by Gregg
Marchese
Enkarra stood on the fabricated platform that extended
to the center of the Core Chamber. She could feel emanations of Earth
Current surging through the conduits that wrapped about the outside of
the thirty foot sphere at the center of which she stood. The mirrored
inner surface (that gave no reflection) concentrated and enhanced that
power, so that she felt its electric tingle of health and well being
even into her bones and soul.
Koniopses her father floated on his back in front of
her, suspended by some miraculous communion he had achieved with the
Earth Current and the Chamber. His body was straight but not stiff, his
arms crossed on his breast. His eyes were open--not staring, not
hollow, but not looking at his daughter either. Enkarra predicted that
he was gazing on a far future vision.
Not an unlikely guess. So often had the visions come
upon Koniopses, Foremost Foreteller. Especially here. She looked down
into his face. Old, old, and yet severely serene. His skull gleamed
smooth in the diffuse silverine light, his face relaxed into acceptance
of mystery. The skin of his cheeks looked so thin as to be almost
translucent, the bones beneath pushing up against that fabric like
poles against a tent. No wrinkles etched that skin, and Enkarra had to
force herself to remember that her father was terribly old--
And dying.
She leaned near and put her hand on his. The skin felt
dry, neither warm nor cool. She felt his heart beneath, gently lumping
along, steady, measured... Just as the man had been. So much he had
taught her of the Foreteller art, even bringing her here often during
her childhood, to watch as he sought his still center, and slowly
floated up. Enkarra had never learned to do that herself, but she had
found her own inner practice, and received her own visions.
None had been like the grand prophecies of the
Foremost. Enkarra gazed openly into Koniopse's dark but distant eyes,
wondering what final vision he might scry. Would he come back one last
time to tell them? She felt her heart lurch at the thought of her dear
father finally dead, never to speak guiding wisdom again, to take her
hand in gentle encouragement, to listen to her little prophecies with
as much awe and approval as he would give to the grandest visions--
She was not here to reminisce and nostalgize. She
cleared her mind with a mental wave, allowed her body to shift to
relaxed centeredness, and stood empty beside the Foremost, hand on
hand, poised for any vision she might receive, either from him or from
the Source.
Most of the New Foretellers now believed that the
source of all prophecies came from that mysterious realm beyond the
gold luminous mist. Almost fifty annums ago, that first entity to speak
through an old janitor had claimed as much, and subsequent visions
indeed appeared to have originated in the West. Experiments in
collaboration with the order of the Monstruwaccans, using improvements
on their instruments, indicated that indeed the aetheric trails left
behind by the coming of prophetic energies--temporal meridians, the
Monstruwaccans called them--originated at the mouth of the gold
luminous mist.
Enkarra did not care so much about the source, as the
content. Her own visions had been colloquial, even mundane. Who would
bond and bear children, where to find lost items, who would be
appointed some post in the complex order of the New Foretellers. They
were always about people, their longings, their needs, their hopes.
Mundane, she thought, but Koniopses often took the time to reassure his
daughter. "We cannot know what is great and what diminutive, in
prophecy." He had smiled and gazed solemnly. "In Foretelling, the
smallest prosaic detail may have the profoundest meaning." In her
memory, his hand drifted to rest on her shoulder, her eager eyes
looking up into his clear intent ones. "To know the gender of an infant
before it is born may stop a Watcher." She blinked and almost gasped,
but then saw the mirth sparkling in his eyes, and burst out laughing. A
single hum of mirth escaped him, and he was solemn again.
She had never known if he had been fully joking.
Now, as her mind went fully still, her body relaxing
into the waves and washes of Earth Current, she found herself falling
into the stillness of the Foremost's soul. Just as in her little
prophecies, where she felt herself mingling with the souls of people
she knew, gaining impressions of their lives, she felt herself mingling
with her father's soul. Yet his was so vast, so empty, so still. She
drifted through its void, trending toward some revelation she could
sense but not see. Soon she realized she was following a faint energy
trace, like the meridians monitored by the Monstruwaccans. With
accelerating speed, this led her through ephemeral layers of the void,
and she knew them then as annums, centuries, ages of time. Enkarra
hurtled toward the future.
Far ahead she saw a gleaming speck in the dull void. As
she hurtled toward it, it lengthened, resolved into a tall man in a
pale robe, the back of his head shining smooth. He turned only his head
a few metrons as she approached his side. She saw his smooth blank face
and intent black eyes. "I have gone this far, to the end before the
end. Only you can go further." The faintest ghost of a smile curled his
lips. "To the beginning beyond the end." He turned back and stared
ahead.
Enkarra followed his gaze, and saw the horrid scene
take form. An inconceivably immense paw as if from some colossal beast
had smashed downward, and great plates and pistons of hardest gray
Redoubt metal were crumpled beneath it. Surrounding bedrock was broken
and mounded. Just beyond the huge paw, against the dark background of
the Forecourt of the Great Pyramid, a slender strand of intense white
light arced away to either side.
From within the Forecourt, running and leaping over the
low strand of light, people came forth. In loose flapping robes, soft
pantaloons, babes in arms, they scurried around the mottled, craggy paw
that had crushed the Great Gate, ran under the immense angled leg, and
fled down the rock-strewn slope beyond the main entrance of the Last
Refuge. Enkarra held her hands to her mouth in horror and empathy for
the plight of these terrified and desperate humans.
"This others have already seen." Koniopses's even voice
gave her something to steady herself against. "In half a million
annums, the South Watcher arrives, to stamp, to crush. The Strand
appears, the Powers for Good intervening one last time. Old prophecies,
much accepted. All I have added is to know that some of these
people..." He stopped and peered at the scene. "There." He flexed a
single finger to indicate a middle-aged man among the throng, clumsily
stumbling over broken stone, eyes rolling at the great dark leg posed
above, mouth stretched in panting grimace, hands clutching the hem of
his robe, revealing his pale calves and booted feet.
The Foremost rotated his head and gazed at his
daughter. "Our descendant. A Foreteller, though he knows it not. Much
will be forgotten by then."
"Our-- descendant?" Enkarra was struck by the
implications.
Now Koniopses's smile was evident. "You will have a
child. Who will have other descendants. And others. Until--"
His eyes flicked back to the man, who now ran on
flatter ground, following one stream of humans that were turning aside
and running West over gnarled, broken ground, their shadows sharp and
long from the light of the Strand behind. Ahead, far beyond the dark
Western horizon, shone a distant gold glow.
Enkarra put a hand on her father's arm, felt the firm
flesh beneath the coarse fabric. She leaned forward to catch his eye
again, raised an eyebrow a metron.
"No, it's not prophecy." He rolled his eyes briefly.
"Just deduction not even a Scholar would trifle with. If he is our
descendant, then you must have children."
"Dryke." She was following her own deduction pathway.
"Have you visioned any children from him?"
She let her stillness be her answer.
"It is so much harder to prophecy our own lives. That's
why I'm here, and not back in my body in the Core Chamber."
"And that's why you think I can't predict my own
childbearing."
He turned fully to her and his face was bright with
love, his eyes shimmering with fondness and gentle affection. "You are
a precious soul. A Foreteller with empathy. That is a powerful
combination. Gifts from your mother, I'm sure." He smiled and it was as
if his love flowed through his eyes directly into her heart. Tears
soaked her eyes and she wanted to feel his arms around her, but he
stood immobile. His eyes flicked aside. His finger flexed once more.
"Go with him. He is going where I cannot. Only you can.
Go, and return."
Enkarra faced the scene, saw the back of the man, his
robe flapping now, silhouetted against the wan gold glow beyond the
black Western horizon. Leaving her father standing still and solemn,
she surged her soul forward to catch up with the last living member of
her lineage.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"It's not just technological, as we've known before.
Not even biological, though that's closer. More like--" Dione paced her
chamber, her enthusiasm restored by Nemia's long-awaited visit. The
view table still shimmered, but the problems listed there no longer
daunted her. With the Supreme Scholar's help, Dione felt there was
nothing they could not solve. She felt like she used to decades ago:
indomitable.
Nemia, holding a black stalk that dangled from the
ceiling and peering into its single oculus, finished the Masters'
sentence. "--spiritual." She unsquinted her eye and looked over at
Dione. "The Great Spy Glass in some sense had living energies contained
within it, like the diskoi. The Winged Shadow Creatures knew this, and
had a spore or virus prepared, to infect the Glass during their
attack."
"Yes. It is as if ill now." Dione paced some more,
discharging restless excitement. "You can tell by the image."
Nemia stroked the stalk of the oculus, felt the hard
smooth strands of metal that wrapped the flexible tube. "Blurry, fading
with distance, poor resolution at even moderate distances, impaired
light collection--"
"I think it is lonesome."
The Supreme flinched her head, as the Master's words
started a thought-stream surging along her mental pathways--as Dione
must have known it would. The Master had become adept at propelling the
Supreme's thoughts along productive channels. Nemia followed the
sequence until she arrived at a transient summation. "All the other
oculuses together afforded the Great Spy Glass multiscopic vision,
depth perception, many reference angles from which to assemble a
complete view of the Night Land. Now it has only this one. It sees only
a flat, dark world."
"That would despair any living soul."
Again Nemia's thoughts surged at the Master's words.
She allowed the branchings and convergences, and stated the summation.
"Despair is only one half of the duality the Spy Glass must have, if it
is to see through the mist."
The Master stopped and nodded, smiling her old knowing
grin. "It must have another oculus, to afford it the deep view that
pierces beyond the Night Land. And that oculus--"
"Must see with the vision of hope." Nemia nodded her
own knowing.
"To provide the antithesis--"
"the impasse--"
"that reconciles--"
"--into truth."
The Master nodded gravely. "Only then will we observe
directly that which lies beyond the gold luminous mist."
Nemia's eyes were wide at the implications. "We will
finally know whether to encourage our citizens to go, or to stay in the
safety of the Great Pyramid. No more unfounded hopes, desperate wishes.
We will know." Her Scholar's brain thrilled at the prospect.
Dione was still concerned with practicalities. She
strode to her view table and with a palm wiped the top clean. She began
to trace glowing lines on the plate with her finger. "The ancients did
not just build the Great Spy Glass. They--"
"--infused it with energy. Living energy."
"And so it could be infected, drained, peripheral
oculuses depowered as if with disease."
Nemia was thinking hard. "Each oculus must have been
powered from the energy of a separate being or creature."
"Human, or monster?" Dione thought she knew, but wanted
the Supreme's confirmation.
"Human of course!" The thought that some spirit from
the Night Land might be contained in the Great Spy Glass appalled
Nemia--though she knew such things had been attempted. "The oculuses
themselves are almost surely designed and built upon a close study of
human visual organs."
"And the energy which powers them?"
"It would be communal, capable of high resolution
distance focusing, color capable, adaptable to darkness--" Nemia's
thoughts propelled her to the final revelation.
Before Nemia could speak, the Master already knew.
Dione braced herself on the view table. "We will need a volunteer."
They stood in shared distress and determination for a
few moments, each of them aware of their strengths and burdens as
Redoubt Archons. Nemia came over and put her hand on Dione's shoulder
without speaking. Even the mind-speech was unneeded. For many annums
they had shouldered and shared these burdens, and had become bonded in
their hearts.
The Master lifted one hand from the view table and
placed it over Nemia's a moment. Dione did not look up as her other
hand moved to point out the next item on the screen. "The present
population drain will have drastic effects on future demographics.
Especially the increasing departures of our youth."
Nemia stared down at the screen. "I was a youth myself
when the first entity came, and the first Peregrination went out. If
not for Mett--"
I did my best to
inspire you to stay and take up the
role of Supreme. His presence was instantly within her, though
this
time he did not nudge her aside, but settled beside her own soul,
allowing her quick and easy access to her body and brain elements.
And she has done
splendidly. The Master shifted to
mind-speech, annoyed at the entity's intrusion but knowing they could
benefit from Mett's input.
Oh yes,
splendidly--for people who still cling to
doubts about their own salvation. Mett's mood was patiently
amused.
Nemia asserted herself. I've done what I could to
foster a healthy reflection. Even you might not know the truth of that
realm you believe exists beyond the mist.
Mett was smug. But I
do know. That is the only basis
from which to decide to go on Peregrination. At least for a Scholar.
For a Monstruwaccan,
the Master sent, clear observation
is the basis. And our observation is--
She paused for effect.
Nemia completed the thought. --misty.
But you are planning
a way to clarify your
observations.
The Master remained unmoved, but Nemia started at what
this revealed about Mett's presence. You
can listen to our
conversations without me knowing?
No. Mett was
patient, and Nemia fought not to feel the
old humbleness and shame that had so often stirred in her, back when
she had been the living Mett's protégé. Mett let her
struggle, then patiently explained. You
will always know when I am
here. But I can glean glimpses of your most recent memories, when you
are unguarded. You have poor mental boundaries when you are enthused,
you know. He took control of Nemia's face and smiled.
She took control back and pressed her lips.
You do not oppose our
Spy Glass project, do you? The
Master peered unmoving.
Mett paused. Nemia knew why: it would cast suspicion on
him if he was opposed to direct observation of the realm beyond the
mist. If they succeeded, would it reveal that Mett's descriptions were
false?
Harvesting the power
of sight from among the
populations? Mett waved one of Nemia's hands. Ethically, no, I am not
opposed. Many are willing to sacrifice. I'm just disappointed as always
that you don't believe my descriptions.
Nemia made a fist. This
from a former Supreme? You
always mentored me not to act on hopes or hunches, but knowledge.
The convictions of a
Supreme Scholar--former or
current--are knowledge.
As are the
observations of the Master Monstruwaccan.
Dione glanced down at her view table to remind them all of the pressing
agenda, spoke aloud to Nemia. "Let us discuss your plans to encourage
more forays into the Lost Cities. Mett, will you leave us now? You have
no interest in this area, I trust."
Oh, but I do.
He was stroking Nemia's braids through
her hands, enjoying the sensation, then began to rub her hips and
thighs. These bodies are so
sensuous, you can scarcely appreciate them
until you have lost them. Skin! But do go on, I will not intrude--much.
Indeed you will not.
Nemia took back her body and
nudged Mett to the side of her mind. He went docilely, knowing he had
limited influence when Dione was present.
"Now." The current Supreme offered her report. "Thus
far, we have reclaimed twelve of the Lost Cities--"
Only parts of them.
Mett was exacting in his monitoring
of details.
Dione acknowledged the correction. It was one reason
she wanted him here.
Nemia remained still, then continued. "Some of the
longer-established populations there have been breeding, expanding to
occupy more of their Cities. Our campaigns through the hours-slips have
been successful in promoting the Lost Cities as new internal frontiers,
to counteract the enthusiasm for the Peregrinations. We should be ready
for another--"
Earth Current.
Mett too much enjoyed mentioning the
limitations.
The Master was already consulting her view table. "I
have reports from the Charging Masters here. The reclaimed Cities are
already taxing the energy rations. Unless we can find some other way to
combat the blights that are attacking the Underground Fields, more
Earth Current must be diverted there. And Koniopses has been granted an
increase to the Core Chamber, on the hope that he can break through to
a consummate prophecy during his death process. We have no way to know
how long that will take. Even he has no prediction."
"The Youth Leagues are joining the Peregrinations in
increasing numbers." Nemia remained calm now, even despite Mett's next
intrusion.
Youthful optimism is
a form of wisdom.
Nemia ignored him. "The Elder Councils the
Monstruwaccans have established to talk with them are having limited
effect."
Dione had to nod acknowledgement at this.
Nemia continued. "The best hope we have of redirecting
some of their 'youthful optimism' is to lead another foray to reclaim
another Lost City. The thirteenth. I believe I can make something of
the numerology. Ancient moon cycles and all that. And we can target a
City that may have stored Earth Current. We may gain some energy, not
just spend it."
Dione made notes. "Can you engage Scholar research aids
to compile the requisitions? Discoi, heat robes, transport-- It all
needs Earth Current, my dear Supreme."
And am I not also
your dear Supreme? Mett relaxed his
sarcasm and shared a rare moment of feeling. I am concerned for her.
Reading my mind again?
Nemia's tone was accusative.
No. Simple deduction.
You never did discover its full
potential.
Nemia looked at Dione and fidgeted herself with her
braids. "I'll want to lead the foray myself."
The Master did not so much as blink. "Unwise. You are
not so vigorous as you were in your early days leading forays. We need
you here." She glanced briefly up.
Nemia knew she meant not just here, in these Archon
planning councils, but here, in the Redoubt. Alive.
"I'm bored." Nemia struggled not to sound like a
petulant child. "I need a new frontier too. These constant
deliberations drain me. I want to act!" Her hand flexed, and the Master
knew it was the reflex of a warrior to grasp her Diskos.
"Not compelling reasons.”
If you want to act,
lead a Peregrination. There's a
cure for boredom, and the ultimate frontier. Beyond! Mett's
shout rang
in both their minds. These chambers
and nagging problems are indeed
confining. I am eager to get back. Freedom and space and light await!
Abruptly he was gone.
The Master still faced the Supreme. Their session had
diverged from the personal to the official. Perhaps that's what Mett
wanted, Dione thought. Let us
delay another foray until Koniopses
delivers his final vision.
If. Nemia was
back in her detached role. We should
see
an increase of Earth Current afterward, anyway.
The son, Dryke,
cannot
possibly be the next Foremost.
His visions are of the past. They don't have a clear prophecy yet on
the succession.
They would never
accept
Cerantae, Nemia agreed. She
has
departed too far from Foreteller dispassion.
I have observed that
the Foretellers have changed.
Dione used the preamble to indicate that she had been focusing her
powers in this direction.
Nemia nodded. Not
Enkarra?
The Master neither moved nor replied, leaving the
question dangling. Slowly she sat before her view table. I'll issue a
request for volunteers for the Spy Glass project.
Nemia moved toward the door. I'll compile the
requisitions for Earth Current.
The Master saw the merest tension in the Supreme's
hand. Nemia.
The Supreme turned on the threshold.
You might take a
lover.
Nemia turned and left through the door before the
Master could read her expression. It took all her effort to hide her
thought. Would that it could be you.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Finally all the mobs had been sent away for the day, and
Cerantae sat
on a cushion before the horizon door to the Core Chamber. She tried to
empty her thoughts. How often in her life this Foreteller discipline
had restored her--or prepared her. Sometimes, if prolonged, it had even
brought her visions. Mostly she had seen Watchers, or shadows of
Watchers it seemed. In those visions, why had she seen no Eye-Beam,
that blinded (or illuminated) the eye of the South-West Watcher? Where
had the Blue Crown gone that had forever hovered over the head of the
North-East Watcher? The Red Tether that had snared the ankle of the
North-West Watcher, the two Towers that flared perpetually flanking the
South-East Watcher, and the Glowing Dome that seemed to block the path
of the South Watcher-- all gone dark, only the black shadows of the
enormous Watchers looming closer, closer--
Cerantae knew why these
visions intruded now. They were the symbols of approaching death. Her
eyes stared at the door before her, but in her mind's eye she saw
Koniopses, standing so still before her, yet feeling his deep passion,
his profound acceptance of their shared purpose. No vision this, but
memory. It had been the moment when they both knew they must bear
children together, to send Foreteller guides into the future.
And to
consummate their love. Yes, beneath all his discipline and focus and
purpose, all Koniopses did was for love. Love of the future, of the
Pyramid and its many peoples--and finally love for his family. Cerantae
knew he could not fully embrace that familial love, nor directly
express it, lest he lose his visions of the far future. That was where
his service to the Last Redoubt must focus.
.All of Cerantae's other
visions had been parochial, focused within her own lifetime, or at the
longest, those of her children. Enkarra's visions too had all been of
the very near future--except her latest. In fact, most of the New
Foreteller visions in the past few decades had been near-focused.
Dryke's had even been focused on the past. He had proposed a new term
to define this phenomenon: Afteller.
A problem, Koniopses had thought
it, a disturbing trend of disempowerment among the Foretellers. "We are
too endeared of our own present lives now" he had stated. "Love of now
blocks us from knowledge of a distant future."
Why had no Foreteller
prophesied the name of the next Foremost? Always in the vast history of
the Foretellers, someone among their order had received a vision of the
succession. Often it had been the current Foremost, or among the higher
adepts, but sometimes even from the new initiates. Some now were
talking of Enkarra, but no one had seen--
She will need much
freedom
now.
Koniopse's sending spread through Cerantae's mind, and
she
felt a
deep calm spread through her body. Had he been listening in on her
ramblings? The door silently irised open on silver light.
Please be
with me now.
Cerantae stood and walked into the light. It shimmered
in
the air, obscuring the silverine inner surface of the Chamber that
arched wide all around her. She felt the shimmer in her own bones,
seeping into her soul, a pulse of health and well-being. A twinge of
concern touched her, at how much Earth Current the Power Proctors were
allowing to accumulate here. Had Koniopses redeemed that expense with a
consummate vision? Would he tell her now? She tried to wipe these
thoughts from her mind and in some degree of Foreteller stillness
walked along the platform and approached the figure that lay floating
at the center of the Chamber. She stood above him and looked down.
His
eyes were open and clear, their black opaque spheres shining with
silver now as he looked past her into the light. His face, smooth and
unlined, settled with serenity against the firm bones beneath. Under
the simple robe his body lay straight but relaxed, still of firm flesh,
though he had not eaten for many days.
Now at last I can
share my love
for them.
Cerantae felt his relief, his joy, his grief, flood
through
her. All his efforts and disciplines as Foremost had dropped away, and
only love was left. She knew what it meant. You have always shared love
with me.
Yes. That never
threatened my visions, only strengthened
them.
Cerantae felt the pulse of his heart reaching out to
her, and without
moving offered her own heart to him. His eyes were unseeing, hers were
closed now, but behind her lids she sensed a brighter light growing,
felt it streaming between her chest and Koniopses's. The concentrated
haze of Earth Current charged the bond between them.
Dryke. She
needed to know if Koniopses had any insights.
My dear son. I will not see
him again. Please tell him of my love and care for him.
Do you--?
No. No visions of his fate
from me. Enkarra may. But I need no Foretelling to
know as a father that distress will drive him to some act of extremis.
Should I--?
Our influence on his
life is done. Only freedom and his own
choices must guide him now. Do tell him how much I loved him.
Cerantae
felt tears well under her lids, did not care if they slipped out to
drop onto his robe.
Enkarra then. What of
her vision? Is she to
become--
Gentle amusement rippled from Koniopses, and at once
Cerantae
shared it, waves of amber light rippling through their bond. She
grinned. I am like some silly
supplicant, desperate for truth from the
oracle. They both rippled mirth again, knowing how a mother's
love
could humble even so accomplished an adept as Cerantae. She regained
her composure with a reminder of stillness, waiting without expectancy.
Enkarra has achieved--
a great concurrence. Koniopses allowed his pride
to flow freely. I know she has made
official report of her vision, but
together she and I schemed to withhold some of its truths. Now you must
know.
Her spirit found mine,
witnessing the crushing of the Great Gate
by the paw of the South Watcher, half a million years hence. Together
we watched our far-future descendant flee the crisis, a middle-aged man
in robe and home-boots, struggling and staggering among the masses
along the Road, running West. Far across the horizon the glow of the
gold luminous mist shone, brighter still than our present day. I told
Enkarra that here my vision ended, that no further could I probe the
future. And I bade her follow that man into the future.
She stared into
my eyes. He's my son, she said. My brother, my father-- Abruptly she
left me, her spirit running to overtake the man, running beside him
until I lost them against the gold glow. I waited, watching as more
people fled the Last Refuge, terrified that the hordes of monsters that
followed behind the Watcher would pour in through the crumpled gate and
beset them. Long I waited, in the presence of that Strand of bright
light, thin but sharp upon my spirit-sight, flaring behind the crushed
gate and dark gnarled paw. Fewer and fewer people fled the Pyramid, and
no monster crossed that line. Longer still I lingered, wondering if
ever I would see our daughter again, or if I had lost her forever into
the gold mist of the distant future.
Finally I saw in the far
West a
tiny shadow at the base of the gold glow. It grew, clarified, slowly
and haltingly approached. So slowly she shuffled, head hanging,
shoulders slumped, feet barely lifting. How strongly I wanted to go to
her, help her, but I could not move a metron or a moment from that
place and time. She must come to me all on her own.
Finally Enkarra
stopped before me, an arm's length away. I reached out, but could not
touch. Her eyes, her face, awe and dismay having ravaged through it,
and joy and grief too, leaving it slack.
It's true, she said. I've
been
there. Light, beauty, warmth, bounty-- We"re meant to live there. Not--
Her hand barely gestured
at the Redoubt beside us, the towering
Watcher, all the dark Night Land. I want a real home.
She fell forward
into my arms.
For long I carried her
back, through the leagues, the
ages. Now all the love I had withheld from her for so long I poured
forth, sustaining her, nourishing her heart. At last she revived, and
walked beside me on her own, holding my hand, saying nothing for a
time. Finally she spoke. I held back love from you too. We had
to. But
when I saw that man, knew him as one of my family-- All that love leapt
forth to him. It was that which allowed me to accompany him, even
beyond the gold luminous mist.
I stopped and stared
at her.
But what
brought you back?
She stared into my
eyes. A gentle smile grew on her
spirit face. You and Cerantae and Dryke are my family too.
Hearing this
tale, Cerantae struggled for Foreteller dispassion. There was one truth
which they must address. Is it true
then? Can we rely on Enkarra's tale
as a first-hand witnessing of the realm beyond the mist?
Thus far, we
have only been told of it by entities, spirits of our ancestors we are
led to believe. But were not the Silent Ones such spirits, made
malevolent by the House of Silence? How are we to know whether these
entities who preach to us now are not malevolent?
Enkarra is not
malevolent. Cerantae's judgment was not that of a defensive
mother, but
of a detached Foreteller assessing truth.
Indeed not. And perhaps the
entities are not either. But both may be deceived by illusions.
So we
still have no clear prophecy to guide our future. A twinge of
dismay
touched Cerantae's stillness.
We are one step
closer. And the next
step--
All Cerantae's composure fled her as she knew what was
to come.
A prophecy of the next moment, and a pulse of mingled dread, grief,
relief and gratitude surged through the bond between their hearts. His
hand stirred and reached up. She reached down and gently held it. His
eyes shifted to gaze shining silver into hers, sending only love
through their bond. Then the bond and his eyes went dark.
In that
moment Cerantae knew why the name of the next Foremost had not been
foreseen.
In the next moment, Koniopses's body and robe drifted
into
scintillant dust that merged with the ambient light haze.
© Gregg
Marchese
20 April 2012
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