Shadows of Prophecy. Rachel Lee

      She turned toward him, her face unearthly as it seemed to glow from within. For an instant it appeared she might lash out at him. Then, with a soft cry, she closed her eyes and sagged. An instant later she lay in an unconscious heap.

      “Tom!” Sara cried. “Oh, Tom, I cannot bear to lose you!” She looked up at Archer, her face stained with tears. “Why could she not heal him?”

      Eiehsa knelt beside her and gripped her shoulders, drawing her into a tight embrace. “Hush, my lady, hush. It is in grief that we are born, and into grief we all must come.”

      Archer knelt beside Tess, taking a quick survey. She was once again in that deep sleep that followed her attempts at healing. Then, not doubting the powers she had called on, he bent forward until his ear was next to Tom’s mouth and nose.

      “He breathes,” he told Sara. “He lives.”

      Then he strode away to find Jenah and the other clan elders. The power that Tess had called upon here would not go unnoticed. They needed to move again as swiftly as possible, before worse trouble came their way.

      Whether she knew it or not, Tess had drawn the attention of someone even worse than the Bozandari, for the Enemy would not fail to detect such a huge use of power.

      Their party was truly hunted now.

      The clan elders moved swiftly, comprehending the threat as well as Archer, for they, unlike the races of men, understood such powers. Stoically the Anari swiftly buried their dead and tended the wounded. Stretchers were made for Tom and some of the other wounded, creating even greater burdens for the fleeing villagers, but none complained.

      Ratha, Giri and Jenah, now riding Tom’s horse, rode out ahead to scout. As the fleeing villagers began their trek once more, with Tom in their midst and Sara riding beside his stretcher, Archer came to claim Tess.

      As he had expected, she was still unconscious, but now her hands clasped the twelve stones he had glimpsed only briefly in the past. Carefully prying them from her fingers, he stashed them in the leather pouch that lay beside her on the ground and slipped the cord around her neck.

      Then, swiftly, he mounted his own steed, and two Anari helped lift her onto the saddle before him. With his arms tight around her, keeping her safe, they followed the rest of the villagers.

      He had much to think on. Perhaps too much. Tess had put them all at risk; he would have to warn her to use her powers sparingly. Now trouble would lie around every twist of the path ahead.

      “She spoke the Old Tongue.”

      Eiehsa had come up beside him, riding one of Gewindi-Tel’s few horses. He looked at her, then nodded. Tess’s head bobbed a little against his shoulder, and he adjusted his hold on her, trying to keep her comfortable as well as safe.

      “Few know the Old Tongue,” Eiehsa said. “I myself have only a smattering. Where did she learn it?”

      “I know not. Perhaps in the days before she lost her memory someone tutored her.”

      “Mayhap, although I know of none but yourself with a complete command of the language.” She paused and sighed heavily. “My Lord, did you hear what she spoke?”

      Archer shook his head.

      “She told the gods that she forbade them to take Tom. And then she said, ‘Sisters, help me now. Sisters, rally your strength to me now. Help me now.’”

      His head turned sharply toward her, and the tightening in his chest grew worse. “Are you sure?”

      Eiehsa shrugged. “Nearly. As I said, my command of the Old Tongue is lacking. But…I am fairly certain that is what the Lady said. And in response, fire rained from the heavens, but only upon the Bozandari.”

      Archer looked down at the small woman in his arms, finding it almost impossible to believe now what he had seen with his own eyes: that she had challenged the gods. Even more troubling, however, were the words she had spoken.

      The last prayer of Theriel.

      7

      Once again the refugees began to move, although not without increased security. Jenah sent roving patrols deep into the surrounding mountains. Meanwhile, women at the rear of the column swept away any trace of their passage. Archer doubted that such efforts would be of much effect. The Enemy that tracked them was not relying on footprints in the desert sand. Still, if these arrangements made the Anari more aware of the danger and more alert to any sight or sound, then perhaps there was value in them after all.

      By midafternoon, they had climbed higher into the mountains and begun to pass networks of caves. Archer had heard of such a redoubt but had never seen it. Now, at a silent command from Jenah, the Anari began to file into one of the cave entrances. As he joined them, Archer saw that the cave was well-selected. It and its side chambers were easily large enough to give shelter to all, and it offered excellent sightlines over any approach.

      “Once,” Eiehsa said to Archer, “years ago, Gewindi-Tel came here to escape the slavers. When we returned, our village had been laid to waste. We never again fled our village, lest we deprive our heirs of their rich history. Long ago, we swore to the Ilduin that we would defend the Telnertah. Now, it seems, that oath must be broken.”

      Archer, who still held the unconscious Tess with her head on his shoulder, answered in heavy tones. “It may be that the time to preserve the temples has passed.”

      Eiehsa looked at him, her eyes unreadable, and finally nodded. “It may be that the temples have come to life.”

      Archer looked down at the woman he held, still unsure what he thought of her and what she had done. “That may be,” he agreed. “May the gods save us all.”

      “The gods,” said Eiehsa, with a mixture of bitterness and sarcasm, “are to blame for this all. Delude yourself not, Master Archer. ’Twas not simply the Enemy and his brother who brought the evil upon the world, nor the love and fury of the Ilduin. The gods themselves created such a power among men, then turned their backs and let that power take its own course. Once the Ilduin had made their awful choice, then the gods proclaimed their wrath and rent the world asunder, as if they could never have foreseen such an event. Mayhap it will be the Ilduin who save us from the gods, Lord Archer.”

      Archer looked sharply at her, trying to read the knowledge that lay behind her words, but could find nothing more than what she had said. Nor did she seem inclined to add to it. Instead she turned and began to tend to the children. A gust of wind blew down from the glacier that ever topped this mountain, driving a chill down inside his cloak. Archer at once shrugged it higher on his shoulders and wrapped more of it around Tess.

      His arms ached with the effort of holding her these many miles, yet he did not begrudge the ache. He begrudged no pain that life brought him, for penance and suffering were his adjudged lot. Nor did he feel sorry for himself. Atonement was his burden, and his alone. He walked to the entrance of the cave and looked out at the roiling black clouds. The Enemy sought them.

      With a shake of his head, he turned and began to look for a safe place to lay Tess. The cavern was cold and dank, but the Anari were already building a large central fire, and a natural chimney somewhere above sucked the smoke away, while drawing in fresh air from the cave’s mouth.

      Archer soon found Tom and Sara, and was pleased to note that Tom seemed to be stirring. Ratha and Giri appeared as if from nowhere to help him lay Tess upon her spread-out bedroll. For an instant she appeared lifeless; then, to Archer’s vast relief, she rolled onto her side and curled up.

      “How is Tom?” he asked Sara.

      She looked up, her face much calmer now, and with perhaps even the hint of a smile. “He improves. He is dreaming, and from time to time he murmurs. His wounds appear healed.” But then she looked at Tess, and her face saddened. “But what it cost her!”

      “I think it cost you, as well,” Archer said, squatting down to take her chin in his hand and turn