Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1) (29 page)

A strangely normal feeling permeated the city. I fully expected to come back to a civil war; to see bodies crumpled in the streets. Nazarie and the others had escaped somehow. Why had they not carved a trail of carnage in their wake? Why had they not murdered the loyal Weavers like I had murdered Kael and Azabin had murdered Sara Heather.

Instead of sobbing amidst smoldering carnage, children scampered. Outside the castle’s inner walls, vendors sold their wares. Noblewomen rode by in their carriages, handkerchiefs waving to would-be-suitors. Where was the massacre, the terror tinged with the sadness of deaths of loved ones? Azabin’s splinter inside of me cringed with disappointment.

Without preamble, we were ushered to a room where Prince Jaysen and a few trusted members of Parliament debated upon the next course of action. They filled us in on the events of the past few days.

“So you can remove Gryshelm’s Edge?” Jaysen asked.

“Not in the way you want me to,” I said.

“It was gone.  How could we not want that?”

“It wasn’t cleansed. Azabin used the Edges to possess me and that is not what we want. It would be worse than the Edges. The
cistea’a
will allow me to safely remove the Edge. But what happened with the Weavers?”

“When the shield was removed, the Mist Weavers and the Mitanni left. They defended themselves and there was a small death toll, but they were more concerned with leaving quickly rather than fighting. They took to the skies and flew away,” Rcanian told us. “They left the children and weaker Weavers.”

“But how did Nazarie, Kael, Desha, and Altis escape?” Adara asked. “They attacked Hailey at the pole before the shields were removed.”

“We were unaware that the barrier had been penetrated by anyone, prior to it disappearing.” Jaysen said. “There were few Weavers loyal to us who remained inside the Keep, and, according to them, The Lead Initiate, The Lead Scholar and two others used some very powerful Fortifieds to breach the shields.”

Well, I’d consumed the Mist from those Fortifieds and even after being used to breech the shields, they had quite a bit of power. Of course they were little better than sticks now. “Do you know if they took the pages of the book with them?” I asked sadly.

Rcanian shrugged. “They could be anywhere.”

“But,” Jaysen held up his finger, “there is someone who knows what the pages contain. He is waiting for the Promise. I will summon him.” Jaysen clapped at a guard. The man bowed and disappeared out the door.

My interest was piqued. “I thought no one knew.”

“Some oral tradition from his home village,” Rcanian told us, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Would have saved me a lot of trouble if he’d have told me to begin with,” I said angrily.

“Apparently, he didn’t remember until ten weeks ago,” Jaysen said. “He had suspicions. He was that source I told you about that night. Turns out he was correct. Nazarie and Altis both ended up being traitors, but you were true to the crown.”

The man remembered everything ten weeks ago? That coincided with when Drahwan had tried to lift my block. That couldn’t be unrelated. As I contemplated, Garth and Meena entered the room.

“I thought you joined with Nazarie?” I accused.

“Of course not!” Meena said, hurt. “I was worried you’d give me away, I had to make it look convincing.”

“Lazurte was worried; he came to find you,” I said.

“I’d gotten too close. Any contact with the outside would be too risky.” She brandished a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Being on the inside gets more access than the outside.”

Opening it, I recognized the characters penned upon it. I held the missing page of the book. “How?” I breathed.

“Nazarie wanted to commiserate with someone else you had “tricked.” And she hoped to leverage my father’s connection to smuggle information.” She shrugged. “And I hear you are expecting. I am so excited!”

I choked back a fresh round of tears.

“Azabin killed the baby from within her womb,” Adara said.

I rubbed my lower back. “The pain is better, and I think the bleeding has subsided.”

“Stars and planets,” Meena cursed.

“It is so good to see you again,” I said, hugging her. “There is someone here who knows what the book contains. He can help me fill in the holes for what I’ve not translated.”

“Yes,” Garth said with a smile. “I am that someone.”

I blinked. “What? How?”

“I always knew there was something about you.” He smiled, his gaze distant, contemplating. “I encouraged Meena’s friendship with you because there was… something…. I assumed that it was because you were from my home town.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

He answered by asking a question. “Did you grow up hearing about the legend?”

“Bedtime stories. Or so I thought.”

“So did I,” Garth admitted. “But, over time, I began to realize that there may be some truth in it. My spies heard whispers of White Knights, and when I discovered Nazarie was from River’s End and when you came back with her…” Garth paused, gathering his thoughts. “Nazarie was elevated to Lead Scholar too early in her career, and then on the heels of that, Altis became Lead Initiate. I didn’t know how you fit into everything. I certainly had no idea that you were the Promise.”

“Enough backstory,” Kadir grizzled. “Time is short. We have less than a day until Gryshelm’s Edge is upon my city.”

“You must go to River’s End,” Garth declared. “There is a temple.”

“Not anymore,” I said, remembering the very temple he must have been speaking of. But it was not there. “Nazarie must have destroyed it.”

Meena shook her head. “She could have destroyed the temple, but I doubt the building itself was significant. The location would be the important part.”

“There is a hill,” I said, thinking back to the place where I’d gone with Euan and Altis to look at Gryshelm’s Edge that day in River’s End. “There was an infinitesimal connection beyond my comprehension. That must have been the temple.”

“Likely,” Garth agreed.

“You can’t be sure,” Kadir grumbled at Garth. “She’s not even sure herself. I’ll not gamble my people’s lives on some feeling.”

“No, I am sure,” I assured them. “That hill called me.”

Kadir eyed me suspiciously. I knew he wanted to verbalize his doubts, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Garth learned this as an oral tradition growing up in River’s End,” Prince Jaysen pointed out. “It stands to reason Nazarie did, too.”

I nodded. “All the Weavers and Mitanni must be amassing at River’s End.”

“We outnumber the rebel Weavers and Mitanni five to one,” Kadir said. “And our technology is vastly superior. They have no hope of survival. They wouldn’t dare to confront or challenge us.”

“All they care about is keeping Hailey from releasing Azabin,” Garth said.

“We can’t risk a huge death toll,” I said. “Remember what happened when Drahwan and the others were killed? Azabin gobbled everything within miles and has been stronger ever sense. Killing the rebels could cause The Edges to accelerate. We could destroy the whole world.”

“That’s probably their goal,” Meena said.

“Then why don’t they take their own lives?” Jaysen asked.

“Azabin thrives on violence. Self-sacrifice wouldn’t do anything,” Meena answered. “They want to this end.  They want Azabin to destroy the world.  Azabin will die along with all of us.”

“We have to subdue them without a single death,” Rcanian said. “Is that even possible?”

“How do we get three hundred Weavers off a location without killing them?” Jaysen mused.

“With bait,” I said. “They want to kill me. That will end this.”

Adara shook her head. “You can’t. You are not well.”

“I don’t think I have much of an option,” I said. “There’s not much time until Gryshelm’s Edge reaches the Empire City. I won’t be responsible for all those
deaths.”

“If you are captured or killed, there would be no one to Channel Gryshelm’s Edge into the
cistea’a
,” Adara argued.

“If we don’t make a stand soon and Gryshelm’s Edge reaches the Empire City, I won’t be able to Channel any Edge ever,” I said. “We’ll all be dead.”

“Let’s assume that works,” Jaysen said. “How do you get back to the temple? There are three hundred Weavers who want to die and force Azabin into destroying the world. How do we subdue them?”

“To his point,” Rcanian motioned to Kadir, “we outnumber them five to one. Weave them immobile.”

“This reminds me of a sea battle I read about,” Meena said. “There were four war ships, and they approached the enemy fleet from all directions, surrounding them. Maybe we could do something similar.”

I nodded. “I’ll run. They will follow, and the hovercrafts can move into position and surround them.”

“Then barrage them with missiles?” Kadir suggested.

“You cannot kill anyone,” I repeated.

“I Foretold carnage,” Kirta warned. “This will not be so simple.”

“It’s all I have.”

“You still don’t know how to remove Gryshelm’s Edge,” Kadir said.

I picked up the paper from the table. “Hopefully this explains what we need to do. Otherwise…” Sitting down, I scanned the text, searching for enough words to gain context. Purification.
Cistea’a
. Channel.
K’araina
, but Yammin had said that was the gods’ tense. I knit my brows, trying to sift through the vocabulary that I’d not yet learned. “If I understand the manuscript, I’m to use the
cistea’a
to purify The Edges. It will pass through me and into them.” I turned the page over, praying that I’d missed something and that there was another way, but it simply elaborated upon the location of the temple. “An Edge at a time, slowly removing one fifth of the Azabin’s life force.” The paper trembled slightly in my unsteady grasp. “I touched Gryshelm’s Edge at River’s End before and it almost killed me. Yesterday when Azabin killed my baby, he almost took over me.”

Rcanian’s hand flew to his mouth, stifling a gasp of realization. “That is what I Foretold. You became The Edges and then bound it.”

“And what if I fail?”

Rcanian frowned slightly. “I can no longer Foretell, but I believe that, if you fail, you will become one with The Edges like Desha fears. You will kill us all.”

“Then we won’t fail,” I said.

We ate lunch the next day aboard the hovercrafts as we floated above River’s End and waited for our scouts to confirm the exact location and placement of the rag-tag army of the Mitanni and their Weaver companions. Upon their return, the scouts confirmed our suspicions. We could easily remove the rebels from the hill with a few well-placed explosions dropped from the Empirite war crafts. Or, I could turn Azabin against them and eradicate them. Suppressing the gleeful feeling from the sliver of Azabin inside me, I focused on thoughts that did not involve death and carnage.

Our craft separated from the fleet. Only a small contingency of one hundred Weavers and a single company of Kadir’s forces came down with me, but that should be a large enough threat to encourage the rebels to throw their full force into the battle, which is what we needed. If too many stayed on the temple hill our entire plan would be for nothing.

In theory, the strategy had sounded fairly straightforward, but on the field, I started to realize the risks. The men rumbled concern when they comprehended the dearth of Mist they would be able to control in the battle. The sliver of Azabin inside me magnetically reached out, beckoning him to control me again.

The rebels
had
to know it was trap. Desha, Altis, and Nazarie had seen me bring the fleet through Gryshelm’s Edge. But my death would assure their victory. And even if I did not die, but they managed to provoke us into battle, Azabin would blaze through the world.

I knew Altis. I knew Nazarie. They couldn’t pass up this opportunity. I knew that at this very moment, they were not debating
whether
to attack, but
how
.

My men, after their initial concerns, held their ranks in professional silence. We waited as the sun scratched its way across the sky, plummeting at last to the west. Stars slowly started to emerge. Each one potentially held a solar system where the gods had settled after they abandoned us. I wondered if those creations knew the wild risk my planet was taking, risking their futures.

And then the rebels finally made their move. My blood ran cold when I saw them running toward us, every last one of them weaving the Mist to kill me. As to plan, I retreated, and they followed me like moths to a candle.

Torrents of Mist-laden energy exploded around me, throwing debris into the air. I threw all my energy into shielding myself. Kadir’s men fled in fear and chaos, their professionalism evaporating. They were not warriors; they were untried boys. Their exhilaratingly beautiful terror was almost as stunning as the hatred and anger I could feel emanating from the rebels. Life flooded around me. I could feel every emotion of every being for miles, tinged with the fragrant stench of panic.

I don’t know who died or who did the killing, but I felt the death as keenly as if I had thrust my twin daggers into each man’s body. I could almost feel the sweet sticky blood cascading onto my bare skin. Azabin thundered in my ears, and his being cascaded into my veins. I struck down a dozen men, absorbing their life force into me. Musical shrieks of pain danced across the battlefield. A young solider knelt before me as I plucked off his arms like the petals of a flower.

The hovercrafts arrived, encircling the army. Desha called out a retreat, but there was nowhere for them to go. They were trapped with me. My laugh thundered across the fields. I shook a hovercraft, feeling men’s and women’s bodies crash against each other. I smashed the craft to the ground, and it erupted into flames. The other crafts began to scatter like sparrows fleeing from a hawk. I caught another one and tossed it into the air. I formed a Mist sword and plunged into the swarm of humans, slashing and cutting through the mortality that sounded me. Death after glorious death filled me with more and more energy. I pushed aside the puny being whose body I now possessed.

I breathed in the smoky air, pausing to admire the carnage I had created. I closed my eyes, enjoying the cool night breeze. I’d forgotten the feeling of the wind against my skin. Even a creature such as I could appreciate the beauty in it, especially after a thousand years of that prison. This corporeal vessel was very fitting. The stupid Guardians had done well. I traced the dried blood down the length of my arm.

I felt something behind me, rustling through my bag. I whirled around to see a familiar-looking young woman clutching one of the
cistea’a
in her hand. I grabbed her neck, lifting her into the air. The name Meena came to my mind, but I did not know why. I squeezed my hand around her neck, but she managed to wheeze. “Hailey, remember who you are.” She struck my arm with it the
cistea’a
and Azabin fled from my body.

I remembered.

I remembered being Hailey.

I dropped Meena. She coughed and rubbed her neck.

“Oh, Guardians! Did I hurt you?” I gasped. “I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

Meena pressed the
cistea’a
into my hand. “Hold onto this,” she croaked.

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” she admitted.

I collapsed to the ground. “Azabin is too strong. I almost killed you.” I gazed at the carnage around me. “What have I done? What did I almost become?”

Meena knelt before me. “You need to finish this.”

“I can’t.” I gazed across the sea of dead bodies. I must have killed hundreds. Fires smoldered all around us; the smell of burnt flesh stung my nose. Did I kill Nazarie? Did I kill Altis? I had no idea.

“You have to,” Meena said. “All these men and women were here to save their families. It’s up to you to do that for them. Otherwise they died for nothing.”

I nodded and shakily stood up.

“I’ll stay here and try to organize the survivors,” said Meena.

The
cistea’a
glowed in my hand, grounding me to my identity. Azabin remained in my periphery, but put to the side. Everything around me was muffled. I saw mouths of men open, screaming, but I did not hear them.

I trudged off toward the former site of the temple. The sea of people parted. None dared to approach me, not even the rebels who remained. Corpses lay crumpled in bunches. Few appeared to have been clean deaths.

As I approached the grounds of the former temple, the
cistea’a
began to hum. The ground beneath my feet echoed their vibrations. A cloud of dirt rose, spinning in the air. Specs of rock and debris stung my face. I put my arm up to partially shield my eyes. A giant semi-sphere of earth soared fifty yards into the air. It hung suspended. With a flick of my Mist, I sent it crashing into Gryshelm’s Edge, which immediately absorbed it.

I peered into the crater that had been left. The sides were smooth as if polished meticulously for hours. At the very bottom stood a table made of stone with four crevices carved into it. I slid down the side of the crater. I ran to the table and placed the
cistea’a
into each of the crevices.

As soon as my skin stopped touching the last
cistea’a
, Azabin swarmed before me. He did not possess me, but I could feel him, hovering.

Gryshelm’s Edge ignited bright pink.

“It doesn’t have to be as before
,” an earthy voice croaked.
“We could work together.”

I could feel every living thing within miles. I could feel the men and women gathering the wounded, trying to assemble themselves. I could feel them all turning toward Gryshelm’s Edge in awe. I could feel people on the other side of Gryshelm’s Edge. I could feel the birds and bears and other beasts. I could feel the throbbing life energy of the millions in the Empire City, rushing about their lives.

I could feel everything.

More important, I
knew
everything. I understood the exact rotation of the Earth. I felt the distance between my planet and its sun. I sensed the other creations out beyond my own galaxy. I knew how to change the Empire hovercrafts so that we could go and visit them. But the joy of being a Scholar was not in the knowing; it was in the learning. How could I learn if I knew everything?

But then, I knew how to conquer all the other civilizations among the stars. I could be queen of all the planets. I did not want that, either. I just wanted to be Hailey.

I felt Nazarie. For a moment, relief flooded me. I did not kill her. But then I remembered that she’d killed my mother and my sister. I could take revenge. Azabin’s red eyes smiled at me behind the pink Edge. They moved closer, peering not
at
me, but
into
me. The pink of Gryshelm’s Edge began to deepen into a shade of fuchsia.

No. I would face Nazarie one day. She would pay for destroying my family. But not like this. Not using power that I had no way to really control. Gryshelm’s Edge was simply a stain. These
cistea’a
were soap, and I was going to cleanse the world of this Edge. I laughed at the absurdity of the comparison, but it did help.

I touched the
cistea’a
. They grounded me to who I really was: a Scholar. The pink Edge grew lighter and lighter. The red eyes grew dimmer and dimmer. The Power whimpered and then cried out in pain. No, not pain. It lied, thinking to excite blood lust over its death, but it wasn’t dead or even dying. I was only removing one fifth of it.

Gryshelm’s Edge melted into bright opaque white. The part of Azabin trapped between these Slices did not disappear, but the hate was gone. Cleansed. The Power began to go into me, but I forced as much of it as I could into the
cistea’a
, saturating them. I did not want this Power. The gods had overreached in creating it. Maybe mortals are more aware of our limitations. All four
cistea’a
glowed, soaking up the energy. Gryshelm’s Edge turned from opaque to nothing. Then with a hiss, the
cistea’a
sublimated, turning into vapor, disappearing into the dark.

Inside the crater, I could only see the night sky filled with unbroken constellations expanding beyond where Gryshelm’s Edge used to be. I scrambled out of the crater. Gryshelm’s Edge was gone. It was done, or at least begun. There were four more Edges out there. Azabin still lived. He’d be angry and ready for me next time, but today had been a beginning. Shaking, I began to walk south to my childhood home, hoping to find my father.