The Promised Ones

by Brad Stucki

  He reached down to gently hold two fingers against her neck, feeling a faint pulse. Relieved, he glanced around the camp. The lines at the corner of his eyes tightened as he saw the piled bodies of the Princess’ guard. More evidence of Saballa’s savagery, having experienced it first-hand himself.

  Sohorkon cursed under his breath for coming upon the scene too late. Even then, what could he have done alone? It was just as before. He had been helpless. There was nothing he could have done. Nothing now except save the Keeper. Another along with himself who could testify of Tranthra’ Joh’s treason.

  A moan escaped Siri’ Bhu’s mouth and Sohorkon quickly turned his attentions to her, caressing her cheek, laying her out, taking care to keep the pressure on her wound. Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped in pain.

  “It’s O.K.”, Sohorkon said, “You’re going to be all right.”

  Siri squinted, looking up at Sohorkon, then concern flashed in her eyes. “The Princess – Javin – we need to help them. Where are they?”

  “There’re gone, taken by Saballa’s men. There’s nothing we can do for them now.”

  “But we must! We must stop them!” Siri tried to rise. The pain made her fall limply back. She shuddered then her eyes fluttered open again and she stared at Sohorkon. “Who are you?” a look of fear appeared in her eyes.

  “It’s OK,” Sohorkon soothed, “I’m a friend. I was attached to the guard of Prince Sauros’ Boh. We also were attacked by Saballa and his men. I was the only one who escaped.”

  Siri’ Bhu started again, this time didn’t try to sit up. She spoke through clenched teeth. “We were looking for the prince. Was he killed? Is he all right?”

  Sohorkon’Boh lowered his head as if in shame. “I don’t know. I was ordered away to get word to my people. Several of those creatures were sent after me . . . they follow me no longer. I was hoping to get word to the princess at Putra’ Fi Sorro. That city was closer. I can only hope the prince was spared, as was your princess. Beyond that I don’t know.

  “Now rest easy, Keeper. You've lost a great deal of blood. The wound is deep but didn't strike anything vital. Let me get you some water, and when you've rested we will press on. Your testimony, combined with mine, will certainly raise the cry of warning to both our peoples.”

  “We have to hurry!” Siri' Bhu said, struggling to get up. Again, the pain forced her to lie back.

  “Yes, we must hurry,” Sohorkon agreed, “but only when you’re able. Here, chew on this.” He reached behind and pulled a dried root from his belt pouch. “It doesn’t taste like much, but it'll give back some of your strength.”

  “Thanks,” Siri' Bhu answered weakly. She reached up with her right arm to touch his chest, keeping her left as still as possible since any movement brought great pain.

  “I hate to do this,” Sohorkon said, “but I’m going to ask you to turn over so I can dress your wound better.” The Keeper smiled, nodded, and gently, with Sohorkon’s assistance, started to turn. Siri’s wound was taken high on the back of her left shoulder, dragging deep but glancing off bone and striking downward. It had missed everything major though a great deal of blood had been lost. Sohorkon gently lifted the ragged dressing to see if the blood was slowing. Siri’s intake of breath told him the severe pain she was in.

  “I’ll get some water to rinse the wound. That should help soothe the pain. Then I'll clean these strips and dress the wound for you. With your permission,” Sohorkon began sheepishly. “I may need some from your clothing to make a sufficient dressing.”

  Siri’ Bhu laughed in spite of the pain. “You may have whatever you need. A lack of modesty is much more to be desired than bleeding to death, don’t you think?”

  Sohorkon smiled. “Yes.” Then he hesitated, concern crossed his eyes. “If I may ask . . . the princess has a sister.” The Keeper narrowed her eyes and watched Sohorkon close as he continued. “Was she safe the last time you saw her?”

  “She is safe,” Siri answered guardedly. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just concerned,” Sohorkon said. “With Tranthra’ Joh’s treachery, I just pray she hasn’t been left in the castle. If the princess has been taken, there’s no telling what Saballa would do with her sister. She also is in line to be queen if something should happen to Mouhra’ Lah.”

  Siri was quiet, her eyes scrutinizing Sohorkon’ Boh who returned her gaze levelly. “As I said,” Siri answered. “She is safe." Then a pause… “Who are you?”

  “I am Sohorkon’ Boh,” he answered.

  Siri’s eyes went wide. “You’re the prince’s brother! You’re lucky Saballa didn’t recognize and have you killed!”

  A wry grin spread across his face. “He tried.”

  Again, there was silence. Sohorkon’s expression grew pained.

  “I never should have left my brother. He made me – ordered me for the sake of our people -- to give warning.” He looked at Siri, his eyes determined. “That is what we must do. If my brother has sacrificed himself, it must not be in vain!”

  Siri’ Bhu nodded.

  “Now,” Sohorkon continued, “let’s dress your wound. Then we must make our way back to my city, Sunzah’ Nu Geeza, Heart of the Forest. There we can find people who'll help. We must now consider Putra' Fi Sorro in enemy hands.”

  ***

  Mahntra' Bhu appeared to be wandering aimlessly through the city. That was far from the truth. He was wandering because of his watchers. Why they were following him? His guess was it had something to do with his inquiries regarding the princess and his daughter. Tranthra' Joh must be behind it. The chamberlain had certainly delivered his request for a meeting and more, probably. If Mahntra had suspected something was wrong before, now he was certain.

  Surrepticiously he'd visited several of the nobles with whom he'd always maintained a close relationship. They were missing too. Representatives of the palace had told their families they'd been called away on important city business.

  Mahntra grimaced, remembering how nervous the families had been. After careful pressing and assuring them that he, the former Keeper, certainly could be trusted they finally answered his questions. The families had been told they must not tell anyone their fathers were gone or it could endanger their lives.

  How absurd! Mahntra had thought. Then he recognized the inherent threat in such instructions; both to the nobles and their families. This was worse than he'd feared.

  It was shortly after that Mahntra began to notice he was being followed. He'd kept seeing three familiar faces wherever he went. Not all at once, but at different times like they were switching off. The main give away had been their posture. You can put a soldier in normal clothing, but you can't hide the way he walks, the way he stands.

  Normally he wouldn't have paid such close attention to those around him. Events had heightened his senses.

  The question was what to do about it. There definitely was trouble; and growing worse with the Conservator announcing new security procedures in the city.

  In a carefully crafted speech, the Conservator had announced the princess had entrusted him with the defense of the city. There was evidence a Time of Trouble lay ahead. The new measures were for the city's protection and the princess had given her full support. Of course, the orders weren't signed by the princess. They were issued nonetheless.

  People were disturbed but went along. What else could they do? They trusted that everything was fine. Yet there were softly voiced questions as to why the princess hadn't made the announcement.

  Most people knew a Conservator was not to make new laws or edicts no matter how important, without the direct consent of the princess. The Conservator was to simply insure the government continued to function as it had until the succession was completed.

  Mahntra knew the princess hadn't given Tranthra' Joh any such leeway as he claimed. She wasn't even in the city. And still there was no mention of it. People were starting to notice. They hadn't seen her in days. It wasn't like her. Was she sick like he
r mother? The low voices were starting to spread. Mahntra smiled to himself as he walked. I planted most of those questions myself. I should have been a dissident.

  Mahntra wished he dared speak out more publicly, but what would be the consequences? What would happen to the princess . . . to his daughter? And what if Tranthra' Joh's story were actually true? What if the Princess was on a special envoy with the missing nobles? He thought that story was all a fabrication. Still, he must think about it more before doing anything.

  His mind made up, he turned back toward his house, keeping the same casual pace as if out taking exercise. I must keep my shadows ignorant I know of them. If they suspected, he knew they’d be changed. It’d take time to identify them again. It was better to have a shadow you knew. Mahntra had a feeling he was going to need all the advantage he could get.

  Chapter 8

  The march through the jungle had been speedy, stopping only for brief rests. At night a camp was set well after dark and they were on their way again well before the light grew in the sky. Javin was never untethered. His arms and hands were numb, his wrists raw with the chafing. Neither he nor the princess was allowed to talk together. Occasionally Saballa would wander by, attempt to question him. He answered him nothing even when receiving a kick to the side, further inflaming what he was sure was a broken rib.

  Realizing it was futile, Saballa soon gave up with the comment that with Tranthra’ Joh’s leave he’d have all the answers he wanted soon enough. A knowing smile crossed his face and he stalked away.

  He tried to engage his chameleon guards in conversation hoping he could learn more and perhaps even reach some shred of decency in them -- if they had any. These people appeared to be a dignified race. It was hard to imagine anybody could serve such a wicked and vile man as Saballa.

  The guards remained silent, as if ordered not to communicate. Coming to accept this, Javin lapsed into his own thoughts for the remainder of the journey.

  The march became routine – each rest stop the same; the evening’s camp exactly as the night before. Javin, still in pain but healing, allowed himself to go numb to everything on the outside while he sought desperately his blocked memories.

  So much had happened in such a short time, and so much was a blank. If he indeed was a “Promised One”, what was he supposed to do here on this world? Better yet, what could he do? So far all he’d done is go from bad to worse. What about the crystal inside his chest? What did it do? He’d certainly felt it when he had agreed to help the princess.

  Could he trust his own judgment? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help the princess, but he didn’t want to be forced into it either. There was way too much about which he knew very little to firmly decide one way or the other.

  There was one thing he knew for certain: Saballa was his enemy. As well as anyone who could command such a man.

  As his pondering continued, he decided that if the crystal inside him could have influence over him, perhaps he could have influence over it. During the daily plodding walk, he blanked his mind then focused on the crystal: trying to touch it, to affect it.

  At times he would feel glowing warmth in his breast, then not knowing quite what to do next, it would fade quickly.

  What is it? What does it do? Can I use it? Each time he became apprehensive about the crystal and its effects on him, a deep calm would wash over – a warm assurance that it would never do him harm. Even this irritated Javin. It could simply be a deception; another deception in a long line of deceptions.

  With his memory a blank he had no way of knowing. There was one memory he had – the memory of how he had received the crystal when he was a little boy. That memory was real. Something in the crystal had allowed him to remember when he had first received it.

  That’s all Javin had right now. That and an ironic realization about himself: He was fiercely independent, not wanting to be controlled by anyone or any thing. Any decision I make I must make on my own without pressure from the outside! Or inside for that matter.

  Maybe that’s what the crystal had done. As he thought about his conversation with the princess, his instinct, his desire, had been to help her at the outset. Then the crystal had warmed him, helped him feel it was right. Was it reacting to my own feelings? Could he trust it when he needed? And if he could trust, would it do any good? Were there any powers it held he didn’t know about? And were they sufficient to help him get away from these captors and help the princess? The questions kept circling again and again.

  ***

  Chahzuu stood just inside the opening of the grotto. The falling water crashed down over the entrance while inside the ferns dripped moisture to which he held his mouth, replenishing his parched body. He was famished with hunger and moved around the waterfall onto the ledge. The light overhead brightly illuminated the forest even down at this level. It must surely have been hours he’d lain as one who was dead. He couldn’t tell for sure. If his hunger was any indication, it could have been a couple of days. Like his thirst, his body was in bad need of sustenance from the ordeal it had gone through.

  Just thinking about what the stripping had felt like made him cringe. Now he must do something. He had to stop Nemesis. The question was how? Everything Chahzuu knew had been imparted to Nemesis. He worried for his people. They were a race of destiny which now could easily be led disastrously astray if Nemesis got to them before he could.

  Moving over to a plant he recognized, he dug at the root, pulled it out then held it in the waterfall, rubbing it briskly to clean away the soil. Chahzuu held it to his mouth, gnawing on an end, tasting bitterness as the juices were forced out. The bitterness faded as his eyes became distant and he began contemplating what he must do.

  What were his options? He continued to gnaw on the root and sat down. Moving through the forest without any definite plan would be counterproductive. His first impulse was to rush back to his people. Even as he considered that, he knew, somewhere inside, it was already too late. His breast warmed, and his eyes widened as he glanced down seeing a strange glowing aura of warmth radiate from within. Then he knew how he knew: The Stone.

  If he couldn’t stop this Pale one his people would be lost! Darkness threatened to crowd in. The knowledge he had held would be the cause. Setting out to save his people, he had possibly brought about their ruin. He must do something!

  For a long time, only the crashing of falling water invaded the deep privacy of Chahzuu's thoughts, all just as jumbled and clashing. Even before he’d started, his dream had come true! The Pale One of his dream had killed him, and was, even now, bringing about the ruin of his people.

  It had happened, if not in the exact same way, the players were all the same. The events which he’d always dreaded were surely occurring. He’d never make it back to his people in time to stop Nemesis from claiming them.

  What of the Guardians? They had told him there was still a chance. That his dreams weren't the truth, exactly, but an image of what could be. An echo of the future, not what must be.

  Chahzuu jumped to his feet, breathing deeply in excitement. Maybe all was not lost! His dream had changed! There was a chance, and he must seize it! He concentrated, wondering what that chance might be. And then the thought occurred to him. If his dream about his death had been wrong -- at least so far -- there was still something he could do for his people. Maybe Nemesis hadn't gotten to them. Maybe the Stone was telling him what might happen if he didn't hurry back to his people.

  Then thought and feeling washed over him again. It’s too late. Nemesis has already been to my people, they are his now. He didn’t know how he knew, but knew with a profound assurance he couldn’t deny.

  Again, it’s the Stone! It was all so new. He knew the Stone had power, wasn't sure what that power was or how he could draw it out.

  His mind went back to the records and legends which now Nemesis had access to by virtue of his memories. There must be something!

  Guilt tore at his soul again. It’d been his fault. Neme
sis had all his knowledge to use against them. Anything he tried would be anticipated.

  But he doesn’t know I’m alive. That one thought bolstered him.

  Chahzuu continued to think. I must approach him from an unexpected direction. If he’s taken my people using their destiny against them to his own ends, then I must take them and put them back on the path they must truly follow.

  He started to pace on the small ledge of the grotto’s opening, feeling his body continuing to recover.

  Then it occurred to him. There was something in the oldest of records. Just a shred, even as it was, but there was hope in that. They weren’t related to the legends of his people being Pontu’ Gi. They were just old writings by an ancient Chahkzaa, not related to anything in particular, and so Nemesis wouldn’t have any context for them. He wouldn’t know their meaning, or at least he hoped he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t have any bearing on what he was trying to do with his people, so those memories would be jumbled among all the others of his life which had been stripped.

  Those records had almost been discarded by the previous Chahkzaa, but Chahzuu had saved them by pleading so much that the Chahkzaa relented and gave them to him for study. It was contingent upon his promising he wouldn't neglect his other studies for the mere curiosities he was told were within those records. Chahzuu's thirst for knowledge made him think it was a curse to throw away anything that had to do with the attainment of ancient knowledge, no matter how frivolous it seemed.

  The first step was to get out into open country and begin his thinking and planning. He thought best while moving through the trees.