Preview - Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE TEACHER
In the dark recesses of Castle Neleuwan, a wizened man descended the cold narrow steps towards an old meat cellar. Revered as an advisor of kings and queens, his words had shaped nations and history alike. Today, he had a different purpose. The echo of his shoes hitting the stone beneath his feet grew less noticeable as the loud roar from beyond the door became more prominent the closer he moved towards it. Uncertain of what he would find beyond it, he proceeded with haste—not with fear, but excitement. Reaching the door at the base of the stairs, he held for a moment as if considering something, then suddenly pushed through. In the same instant, the noise that had been heard all the way from the top of the stairwell fell to silence. For a fleeting moment, all eyes turned towards the figure that had entered the room. A sudden cheer went up, and the room’s occupants moved to their proper places. The boys’ excitement had turned to reverence at the arrival of their new teacher: an imposing figure in brown robes with a grey beard cascading down the front, stopping just short of the simple runic pattern just above the belt wrapped at his waist. The figure strode across the room and took his place at the front of the boys, now seated around the small, dark chamber. The meat cellar, having been converted to a classroom of sorts, smelled of damp and dirt, doing nothing to give away its true purpose. As a teacher, the man had great influence over the minds of the young men who’d settled into their places beneath his heavy eyebrows. Only now would they come to understand his true intentions.
“Good morning, squires,” came a deep, resonant voice from within the hood. It was tinged with great wisdom and knowledge, and a sense of optimism for what was to come. Of course, the boys had been told about their teacher, and each had been excited in their own way to meet this robed figure. His voice felt familiar and comforting to them, as if he’d known them all for years, and a good friend was returning into their presence. Before he went on, he turned around to gesture to the only other man in the room, signalling that he could return to his duties. The man nodded and exited, leaving the robed man to his work. The boys had been waiting for this lesson for some time, and their banter about what to expect had stirred them into a frenzy. Whoever this robed figure was, their expectations of him were exceptionally high. The figure turned back to face his students once more, making sure his face could not be seen. The mood in the room grew to one of even greater anticipation, as each boy had formed an image in his mind of what this figure might look like, and were eager to compare their vision to the reality. For many years, this figure had fostered intrigue, rumours, and misgivings with his historic words, stories, and tales … but ultimately, he was a man like any other. Teaching the squires firsthand was one of his greatest joys, and he continued to make sure he visited the new boys each year—sometimes for one lesson, sometimes for many more. On this occasion, he had yet to make up his mind which it would be. He let the anticipation build for a little longer than the boys had expected, standing in front of them without saying a word, waiting for the uncomfortable silence to fester. Finally, now that he had their undivided attention, he slowly drew back his hood. Whenever he did this, he always made certain that he drew it back to reveal a sunny countenance and a positive smile. His smile was bright and friendly, with eyes that showed his caring and wisdom. The boys released a collective breath, his disposition putting them at ease.
“A question for you, boys … or could it be a riddle?” The man grinned, looking around the room and making eye contact with each boy. “If you wanted to influence our world from somewhere beyond it, how would you go about it?” The room was silent for a long time before a young boy raised his hand. “Sir?” “Yes, Montague!” he said, pointing at the boy. The boy was surprised the man knew his name, to the point that it threw him off his answer. He had to physically shake his head to get his thoughts back in order. “Well, I’d probably come in a dream or premonition,” he said, apparently trying to convince himself of his own answer. The robed man nodded in appreciation. “You are close, Montague, though that is not quite the answer I was looking for.” Located in the lower parts of the palace, the makeshift classroom was not well lit, even with candles. As such, the meek voice that came from a dark corner at the far reaches of the room came as quite a surprise to all but the man himself. “Prophecy!” the voice squeaked. “Correct, Forgrand.” A smile was all the robed figure could see, but it practically lit up the darkened corner. He could only smile in return.
“Prophecy, gentlemen! For over four millennia, we have had reported incidences of prophecy—some which have come to pass, and others that have not. Take, for example, the prophecy known as The Contingent. This prophecy alone predicted the downfall of the Igerian State.” The figure began to walk the front of the room as he spoke. “Naturally, every philosopher and mage at the time was cautious of prophecy … and when Igerian politicians decided to send the Carsian government a demand for the surrender of their city, who would’ve thought they were even capable of responding in such a way that, by the next day, the State of Igeria would be razed to the ground? The connection was not understood at the time, but when you relate the incident back to the prophecy, the answer presents itself. Listen carefully. “‘The wolf strikes, but the beast turns on its master to burn its own heart. Fire rains, earth moves, and time is lost to the wolf.’ Now, who can tell me how we might interpret this prophecy?” “Sir?” said a young man, slowly raising his hand. Notably smaller than the others, the boy wore the attire of a squire, though it seemed to swim on him. The depth of his voice, however, belied his impish figure. His face was covered in smudges of dirt, and he’d taken off his shoes. He was most unusual for a squire, and quite out of place among the other boys. He sat removed from most of the others, save for a boy the man recognised as Marcus, several years Higant’s senior. The two boys served as squires under Baron Vandeguild, the king’s second cousin, and appeared quite close. “Higant. What say you?” said the man, intrigued that the youngest of the students had put himself forward. The moment the boy started to answer, ever so slightly, his eyes flared a light blue. Were it anyone else, they might not have noticed … but it did not escape his teacher’s attention.
“Firstly, sir,” Higant began, “the words of The Contingent alone weren’t much to go on. I can’t imagine them being enough to connect this prophecy to the Igerian State, nor the relevant time period.” He paused for several moments more, pulling together his thoughts. Finally, Higant asked, “Did the prophecy have markers?” The question came as a surprise to the robed figure—and by the look on Higant’s face, they’d come as something of a surprise to him, too. In contrast, the rest of the boys turned to look at the boy with annoyance. Unaware of the significance of what he’d said, the room was quickly filled with well-targeted jibes. “Boys, that’s enough,” said the robed man, a hard edge to his voice. The room fell silent. “Higant. I’m not sure of your heritage … but you’re quite right. Markers are important, especially in prophecy. I will let you all in on a little secret, unknown even to most scholars. When a prophecy is scribed, there is always a marker placed somewhere on the parchment. For centuries, the purpose of these markers eluded all who looked upon them, and the events foretold by prophecy were often only connected to them after they’d occurred … that is, until about a year ago, when a very wise woman cracked the code.” One of the boys scoffed.
“A woman, sir? What do they know about prophecy? She must’ve had help from a wizard,” he said, his chest puffing up in front of his friends. Several of the other boys echoed his sentiment. The man’s voice was calm, composed, and strong. “Gentlemen, it’s past time you let go of your beliefs about what the world should expect of women. Some of the most revered, strong, and wise people in all the world are women, and I for one am very glad that’s true. I hope you will all consider your words around the fairer sex, and make sure you show them the respect they deserve.” The one who’d spoken looked down at his shoes, his chest deflating. “Sorry, sir,” several of the boys said in unison.
“Now, as I was saying,” said their teacher, his eyebrows rising as if to make the point. “One day, a woman appeared before the priests and mages of Acoreq, the centre of all prophecy in the world, asking their leave to access the recorded prophecies and aid in the search for the meaning of the mysterious marks. Just as you boys reacted to her gender, so too did they, being all male at the time. A moot was held, and it took ten full days and nights for the Council to come to a consensus. Had they not voted in her favour, we may never have understood the markers, and history may have taken on a very different shape. In the end, it was a boy no older than yourselves that won over the Council … but that is a story for another time. Let me tell you why prophecies have markers, and how they were unlocked.” By now, most of the boys were transfixed. The man smiled. “This young lady spent many months searching the prophecies for the key to the markers. She was passionate about her work, so much so that all else became superfluous to her. Her family, her friends … even the mages of the Acoreq thought she was a ghost for many months, only seeing her late in the hours of the evening and up before the calls of the roosters in the early dawn.
“In the eight months that passed after she’d been given access to the prophecies, she toiled through thousands of documents—some easily read, others no more than scribbles on loose parchment. She’d said little in that time, and written less … until late one spring evening when, on her way to her bed, she’d had a revelation. Deciding that she needed an immediate answer to a question that had been burning in her mind, she navigated her way to the chambers of The Luminary, the head of the Council of Acoreq. She needed an answer only he could provide.” “What was the question?” came a unified voice from the room, holding onto every word. No matter how many times the man had told this story, the reaction was always the same. His smile broadened. “The question, gentlemen—” There was a loud bang against the oak door, causing the room to collectively jump.
The robed figure moved towards the door and opened it to reveal a young messenger, wearing robes similar to his own. The messenger bowed his head in reverence and reached into the sleeve of his robe, withdrawing a roll of parchment. The parchment bore the seal of Acoreq. The messenger stood upright, holding out the parchment. A silence had fallen across the room, the boys eager to see what the messenger had brought.
“Time turns for no man but the one true prophet,” said the messenger, kneeling as he handed the parchment over. The more perceptive of the boys’ jaws dropped. With that, their teacher’s identity had become clear to them. The robed figure before them was none other than Master Vandrune, the true prophet. The boys had been told they’d be taught by a mage today, and that the lesson was not one to be missed … but they never would’ve imagined that the mage would be the true prophet himself.
“Time has no master but time itself,” responded Vandrune. The messenger rose, bowed his head, and headed back the way he’d come. Master Vandrune looked down at the seal on the paper, then turned back to the boys, a smirk slowly coming to his face. “You may close your mouths, boys, before you catch something.” The boys, realising they must have looked ridiculous, did so. “Are you truly a real prophet, sir?” asked Marcus, who’d been looking back and forth between him and Higant excitedly. “I am simply what I am, boys—nothing more and nothing less,” he said in a forthright manner, placing the parchment inside his robes. “Now, where were we?” Looking around at the boys, searching their faces for an answer, Vandrune realised they were in shock, and one would not be forthcoming.
“Ah, yes. The question the young lady had posed to the head mage at Acoreq.” The young men quickly remembered their curiosity, which only seemed to have deepened with the knowledge of who he was. “She asked of The Luminary, ‘Do prophecies ever overlap?’” And so, Vandrune continued his tale.
The Luminary was a little stunned by this question. No one, let alone a young woman with no formal training in prophecy, had ever thought to ask it. “As head of the Council of Acoreq, it is my duty to protect prophecy from those who would take it and abuse it for their own benefit,” he said eventually. “When you first arrived, I took you for someone who was after nothing more than a way to better your position in this world, and take all for granted. Had it not been for the boy who convinced me otherwise, I would’ve turned you away quick as a spell, and sent you far away from here.” The Luminary paused for a moment, regarding her with renewed warmth. “However, I have watched you these last many months, and have found your commitment to your cause of choice quite compelling.” The young lady appeared somewhat perplexed by the phrase ‘cause of choice’, but said nothing. “In fact, for you to come before me now with a question that others have not asked, or even formed, is a truth revealed in your purpose.
Nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, I received my first prophecy. Only now do the words I wrote that day finally fall into place, their meaning presenting itself as clearly as a sunrise lights my face. Whether you are a prophet, mage, or otherwise, I am glad I find myself here at this moment in time. I hope I do not disappoint in my answer.” She nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Luminary. I would hear it.” “I have one last question for you before I answer. Come,” he said, ushering her into his private study. It was a large, round room with two fireplaces, each bringing warmth and light to the dark recesses. A number of tables dotted the room, scattered with all manner of books and experiments. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?” The woman nodded, sitting in the comfort of an old leather- bound chair draped with an animal skin to keep the warmth. She watched as the older man moved about making tea for her to drink, his robes and smooth movements belied his age and physic.
The Luminary returned with hot tea, handed her a cup, and sat opposite her in a larger chair, facing her. He took a sip of his tea, and as he swallowed his mouthful, his voice took on a different tone. It was comforting, yet deadly—purposeful, yet cautious. “Why do you seek the truth?” Unsettled, the young lady began to answer, her eyes not leaving the floor. “I seek to understand prophecy better. If I can figure out what the markers mean, then maybe I can help to prevent disaster.” “A good answer … but I believe there’s more to it than that,” he said, his eyes as kind as they were intense. They seemed to see right through her. Slowly, she began to recall the memory. “I was working late one night with my husband at our bookbinding shop. We’d just closed up for the night and started to clean, the same as we did every night … until suddenly, I felt a cold chill come over me. My husband tells me I fell to the floor on the spot, and felt deathly cold to the touch. Not showing any signs of life, my husband thought me dead, and within the hour, he’d carried me back to our bed in preparation for my last rites. He left to find a priest … and that’s when I woke up.” She looked up at The Luminary, and he motioned for her to continue.
“I was disoriented, covered in sweat, my head throbbing. I tried to get up, but I had very little feeling in my body. Slowly, painfully, the feeling started to return, and when I was able to move again, I stumbled over to a small table in the room and sat down. My eyes glazed over, and my hand started to write on its own. It was the most unusual sensation. It felt like someone had taken control of my hands, and I was watching from afar.” “A prophecy,” said The Luminary. Strangely, he didn’t seem surprised. She nodded hesitantly. “My husband returned to the house with the priest right in the middle of it, and they were shocked to see me not only upright, but writing strange words and not responding to them. When I came back to myself, I had written two full parchments of writing in a language I’d never seen before … and yet I knew both what it said, and how to speak the language. I was lucky to have such an understanding husband, and a priest who didn’t think me a spirit returned from the dead.
“What I didn’t understand were the strange symbols I’d drawn at the bottom of the page. In the days to come, my husband and I searched through all of our books, but couldn’t find anything that even remotely resembled them. It was then that we wondered if the mages of Acoreq would be able to help. And so, we set out for the closest mage we knew of: Aukestra of Meddle Stream. When we explained to her what had occurred, she offered to guide me here, and my husband returned home to run our business until my return. “It took a number of weeks to make my way here, and in that time, I tried many times to reread the words on the page … yet I had lost the words and the translation from my mind, as if it were all a bad memory. The only thing I knew was that they were important. So to answer your question … I seek the truth so that I might regain the words, and remember what I must do. No more, no less.” The head mage had a strange look on his face. “What is your name?” he asked pointedly. “Catherine de Halt,” she said, visibly nervous. “Yes … that is the name you gave when you first came here. But I want to know your real name,” he said, his tone both firm and commanding. How could he have known? No one, not even her husband, knew her true name. “Sara,” she said, tears coming unbidden to her eyes. “Though it has been many years since I called myself that name, let alone others. I apologise for concealing it.” As rivulets flowed down her cheeks, the mage stood and walked over to comfort her. Lost in her thoughts, her body shook in his arms at the exposure of the lie. Slowly, she composed herself, and then pulled away from the mage. He met her eyes, and she was again struck by their kindness and curiosity. “You, who seeks the truth, whose own facade yet hindered you from finding it,” he said gently. “Now that it has melted away, I can finally answer your question.” She pulled the cup of tea to her lips and drank deeply. “Prophecy, as you well know, is difficult to predict. Some are easy to decipher, whilst others are more challenging and are left unsolved. This issue has persisted for several generations, and in an effort to resolve it, many have tried to reveal the secret of the markers. All have failed. Until now, I had lost all hope of finding a solution. You see … my prophecy was about you, Sara.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “About me?” “Yes. My first prophecy came to me in the same manner as yours, and its words escaped me in much the same way. Since then, I have trained myself to manage these telling’s, and to bring meaning to the confusion. When the words returned to me, they told of a young woman who would come to challenge the status quo—to find meaning in the dark, and to lead us into the light. However, the prophecy also came with a warning; that if we do follow the light, the darkness will bring forth many who will try to gain power from those who are powerless. Whatever your prophecy contains, I cannot imagine it is unrelated. “So you see, your arrival here is cause for both concern and delight.” The Luminary smiled.
“Still, quite frankly, I am glad you still haven’t found a way to understand the markers. If you had, then great change would be upon us, and I don’t know that we are ready.” It was at that moment that it all fell into place. She had to tell him. No longer living with the burden of a lie, she could not return to living with another so quickly. “There’s more,” Sara said slowly and deliberately. The Luminary leaned forward, without breaking eye contact. “Surely you don’t mean …” Tears came to her eyes once more. The room seemed to take on a gloom, even with the warmth of the fires. Composing herself, she wiped her cheeks with a hand. “I know how to read them.” The Luminary was truly stunned. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he struggled to find the words, or get his thoughts in order. “The greatest minds in all of Neleuwan have been working on this for over a century. You’ve only been here for a matter of months,” he said in disbelief. “When did you find out? And how?” “The pieces have been there for some time, but they only came together moments ago. When I travelled here from Meddle Stream, I didn’t have much to keep me away from the elements, so I slept under the sky. It’s beautiful out there at night … you can see so many lights in the vast darkness of the sky. One night, I realised that part of the sky looked very familiar, almost like it had been burned into the back of my mind. But something about it wasn’t quite right. I didn’t think much of it at first … but night after night, I looked up at the stars, and was struck by the same feeling. I’ve been called out there every night since—and tonight, it was different. The feeling was gone, and the stars were a perfect match for the image in my head. It was like a door had been unlocked to my mind, and the words of the prophecy came forth, as if I had written them mere moments before. “Once you realise what the markings are, it’s really quite simple: the markers are star charts.”
“Star charts?” A look of disbelief came across The Luminary’s face. He stood and started pacing the room. Halfway across, he stopped and turned to look back at Sara. “That can’t be right. We’ve looked to the star charts before, and nothing we’ve seen has ever aligned.” “That’s just it. The alignment is only correct at the time of the prophecy. The stars can change from day to day, and year to year … but if you can predict what the stars are doing, and where they will be in the sky, you can derive a date for when that prophecy should occur. My prophecy told me of this day—told me the story of my journey here, and of piecing this together.” She looked away. “There is … still more. However, I cannot speak it. Time will tell if it is truly as the prophecy predicts, but I will say this. My work here is done, Luminary. I have committed all of this to parchment, and with your approval, I will present it to the Council tomorrow.” The Luminary sat silently, a smile and a look of sheer wonder upon his face. “Too many years have passed with us believing that the solution to the markers was in the prophecies. At no point had we considered that it was the other way around—that the solution to the prophecies was in the markers. Thank you, Sara. Your contribution to the Council of Acoreq and the lands of Neleuwan will surely become legend. You are now a part of the mage alumni, and will forever be welcome here.”
“So, there you have it, Higant,” said Vandrune happily. “In the days of The Contingent, we had no such way of knowing when the prophecies would occur. Often, we didn’t even know to which events they pertained. We had nothing to rely on but our wits. It was only after the fact that someone was able to identify that this particular prophecy related to Carsian and the Igerian State. Thankfully, we now know we can look to the stars for answers.” All the boys had leant in to hear the tale, and now that it was at an end, they relaxed and returned to their places. “That was fascinating, sir!” one of the young men pronounced, and the others chattered in agreement. “Amazing!”
Higant, who had fallen silent, finally looked up. “I think I know how they figured it out … The Contingent, I mean. But there’s something I don’t understand.” “Oh? Go on,” Master Vandrune encouraged. “The Igerian tabard features a crest, on which a wolf plays a large part. The prophecy talks of a beast turning on its master, and some hundred years before The Contingent, the Carsians were annexed by the Igerian State. That part makes sense. But what is the reference to fire from the sky?” Master Vandrune had his eyes fixed firmly upon the young lad. The boy continued to surprise the prophet.
At his age, most of these lugs could barely string a sentence together, let alone make sense of prophecy law. “In the region that was Igeria, there was once a mountain by the name of Centorn,” said Vandrune. “What the Carsians knew, but the Igerian State did not, was that Centorn was an active volcano. The Carsians had been mining near the base of the mountain for years, and had long since discovered this. And so, when the Igerian State sent them the demand for surrender, they responded by inciting the volcano to erupt, sending molten lava flying across Igeria. By the next day, there was nothing left but charred remains.” The boys, amazed by this detail, started talking amongst themselves. “Well, gentlemen, that should be all for today. I shall see you again soon.
Thank you for such a rousing spectacle of smarts, wit, and good humour. About your business, then. It comes on noon, and I believe the lords will want their squires back.” As the last of the boys left the room, Vandrune made note of the young man named Higant. He would keep an eye on this young man. He was sure to be something interesting. Once the room was empty, Vandrune walked to the door and closed it, placing a sealing spell on the door so he would not be disturbed. It was time to find out what was so urgent.
