Shadows of Prophecy. Rachel Lee

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      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 her face so he could better see it. “No Ilduin has ever called such force from the sky without the aid of her sisters. Whether you knew or not, she drew on your power at that moment.”

      Sara shook her head. “That is fine. What does it signify if I tire? Tom is alive.”

      Archer merely nodded, then rose, feeling suddenly very old and very tired. “Keep an eye on Tess, I pray you. I need to speak to the elders.”

      Then he strode away across the cavern floor toward the fire, where the Gewindi elders were gathering. Women all, they were the lifeblood of the clan, the keepers of knowledge and the arbiters of all problems.

      They warmly invited him to sit with them, making space near the comforting flames. For a while they spoke little, as if gathering their resources and thoughts. At a second fire nearby, the cooking had already begun, and the smells of food hung in the air.

      Eiehsa finally spoke, her voice deep with the knowledge of many years. “The prophesied times are upon us,” she announced.

      Five other heads bobbed in agreement.

      “For the first time in our lives, we have seen the true power of the Ilduin unleashed. This can mean but one thing.”

      “Ardebal,” one of the women said.

      “Yes,” Eiehsa agreed, seeming to stare into Archer’s soul. “Ardebal has awakened. And he stalks Gewindi-Tel.”

      It had been two generations of men since Archer had heard the Anari name for the Enemy. And something in the old woman’s face said she knew far more than any was meant to know.

      “Yes,” Archer said. “I believe he looks for Tess and Sara. Earlier on our journey, Lady Tess said that she felt what seemed like an oily presence trying to crawl into her mind. I had thought this was perhaps the hive mind of Lantav Glassidor, whom she slew in Lorense. But during that fray, and at times since, I have sensed the presence of the old Enemy. I think perhaps it was he who tried to crawl into the Lady’s mind, and he still who seeks to capture her.”

      “Well might that be,” Eiehsa said. “But you know more of this than you have said. You know far too much of the Enemy to be merely a passing mortal. Long are the legends of your life, Master Archer, even counted in the days of the Anari. It is not merely Ladies Tess and Sara whom the Enemy seeks. He seeks you, too, does he not?”

      Archer paused for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Yes, Mother. It may be that he does.”

      “And do you know why?” Eiehsa pressed. “It behooves us all to know exactly where we stand in this morass, lest we step onto what we think be firm rock and instead sink into a quicksand.”

      For long moments Archer stared into the leaping flames of the fire. Around his heart, an ancient carapace began to crack, and into the cracks seeped a pain nearly as old as the world. Along with the pain came a harsh certainty. He turned his head to look once again at Eiehsa.

      “I am,” he said, his words weighted as if with lead, “Annuvil.”

      “The elder brother,” Eiehsa said. “Beloved of Theriel, against whom Ardred made the war that ended the First Age.”

      “Aye, Mother,” Archer said. “It was my brother and I that destroyed the world.”

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