by Wilson Harp
Tal clenched his jaw shut. It took all of his strength to control his tongue. Suddenly he sat back and felt the compulsion pass.
“You have strength in you. Much strength. Now, you must ask me the last question. The one which all ask when they come to me.”
“What do you see of my future?” Tal asked. He blinked as he heard his own voice ask.
“I see you covered in blood, the blood of your family. You are drenched in it, but you cry out in anguish. Snares are at your feet and you don’t see them, but someone watches for you. You are one of many, yet they all follow. Your crown is stained and broken. Your spear is shattered, but you charge forward into the fray.”
Tal sat back as the Prophet spoke. Each statement grew louder until the Prophet shouted the final pronouncements so loud Tal covered his ears.
“You bring death to us. To all. And you do so with joy. Your name is with the legends, but forgotten for there are none left to remember. All is lost, and it is on you.”
Tal stood and backed toward the door as the Prophet tore at his own face with his fingers. Deep wounds bled openly as his nails ripped into his ancient flesh.
“All is lost! All is lost! You bring our doom!”
Tal opened the door to the chamber of the gods just as Anicus and two other priest burst through the far door.
“What has happened!” Anicus yelled above the screams of the Prophet.
Tal could just shake his head as he stared wide-eyed.
Anicus grabbed the Prophet and held his arms against his sides.
“Go get rope,” he yelled to one of the priests. “He’s having a fit.”
The priest pulled a knife and ran to the ropes which hung from the hole.
“You go, and send more help,” the other priest told Tal.
Tal ran up the stairs and into the shrine, acolytes and servants stood frozen as they heard the shrieks of the Prophet. Several priests ran toward the entrance to the Prophet’s stairs.
“Tal, this way,” Daelcor said as he grabbed his arm. He led the stunned prince out of the shrine and to the guest house.
Tal was panted and gulped for air, though he hadn’t run. He shook and felt faint.
“Sit him down,” Meleus said. “He’s sick.”
“What happened?” Daelcor said. “Why is he screaming? What’s that about?”
Even in the guesthouse Tal could hear the screams of the Prophet.
“It’s my future.”
Chapter 12
Tal opened his eyes into the dim light of the room. Another dream had roused him. The screams of the Prophet followed him into his dreams and still echoed in his ears while awake. The effects of the incense lingered hours after. Daelcor said food and drink would hasten the recovery, but Tal could not stomach the thought of food. His insides were gripped and squeezed like a hot copper bar being pounded by a smith.
Someone moved in the room and Tal turned his head to see Jubaas as he packed his bag by the light of an oil lamp.
“I’m sorry to have woken you, my lord. I need to get things ready to go. The dawn will come soon and I must be on my way.”
“I know, Jubaas. The planting won’t wait. You have more than earned your silver, and I am glad to know you.”
“And I am glad to know you. I wish I could stay and be of more help.”
“We will find our way back to Mestor, and I will see you again, I am sure.”
“Rest here until you are well. Do not hurry back just because you have found your answers.”
“I don’t know if I have found my answers or merely more questions.”
“Life is a never ending fight against the tide. No matter how many times you think you have the advantage, the ocean wins in the end.”
“When did Siande leave?” Tal asked.
“About an hour after you fell asleep. She worries for you and she worries for what you heard.”
“I can’t tell her certain things. I can’t tell anyone. But soon some will be revealed. All too soon. I think I’ll take your advice and stay secluded here for a while. I’m in no hurry to return to Mestor.”
“May your days be blessed, Prince Taldirun.”
Jubaas reached for the door when the building shook. Tal tried to sit up, but his bed was slammed against the wall. The sound of stones grinding and wood snapping filled the air. Tal pulled the blankets off of his body and rolled onto his side. He had heard stories of the world shaking violently, but thought they were just tales meant to scare children. This was enough to scare a battle hardened warrior.
Tal saw the oil lamp swing wildly on the chain it hung by. Oil sprayed out and Tal feared it would catch fire. He tried to sit up again, to find a way to grab the lamp, but was held down by the frantic movement of his bed.
And then it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun.
“My prince,” cried Meleus, “are you alive?”
“Alive, Meleus, and glad to hear your voice. What of you Jubaas?”
“Here, my lord. Thrown to the ground, but fine except for some bruises.”
“Open the door,” said Tal as he staggered out of bed. “We must make sure Siande is well.”
“The door is stuck,” Jubaas said as he pulled against it.
“Blocked from the outside?” Meleus asked.
“No, it pulls in.”
Tal went to the door. Dust trickled from the stones of the ceiling and Tal was relieved they didn’t fall on them. He looked at the door as Jubaas tried to force it open.
“The lintel has slipped from the post,” said Tal. “The stone above it has come loose as well.”
“How do we open it?” Jubaas asked.
“I’ll push against the stone with the butt of my spear and you and Meleus both pull.
Meleus grabbed a hold of Jubaas’ arm as Tal set his spear against the stone.
“Pull,” said Tal as he shoved the spear up. The stone did not move nor did the door.
“I’ll try it again,” said Tal. He moved closer to the door so he would push almost straight up on the stone.
“Now,” he said as he put all of his might into moving the stone. He felt it move up just the tiniest bit and the door flew open. Tal leaned back and smiled when the stone over the doorway crashed down and sent a cloud of dust up.
Tal was on his back, stunned by a blow to the back of his head.
Stone and splintered wood were piled near where the doorway once was.
“Jubaas! Meleus!” he said.
“We’re here,” answered Jubaas. “The door and stones fell on us.”
Tal stood and found the two men under the heavy wooden door. They moved what rocks they could reach off of the door.
“I’ll have you out in a minute,” Tal said as he pushed and tossed rocks to free them.
The door lifted and Jubaas slipped out. He and Tal lifted it further so Meleus could free himself.
“What was that?” Jubaas asked.
“The gods are angry about something,” Meleus said.
Tal shuddered at the thought.
“Are you alright?” Daelcor asked as he pushed his way onto the rubble in front of the room.
“We are all well, nothing broken,” Jubaas said.
“We need to leave. Now,” Daelcor said. “Grab what you can and let’s be on our way.”
“Leave? Why?” asked Tal.
“I’ll explain as we go. But we must leave now.”
“Go get Siande,” Tal told Jubaas. “We’ll leave when you return.”
“There may not be time,” Daelcor said.
“We will wait for them. Let me get my things and you should go get yours too.”
“No, I will go with what I have. Something terrible has happened, Tal.”
“The ground moved? Yes, I noticed.”
“No, something happened which caused the ground to move. The prophet is dead, and you’ll be blamed.”
“Dead? How?”
“Time is of the essence, you must hurry.”
Tal sea
rched for his pack and his clothes. He took everything he could find and got dressed as fast as he could.
“We’re here,” said Jubaas.
Siande looked pale and scared as Tal met her eyes.
“Why are we leaving now?” she asked.
“We’re in danger,” said Tal.
Meleus handed Jubaas his bow and pack.
“Take your spear,” Tal told him. “I don’t intend to fight, but I will if I must.”
Meleus found his spear on the ground and climbed out of the room.
“Hurry,” said Daelcor. “Anicus told me he would delay them as long as he could, but the guards will be ordered to close the gate soon.”
Tal scrambled over the broken stones and wood and followed Daelcor out of the building.
“Too late,” said Jubaas. The gate was closed and five guards stood in front. They held spears in their hands and shifted from foot to foot. They stared at the shrine in horror.
“Why don’t they look at us?” Tal asked.
“Come and see,” said Daelcor as he led them to the end of the building away from the gate.
As they turned the corner, Tal heard Jubaas and Siande gasp. The tall spire which sat atop the shrine had fallen, the shattered stone strewn across the guard’s barracks.
“There,” said Meleus. “An opening in the wall.”
Tal looked and saw a large section of the wooden wall had been smashed by the top portion of the spire.
“This way, before they think to send guards.”
Jubaas looked at the crushed building which housed the guards. “I don’t know how many guards they still have.”
“Enough that we don’t want their attention,” said Daelcor.
The ground shook again as they made their way to the wall. They fell to the ground, but the disturbance was short lived.
“How long will the gods remain angry?” Tal asked.
“For a while, I’m afraid,” said Daelcor.
They raced for the wall once they found their feet again and squeezed past the broken structure and into the wooded lands which surrounded the shrine.
“Do we take the road?” Meleus asked.
“No, if they blame us, it’d be safer to go to the deep woods. We can make our way to Folsit in a couple of days. Then we’ll be close enough to Mestor that you’ll be safe,” said Jubaas.
They moved at a quick pace and soon Siande had fallen back next to Tal.
“What happened?” she asked. “Why are the gods so angry?”
“Daelcor said the prophet was dead.”
“How?” Siande asked.
“He killed himself,” said Daelcor. “He was chanting all night, crying and wailing. They brought him up into the shrine to tend to his wounds. They knew I serve Hondre, so they brought him to me to see what I could do, but his physical injuries were minor compared to what had happened to his mind.”
They slowed as Daelcor spoke. The urgency of their flight gave way to the weariness of a long night of little sleep.
“What was wrong with his mind?” Meleus asked.
“I don’t know, but the others seemed scared. They said the prophet, though he spoke with the voice of the gods, always was even tempered and calm. He wasn’t when I saw him. He ranted and cursed, he called Tal’s name and even brought curses down upon him. Many wanted Anicus to bring Tal and confront him. They were certain he had laid a curse upon the prophet somehow.”
“I didn’t. I just asked him some questions.”
Daelcor nodded. “That’s what Anicus told them, you had been cleansed and prepared, and you had brought nothing which could curse him.”
“Poison?” Jubaas said. “They think he was poisoned.”
Daelcor nodded. “I’ve seen poisons which will twist a mind like that. I’m sure they have, too.”
“Maybe someone else could have poisoned him. With his food maybe?” Meleus asked.
“No. It wasn’t poison which twisted his mind.”
“Then what killed him?” Siande asked.
“He had been settled for a while. They asked me to come and give a blessing and bandage him as best I could since he wasn’t ranting and writhing about. I applied the ointments and performed the blessing, and he just smiled at me. He knew I knew you, Tal. He knew, and I don’t think anyone told him. He said he felt better and asked for a lamp and a fresh change of clothes. He was going to go wash in the holy spring.”
“He went there to die,” Tal said.
“Yes. How did you know?” Daelcor asked.
“I just do. How did he die down there? He killed himself, didn’t he?”
Jubaas looked back and made a sign against evil.
“He did. When he reached the spring, he must have put the fresh clothes on and then poured the lamp oil on himself. He set himself on fire.”
Tal and the others stopped where they were. Tal wretched as his stomach threatened to empty. To die by fire meant to be cursed for all time in the halls of Ochtur. It was the worst fate anyone could face, and the most disgraceful punishment to face.
“Why? Why?” Siande said as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Surely the gods would not drive him mad and then cause him to burn himself.”
Daelcor covered his face with his hands and wept. “I saw it. I saw it and I cannot forget.”
“There’s more,” Tal said. “You haven’t told us why we fled yet.”
“His screams echoed through the shrine as his flesh burned, and we ran into the holy spring to see him burn in front of the water. He saw us enter and screamed out a curse. Then he cried out your name, Tal, and said all was lost.”
“All is lost,” Tal said.
Daelcor nodded. “Yes. He yelled it three times, and then the ground shook, we were thrown to the floor and water from the holy spring splashed out. I looked to see if it had extinguished the flames from the prophet, but he kept burning.”
Daelcor grabbed Tal by the shoulders. “The gods are furious. They’ve gone mad. The ground beneath the spring ripped open and… the holy spring is gone. The footprint of Balket no longer sits under the Shrine of Llystam.”
“And they blame Tal,” Siande said.
“We must keep moving,” Tal said. “We’ll only find safety in Mestor.”
Jubaas led them deep into the forest, high on the slopes and ridges of the mountain. Tal trudged along with the others, but all impulse of leadership had been drained from him. He let Jubaas make the decisions for the group, and Jubaas understood the mood and did not defer to the silent prince.
Twice the ground shook again, and they feared the trees would fall on them, but the disturbance lasted only a few seconds and was not as intense as when they were at the shrine.
“The gods may be calming,” said Meleus. “Perhaps they will allow us to escape without bringing the mountain down upon us.”
Tal looked up at the mountain. He had heard stories of whole mountains collapsing, but had not believed them. No more than he had believed the whole world could move.
He played his meeting with the prophet over in his head once again. Should he have told the prophet of his dream? Would it have been worse? How could it have been worse, the prophet had died, the shrine was destroyed, and he had fled into the wilderness.
And yet, it would have been against the will of the man in his dreams. Tal knew he would see him again and was glad he had not broken and told what the prophet demanded.
“The sky is too dark,” said Jubaas as they passed through a meadow. “We should be in a storm with the clouds this dark.”
“And they move wrong,” said Daelcor. “They should be moving toward the west, but all morning they have drifted to the east.”
The sky did not lighten through the day. They marched on, through brush and across small mountain streams with, only the instincts of Jubaas to guide them.
They came to a rocky area and Jubaas stopped and looked at something on the ground.
“What is it?” Siande asked.
“I don’t kn
ow,” he said, “but we should move on. It’s not too long before night and I want a bright fire tonight. We will need to set a watch as well.”
“A fire?” said Daelcor. “Won’t it lead people right to us?”
“There is no one else out here. And besides, there are worse things than bandits in these woods.”
Twice more the scout stopped and looked at something on the ground. Both times he increased their pace afterward.
“We must stop,” said Siande. “We are all exhausted and must find a place to rest.”
Jubaas looked up at the sky. “Yes, the sun should be down soon, it is well behind the mountain. And we do need to have the fire before the moon rises.”
They walked on for another ten minutes before he found a place near a stream.
“We’ll camp here,” he said. “Gather wood and I will work the flint. We must have a fire quickly.”
“I’m glad,” said Dalecor, “but what do you fear so much?”
A howl ripped through the night and the hair on the back of Tal’s neck stood on end. Siande threw herself into his arms and he held her as she shook.
“Wolves,” said Meleus. “There are wolves here.”
“Get the firewood,” said Jubaas as he ripped bark from a tree. “And get more than you think we will need.”
“Two fires,” said Tal. “Presat said always make two fires and sleep between them. Three if you can.”
Jubaas nodded. “That’s the plan. Now go.”
Tal and Siande joined Meleus and Daelcor as they gathered as much wood as they could. By the time Tal returned with an armful, Jubaas had a small fire started.
“Do you think they will come for us?” Tal asked.
“No, but they will hunt tonight. The gods have scared the other animals, no birds or squirrels in the trees today, but the wolves are the masters of the night. This forest is theirs and they will not be denied.”
Siande returned with some wood, dropped it in a pile and turned to get more. Tal grabbed her arm.
“You stay here and help Jubaas with the fire. If the wolves come, they will seek you first.”
Siande nodded. Everyone knew wolves would attack children first and then women. Tal wanted her near the fires as much as possible.
When Tal returned with his second load of wood, Siande tended the first one while Jubaas was bent over the second.