Marked (8 page)

“Hello,” answered the introverted girl, not even raising her head to look up at him.

“Let’s begin by introducing ourselves. My name is Isuzeni and I am a Priest of the Cult here at the temple. What is your name, small one?”

“My name is Yuzumi.”

“I think you and I are going to be very good friends,” he said in a friendly voice. “You have nothing to fear and nothing to be concerned about; you are in a safe place. This will be your home for a time, and we will take very good care of you. Do not worry about a thing. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask me.”

“What will I do here?”

“What you will do is learn. I will be your tutor and will teach you everything I know about many interesting subjects. And then, when you are ready, other priests more powerful than I will instruct you in disciplines at a higher level which will allow you to accomplish things that right now you could not even dream of.”

The girl looked up and stared into his eyes, as if trying to glimpse any trace of deception. After a few moments she nodded and again lowered her eyes.

“What kinds of things?”

“Magical things... Incredible things!”

She looked in his eyes again, studying him, and looked down once more.

“Magical? How?”

“You shall see. You are a very special person. You were born with a great Gift, a Gift that will be with you always and will allow you to do things mortals can only dream about doing.”

After glancing at him again and nodding, she calmly replied, “I believe you.”

That had been many long years ago. Now that introverted child had transformed into the Dark Queen and had forged an Empire. She was the ruler of the whole continent. Under her command was an army of more than seventy-five thousand men.

Her dark, arcane power was incomparable.

And she had ordered the death of the Marked.

In the refuge of the comforting hearth fire, Amtoko, Norriel Mistress of Ceremonies, was savoring a broth infused with aromatic herbs—just how she liked it. She instinctively looked toward the entrance to the cave that had been her humble home for countless years. She had lived the greater part of her long life in the depths of this protective cavern. This particular day she was expecting a visitor; a young man of great interest would soon be arriving.

Her home, located on one of the peaks of the Ampar Mountains, was difficult to access and generally took more than a half day of brisk walking to get to from the village of Orrio. Because of this, and for other reasons related to her mystical powers, she was well known in the region and practically every Norriel had heard of her—the Silver Witch, as she was called. Amtoko smiled. That name, in reference to the iridescent color of her hair and her art, had always amused her. Man’s dread of the unknown or unusual had always fascinated her. Due to the trepidation she instilled in her superstitious neighbors she did not receive many visitors—actually, practically none at all. This was undoubtedly the destiny reserved for a Norriel Witch, but she didn’t care.

She was both pleased and saddened by the fear she struck in the hearts of her beloved people. It provided her with invaluable peace and tranquility, but it also isolated her. The Norriel respected her but—above all—they feared her and the arcane arts she practiced. So they kept their distance. Of course, it also did not help that she had an enormous black panther constantly at her side. She was her loyal companion, charged with keeping nosy people and intruders out of her dwelling.

“They are afraid of you, my friend,” she announced, smiling at her pet. “They do not know what an honest heart you have. They see only the danger you represent; the proud and instinctive feline in your eyes. But I know you well—from your first steps, since you were a kitten—and I know your heart is pure and noble,” she said to the great panther stretched out next to the fire.

Amtoko couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

“They call me a witch and many of them think I’ve lost my mind for living in isolation up here with you. But you and I know that’s not how it is, don’t we, dear?” The panther let out a low growl, as if agreeing with her mistress. “Let them think whatever they wish. We are safe here and no one bothers us. There is not much we value more than peace and quiet, isn’t that right, my little one?” she asked her loyal companion rhetorically.

Her visits to the village were not frequent. When she went down to town it was generally to visit her two good friends, Auburu and Suason, or when she was needed in her capacity as Mistress of Ceremonies and Rituals. Occasionally she went in at the request of the Tribal Council. At times, there were serious issues to resolve, like wars or anything that put the tribe in danger, or situations that required her mystical talent. She knew Auburu, the leader of the tribe, very well—and had known her since she was a girl.  Even then she’d already identified in the young woman the inner strength of a leader and an innate aptitude for command. And that was part of Amtoko’s talent: the ability to perceive people’s strengths and weaknesses and see their potential.

“Oh, Auburu! Such a great leader. A promising future, that girl. I remember you well, my dear. We shall see where you will lead the destiny of the Bikia tribe, the destiny of our Norriel. It shall be interesting indeed to see how you manage the turbulent times to come,” she said as she added more wood to the fire.

Amtoko had always favored Auburu. She recalled how, one rainy afternoon—already taking charge—a perfectly composed, fearless girl had approached her in the town square, impertinently yanked on her tunic, and asked her name—much to the amazement of everyone around her. Right then and there she’d seen in that child the strong personality that would be so characteristic of her. And with the passing of time she had witnessed her potential grow and develop, eventually turning her into a leader. Whenever Auburu had needed it, Amtoko had offered her assistance. And Amtoko always kept a watchful eye on both the internal and global events that could have an impact on—or be dangerous for—her land and her people. After all, her blood and her heart were Norriel.

“Norriel are we, Norriel we shall die.”

And that was her true talent, her arcane Gift: the capacity to see and sense events and people beyond physical distances. After years and years of arduous work, incessant study, research, and experimentation she had mastered this elusive art. She had the ability to create mystical bonds with people and animals which allowed her glimpses into events surrounding them. Besides that, this symbiosis allowed her to acquire for herself some of the same characteristics as that being. But Amtoko made sure not to mention that small detail... No reason to give people the negative impression that she was unscrupulously using them; her reputation was already dismal enough. Unfortunately, even though it was for the good of the tribe, her talent and the use she made of it had turned her into a Witch in the eyes of her people. Fear, disdain, and solitude were the price she paid for her Gift. But she had gotten over that an eternity ago. For her, her talent was much more important than the caring and acceptance of those around her.

Regrettably, she was not able to see the future. It caused her great sadness; it was as if her talent was not complete. It was... imperfect. No matter how hard she’d tried she had not been able to achieve the ability that was her heart’s deepest desire—and that which would make her whole. It wasn’t that she was not powerful enough, but the ability to see the far-off future was simply outside the limits of what she was able to do with her Gift. She had strong intuition about the immediate future, though, and could glimpse ahead and see the invisible threads of events that would soon come to pass. But she would never give up; her greatest goal was to someday see into the future.

“One day, dear friend, we shall be able to read the distant future. Believe me, we will! That day, we will be complete and our spirits, at last fulfilled, will fly high above the mountains like a white eagle searching for clouds in an infinite sky,” she told her companion as she affectionately stroked her velvety black back.

Suddenly, the panther growled a warning.

Komir had arrived at the entrance of the cave.

The young man, not daring to enter out of respect, stood at the mouth of the cave and called for Amtoko. He was clearly nervous.

“Come into my humble abode—you’ve arrived just in time to share a nourishing broth,” answered a raspy female voice from inside.

“Thank you, Amtoko,” answered Komir, hesitantly entering the dark cavern. Walking slowly, his eyes struggled to adapt to the new, dimly lit surroundings. After a few moments he could make out the Witch in the back of the cave next to a small fire, her hair shining in the light of the flames. The huge black panther next to Amtoko was scrutinizing him with her brilliant eyes that were the color of the sun.

“Come and sit down here next to me. The warmth from the fire will comfort you,” suggested the eccentric hermit. “Don’t worry about my friend—she won’t bother you.”

“Thank you, Amtoko,” he responded as he sat down in front of the fire and the panther. He took the bowl of soup the Witch offered him, waiting silently for Amtoko to speak. The woman made him feel profoundly uneasy. He was not afraid of her; he respected her—but she did make him feel nervous, as if there was something dangerous... or unnatural about her.

“A very special recipe... I hope you like it—it’s one of my specialties.” She smiled as she took a taste of the spicy broth.

“You called me to your home... I imagine it’s because of what happened in the Ceremony of the Bear... a few weeks ago...”

“Oh, the impatience of youth! So much vitality and so little patience,” she laughed, making a face. “Don’t be so anxious. Finish your broth and then we can talk calmly. First things first, young Norriel.”

The two ate in silence until they’d emptied their bowls. The Witch offered him seconds of the unusual broth but Komir politely declined.

“All right, now that we have a little warmth in our stomachs, we can deal with what’s worrying us. You are precisely right; I summoned you because of what took place at the Ceremony of the Bear, but not just because of that specific incident,” she said as he looked down, apparently uncomfortable. “For some time I have been perceiving events and an energy that revolve around you. The intricate threads of destiny are very quickly weaving a great, complex web around your being. And that worries me.”

“I do not wish to doubt your powers, much less offend you, but are you sure this is all about me? I haven’t done anything, I haven’t provoked anything—that I know of, of course—unless it’s because of the incident...” Komir again shifted his eyes to avoid the Witch’s small, deep ones.

“In fact, you did not incite the events. But destiny is capricious and draws everything—the dreams and desires of many beings—into an unsolvable and unintelligible labyrinth of countless actions.”

“But, why me?” asked Komir, anger beginning to well up inside him.

“I perceive that your life—since your birth—has been woven in an intricate plot, an intrigue of great repercussions—not only for you, but for all those around you. Initially it was nothing more than a small sensation, like a tiny tickling, alerting me to its existence. But with the passage of time this omen has become stronger and the sensation is now powerful and clear. What happened in the tournament has just brought my suspicions to light.”

“An intrigue, you say? So I may be in danger?”

“Indeed you are, my dear young man. I cannot see the exact danger but the sensation of something threatening is getting stronger and stronger... and more imminent... The signals that I am receiving when I focus on you, or the omens if you prefer to call them that, are of grave danger. Since the ill-fated incident they have multiplied and continue to intensify. Most likely the incident itself has put a series of new events in motion, and those are what I am now perceiving. That is why I have called you here. To warn you. So that you can be prepared for whatever may happen.”

“I don’t understand. Why me?”

“The reason is unknown to me; I cannot see that. What I do see clearly is that you are not an ordinary Norriel. You never have been and you never will be. You are marked by destiny. A destiny that is now beginning to show itself, to unfold its wings. The great wheel of events has begun to turn after being still for many years.”

“And what if I don’t want it? What if I refuse that destiny you say is out there waiting for me?”

“I don’t think you can avoid it, my young friend. You will have to play your part and hope the Sun and the Moon protect you on your path. With what I am perceiving, we will have to turn to Iram herself; her daughters cannot sufficiently shield you. Only Iram will be able to protect you. You must entrust yourself to our Mother Earth.”

“You are sensing that much danger?”

“Yes, I am.”

Komir nodded. “Thank you for the warning, Amtoko. I will stay alert. But if I don’t know what the danger is, I might not be able to identify it until it’s too late.”

“That is true. But it is still better to keep your mind alert. That way, when something odd happens or you notice something that seems suspicious, your mind will react and will keep you from being caught unprepared.”

“You’re right,” agreed Komir, nodding as he thought about the situation he was finding himself in. “Thank you for your warning. I will stay alert and will inform my family. I only hope this won’t make me see shadows and danger where there really isn’t any.”

“It is quite possible that it will have precisely that effect at first, but you will get used to it. Believe me; crazy old hags like me have been living that way for a long, long time... suspicious of every shadow, of every unusual sound. But perhaps that is not the best example to give a young warrior!” laughed the Witch in her gruff voice.

“I hope it won’t bother you that I ask you this... I mean you no disrespect and do not wish to upset you, but is it possible you’re wrong about all this? Perhaps your premonitions aren’t about me... Couldn’t it be some other person from our village?”

Amtoko smiled, revealing the deep wrinkles that furrowed her face.

“A very logical reaction—and it does not bother me at all. If you did not react that way I would be surprised. Why believe an old nutcase who lives in a cave, far from the rest of humanity? Why follow her senile recommendations and advice? Don’t be embarrassed, young Norriel; if the situation were reversed I, too, would have my doubts.”

“You are not at all crazy or senile.”

“Ha! A great deal more than you could imagine! If you saw me talking to my dear kitty you wouldn’t think that. But I am sorry to have to assure you that I am not in the habit of making mistakes. Particularly in this case, I am completely sure. I have not the least doubt that my intuitions are indeed about you. I know your essence well; I’ve been on your trail for quite some time... since that night years ago when you unexpectedly appeared in these mountains.”

Komir sighed. “In that case I will prepare for whatever may happen and will stay alert.”

“Remember my words, young Komir. Danger and death surround you. Many lives and the destiny of many beings are intimately tied to your actions and decisions—like it or not, want it or not—that’s how I’ve seen it and have now told you so.”