This I Know

by A K Clark

  Contents

  Copyrights

  Also by A. K Clark

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  A note from the Author

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHTS

  Reproducing this book without permission from the author or the publisher is an infringement of its copyright. This book is a work of fiction. The characters names, names of places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real or used without the author’s authorization. Any resemblance to any actual events or persons, living or dead, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 A.K. Clark

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Tina Winograd.

  Proofread by Shannon Page.

  Cover Design by Unity Designs. All Rights Reserved.

  Interior Design and Formatting By Stephany Wallace. All Rights Reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  An A.K. Clark publication:

  Aug 1st, 2019

  ALSO BY A.K CLARK

  * * *

  The Waters

  An Enchanted Magic Novel

  DEDICATION

  For the stargazers.

  1

  I awoke, clutching my chest, gasping for breath. Dark thoughts whirled within me. Death was near. For me or someone else? I couldn’t be certain. Visions were seldom reliable in those regards.

  Violent shades of red and black flashed through my mind. The smell of charred skin returned. The echo of my horrified screams as I’d watched the violence pierced my ears. No–I wouldn’t give more life to the vision. Maybe the horrors I’d seen wouldn’t come true if I avoided them, pretended they weren’t real, but I knew better. I couldn’t change the future.

  I took a steadying breath. I needed to speak with Cora. Maybe she’d seen another version of fate that would come to fruition instead of my own. Maybe it had been a dream, a projection of my mixed-up emotions.

  Anxiety about the candidacy had been riding on my back, whispering nasty things to me for the past few weeks. Filling me with uncertainty. Perhaps the battlefield of death represented my worry.

  No, it didn’t fit. I’d had a vision in my sleep. Some naïve part of me clung to the hope that Cora had seen something different. If she had, maybe we could change what I’d seen. That’s not how it works, I reminded myself. Five years of divination training had taught me one could glimpse into the future but never change it. Misinterpretations happened, but what I’d seen, the war, didn’t leave room for confusion.

  The roiling feeling in my stomach returned, unsettling my heart. If I hurried, I might make it in time to speak to Cora before our lesson with Vero.

  I pulled on the dark green peplos. I frowned at the long fabric brushing the tops of my feet. I preferred the shorter chitons the men wore, but according to society and the gods, proper Greek women didn’t wear such revealing garb. I pushed my annoyance aside and fastened my sandals before hastily brushing my fingers through my long hair.

  I paused in the kitchen, smiling at my father who sat at the table. My mother prepared fruit for breakfast. I dropped a quick peck on her cheek, grabbing a handful of grapes to eat on my way to town.

  “Heading off for observation?” my mother asked.

  My father added, “How many times do you need to watch an oracle before you figure out how it works?”

  I smiled at him; if only it were so easy as watching Pythia Vero once or twice.

  “I’ve learned many things that will help me when I’m on my own,” I said.

  “I’ve told you before, you don’t have to move. I’m happy you are here. I know others whose children still live at home as adults. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  I gave my mother a pat on the shoulder. I wasn’t embarrassed about living with my parents at twenty, but I wanted privacy. It wasn’t easy to date while living in my parents’ house.

  “I know, I promise I’ll think about it. I’m off. See you both later.”

  “Make good decisions, Alexandria,” my father called after me.

  Gray clouds covered the sky, allowing minuscule shafts of morning light to peek through, barely illuminating the ground. Though the vibrant green trees swayed full of life, the wind moaned as it whipped around them, threatening to dislodge leaves. I quickened my pace despite my protesting legs as a distant clap of thunder reverberated over the mountainside.

  Normally, the hike up the mountain path would take five minutes, but my body was still fatigued from defense training. I pushed my sore muscles into a slight jog, knowing I wouldn’t reach Cora in time if I walked. Her insight would help me understand the vision. Maybe the gods made a mistake? Unlikely, but I refused to believe the fates would be so cruel.

  I could faintly make out the Temple of Apollo when I reached the top of the path—its hulking mass towered over the surrounding mud-brick houses. As I approached the bustling market, I couldn’t help but wonder if Apollo took into consideration the storms that ravaged the mountain when he instructed the Oracle to build the sanctuary up here. True, the sun reached the top of the crag first, appeasing the god, but the storms were fierce.

  I glanced at the dark sky again; there would be no basking in the light today. Thunder clapped closer, shaking the earth. I waved to the merchants as I rushed past. Seeing the weapons booth and the owner polishing his blades brought back the violent message of my vision—someone wouldn’t be watching the sun set tonight.

  I frowned. If he died, who would take over his trade? I continued on, passing a lady weaving baskets. My mother owned several of her creations. She’d be heartbroken if the woman passed. Gods, why didn’t the vision tell me who would die? Or how many would perish?

  I sprinted toward the marble stairs of the temple. My feet slapped against the stones, the impact jarring my knees but not slowing me. I passed the six marble pillars marking the entrance, inhaling the frankincense enveloping the great room as I eased my pace. No need to draw unwanted attention by running through the sacred place. I settled for a brisk walk, making my way to the chamber in the back.

  I found Cora standing with a bemused expression, toying with the ends of her long golden braid as she talked with a few visitors. Her green eyes crinkled when she laughed at something one of them said. I momentarily forgot why I sought her out, observing the magnetism of her personality. Her confident smile shone like a beacon, attracting attention wherever she went.

  I watched as strangers within the temple turned to find the source of laughter, their eyes lighting up with intrigue upon spotting my friend. Her clothing drew as much attention as her personality. Teal thre
ad edged the bottom of her violet peplos in intricate designs, a pretty accent few could afford. Her garment gathered in all the right places, managing to flatter her curves despite the amount of cloth covering her body.

  I glanced down at my plain peplos, somewhat pained by its lack of sparkle. My fingers brushed against my braid; my brown hair lacked luster too. I tried not to envy my friend, but Cora’s father had monopolized the textile trade in Delphi, far surpassing my father’s meager carpenter’s wages. She grew up with the finest things while I grew up with lesser. Our family fortunes may have differed, but our friendship had weathered twenty years of life.

  Cora smiled when she spotted me, waving me toward the chamber’s entrance. I headed over with renewed purpose, eyeing her companions.

  Two older men and a woman waited patiently outside the chamber, heading a line of people hoping for the chance to see Vero, our mentor and current Oracle of Delphi. People came from all over Greece to see Apollo’s Oracle, waiting for hours—sometimes even days.

  A dark green velvet cloth draped the entrance of the chamber. The covering had a dual purpose: to block out the sunlight, and to keep the conversations held within the space private. Though Cora and the visitors stood close to the fabric, they wouldn’t be privy to others’ discussions with the Pythia.

  “Alex!” Cora said, “you have to meet my new friends.” She introduced them. I smiled, forgetting their names when I remembered why I’d left in such a hurry this morning. A small pang of guilt nagged at me for being so callous, but I pushed it aside.

  “Apologies, friends, I need to speak with Cora regarding a matter of some importance.” I put on my best Pythia-esque voice, trying to convey the gravity of said discussion by mirroring Vero’s professional tone.

  Cora smiled at them before following me to the corner. “Is everything all right?” she asked, eyes filling with concern.

  “Gods, I don’t know. I had a dream. A vision,” I corrected myself. “I saw us fighting in a battle. A war, Cora.” I paused, unsure if I should mention the man’s gaze that bored into mine as I watched people fall around me. His amber eyes flashed when they met mine, the fires burning on the battlefield reflected in them. His face had softened for me, filling with affection. I had felt desperation as I watched him fight, my heart thudding with worry for him. He seemed familiar despite my not knowing him.

  “A war?” Her voice wavered. “Are you certain it was a vision?”

  “I am. I tried to reason it was a dream, but I’m certain it wasn’t.” My heart pounded as I recalled the carnage surrounding me in the vision. “It was awful.”

  Cora furrowed her brow in concentration, her fingers tapping on her peplos erratically.

  Movement in my peripheral vision drew my attention. I looked up. “Ilinor is calling us now. We’ll talk after our session.”

  “We will,” Cora said. “If you’re certain of what you saw, we may need to seek more answers from Apollo…provided he will be forthcoming,” she added, her tone bitter.

  I couldn’t help but wonder why Apollo sent the vision to me. What can I do with the knowledge that Cora can’t?

  “Pythia Vero is waiting for you,” Ilinor said, flicking her red hair over her shoulder. “It isn’t proper to keep her waiting.”

  Cicely stood beside her, mirroring my expression—both of us wary of the tension between Ilinor and Cora.

  “We’re here now, Ilinor, hardly late.” Cora’s sharp response heightened the strain. She swept past her and entered the room. I plastered a pleasant smile on my face as I walked past Ilinor. I had no reason to dislike the woman other than her vocal dislike of Cora.

  I had tried and failed to placate the situation; both women seemed inclined to despise one another. I’d learned Ilinor tolerated my presence when Cora wasn’t around but treated me with similar disdain when she was. She huffed and turned to leave with Cicely, their observation period over and ours beginning.

  As always, a heady sense of anticipation filled me when I entered the chamber. I took a moment to adjust to the darkness, relaxing for the first time this morning. Direct truths are rare. The thought did little to soothe my worry. If war was not imminent, what danger lay ahead? What did Apollo warn me about?

  2

  Cora walked down the sloping entrance into the chamber. I followed closely behind. The room was mostly bare, allowing the Pythia to sit prominently in its center.

  “Ah, hello, my golden ones. How has your morning fared?” Vero called out when she saw us.

  She sat smiling upon her tripod seat, chewing on a sprig of laurel, her black hair falling gently over her shoulder. Along with many other tools, laurel leaves helped encourage Apollo’s prophecies by channeling the lost spirit of Daphne. Vero set the laurel down as we approached, taking care to preserve the sprig for future use.

  “The morning has fared well, dear Vero,” I said, giving the traditional kiss on the cheek and breathing in the scents of laurel, incense, and earth clinging to my mentor.

  The smoky scent of fire also permeated the air, making my throat itch. The small fire to the side of Vero and the chasm provided the only source of light in the chamber. A slight breeze from the entrance caused it to crackle loudly. The flickering firelight illuminated her face as I stepped out of the hug.

  “Don’t pretend nothing is wrong, Alex,” Cora scolded me as she also greeted Vero with a kiss on the cheek. “She’s had a vision.”

  “Oh? What have you seen?” Vero asked. The musky incense worked its way in, relaxing my mind. Shadows danced over the Pythia’s face, her eyes shining from within. Vero’s brown gaze stared into my soul as if her eyes sought the answer to her question. Her penetrating look pulled the words from me—I revealed everything, save the amber eyes, watching her absorb the information. Her face an unreadable mask of neutrality as I recounted the slayings and the hopelessness I’d felt in the vision, showing no fear of what was to come.

  “I’d like to work with you more after our session. The message is foreboding, but I do not know if war is certain. We’ll ask the gods about your vision later,” she said.

  I relaxed slightly. If what I’d seen didn’t bother her, maybe my worry was unwarranted. Sitting through the observation session would be a true test of patience. Waiting for her thoughts might be my undoing.

  “All right, golden ones. Off you go to the viewing room to watch,” Vero said, pushing us toward the hidden alcove, then going to retrieve the next visitor. The area wasn’t a room, but a small section of the chamber closed off by a black curtain. Two three-inch holes covered by dark netting allowed the apprentices to witness the Pythia deliver prophecies and remain hidden from the visitors.

  “A glass of wine for the best guess on the next man,” Cora said, wiggling her eyebrows at me. I smirked at her. I’d won the bet the last few times.

  “I’d say it has something to do with money.”

  “It has to be another cheating husband,” Cora said.

  “That was your choice last time.” I laughed.

  “Well, it’s bound to be right again at some point.” She laughed and shrugged.

  I focused my attention on an older man with a slightly hunched back who now stood in front of Vero.

  “What answers do you seek, friend?” Vero asked as she surveyed him carefully, looking for any signs of aggression. Her shoulders relaxed when she found none.

  “I’ve come to see if my crop yields this year will pay off the remaining debt I have,” the man said. I strained to hear his raspy voice. “The council loaned me money during the last drought. I have been paying it off for the last four years. My family cannot continue to give all of our profits to them.”

  Vero turned to look into the spitting fire, going into a trance-like state. Several minutes passed in silence. The visitor cleared his throat, but Vero’s hand shot up. She placed her index finger over his mouth, cutting off his question. Once she was certain he would remain silent, her hand fell back to her side. Her body swayed; her mouth moved,
but no words came out. The Pythia’s body convulsed—hardly out of the ordinary when speaking with the gods. Vero sucked in a deep breath as she came back to herself.

  “Apollo has shown me you will yield enough to pay off your debts. Be cautious of future loans, friend. Later harvests will not prove so fruitful.” Vero looked down at him from her seat. “The council has been patient, but they will not extend the same patience again.”

  The man bowed deeply. “Pythia, thanks be to Apollo. I will not ignore his wisdom. Thank you, Pythia. Thank you.”

  She dismissed him and he slowly made his way up the slope of the chamber. His slow, crouching walk looked painful. After he departed, Vero approached the viewing room. We stepped out from behind the black curtain, fabric rustling softly as it passed over my clothing.

  “Are there any questions?” Vero asked.

  “No, Pythia,” we said in unison. This visitor’s inquiry mirrored many others. Gods willing, most questions would be simple matters. Even then, the gods were fickle and sometimes withheld their guidance for unknown reasons.

  Vero picked up the laurel sprig, chewing on it a moment before placing it on the table next to a small dish of spring water. The Pythia once again took her seat, leaning over the chasm that ran the length of the room and took a deep breath of vapor. She started up the short slope while we retreated out of sight once again.