Shadows of Prophecy. Rachel Lee

slay a thousand souls to save him, Mother. As I watched the legend in the fire and recalled how I felt when Tom was wounded, I knew all too well why my sisters came together to mete such destruction. Love is a great thing, Mother. But it can also be a curse.”

      “That it can, Lady Sara,” Eiehsa said. “And it is upon each of us to choose which it will be. Ardebal’s love created the fire, Lady Sara. Your love creates healing.”

      “But also have I bled fire, Mother. When my own mother was murdered before my eyes, I bled Ilduin fire upon her killer and tormented him into his last moments. I am no goddess of life, and I know that. I pray that I also am no goddess of death.”

      “Your young heart carries a heavy load,” Eiehsa said, squeezing her hand. “The past and the future can crush you in their vice if you permit it. Perhaps the best that you can do is to banish both and live in the kindness of each moment. That is all any of us can do.”

      Sara sighed. “In this moment, then, I long for sleep. If you will pardon me?”

      “Of course, Lady,” Eiehsa said. “I too need rest, as do we all. Let us pray for a sleep that carries us into the heart of Elanor and heals our pain.”

      “Or,” Sara said, “for a sleep that carries me into the heart of my darling Tom and nestles him forever in mine.”

      “Ahh,” Eiehsa cried softly, a wide smile breaking over her face. “To be young and in love again. It warms my old bones, child. Thank you.”

      With that, she left for the circle of her companions, and Sara slid in next to Tom, holding him to her, praying that his dreams would find her heart, as well.

      * * * *

      As others were falling asleep in the cavern, Tess made her way outside to find Archer. He proved to be but one of several who were standing guard over the cave and its occupants, but he stood apart. He always stood apart, she realized. In some indefinable way, he was separate.

      The thought of that loneliness filled her heart with a sorrowful ache as she approached him. He didn’t turn his head, didn’t take his eyes from the mountains and valleys he watched so intently, but he knew it was she.

      “Why do you not sleep with the others, Lady?”

      She paused, still six paces behind him. “Sleep eludes me,” she said finally, then crossed the distance to his side.

      He gave a brief nod but still failed to look at her. She watched his face, chiseled harsh by the starlight, cast in secrecy by the deep shadows around his eyes. He looked like a figure out of myth—or nightmare. Sometimes she found she wasn’t sure which. Nor did she care. The sight of him always struck a chord deep within her.

      “So,” he said, “you have seen the story of the end of the First Age.”

      “Aye.” She turned her gaze from him to look out over the shadowy rills of the mountains. “’Twas much as you told it.”

      “There is only one tale. It can be told in many forms, but there is only one tale.”

      She nodded, neither knowing nor caring whether he saw. “I find,” she said slowly, “that much as I thought I was confused and frightened when I awoke amidst the carnage of the caravan without memory, I grow more confused with each passing day, not more enlightened.”

      “’Tis always that way when one realizes that much is demanded of one…but exactly what that might be remains a mystery.”

      “Aye.” She sighed. “I’m also frightened. I’m frightened that I might fail when so much hope is placed in me.” Her fingers rose to caress the bag of stones around her neck.

      “We all share the same fear, my Lady,” he said, his voice a deep, quiet rumble. “This time was foretold for centuries, but foretold or not, I think none of us is prepared.”

      Tess might have laughed at that, except for the lock that dread held on her heart. “I fear for Tom.”

      Now he did glance at her. “Why? He appears to be recovering.”

      She gripped the stones tightly. “How did I get the stones back? I saw with my own two eyes as they sank into his flesh and sealed his wounds.”

      Archer shook his head. “I know not. I found them in your hands when you were unconscious after the healing. I returned them to the bag, and the bag to your neck.”

      “Did you see what they did to him?”

      Archer hesitated. “In all honesty, my Lady, I was distracted by the rain of fire from the sky.”

      Would she could laugh, for somehow his response was so understated it seemed to cry out for humor. But laughter had deserted her, at least for now.

      “I don’t know how that happened, either.”

      “You spoke the last prayer of Theriel.” Now he turned toward her, facing her, his posture almost accusing. “If you cannot remember anything before the caravan was slaughtered, how is it you recall a prayer that has not been spoken in centuries?”

      Tess shook her head, feeling even more frightened, and now frustrated, as well. “I do not recall my words.”

      “I do. They were spoken with Theriel’s dying breath, calling her sisters to her, to help her. The result was the utter destruction of Dederand.”

      “The plain of glass,” she said, remembering the visions in the fire.

      “Aye, that was the result. Such power was never before unleashed, nor since. Until you.”

      “But…” Her throat clogged, and she could not speak in her own defense.

      He surprised her then, by reaching out to touch her shoulder. “I am not saying you cast down the rain of fire. I am saying only that you spoke Theriel’s last prayer, and your sisters, wherever they may be, answered and saved us from the Bozandari.”

      Her mind reeling, Tess spread her hands helplessly. “I know nothing of this. For the sake of everyone, I must somehow learn! I want to see no more blasted cities, even in tales told around a fire.”

      His arm moved around her, drawing her close to his side, within the shelter of his cape. The warmth was welcome, the comfort even more so.

      “That is why we go to Anahar, my Lady,” he said, his words soft enough that they reached only her ears. “There at the main temple, all the secrets of the Ilduin are inscribed. ’Tis said that the adept can learn merely by walking through it and pondering the story’s many meanings. It is, I am told, a story that tells itself across the ages, through time, a key to the powers of the Ilduin.”

      “And then what?” she asked, a bitterness near tears filling her.

      “Then we do what we must.”

      “I don’t wish to create any more ugliness!”

      “At times, Lady,” he said his voice laden with pain, “we are given no choice. We cannot let Ardred rule. You saw him through Lantav. You have brushed against his evil. He would turn this entire world and all in it to dust to satisfy his lust for power and revenge.”

      Remembering the moments of which Archer spoke, Tess shuddered. Finally, in a wisp of a voice, she replied, “No. We cannot let him succeed. But what did I do to Tom when I healed him?”

      “That I cannot say. It is the first time I have ever seen cleansing Ilduin fire heal. He took that fire within him and was healed.” He repeated it as if it still amazed him. “Many are the ways of Ilduin healing, but never before has it been by fire.”