Chartile: Prophecy

by Cassandra Morgan

  However, here in this incredible place, in Chartile, there was a chance he was somebody, that he was something. The only question was whether to accept it, to do something about the feel of that bow staff in his hands, or just follow Piper back into the cave, curl up and hope to wake in his own world in the morning.

  When his eyes had readjusted to the darkness of the cave, Jack saw Piper and Leo tending to Jayson. They had wrapped him in more blankets, and Piper had changed the bandage around his head. Leo and Jack gave each other a brief, side long glance of concern then settled in around the fire with blankets and furs Piper had given them.

  “You will need to stay here for at least a few days,” she said. “I believe his concussion is worse than I first feared, and the troll broke a few of his ribs.”

  “What can we do?” Leo asked. He removed his glasses and set them on a rock beside him.

  “There is a healing woman in the village I trust. I will go to her tomorrow. Now rest.” Piper sat before the fire, silent once more, and added another log to keep the flames. Jack and Leo pulled the blankets over them, and feigned sleep. The memories of their day twisted with the words of the prophecy Piper had spoken to them. It wasn’t long before Piper heard their breathing slow as they drifted into sleep.

  When Leo opened his eyes, it was still dark. The only light in the cave was the fire that had reduced to little more than glowing embers. Piper lay across the fire ring from him, curled under a single blanket. She had buried her face in the collar of her shirt for warmth. Leo picked up the stick Piper had used as a poker and added some kindling to build the fire up. Jack stirred beside him and sat up. They were quiet for a while, then Jack whispered, “So, what do you make of all this?”

  “I don’t know, man. This is beyond me,” Leo said. He stood to retrieve a log to add to the newly revived fire.

  “I’d hoped when I woke up, this would all have been, you know.” Jack shrugged.

  “A dream?” Leo finished. He sat back beside Jack and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I know, me too. Obviously it’s not. I just – I don’t know what to do.”

  “We have to wait until Jayson’s better,” Jack nodded toward Jayson sleeping soundly behind them. “But, Leo, do you think we could be? You know, the prophecy and all that?”

  Leo sighed. He looked from Piper to Jayson and back again. “I don’t know, dude. None of this makes any sense. And, like, how did we know how to use those things?” He pointed to the weapons stacked innocently in the corner. “At this point, I think I’d believe almost anything, ya know?”

  Jack nodded. He covered himself with the furs and blankets again, and looked at the stars outside. He thought he could see Pasalphathe’s Courage hovering over the place he knew Outland Post to be. With the fire newly crackling, Leo settled back beneath his covers as well and drifted into sleep once more.

  Piper had barely begun to drift off when she heard Jack and Leo whispering. She steadied her breath, pretended to sleep, and listened. Similar thoughts Jack and Leo discussed had been racing through her mind all night. She, too, had hoped when she awoke her encounter with the boys would have been no more than a vivid dream. Or nightmare. Her fears that Taraniz was becoming bolder about usurping the non-elven races of Chartile had been confirmed today. Had anyone else heard her words as they fought?

  “Soon,” Taraniz had said. Did she intend to kill the King, to kill her own father? King Aramor had done little to advance his kingdom during his reign, but he was a good king. He cared for his people and meant well for them. What little he had accomplished before falling ill was to build up the resources of the basilicas and chantries that helped the widows and orphans in Chartile. He did not deserve to die, especially at the hand of his own despot daughter.

  Piper often wondered what had made Taraniz so wicked when Aramor had been so kind. The rumors said magic was to blame. Three years ago, she might have laughed at such things, but now?

  Jack and Leo had ceased their conversation, and one was breathing loudly again. Piper rose and collected a dark cloak from the corner where her weapons were stored. Her eyes lingered on the sword and staff the boys had used only hours ago. She tore herself from her thoughts, smudged soot from the fire around her right eye and nose, and disappeared into the night.

  Piper reached the top of the hill that overlooked Outland Post. She lowered herself flat against the ground and surveyed the tiny village. It was still. Thin lines of smoke rose from the chimneys of the thatched roof homes. Everyone lay asleep. She crept down the rock strewn hill and wound her way through the boulders, finally emerging onto the dirt paths that led to the heart of Outland Post. The home she sought was close to the outskirts, and she did not have to travel far.

  She found the little house and looked up and down the street before approaching. She knocked softly on the window to the right of the door three times, then on the door itself twice, and finally on the little window again twice. Then, she waited. She sat on the doorstep, bundled in her cloak, with her face shrouded in the darkness of her hood. Her heart pounded in her chest as it always did when she came here for fear of being recognized and caught. The curtain beside the door moved faintly. A moment later, the door opened. Piper stood and entered without a word.

  A candle was lit in the center of a scrubbed, wooden table. An old woman with a long silver braid of hair flung her arms wide to embrace the girl. Piper leaned into the woman. The cloak fell away from her shoulders, revealing how thin and worn she and her clothes were.

  “Gran,” Piper whispered. “How are you?”

  “Better it appears than you, my darling girl,” said the old woman, and she held Piper out at arm’s length for a better look. “Come, I have some things for you.” The old woman motioned toward one of the chairs at the table. Piper sat and watched as her grandmother busied herself at the stove. “What brings you so early?” Gran turned a questioning eye on the girl. “I was not expecting you for another two weeks.”

  Piper sat with her elbows on the table, pressing the heel of her hand between her eyes. She said nothing for a long time, but accepted a cup of herbal tea and drank deeply. Finally, very softly, she spoke.

  “Gran, what do you know of the prophecy of the four kings?”

  The old woman sat a bit straighter, and her eyes narrowed with curiosity. She leaned toward Piper and set her own cup on the table. “What do you wish to know, child? I thought I had taught you that story well.”

  “I do not remember it all, I am afraid. Gran, you will not believe– I scarcely believe it myself. I—I think it may be true. I believe it may be happening now. I met three boys yesterday. They are not of Chartile. I do not believe they are of this world. Their clothes, their speech. It is unlike anything I have ever seen or heard. And, when I am with them, my magic—” Piper stopped. She trembled, and looked fearfully at her grandmother. With a deep breath, she recounted the previous day’s events: her fight with Taraniz, the sudden appearance of Jack, Leo and Jayson, the mountain trolls – even her use of fire and magic. When she had finished, what little tea was left in her cup was cold. She felt surprisingly relieved, and yet still trembled.

  Gran sat quietly for several minutes. She took Piper’s hands in her own, locking her blue eyes to Piper’s green, and asked, “Piper, my darling, do you know who you are?”

  Piper pulled her hands away quickly. The fear on her face could not be hidden by the soot smudging.

  “I—I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Yes you do,” Gran said softly. “You have suspected for some time, I know. Your mother and father knew. I knew. And so do you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Piper’s eyes pleaded with her gran for answers.

  “We never thought we would need to. No one could have foreseen Aramor’s sudden illness. No one ever thought Taraniz would have been so…well. I cannot imagine what horrors befell that poor child to make her so. Spoiled and pampered, yes, but a tyrant? How she managed to convince the entire Elven army and the Noble’s C
onclave to follow her before Aramor’s death, and at such a young age, is beyond me.”

  “If you never saw a reason to tell me, then why try to train me?” Piper crossed her arms before her, her voice turning haughty and defensive, “Why calligraphy and law? Why the etiquette, and dragging me all over Chartile? Why teach me to control my magic?”

  “Precaution, child.” Gran patted Piper’s hand. “We couldn’t have you losing control and draining someone’s life, or burning –” She stopped and looked away, lost for a moment in tragic memory.

  “I never wanted this.” Piper stared at the table top, following the intricate lines of a knot in the wood. “I don’t want it. I should have run away to Duneland. None of this would be happening.”

  Gran reached across the table again, but Piper pulled away.

  “No, my child, I would not wish Duneland on anyone,” she said and reached for her cup instead.

  Piper looked at her grandmother, brow furrowed in confusion and anger. “Why? Because it is hot? Because it is full of sand where nothing ever grows? Never seeing a tree again would be worth the escape and freedom from…this!”

  “Because Humans are slaves,” said Gran rather coldly. “Had you gone to Duneland, you would have had orenite cuffs slapped on your wrists and been sold into the pleasure trade, or bought as a beck-and. Elf or Human, they can little tell the difference anymore.”

  “Orenite? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” said Piper more calmly. She hated seeing her Gran angry, and curiosity had tempered her for the moment.

  “Orenite is a rare metal found only in Mount Kelsii. Its discovery is what made the dwarves extend their settlement past the Tutarian Mountain Range. Once inscribed with the ancient Draconian runes, an orenite item can keep magic from passing forth from a person. If they attempt any form of magic, the orenite holds the energy inward until the body can no longer contain it, and they perish.”

  “That’s horrible!” cried Piper. “Who would do that? And why?”

  “The prophecy, my darling. Duke Noraedin, brother to King Pasalphathe, wished the rule of all the races of Chartile to be turned to him. He was a very powerful man, and a great alchemist. He was a natural leader, but a cruel man. He killed many in his lust for the crown. It was King Pasalphathe’s own proposition to use the new-found orenite to strip Noraedin of his magic. But orenite alone could not do it. If the orenite item was removed, the wearer’s magic remained, if only temporarily suppressed. It was Kahiri, King of the Dragons that gave the Draconian runes to the Dwarves to make the orenite stronger – and permanent. King Pasalphathe would only allow this if all Humans and Elves agreed to have their power taken, so as to prevent such evil from ever happening in Chartile again. I am sure I have taught you this, my child.”

  “Perhaps you have, but I cannot recall it. I still have yet to see what it has to do with me.” Piper drank the last of her cold tea, and rose to pour more from the kettle hanging over the fire.

  “The four kings tricked the Duke by acting as though they were resigning their rule to Noraedin. They gave him an orenite circlet to show their defeat and acceptance of the new King of Chartile. During the crowning ceremony, Noraedin did not survive. A similar ceremony is how the Elven Royals eventually eliminated magic from their bloodline. Most survived, but some still perished, even with the weaker orenite and Draconian rune magic. And through laws of selective marriages, the rest of the elves lost their magic over the centuries.”

  “What is this to do with Duneland, and why such practices are still used? There is no more magic. Or at least, there wasn’t.”

  “Pasalphathe was King of the race of Humans. And though the magic of the Elves eventually perished, the magic of humans is far more resilient to the effects of orenite, and persistent in its survival. From only a few years of age, all humans are forced to wear some form of orenite. And all because one man decided he wanted more power.”

  Again, Piper stared at the knot on the table, everything coming together at once.

  “And if the boys and I are the returned souls of the Kings, then Taraniz may be—”

  Gran nodded. Piper closed her eyes, and held her head in her hands.

  “I can’t do this, Gran. I don’t want it. Jayson, Jack and Leo, they are innocent in all of this. I cannot allow them to be hurt or killed, or to kill someone themselves. They are not even from our world. It would be wrong to place any burdens of Chartile, past or present, on them. What do I do?”

  The old woman stroked Piper’s hair. She swallowed hard, but her voice still cracked. “That is your decision alone to make. Only you can decide if you wish to take the path that has been laid before you, or forge your own. Either way, there is a young man back there who is still injured, am I right? Even if you are fearful of your own path, you have always been compassionate and selfless. If that is not the quality of a true leader, then may the Gods help us.”

  

  There was a small opening in the cave to the right of the main entrance that had gone unnoticed when the boys first arrived the evening before. Now, as the sun rose over the mountain, a shaft of light fell across Jayson’s face from the opening. He raised his arm against the light and immediately gasped. He clutched at his side and gasped again. His entire body felt as though he had been hit by a semi-truck. His ribs were bandaged, but he couldn’t remember why. Everything was a blur.

  His eyes focused, and he took in his surroundings. He was in a cave. Jack and Leo were sleeping around what was left of a fire. He blinked a few times and memories began to make sense of themselves out of the fog in his mind. Their arrival in Chartile, Piper’s story, and that strange creature that had nearly killed him. The thought of it made Jayson wish he had been hit by a truck. He attempted to turn to face the wall. The pain in his ribs was so intense it made his already dizzy head swim even more. He yelped and nearly lost what little was left in his stomach from the night before.

  Leo was at his side in a matter of moments, a water skin in hand. Jayson took it and drank without a word. The cold water hit his stomach like a kick in the gut. He wiped his mouth and found a piece of bread in his hand that Jack must have placed there. He sighed and ate in silence while his friends looked at each other from the corners of their eyes. Occasionally they dared a glance at him.

  He finished the flavorless hunk of bread and stared at the wall in front of him before finally speaking. “I’m so sorry you guys.” His voice was barely whisper as his broken ribs made it difficult to even breathe.

  “Well, it was bound to happen eventually,” said Jack with a grin.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for apologies and pay back later,” said Leo also smiling.

  “I don’t know, Leo. This could be a once in a life time opportunity. I mean, when was the last time you remember Jayson Hill apologizing for anything?” Jack patted Jayson’s shoulder gently. Jayson grimaced and wondered how the pain he felt at Jack’s touch could cause such a pounding in his already throbbing head

  Leo laughed and said, “So true! But, you just rest. You’re no good ‘till you’re no longer broken.”

  Jayson did not smile as his friends rose and went to tend the fire.

  “Frickin’, frackin’ frookin’,” he muttered to himself and gently laid back down, “I’m never going to live this down. Like, ever.”

  Piper returned to the cave just as Leo and Jack had figured out how to restart the fire. She had smeared soot across her nose and around her right eye, and wore a long, heavy cloak, though the weather was already warm.

  “It was a precaution,” she explained, “so I would not be recognized. I was fortunate. Few were awake and no one took notice.”

  She pulled two pouches of herbs and a thick leather cord from a bag slung over her shoulder. She, Jack and Leo gathered several long and thick sticks from the wood pile, and fashioned a tripod to hang a pot over the fire to boil water. Piper made a tea from the first pouch of herbs to help Jayson sleep and ease his pain. It smelled horrible and tasted eve
n worse. She made a paste from the second pouch of herbs and applied this to the wound on Jayson’s head.

  “Ow! That stings!” cried Jayson. He pulled away only to grab his side and cringe in pain.

  Piper did not reply or move from her poultice-applying position. She raised her eyebrows at Jayson and gave him a stern look with her piercing green eyes. Jayson sighed and leaned toward her slowly. A gentle smiled pulled at the corner of Piper’s lips, and she finished wrapping his head. “You will like what I must do next even less.” She reached for the leather cord at her feet. Jayson’s eyes widened. Ignoring the pain, he held up his hands and cried, “Whoa! Hey! Look, I’m sorry, okay! It’s just a lot to take in at once, you know? What are you—”

  Jack and Leo each grabbed Jayson by an arm, despite his protests and helped support him perfectly up right.

  “This is going to hurt,” Piper said, silencing Jayson’s struggling cries. “Your ribs move freely inside. We need to immobilize them while they heal.”

  With Jack’s help, she pulled Jayson’s shirt over his head. Even though Jayson knew Piper had already seen him without his shirt before, he still flushed red at the thought of her seeing his lack of abdominal muscle. She wrapped linen cloth tight around his ribs, then began wrapping the cord even tighter.

  “The rope helps to keep you as still as possible, while giving you the freedom to use your arms and legs,” she said, “We will loosen the tension over time as you heal. It also serves as a physical reminder to limit your movement, especially bending and twisting.”

  It took a few tries to get the tension just right. All the while, Jayson complained without reservation that a lady’s corset would have been easier torture. In the end, he lay bandaged and roped, resting very straight on the bed.