his pup would have their paw in the treasury. It had been convenient for him to have Daniel take over even though he knew it was inconvenient for Daniel. In truth the strategy was an effective means of absorbing mercenaries into the military. He wouldn't have to waste funds training them and once they became used to the structure of Nathan's governance, which they all did, they rarely defected. Usually because all deserters were tortured in full view of their peers and Nathan made sure they all understood the price of disloyalty. Nathan's smile turned into a brief sneer. Daniel thought that he was safe because of his position. But with Nathan, such an assumption was a fatal mistake.

  Day 3 – Night

  North Kenar Woods

  The rescued slaves laboured almost silently upstream. When they first entered the water, it only came up to their ankles, then it had deepened to their knees and thighs, even when they kept to the shallows. The idea was to make hiding their passage easier for Brynn, who was also occupied maintaining the health of the group. Thankfully, the water was soon only mid-calf deep. Sariah's armour was fully retracted into its collar and belt piece. Her boots were also retracted, and, by Fate's blessing, could be adjusted to seal around her leg to prevent water getting in. Although, she acknowledged, the practicality of the design owed more to House of Tiengara innovation than to Fate. The black pants and tunic she wore beneath her armour, was wet, but she did not mind the minor inconvenience.

  If it were not for Kaydyr, Sariah thought, they would be lost in this darkness, for although Brynn initially led, he now constantly moved up and down the line of refugees, helping those who stumbled and giving out kaybria; a fibrous fruit that, when dried, lasted for several seasons after harvesting. It was the one food both he and Sariah had more than enough of because it took up so little space and it was very filling.

  The weakest of the refugees rode the two horses just behind her. To her consternation, Sentary was one of them. Brynn told her that he was just exhausted. Several good meals and rest would soon see him returned to full health.

  After another half hour, she signalled a halt. They had entered a rocky area that was a good place to rest. She sent Kaydyr in search of a new sanctuary as the refugees left the water to find a seat amongst the rocks. The original hiding spot had looked ideal by air. When it was seen up close from the ground though, they discovered it was too open and not far enough from the slaver camp. She heard Brynn checking those being carried by the horses. Sariah felt him move past her.

  'Sentary is still stable. Fear not, Sariah,' he assured her, 'we found him in time.'

  Sentary had stumbled and fallen while she had still been at the slaver camp, and Brynn had put him on Treya. By the time Sariah re-joined them, Sentary had drifted into sleep, leaning on the back of the human male in front of him. Sariah felt that, at a stretch, the chargers could take another rider each, the refugees were hardly hefty, but it was already awkward with three people, had they not been so thin, they would not have fit.

  Brynn moved around to where she was standing. 'Is it normal that they are in such ill health? I mean, malnutrition is generally the worst of it for many of them, but I thought slaves were kept in fairly good health to ensure they can keep working.'

  Sariah suppressed a huff of frustration. 'Many private owners treat their slaves well enough, but slavers tend to take it for granted private buyers will pick up slaves no matter their condition and then tend to their health as they see fit. So, much of the time it is not as bleak as this. But during market season, that's the festival time, there's a lot of turnover in slave trading. The slaves walk long distances and are not fed well on purpose so if they do escape, they cannot run far.'

  It was a very depressing reality, and, again, Brynn found himself feeling more shocked than he expected. He had, after all, been told about slaves, but he never realised what it would be like to be among them, to see their neglect and feel their despair.

  'Let us hope this is the last time Kaydyr has to fly out. We will be ab
le to tell them it is only a little farther. It will be easier for them when the distance is finite,' he said, taking more kaybria from Treya's saddle pack.

  Brynn gave Sariah some kaybria, carefully placing it in her hand. 'Eat a little, it will help.'

  She passed it back to him. 'I ate this afternoon. Give it to those who did not.'

  Brynn gave her a disapproving look that she could not see. The weighted silence following her comment was enough to give her a good idea of what he thought.

  'Have you heard from Riqu?' he enquired, deciding that to argue would be futile.

  The warrior nodded. 'Yes, Riqu is on his way,' she reported with a distracted tone. 'That rebel division I mentioned will reach the slaver camp in a few hours and clean it out. Once they have stored the new supplies, two of their number will meet Riqu and help with those we have freed, so it is fortunate I contacted them.'

  Again, Brynn let the comment pass, it would gain them nothing to argue.

  Kaydyr silently circled down, landing first in a tree branch and then gliding to land on Sariah's shoulder. Sariah smiled. 'You can start telling them the good news, Kaydyr found a large area of dense woodland with papinuq trees, it is only about an hour or so distant.'

  'That is most welcome, please thank Kaydyr.'

  Sariah did not need Kaydyr to see, she could hear the smile in Brynn's voice. She dipped her head, closing her eyes as she did so. 'Already done. The best news is that we can leave this cursed river.'

  'Definitely a welcome outcome,' Brynn replied, patting Treya's shoulder and moving off to pass on the news.

  Sariah's legs felt numb and she stretched them methodically before she took the lead, they needed to find a shallow part of the river in order to cross. She almost hated Brynn for his stamina, he was moving among the refugees, murmuring encouragement and telling them that when they reached their sanctuary, they could rest. There would be food to be found and water whenever they felt the need to drink. Hagen joked that he'd had about as much water as he cared for, right now. Still, another hour of walking for the weak and exhausted troop of refugees would be challenging enough.

  Brynn continued urging them along, and when anyone stumbled, he would help them up and walk with them for a while. Sariah was sure he was using empath and healing talents to restore their stamina. A number of times she wished it for herself. Just then, Brynn came back up the line and she felt his hand lightly touch her shoulder for a moment. Then he moved back down the line again. He had not spoken a word, yet Sariah's legs felt like they had the weight taken out of them, her body rejuvenated. How he knew her feelings at that exact moment both disturbed and awed her.

  She had been around mages all her life, but never one like Brynn, especially so young. It was not just his ability to move through all these minds and keep track of how each was coping. It was something less-tangible, his way of connecting with them, mayhap... He always knew who needed him the most, giving them just enough to keep going, telling them the precise thing they needed to hear to raise their spirits. It was more than just talent. Riqu had told her about empaths and Brynn's ability seemed to fit the description, but Sariah knew of no empath that could bring themselves to kill, to take a life. Mayhap it was an empathic nature rather than the empath talent.

  Sariah admired the way he kept their minds off the arduous task of hiking up the river by keeping up a constant stream of distraction. It did not matter if he paused to help someone up or to put his arm about another and walk with her for a while, he was either talking or sending them illusions. He used minor talents to carry his voice to the group and mask it from outsiders as a faint indistinct sound on the breeze. Riqu had once explained that talents such as empath and healing — talents that were not 'power-oriented' — were easier to mask on the planes. Mages often disguised them as natural energies such as those generated by emotions. But, she also knew from Riqu, that talent had a cost, generally exhausting the user. He might put it off for several hours or even days, but eventually, Brynn would be hit by a debilitating exhaustion. He would need food and rest and if he did not get it, he would waste as his body robbed energy from his muscles. It was a good thing they were close to their destination, because she was sure that by now, Brynn desperately needed sleep. She was worried too, because a mage as young as he was might over-estimate his stamina and they might find themselves without a mage to help if they were discovered. That was one of the reasons why she had wanted to kill the slavers.

  She had to admit that he was a natural leader, though, quietly commanding and encouraging at the same time. She reminded herself that he would always be more mage than warrior. Still, she was reluctant to admit that his behaviour challenged her beliefs. Riqu would never have let her kill the slavers, but Brynn had not sanctioned her will as other mages would do under the same circumstances. It made her wonder if his mind-will talent was not as strong and that was why he let her do it. If that was the case, then he needed a warrior's protection more than he realised.

  'Now, you all know what filli-geren are, but did you know that they start out as dweegenfar?' Brynn asked the weary group, referring to the small cousin of the dragon.

  Ana raised her head sleepily, pushing her knotted, light-blonde hair out of her eyes. The elvan female sitting in front of her on the horse did not seem to mind that she had been leaning on her back and dozing. Brynn's voice seemed to float like a soft breeze. He had introduced himself once they were under way and had been talking to them on and off between creating illusions to distract them. But Ana was so tired she'd slept through most of it. She'd always been fascinated by mages, though, and wanted to stay awake to listen. Ana straightened up as much as she could, hoping it would help her stay awake.

  The mage did not wait for an answer, the question being a means of introducing the next illusion, and Ana found herself captivated as several small filli-geren appeared. She knew from talking to elvan slaves that even though it seemed like miniature dragons were fluttering about in the forest, that the creatures were not really there, it was an illusion.

  The illusion shifted to make the tree-enshrouded river bank look like it was bathed in sunlight. She saw a flash of gold scales in the long green grasses along the river. Then, there was a sparkle of blue, and a moment later, orange. Ana made a delighted murmur as the cat-like head of a dweegenfar popped above the grass-line. Large, green eyes with thin, vertical pupils looked towards them, then its nostrils flared and its pupils dilated into wide orbs as it 'spotted' the group. The dweegenfar 'eeped' and dropped back into the grass.

  Brynn said softly, 'Dweegenfar eat jikka fish, which are tiny, I grant you, being no larger than my finger tip. But they swim in little swarms and can fill a dweegenfar's stomach rather swiftly.'

  This time a blue head emerged from the grasses. Beneath the water a school of jikka made the surface ripple. In a flash of scales, the dweegenfar slipped into the water and chased the fish about. Several more joined in and their comical antics lifted Ana's mood.

  'Come winter, the dweegenfar will make hollows in trees so they can hibernate.'

  The dweegenfar left the water and dutifully headed to the trees. As they did, their colours faded to a muddy brown. They scurried up the trees and started cooperatively making hollows by tearing off the outer bark and breathing fire into the trunk.

  'The opening is small, but they will expand it when they move inside so they can all crowd in. That web-like substance they seal themselves in with is a silk fibre.'

  One dweegenfar tried squeezing in to an occupied hollow, but kept popping out. Eventually, it scampered to another tree and dived into a less-crowded hollow.

  'Come spring, they will emerge as filli-geren.'

  A horned snout broke through the seal and a filli-geren tumbled onto the branch before righting itself and unfurling colourful silky wings. A line of spikes ran from its head to its tail, which had a fan of wing on either side of it.

  Ana gasped in wonder as Brynn used his talent to fill the air with hundred
s of filli-geren, their iridescent scales flashing in the sunlight. Then she found herself becoming completely immersed as the illusion shifted to an aerial tour through mountain and forest areas. With amazement she watched Kinyawn; red and yellow birds the size of a plum, flit in and out of flowers. Vesvani, silver-bellied with golden crests and ebony backs and wings soared above. Unchana, every shade of red with long plumes curling gracefully from their tails and wings preened on branches as the group waded past. A meernur, several shades of blue and twice the size of a horse, swooped overhead, causing the refugees to murmur in awe. Amongst the birds, she saw inchanu, the winged relatives of the mythical may-en-ghi. Ana remembered seeing pictures of them on the tapestries hung in one master's library. They looked so real she wanted to reach out and touch them. Six-legged beseral, silver-coated and black-spotted, crept through the underbrush. Bwekina haunted mountain ledges. The grey, goat-like animals held their great, black-horned heads high, and when the large, grey eyes of one met hers, Ana was entranced by their beauty. Then, when several mesnura, golden deer the size of chargers with antlers almost as long and high as their bodies, looked up from grazing in a sunlit clearing, Ana felt tears slide down her cheeks. They were so majestic.

  The magic of the illusion was enhanced by trees large enough to dwarf a dragon, flowers that resembled jewels, and the draping wisps of holoveren trees, which resembled sets of butterflies riding on each other's backs. The silver arching branches of the kellin-meher created surreal halls. The soft glittering 'dust' of the smaller trilig-meher tree caught the light and turned into specks of gold. Ana had seen illusions like this twice before, once was when she was serving wine at a master's household. He'd bought the mage for an exorbitant price and had her perform illusions for his dinner guests.

  Her first time had been when she was four or five. She'd woken in the middle of the night to discover a circle of adults in the far corner of the communal slave hold. At one end of the circle an elvan female had been making illusions. Ana had crawled closer despite her fear that the adults might make her return to her bed. But they hadn't. One had pulled her into her lap and she had watched as the mage created kittens at play.