

# The Tower of Boran

by

Shauna Scheets

This work is fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, characters or situations, real or imagined, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© Copyright 2015 Shauna Scheets

Cover Art by Shauna Scheets

All Rights Rsvd.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without express written permission from the author, Shauna Scheets. Reviewers may quote brief passages, with citation.

Electronic Edition - 5th Edition

Contact the author at scheets@lostlorebooks.com.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother, Lori Cloutier, who gave me a love of writing, the tools to express that love, and the curse of a writer who needs to get the characters out of the head and onto paper, and to my sister, Sierra, for reading the first 'final' draft.

I also want to thank Anthony Walton for giving me the inspiration to take another look at that novel I had once written, and for his wonderful feedback. It is invaluable to find another writer who can see the difference between a transitive and intransitive verb, and is willing to read and re-read your drafts. **< ('-^<)**

# Prologue

The moonlight flashed and glinted as a figure moved rapidly through the forest. Her breath came quick but quiet. Her movements were sure and strong, despite the light armor she wore, which was padded by soft leather to silence any clanging metal. She didn't have to glance over her shoulder to know they were still pursuing her. She had to make the decision quickly, before they got a view of where she was.

The branches were a good ten feet up. Maran summoned all of her strength. This sturdy oak might just be the thing to save her life. But she had been raised amidst the forest for some time now, so it was only natural to spring to the trees for help. Maran jumped, barely high enough to touch the lowest branch, yet somehow it was enough for her to grab it. The dark green chevron stretched over her hand as she gripped the branch and alighted above. Just in time. The dogs came first, but the men were not far behind. She felt her back and drew a bow neatly concealed by her armor and the night.

"She must be around here somewhere," one of them growled. The dogs sniffed frantically around the base of the tree, yelping occasionally.

"What? Got her scent boy? Where is she?"

She drew four arrows from the quiver on her back, one for each of the men. The markings on the back of her hand mixed into the shadows as she notched the first.

"Wait! She's up in the tree! Quick!"

But it was too late. By the time they caught sight of her, the only thing in their vision was the glint of silver before a field of red. The four bodies slumped together, silenced against their prey. The dogs started to howl and bark at the figure in the tree, but she had already flown to higher branches and off into the dense foliages of the forest to continue her mission.
_Chapter 1_

# The Preparation

Fear clouded the minds of Caillte Saíocht. Fear of the dark and its hidden magicks. There was tell of an old time when fire pricked the night sky into a blanket of gleaming jewels. But the sky that sentinelled Caillte Saíocht's nights for as far back as living memory served was an empty black abyss staring into nothingness.

There were legends of a time when an old goddess kept vigil over the dark nights of Caillte Saíocht. She would rise in the night and cast her pure silver light over the land, keeping the perilous night-spells and magickal night-fever far from the inhabitants of Caillte Saíocht. But those safe thoughts were just the stories kept by children and poor folk who could not protect themselves. If there ever was a nightly goddess, she had abandoned her people either out of weakness or because she no longer cared. But Seraetia did not know these stories. All she knew was that no pinpoint of brightness pricked the inky black void above; no celestial body graced her evening skies. No light shown in the nights of Caillte Saíocht. Only the Boran Tower stood to keep the night's sorcery at bay.

The current inhabitant of the Tower was an honored sorceress who was once High Priestess, named Michaeyala. She spent her days and nights encased beneath a veil of ice, which had given rise to her being called The Lady of the Crystal Veil. In her mistaken and unprepared attempts to brighten the crystal gleam that the Tower cast, the Lady of the Crystal Veil's magick turned sour. The crystal gleam bent back on her, encasing her beneath a sheet of icy crystal. But the worst was that with each night the veil over the Lady of the Crystal Veil grew a little thicker, for it drained a little more of the crystal gleam from the Tower, leaving the land a little more vulnerable with each passing night. The case of the Lady of the Crystal Veil grew bright until her form was only a ghost where one knew the lady who was once Michaeyala must lie. But Seraetia would be different. She was prepared. She was born to it. She would strengthen the crystal gleam, and cast it back over the land to safeguard and protect. Seraetia had been told all her life of what an honor it would be.

She turned around and picked up a light robe of clean muslin, draping it carefully over her shoulders. Over that she laid a spectacular blue stole that shimmered as the light caught it. It was embroidered with runes and arcane symbols in silver. She sat down and tightened the silk ribbon laces of her cream ankle boots, her buttery blond hair brushing against the floor. She paused. Her right ankle felt slightly naked without her ankle-knife no matter how tightly she pulled the laces. A voice echoed in the back of her mind— _'You never know when you may need it. Even when you leave your athame and sword behind, bring this.'_ The ghostly voice still visited her at odd times ever since her oldest and most treasured mentor, Ellion, had mysteriously disappeared. He had given her the knife the last time she had seen him.

The ankle-knife was little more than four inches long hilt to tip, simple yet beautiful. The blade was pure silver, which made it ideal for purging early-stage night-fever in emergencies and cleansing freshly harvested herbs. Silver also lightly adorned the ivory hilt in concentric spirals that followed from the butt down to the point where they seemingly melted into the blade. It was very light, lying in the palm of her hand as she stared contemplating it. Her new mentor didn't even know she had it. In fact, she hadn't told anyone for some strange reason.

She placed the athame on the table and stood up to leave. The time was getting late and she could not keep everyone waiting. Besides, she was not supposed to bring any blades of any sort to the ceremony. Any ritual athames she was to use would be handed to her and blessed by the High Priestess. Her wand was already there being blessed. Seraetia lifted the tent flap of her temporary chamber and made to step across the threshold.

"Are you ready, Seraetia?" spoke the kind voice of the castguard outside her tent. She had known him a long time. Aside from her mentors, Stecklin was the only person allowed to call her by her name. He was the closest she had to a childhood friend, in that they had grown up together.

Seraetia felt disconcerted for a moment, but pushed it aside. "I am ready," she replied. Although his face was solemn, his eyes smiled to her encouragingly.

"Good, then, I will go on ahead and have the guards clear your way."

Seraetia turned back into her tent, seeing the flap fall behind her. _Out of memory for him, who taught me so much,_ she whispered in her mind as she tucked the small knife beneath the rim of her boot. If she kept it out of sight it should offend no one. And they wouldn't be able to sense it for all the other silver and ivory in the room around them. Her ankle rejoiced in the feeling of its familiar companion.
_Chapter 2_

# The Ceremony

So it was on this day of her sixteenth birthday that Seraetia mounted the steps that led to Sanctum of Spells, as she had every day to attend her studies in spellcraft. The intensity and frequency of her lessons had increased of late, driving her to the point of near-perpetual exhaustion. But today Seraetia did not feel any weariness. She mounted the innumerable steps in anticipation of the day's ensuing ceremonies. She traced the mantel draped around her neck. Its mystical characters hummed with power beneath her fingers. The Mantel of Boran was embroidered with magicked runes whose threads were pure against the night's evils. It was a great honor to don the Mantel of Boran, even if for a short while. Although, if she passed the ceremonies today, (as of course she would), the Mantel would only pass from her in death. She would stand before the High Priestess today and they would wait for the runes to sing. Seraetia smiled as she imagined their hum growing into a song of how her hard work and expert training were to usher in the most powerful enchantress Caillte Saíocht would ever see. Their notes would be clean and clear, mellifluously full with power. So she had been told by her mentors. Seraetia would then leave for the Tower of Boran to cant the words and weave the magick that would thaw the veil over Michaeyala. They could then bury what was found beneath the veil and return the crystal gleam to the land for all eternity. The crystal gleam would be fueled by such strong magick that it could not be dimmed, even after Seraetia's death.

Seraetia looked to the rows of men and women dressed in ceremonial robes filed on either side of the steps leading to the Sanctum. She quieted her heart, which was starting to pound from excitement, not to mention the exertion. About two hundred steps up from the bottom, she was almost half way. Out of the corner of her vision she noticed a slight shuffling to the side. Her senses pricked, although nothing seemed overtly amiss. She continued her path up the steps, attempting to stifle her nerves. Just when they were beginning to calm back down, she was spun on her heel to face a half-crazed man in rough-hewn garb. Somehow he had managed to spring from behind a column. His eyes radiated pain, conflict, and madness on their heels. How he managed to pass through the many guards overseeing the ceremony was impossible.

"The secret," his voice rasped harshly in her ear. Seraetia could sense magick as the Sanctum castguards hurried their way. Her heart stammered as the man's confused air stifled her. The man rushed faster, almost unintelligible in his urgency. "You must find—if you don't it will kill you—kill me for being here—," he glanced rabidly over his shoulder, " talking— "

The castguards were upon him now, their silver robes falling in heavy volumes to the ground. They pried him away from her and shoved him into an area cleared of people.

"She must not be kept from the ceremony. Stand away!" came the captain's curt words in a dangerously low voice. The half-crazed man didn't move his eyes from Seraetia, unheeding of the castguards.

"The secret, learn it! You must!" He continued to rant earnestly in a strained whisper as though those around must not overhear. His eyes darted wildly around him. Finally the captain of the castguards raised his pristinely silver wand, low tones sounding under his breath. The half-crazed man froze and fell stiffly to the ground before the captain even finished his mutterances. Seraetia was glad, for the poor man would now find rest from his obvious torment. The castguards would take him to a place where he could be helped.

Seraetia would have worried the poor man were dead, had she not the knowledge that his craze allowed the castguard easy access and there was little fight between their minds. She knew that the castguard had stilled the man's thoughts and actions with a type of magickal sedative so that he could be taken to the Sanctum healers and freed of his ailment. The Sanctum healers were having to deal with a massing volume of patients of late. Not even a week had passed since a woman, appearing quite in control of her wits, approached Seraetia in the market. Seraetia speculated how the poor man, who was now being carried to the healers, was far more advanced in his case. Truthfully, the woman from the market had not even raised Seraetia's suspicions until she started spouting the same crazed ideas of secrets and lies. Seraetia went to alert the castguard who had accompanied her to market, but by the time she got his attention from a bartering phial vendor, the woman was reabsorbed into the throng. Seraetia still felt bad that she couldn't get the woman the help she needed. Whenever she asked her current teacher, Maitre Fathig, about the increasing numbers of afflicted, he told her that it must be due to the waning light of the Boran Tower. The crystal gleam's growing feebleness allowed the night-fever to breed in the increasing darkness and to enter into the souls of those unfortunate enough not to be educated in the ways of the craft. Seraetia made a silent prayer of gratitude for the fortune of being chosen to be educated in the craft of magick, so that she too would not fall ill. Although, if fortune were not in her favour, even she could fall ill under certain circumstances.

"Dolam Seraetia," the captain of the castguards used her official title, "I apologize. He never should have been allowed to get so close to you, especially on such an important day as this. I will have my men be more vigilant."

Seraetia was brought back to the reality around her, although she did not yet continue to the Sanctum. For some reason, this man had disturbed her more than usual. Still, she had her duty to perform. She must push this man from her thoughts. Later, she could do a spell for his health, if it still bothered her.

"Dolam Seraetia, are you all right?" The golden robes which denoted his captaincy glared at her rudely in the sunlight.

"Yes, I am fine." Seraetia moved to climb the stairs again. The captain still seemed worried about her.

"Let us hope so. In any case, I shall escort you the rest of the way to the Sanctum myself. There is much that awaits you today."

As Seraetia entered the Sanctum, tall ivory doors the height of seven men were closed behind her. Ivory was used in most of the Sanctum because of its ability to purge the night magicks, especially in conjunction with the purest of silvers. They continued down the vast Hall that led into the Ceremony Chamber of the Sanctum.

Both sides of the vast Hall were lined with castguards. The castguard on one side of the Hall would have had to march a good thirty paces in order to reach the one mirroring him on the other side. All of the faces on either side of her were solemn and serene, staring straight ahead. The people stood void of motion. As Seraetia approached the grand archway that led to the Ceremony Chamber she could feel her pulse thudding in her wrists. Beyond this archway the room would be filled with all of the prominent people from the realm. Beyond this archway, the High Priestess would be standing in all of her glory, awaiting to bestow upon Seraetia her birthright. She grasped momentarily at the bell cuffs of her robe.

Seraetia walked into the Chamber to find faces turned toward her, filled with the light of hope. In others, she could sense a slight agitation in their excitement. These faces reminded her how this ceremony was the greatest and last chance that Caillte had ever had against the night-fever. This ceremony would be the demarcation of a new era for her people. One where they did not fear the falling of the sun. It was she who would usher this in. The thought of it began to fill her with warmth, a glow greater than any she had felt before.

This glow was echoed by the form on the dais at the far end of the chamber. There, there was a sense of solid energy emanating from a singularly tall individual. Once Seraetia had made it halfway down the aisle she was able to make out some of the pristine features. Although Seraetia had never met her, she knew who she was. The figure upon the dais shone brilliantly. She looked as though her form had been impeccably teased from marble, under the tedious guidance of a master sculptor's gentle hands. She was the most powerful, most trusted being in all of Caillte. She was the High Priestess N'Dreyid. And Seraetia was being guided to surpass even her power. Seraetia raised her chin proudly to the future that awaited her, gladdened by the presence anticipating her arrival at the end of the Chamber. It seemed an eternity of floating amid the strong emotions and power in the chamber before she finally reached the far end.

N'Dreyid lifted a heavy sword, wielding it deftly before her. She smiled with beaming radiance down on Seraetia, who knelt as she arrived at the base of the dais.

"Rise, for you are no longer below me, Dolam Seraetia. With the full powers that shall be opened before you this day, you will lead this land into a new era, if it so be willed. The footsteps you tread shall pass mine, and you shall carry with you all that has come before you." The High Priestess passed the blade on all sides of her body and finally over head. Here she paused for a moment, as though lost in deep contemplation, before lowering the sword. Her thoughts were well-guarded from Seraetia's relatively novice abilities. The High Priestess' white robes billowed for a moment, filled by some force emanating from within her.

Seraetia remembered the Mantel of Boran across her shoulders. The runic hum buzzed loudly in her ears, although she was unaware if other people could hear them. N'Dreyid closed her eyes and Seraetia felt for a moment that she had failed to do something. Then N'Dreyid smiled widely and lifted her chin to the assembly, opening her eyes to gaze at all those gathered before her. Seraetia did not dare turn to look at the assembly, but she could feel their excitement rising behind her and she knew that the chamber was filled with the resonance of the runic song for all to hear. Their melody floated, skipped and danced along the air, filling the often cold Chamber with palpable warmth. Multiple melodies sprung from the first, intertwining, melding and fountaining from each other. Finally, N'Dreyid looked deep into Seraetia's eyes. Without looking away she handed the sword to a castguard standing beside her who was waiting to receive it. On her other side, she clasped the white silken robe that another castguard handed her, again without breaking eye contact with Seraetia.

"Dolam robes no longer suit you. Cast them from you to receive the consecrated robes of the Priestess."

Seraetia did as she was told. She was near to bursting inside as she pushed off her cotton robes to expose her simple muslin shift. Slowly, she donned the silken robes, taking care not to disturb the Mantle's place on her shoulders, or break eye contact with N'Dreyid. Seraetia stood before the High Priestess, a Priestess in her own right. She knew, however, that the ceremony was not over. This concluded only the public announcement of her achievement. No powers had been bestowed on her that she had not attained before. No gateways had yet been opened. Her wand had not yet been restored to her, full of its new power. But that was only a matter of time and formality. The Mantle had sung. She had passed the test. Now, only the private ceremony between the High Priestess and herself lay ahead of her.
_Chapter 3_

# Rapture of the Tower

N'Dreyid finally broke eye contact with Seraetia and gazed upon the crowd before her.

"I give you Priestess Seraetia."

At this Seraetia turned around, as she had been instructed. All those in the assembly before had risen to their feet at some point of the ceremony. She scanned the faces and was greeted with their warmth. She then began the long trek back to the Hall. As she passed each row of the assembly they bowed to her. Eventually, she exited the Chamber.

At the entrance to the Hall the captain of the castguard was awaiting her. He bowed to her. Seraetia noticed that there was a scar across his left eyelid which didn't let him open his eye all the way.

"Priestess Seraetia, I am to lead you to the cleansing chambers before your ceremony with the High Priestess."

Seraetia had not been prepared for this. Odd that she did not remember anyone mentioning this aspect to the ceremonies. The captain must have noted her consternation, for he readily provided an explanation.

"Under the circumstances, Priestess, I believe you would agree with me that any and all possible traces of the night-fever should be cleansed from your body given the encounter with the poor, mad soul earlier."

His tone was unmistakable, and Seraetia did not dare to argue. The orders probably came from N'Dreyid after she heard of the incident this morning, and Seraetia could hardly dispute the prudence inherent in the request. However, any remnant of the night-fever the vagabond could have left on her shouldn't have been able to withstand her passage through the ivory doors, let alone the presence of the High Priestess. And further, she had her silver dagger on her. Being that it was in contact with her skin, its properties would have traveled across her like an electric current through water. But no one knew about that, and so their confidence in her cleanliness might not be as strident as her own, she told herself. Regardless, Seraetia followed the castguard to one of the cleansing chambers, although the oddity stored itself away in the back of her mind.

Once in her chambers, Seraetia began to disrobe so that she might bathe herself and spiritually cleanse her garb. She would at least take the chance to soothe her nerves. Before she was able to remove anything there was a light knock at the door. Seraetia opened it to allow a timid young boy entrance. He was preoccupied with the heavy silver goblet he was carrying.

"The High Priestess N'Dreyid sends this to you. She says that you must drink it for its powerful cleansing properties before you go to the parapet."

Seraetia thanked him as she relieved him of his heavy burden. The boy looked over his shoulder and left quickly. The goblet looked to be filled with water, although there was a slightly slimy quality to its calmly swirling surface. Seraetia gazed at it with unease. She placed the goblet on a hip-high table with ornate ball and claw feet in the center of the room. It formed a beautiful symmetry as she looked at the goblet in the middle of the table, which was in the middle of a small circular rug on the marble floor. Yet somehow, she couldn't shake the sense that something was off, and turned to attend her cleansing.

After she finished taking off her Priestess robes, she went to the finely wrought pitcher and basin in the back of the room to bathe herself. Prayers of cleansing came from under breath as she drew the wispy cloth over her arms and legs. The water felt cool as it evaporated from her skin in the warm summer air. After she was done, Seraetia then clasped a glass phial. She removed its crystal stopper and poured precious lavender oil into her palm. This she traced over her forehead, across the back of her neck and then across the veins in her wrists, a continuous stream of whispers flowing from under her breath.

Next, she picked up a silver dousing wand hanging from the basin stand. It resembled a ball atop a columnar handle. The ball was seamed around its middle, the top half of which was perforated by hundreds of miniscule holes dotted between intricate swirls worked into the silver. She unscrewed the top half of the ball, revealing the cup-like repository. She filled this with water and a few drops of lavender oil. Seraetia then screwed the ornate top back onto the douser, careful not to tip it lest she lose the precious liquid.

She padded softly to the other end of the room. Her mind was caught up in meditation, as well as concentration on not spilling the dousing water. Her meditation momentarily broke as she stumbled forward. Her foot caught beneath the arched ball and claw table-leg. She had to wrench awkwardly to keep from falling on her face. Luckily, she managed to keep the dousing wand from tipping. She placed her free hand squarely on the bare table to steady herself once more. She looked nervously around the room, as though embarrassed that someone had witnessed her faux-pas.

She continued to the other end of the room and began to lightly douse her robes. She re-donned her robes, layering them in the appropriate manner. It wasn't until after she prepared to leave the cleansing chamber that her eyes alighted on the goblet. It had since stopped rolling on the floor, and lay deathly still against the cold marble. Seraetia walked over and knelt beside it. She found no trace of its precious liquid. The air above the tile, however, was dense with an odd rising mist. The last remnants of the mist thinned to nothing before her eyes, as though it had been waiting for her notice before all trace was gone. She picked up the goblet, its weight heavy against her hand. She traced a finger along the inside of the vessel. Not even a film of the liquid remained.

_Perhaps she will not notice,_ she thought to herself. She replaced the goblet upon the table with incredible care, the look in her eyes pleading for it to suddenly refill. _I'm sure it was not really necessary anyways,_ she consoled herself, _This entire cleansing wasn't even planned until the last minute, after all. There are more than enough measures in place to protect us all from the night-fever. I am sure the goblet held nothing more than peace of mind for the High Priestess,_ were her last thoughts as she made to leave the chamber. She glanced nervously over her shoulder and gave an involuntary shudder then opened the door.

"So you are ready then, Priestess Seraetia?" the castguard captain said with what Seraetia could only see as an amused grin. He had been waiting outside the chambers. She could only nod to him to lead the way. The most momentous event of her life lay in front of her. Now, she was going to be given the ability to channel directly through the High Priestess herself, and by extent through the Tower of Boran. Seraetia soon forgot her slight mishap in the cleansing chamber when confronted with the consequential task ahead of her, losing it in some neglected corner of her subconscious.

She followed the captain numbly, not truly aware of their path through the enormous Sanctum. She only vaguely noted that they were entering sections of the Sanctum where she had never before ventured. At one point they mounted innumerable steps that spiraled tightly on themselves. They must be rising into one of the parapets of the Sanctum.

At the summit of the stairs they were faced with a door fashioned of a singular piece of ivory. It appeared to have no latch or handle mechanism. The captain of the castguard simply stood in front of it, and just when Seraetia began to wonder if she was supposed to do something, it swung open of its own accord. The captain continued to stand still, waiting for Seraetia to enter ahead of him.

The High Priestess' back was turned when Seraetia entered. Her form was dark in contrast with the bright light from the window out of which she was staring. There was a low rectangular table in the center of the room. On it were a myriad of various glass instruments, some of which Seraetia had never seen before. She supposed they were for the ritual ahead. On the far end of the room was a small-ish bookcase. It was mostly empty, although it had a few books and a scattering of loose papers. It stood but a foot from the far end of the table.

"She may stand over there," the High Priestess' voice rang with formality. She pointed to the far right corner in the back of the room, by the bookcase. Seraetia followed the High Priestess' command. The High Priestess shot a glance like lightening to the captain of the castguard as he started to follow Seraetia. Instead, the captain took up post by the handle-less door.

Without warning, the High Priestess began to cant over some object in front of her. Seraetia was unable to discern what it was. Seraetia began to feel a little nervous. She closed her eyes a moment to quell the adrenaline roiling inside her. But the anxiety wasn't all coming from her, she was sure. The energy in the room was spiking. It was growing fast. She looked about the room and noted that in addition to the captain who stood by the door, which was still slightly ajar, there was one other castguard who stood in the shadow of the corner opposite her.

Then something beneath the intense energy that the High Priestess was concentrating stirred the edges of Seraetia's senses. She continued to gaze at the castguard in the shadows. There was an imbalance in his emotions. His face twitched involuntarily. It was muddled, but Seraetia could distinctly sense traces of fear colluded with deception. It was enough for Seraetia to suspect that she had somehow happened upon a dangerous situation. Keeping her focus intent on the devious castguard, she stealthily lifted her leg behind her, careful not to disturb the front of her robes. Hidden by the corner, she slipped her silver dagger from her boot. She pushed off the nagging sensation that her lost mentor had had the power of premonition.

She noted too that the castguard had his wand at the ready, something inappropriate for a castguard to do in private chambers and the presence of priestesses. She focused deeper on the castguard's fear, concentrating on augmenting his already fraught state. The castguard began to tremble. His skin grew pasty and slick. He gave a few quick, sharp shouts. The captain ran over to him, whispering tersely while he held the individual. A wand clattered to the floor. The High Priestess' head snapped up. Her eyes blazed at them. Seraetia took advantage of the short window of her distraction to penetrate through the layers of buffs and scan her thoughts. She didn't know why she felt prompted to make such a bold move. What Seraetia retrieved was brief, but distinct, and enough to justify her decision. She was in imminent and mortal danger. And the castguard was not the person she should be wary of. The glint of the blade N'Dreyid was canting over flashed in Seraetia's eye.

Seraetia did not give herself time to consider the implications of her discoveries. Survival honed her movements now. She reached over to the bookcase beside her and pushed it onto the table. There was a loud crash as glass shards flung to all corners of the room. She scanned the floor quickly, looking for the sheen of silver amid the glint of all the shards. Finally, she noticed the discarded wand about three feet in front of her. She lunged forward and grasped at it with her free hand before the captain, who was also scrambling among the shards, could get it. The High Priestess looked immediately to the door, the one exit from the room save her window, which only offered a fatal drop. Seraetia raised the wand.

"Dínaeia Gh'Dín!" Seraetia shouted in an attempt to muffle the High Priestess' wordless command to close the door. Seraetia, however, hadn't been taught spells for combat. The spell she used was a blessing for protecting a household. It only slowed N'Dreyid's heavy-handed enchantment. Seraetia dove for the door, narrowly avoiding the captain's clutching fingers. The gap was little more than six inches when she reached it. She screamed as she forced through. A searing pain swept across her skin as the High Priestess screeched out spells and shields melted into place around the room, rage now tingeing her voice and actions. Seraetia had managed to squeeze through the door but the shields seared across her skin, momentarily paralyzing her. She concentrated the energy toward her silver dagger as best she could. She sobbed from the immense energy flowing through her. But the second she stood still was precious and the ivory door shut on her robes, grinding mercilessly into place. She knelt down, sobbing and using her dagger to hack savagely at her robes. In an odd turn of fate, the energy from the shield sped the task. It had heated the knife blade so it sliced more easily through the layers of cloth.

Seraetia turned and ran frantically down the staircase. She fumbled the dagger back into her ankleboot and wand into the belt of her robes, blood tracing over the cloth where her hand was cut by the glass. She wished she had paid better attention along the way. Her mind was a-whir as it sped through her options. She hoped there weren't any more castguards than the two she remembered at the base of the parapet. A plan began to form and she racked her brain to remember how far down the staircase the first window was, and how high up from the ground that window was. It wouldn't take the captain and the High Priestess long to get through the barriers she had put in place. Seraetia soon left the glow the spells had given the stairwell, plunging heedlessly into darker regions. Eventually the dimness of the stairwell began to lighten again ahead of her. Seraetia's heart leapt in anticipation. But as if in reminder of the urgency, a dreadful grinding noise resounded distantly from above her. Shouts tumbled down the staircase to hound her. Seraetia scrambled down the stairs three at a time, perilously close to losing her footing on the steps rounded by time. She prayed not to twist an ankle. Finally, she could see a sliver of pale bright blue. The sight trumpeted hope to her as it widened and she could see the window, just large enough that she might be able to fit through. The sounds were getting nearer. Seraetia pushed herself, fairly flying down the stairs, and concentrated on masking her energy. She jumped to the window and grasped at the ledge. The rough stone pushed against her fingernails, driving them into the cuticles, as she forced her body into the slim window. But she was heedless to the blood smearing on the sill.

Once she was in the window she looked below her. She felt momentarily dizzy from the height and crouched more securely against the brick around her. She searched her surroundings nervously. There was no ledge. The forty-plus foot drop was sheer. Climbing was no option. She looked a little further out from the base, hoping for anything she might be able to use. And then her eyes alighted on it. There was a tree about fifteen feet away, and probably a good story shorter than her. It grew by the river's edge. Seraetia made up her mind to act quickly, before she could attract the attention of the people wandering below. She focused on gathering all of her energy. All the brief humour the grim situation would allow her was that if this didn't work, she soon wouldn't know the difference.

Seraetia settled into a pouncing position and prepared to commit blasphemy by turning to innate talents. The Sanctum did not forgive uncontrolled and spontaneous magickal acts. But she could not think on that now. Every cell of her body told her that her survival depended on this act. She gathered all of the available energy from around her: the tree, people, the sky, the grass far below. When she felt she had mustered all of the strength and energy at her disposal, then she did it. She launched herself from the parapet, her eyes fixed on the tree.

She saw it as one hope, one saving grace, looming in front of her and drawing her to it. She pulled at the life energy pulsing from it, and pictured a cord between their two selves, the pull between them too strong for gravity to overcome. The large shadow of some ridiculous bird soared over the people below.

But before Seraetia knew it was coming at her too fast. She began to panic. The branches reached up and grabbed at her, running gashes along her legs. In turn she reached at them, hoping she could get a tight enough grasp before the force of her jump threw her past the tree entirely. The branches slowed her speed some and she tumbled across the top of the tree until she had crossed almost to its ultimate edge.

Fear caught in her throat as she continued to grab at the branches to slow her decent. She had passed the apex of the rounded tree, and the branches grew fewer for her to hold on to. She heard the water rushing angrily over sharp rocks not far from her. She finally caught firm hold of one of the branches and hung for a second, a good ten feet from the water's livid surface. Seraetia looked to the parapet window she had jumped from just in time to catch the High Priestess and the captain pause at it a second. The High Priestess went to get a better look out the window. After a very brief glance she thought better of wasting her time there. The two continued to race on past.

The tree branch Seraetia held cracked and she dropped unceremoniously into the river.

_C_ _hapter 4_

# Secrets in Keeping

A dark creature crept in the shadows amidst the chaos of the Sanctum. While everyone was in a mass-exodus, she slipped deeper into the Sanctum's belly.

When she arrived at the correct door, she placed a chevroned hand upon its handle and carefully depressed the lever. She nudged the door inward and slipped inside noiselessly. The room was bare and boring. It held no other visible exit than the door through which she had entered. A barren table and simple chair were all that adorned the room. Yet somehow, an amber glow lit the room.

She closed the door quietly behind her. She pushed her hood back from her face, revealing her long, black, plaited hair. Her dark eyes pierced the room. She had fine bones in her face and high, well-rounded cheekbones. There was a thinness to her face that was from nature rather than from lack of food. Her lips were small but full and had the same look of careful sculpture to them as did her small nose. Her ears were slightly peaked at their highest and backmost extremity. She walked to the wall to the left of the door. Its blankness stared back at her with equal intensity.

"Lost amidst the Night," she mumbled under her breath. She traced along the wall at her eye level. Then her long lashes curved against her cheeks as she pressed her eyes closed. She flattened her hand firmly against the wall, keeping her fingers carefully together.

_Whatever I have left that she has given me, take it from me now_ , she thought. She pushed her body into the wall. The amber light in the room seemed to pulse for a moment.

She melded into the wall for only a moment before she was on the other side. Whosoever owned the room obviously considered the enchantment guard enough as there was no occupant save herself. It was equally obvious that this is what the dark-haired woman expected as she strode across the dark room. She stopped before an altar flanked by two candles on floor-stands. They provided the only flickering light in the room and they cast ghastly shadows against the rough earthen stone walls. The smell of the air was slightly dank, like a root cellar. The altar itself was encased in glass which seemed to meld directly into the base without seam or entrance. Underneath its pristine surface lay a very dusty object. On closer inspection, one could see the divisions between binding and pages. Its hinges were covered in rust and appeared as though they would crumble at the slightest movement. It did not look as though it had been consulted in decades. Within the case lay the one hope for Caillte, and she was going to take it. Odd how almost none of Caillte knew of its existence.

Fortunately for her, the thief was well aware of the enchantments that protected the old tome, and how to overcome them.

The returning castguards didn't notice the waif-like individual leaving the Sanctum. She was wearing the soft golden robes of an apprentice. Why should anyone have asked about the treasure she so greedily clasped to her? It was probably just some errand that she ran for one of the mentors. Besides, much more important things were going on at the moment. Someone had just kidnapped the newly anointed Priestess Seraetia, and every hand was needed for the mounting search parties.

_Chapter 5_

# Washed Away

The river pummeled against Seraetia's battered body, dragging her southward. In spring it was eternally cold. Seraetia knew she should be thankful; she knew it helped staunch the many cuts spanning her limbs. She had gathered several more from the jagged rocks of the river since the whipping branches of the tree. At first, the smaller scratches had stung, but by now her whole body was so numb that she couldn't feel her limbs, let alone a scratch. Only, the cold also sapped her strength so thoroughly. She no longer had any left to try and direct where the river deposited her, although she had been attempting to battle the river's power since her descent. Now she strove only to keep her head above the water as long as she could, to avoid drinking any more icy draughts than she already had. Eventually even this task became too much for her and she blacked out altogether.

"By Boran, you must be the one they're looking for!" came a fearful whisper. Next thing Seraetia knew, she was being dragged across wet sand and into rough grass laden with sticks and branches. She forced herself to latch on to the dim snippet flitting across her memory. She had pulled herself up onto something. There was this fuzzy image of a bank that had more sand than rock, and she vaguely remembered brushing a leaf away from her mouth before she blacked out again. She started to beat at the person dragging her to get their attention. The person let out an obscenity and tried to force her the rest of the way to her feet while still holding fiercely to her wrist.

"Wha—" she tried to articulate. She noticed absently that she was bleeding in several spots and felt glad that she couldn't remember the sharp pain that made the sore purple and yellow blotches all over her body. The bruises made it difficult to stumble after the stranger. In addition she had lost a heel from one of her ankleboots, and it made her limp even more like a cripple than she already was. Luckily, there was not enough left to the hem of her robes for her to trip on.

"There is no time. Reports have been coming–they're almost here. You must run," came the harsh whisper once more.

"Run? Where? I can't," Seraetia was starting to come back to herself, although she still felt the weight of sheer exhaustion heavily upon her shoulders. She pushed herself after him, wondering at the same time why she was trusting him over anyone else. He was a young man only a little older than herself.

"Northeast, and you must. I can't be seen with you. Go north and you'll find help. Through the trees, stay in the trees! I must go!" With that he gave a last plaintive shove, pushing Seraetia behind a shrub on the edge of a daunting forest. She happily collapsed behind it. She was so tired. She had never been in the forest without an escort before, and even then only on herb-gathering trips. She was about to get lost in her thoughts when an authoritative voice caught her attention. She was unable to make out what it had said, although she caught the voice of the stranger who had dragged her from the river.

"No, we haven't seen anyone new around here. Are you looking for somebody?" She heard her random savior answer in the distance.

She was being followed. Her heart skipped a beat and she summoned the energy from unknown reserves to push herself deeper into the forest. The Mantle of Boran waved at her from its perch on the scraggily bush by the riverside. The wind played with its shreds as the silver threads of the runes unraveled into the vast mystery of the air.
_Chapter 6_

# Caught in the Brambles

Seraetia tripped on roots and branches as she ran. She couldn't stop running. If she stopped running she would lose her nerve and everything else. She had no idea where she was going. Needless to say, the ceremonies yesterday had not gone at all as she had hoped, or as she had been taught. She still couldn't believe what had happened. She still wasn't sure if she was imagining it. A corner of her mind berated her for being stupid. She should stop running and allow them to catch her and take her back. Her actions were foolish, she knew. She was making assumptions that were most likely wrong and should turn back. Perhaps the High Priestess was worried about her survival and that was why she caught that snippet from her thoughts? Maybe the castguard's emotions of deception were because he was trying to deceive the High Priestess in something? She knew snippets were unreliable, and mind-reading was often more dangerous than it was worth. But no matter what she told herself, she could not stop pushing deeper into the unknown abyss of the forest. The darkness was pressing in against her and she was so scared and confused she could have cried, if she had had the energy left for it. Besides, she told herself, even if the training wasn't total truth, it couldn't have been a total lie. She could survive. She would have to now.

"Shhh! You have to be quieter or they'll catch us both!" came a strained whisper from beside her. Seraetia thought she must have imagined it because nothing more came. She slowed for a second and looked around. There was no one.

"Here!" a small hand with a dark triangular shape on the back and surprising strength deftly grabbed her arm, pulling her into a bush that looked too dense to hide in. "Quiet or you'll draw them to us."

Seraetia tried to look around her. Every movement brought another bramble scratching across her face. A small figure crouched beside her, its taught figure completely obscured by shadows and bramble. The figure pulled Seraetia down beside her. Seraetia's heart skipped a beat as she heard a stick crack underfoot. It was close. Too close. Seraetia forced herself to calm and breathe deeply.

She found herself touching the ground beneath her, feeling the soil throb against her fingers. Her eyes rolled back in her head as though she were looking in on herself and her eyelids started to flutter. She started to mouth arcane syllables under her breath. The air in the bush cooled as though a breeze wrapped itself around the two of them, although the air held no movement. Another stick broke underfoot as a man shifted his weight outside the bush. His presence was very near, almost suffocating. The stench of human sweat tried to push itself in on them. And then it started to fade. The feet shuffled branches and leaves. Then the sounds lessened as though a wall were being raised cocooning their haven. There came a disgruntled sniff, followed by footsteps gradually moving away. Seraetia's companion peaked through the bramble. A small company of armed men shuffled past.

"She was in here somewhere, I'm sure," said one gruff voice.

"Over here, I think I heard something!"

The last of the men trailed from view and the creature beside Seraetia began to breathe again. Slowly, Seraetia's quiet chanting abated and the press of heat in the bush hit with full force. Her co-inhabitant was looking at her warily. Seraetia sagged a little from the expenditure of energy, and looked at the person next to her from the corners of her eyes. The hollows of Seraetia's eyes were almost ghastly.

"Thank you for help," the person, now evidently female, said rigidly, "Do not follow me," she added in the same wooden tone, glancing at the trees above them.

With those words she was gone, disappeared into the forest. Better get used to the reaction, Seraetia told herself, since she was probably going to find rather a bit of fear of magick out here. Before, she would have pitied these strange woodland folk, but now that it looked like she'd be one of them, she didn't know what to think.

"Twixt the trees twain I find me a little bane."

Seraetia started. She looked about her but saw no one on the roads.

"If in observation she's so skilled it's a wonder she's not yet killed!" The voice seemed to be coming from several places at once, now to the side, now directly above her, then somewhere else entirely.

"Oh I'm up over here, that is, if you're not one of those brutes yonder looking to skin me. But then by the look of it you've been fairly skinned yourself. Alright, I'll take pity on you."

Seraetia jumped as something flew right by her side, landing with a crash on the ground beside her.

"Terricketer's the name," he said, leaning his elbow merrily on her shoulder, "Go by Terry, Terr, Rick, Ricky, Rickter, T. K., K. T., Q. T., K. L. M. N. O. P. and even Trickster occasionally, but most just call me Fool, Boy or Hey You with the Fruit Basket. Once I was even called Terrible, though I think Terrific might have been more appropriate, by one lord in his house after playing a sweet fancy little tune from my home town, may it rest in peace," with this he did a flourish of a bow, clutching an odd little hat to his heart. "But you my dame, madame or madam may call me, quite simply, Tee. Or anything else you see fit, for that matter, for I answer to most anything."

Honestly, Seraetia didn't have the beginning of an inkling of what to make of this character. Indeed, his ragtag clothes looked as though they may have once been very colorful, but that too much time in the forest had stolen any recent remembrance of it, or of how to keep seams from coming undone. His hat looked to be the only piece of clothing that he really took any care to mend, which instead of helping its appearance only gave it a jumbled patchwork effect. And his voice, when he spoke, was almost as odd as the smell emanating from him. However, he did seem to be human and he didn't seem as though he wanted to kill her at the moment. All in all, he might be worth the risk of making an acquaintance—although she didn't know how a young adult could act so much like a child. But after all, it wasn't as though she had anyone else to choose from.

"Mayhap you know of a place I could sleep and maybe get something to eat, Tree, I mean Tee, or whatever," she stumbled. Already this was proving an exhausting relationship.

"Just so happens that I do know where you could sleep. Although, on second thought, I might get my tongue cut out just for showin' ya. Hmmm..." the strange man fell back into a thoughtful repose, his thumb and forefinger resting on his chin. His gaze scanned her up and down as though estimating whether she were worth taking a significant risk, such as no longer being able to harass people with his usual verbal aptitude.

"So where, oh where is this little bird from I wonder," he mused to himself.

Seraetia began to feel worried. What if he was one of those forest vagabonds; how would he take it if he knew she was the chosen one of the Sanctum? Would he mistakenly blame her for his misfortune? She suddenly felt glad that she had lost the Mantel of Boran some distance back. She felt her Priestess robes were torn beyond the point of identification.

"Her clothing is ragtag enough," Tee said as though confirming her thoughts, "she may fit in with the rest of us. If her will be tough, she may even gain their trust," and then his manner changed suddenly from speculative to decisive, "Still, the half-way point's the better choice to rest our achy joints and with food rejoice! So off we be, just follow me!"
_Chapter 7_

# Making Heads of Trails

"So, you're a pretty enough girl. What's your situation? Have someone back home you're trying to get to?"

"What do you mean?" Seraetia asked, afraid of the answer to come.

"What do I mean?" Tee nearly guffawed, "Well, it's an easy enough question really: are you taken, with somebody, off the market, as it were or are you," he grinned ridiculously, "a free agent?" Seraetia didn't like where this was going. Best to make a quick end of it.

"I'm not interested in men," replied Seraetia. Her studies had always been the sole priority of her life, the life of a future Priestess, or so she had been brought up to believe. The life of a Priestess did not allow for anything other than the ritual interaction between Priestess and consort, when that time came. She saw no reason to change that level of interaction now that everything else had. Seraetia brought herself out of her thoughts to see Tee with his brow raised in quiet astonishment. He shrugged it off when he noticed her looking at him.

"Well, I guess that might explain why, despite your chances, you've made no advances," he grinned smugly, having apparently arrived at a conclusion, "So it's the birds you like then." It took Seraetia a second to catch onto what he was implying.

"What? No!" She was at a temporary loss for words. For the first time she realized that the possibility of someone holding any intimate capacity in her life had never before even entered her thoughts. Although she may not know yet if she liked men in that way, she felt a certain conviction that she didn't have the type of attraction it would require to be in that way with another woman. Seraetia began to feel overwhelmed again. There were more problems for her to contemplate about her life than she realized, now that she was without the structure that had guided her for so long.

"No," she repeated more calmly, "I do not like the 'birds' and I am not interested in men either. I have more important things," she paused a second, "to occupy my time, thank you."

They walked for a few paces in silence, save for the rustling of the birds in the trees overhead.

"So how far is this place anyways? I really am quite tired, and I have no provisions with me."

"What! The little bird didn't come prepared? It's almost as though she hadn't heard: one doesn't go for a jaunt in the woods without bringing plenty of goods," came his lyrical answer. Seraetia was used to getting cryptic answers to questions, but that was always in a nice clean, adequately provided Sanctum chamber. Yes, there had been fasts and weeks without sleep, but she had always known that at least more food _existed_ if she found herself too weak to complete the task. Besides, her teachers were there monitoring her so that she never got to a state where any permanent damage was done. Her mind started to get a little shaky at the realization that this was no such situation.

"I'm sorry, but that hardly seems an answer to my question, and furthermore I find your subtle berating of me to be quite unnecessary," her voice showing more bravado than she felt.

"Ah, it seems she learns from my dictation, despite her castigation. Well, patient she'll be if my hideout she wishes to see. Nothing more will she get from me." With that, he turned away from her and headed in a random direction. She had no choice but to follow him.

To Seraetia, it seemed as though their trek continued endlessly. They had hardly napped the night before but that Tee wanted to press on. He continually rhymed away that it wasn't safe in this part of forest. They had had no food. The next day they traveled through increasingly denser foliage, whose water table seemed to be rising with its density, much to Seraetia's increasing concern. Her soft Sanctum ankle-boots were coated in soil and plant juices as they broke underfoot, their once creamy white now varying shades of browns and greens. Every so often Seraetia would hear a crack off in the distance behind them or just to the side of them. Earlier in the day she would jump at each one, in fright of pursuers. But as the day wore on, her apprehension became less evident. Time dragged on endlessly. Even the heightened awareness that the adrenaline of being chased forced on her was wearing into monotony. Finally, her patience and her boredom could take no more.

"Are we even going anywhere specific?" Seraetia broke the silence after the light in the forest began to grow especially dim; whether it was from the coming dusk or the growing layers blocking out the sun from above, Seraetia couldn't tell. As if in answer to her question, Tee stopped a second and made another erratic turn. As before, he chose whatever terrain before them appeared the most difficult to traverse.

"I suppose it would be too much to expect a trail," Seraetia said more to herself than to her companion.

"I know you wish to jest, but it's quiet I suggest for the remainder of our quest," he whispered to her, his head cocked at an odd angle. Seraetia tried listening for the sound that seemed to have caught his attention; however, all she heard was the occasional rustling of animals in the bush.
_Chapter 8_

# A Stop along the Way

Tee and Seraetia spent nearly three straight days of near non-stop travel winding in circuitous routes tangled in brush, creek, and forest. The foliage was so dense at one point that the sun was blotted out in mid-day and they were left in nigh total darkness. Seraetia found this most disconcerting, all the time expecting some unknown entity to grab her and drain the night-fever into her so thickly that no Sanctum rites could brush her clean again.

Almost to her dismay, this did not happen. If night-fever did not lurk there, then where did it lie? Instead, Seraetia found herself both marveling at and questioning Tee's night vision when they arrived once again to an area of the forest where the thinned canopy let in enough sunlight that the hour could be mistaken for dusk. Unfortunately, this part of the forest appeared to Seraetia identical to the forest just before they entered the pitch they had just exited. Tee, however, seemed to think that they had just made an accomplishment in their journey because his mood lightened incredibly. He fairly skipped in his walk, his taught frame relaxing completely for the first time. Seraetia expected his senseless gab to start at any moment.

Suddenly Seraetia stopped. The bush ahead of her was rustling noisily. Her mind could only come up with two possibilities: large animal, or man.

"Hail, friend! 'T has been too long since we've seen your goofy face around here. And you bring a foundling." The stranger raised his brows at Seraetia. "Frightened as a young spring hare, that one. What's wrong with her? Where'd you find this one?"

"She fair fell out of a tree onto me!" Seraetia glared at Tee. She couldn't understand where he found he had the liberty to make fun of her. Tee just glanced at her and winked. "And hare is right as I saw her being chased like one of a yester night. Though I think she's used to a better bed than where I usually rest my head. A night in the camp should be good for this scamp. However, if she won't give us a grin, I say we shouldn't let her in." His face contorted into a pout.

"So you say Tee, so you say. Pay the tax of a smile deary, and I'll see you get some good food and a nice bed. You've seen a bit the lack of it of late by the look of ya."

Although it was a little difficult for Seraetia to make out his strange accent, she liked the sound of what he seemed to be implying. More than that, she liked his comforting manner and, although difficult to understand, the lilt of his voice made Seraetia feel all of the fatigue she had been accumulating since the ceremony. Without realizing, her lips turned up wistfully at the thought of sleep.

"Well, I guess that'll have to do. Maybe you can give me a better one, after you've had a morsel or so." He smiled knowingly at the young figure standing before him. She looked ready to collapse. "Follow me if you still have the energy, deary." As they walked through the encampment, people joyfully greeted Tee by a myriad of names. 'Tee' was the most prevalent; however, Seraetia was pretty sure someone did shout 'Hey you with the fruit basket,' or was it just 'Hey you with the Fruit?' Seraetia was too tired to pay too close of attention.

The bed they offered her didn't quite fulfill those of her daydreams over the last few days. In fact, it looked little better than the beds of leaves that she had been catching her scant naps on in the forest. But the prospect of more than half an hour of sleep in combination with the simple food they had given was too much, and her slight frame was soon overcome by Morpheus' draft.

"She has been sleepin' near a full day, tha' one," Seraetia heard voices hazily in the background.

"To be sure, so much sleep I could not endure."

"Now really, Tee, tell truth. How did ya find her? Where is she from?" Seraetia could barely hear the voices as they lowered. She vaguely remembered someone coming in and tending her; she didn't ache hardly the way she had the previous days.

"Run down like a hare she was, true I swear. In the tree all did I see: 'twas Sanctum guards ran her down. But no ordinary hare was she, as for her dress, garments of the Inner Sanctum no less did I see. What's more, 'twas not me first pulled her aside, but Maran as grabbed the child."

"Maran saved her, a Sanctum girl? I dare say, that's not quite Maran's style, for obvious reasons. Little dear, I do believe she wakes. We must be careful though. There are some would rather not see her here."

"I would not have brought her to this lair if I had not seen Maran's care." The old man held his hand up to silence Tee. Tee looked over his shoulder and left as he mumbled something to the man who had greeted them the night before.

"Well mornin' to you, slept long you have. When was the last chance you had for rest?"

Seraetia pondered the question. It seemed to have been an eternity since her life had been left aright. She raised her hand to her eyes and rubbed at them.

"I'm not sure. It has been many days."

"Well, in any case, you should be safe here for a few days. After that, well, there's no tellin beyond a few days."

Seraetia had never lived this way before. She gave herself to the irresolute feeling that was pervading everything lately. Nothing was as it should have been. She wasn't sure she quite knew how things even should be anymore.

"A few days," she said almost more to herself than to the other occupant of the tent, for she could see that was where she had slept now that it was the better light of day. Was this how she was going to live her life now?

"Ah, mayhap we can do better 'n tha' but there's no telling as it ain't my decision, deary. We'll try 'n help you more if we can. But see, we have to be a careful lot 'n all. Actually, Tee here's put 'imself on the line just bringin y'here."

"Thank you," was all that Seraetia could think to say, "and Tee."

"Yeh, I'll thank 'im. And donna worry. We'll try an' get you an audience wi' somma the higher-ups. We'll try an' convince 'em to let ya stay if you're up to't. It's hard, our way o' life. But you'll learn more if'n you get 'n audience. D'na worry for right now. Ah, here comes some breakfast!"

A small woman, or it may have been an older girl, entered the tent bearing a tray. It had much the same simple fare as Seraetia remembered from earlier: whole bread with honey, cheese, and berries. There was also a flagon of cold water, probably just taken from the creek she heard bubbling near her tent. She gave Seraetia a warm, if slightly shy, smile and placed the tray on a low stump that served as a table beside her cot-like bed. Whether they let her stay or not, she would still need her strength. And besides, she was still hungry from the night before, as the portions never seemed over-large here. If this was to be her last meal from them, she would surely take it.

"Thank you," she said to the woman, or girl, as she might be. She simply nodded and smiled in return, and left the tent much as she came—without a word.

"She d'na say much, but she's a good girl, she is. Kind-hearted an' hard-workin' as they come. My name is Eldwydd, by the way."

"Mine is—Tara," for some reason instinct told Seraetia to give a different name.

"Oh, and I believe those are for ya," he gestured to some homespun linens neatly folded in the corner. There was also a pair of supple leather boots. They were the light tawny color of a deer when its hide is adorned by a shaft of sunlight. On top of the stack lay her ankle-knife, shining dully. The castguard wand was not present. She nodded gratefully to him and he left to let her dress. She warily eyed the coarse brown knee breaches beneath the light jerkin. She had never worn pants before in her life.

Later that same day Tee walked in to Maran's tent. He knew that Seraetia, now Tara, had already arrived there. He had also been sent there because the monitoring of Tara would fall either to himself or Maran—it was custom that whoever came across a foundling would then be responsible for their impact on the rest of their society. The members of the council who were present in the encampment did not deem the situation of high enough import to convene, and so had left the matter to be worked out among the three individuals it directly involved: Tara, Tee and Maran. They must determine who was more responsible for the girl's presence in the rebel camp, and thereby who would watch over her if, or until, she had proved herself worthy of keeping herself amongst the rebels. The discussion as he entered Maran's abode was already tense.

"I would not be so eager to believe everything I have been told if I were you," stated Maran. Flint glinted harshly from her eyes. Oddly, Tara had the sensation that Maran was not completely looking at her, though her eyes were fixed on her steadily.

Tara began to give way to her frustration. "Well what would you have me believe? Those ridiculous stories from delinquents too lost to join civilized life, half-addled out of their wits by night-fever and who-knows-what-else?"

Maran's eyes sharpened clearly on the woman standing before her. "Do you include yourself in that category?" Maran turned gracefully, then added over her shoulder, "How can you have me help her, when she is still so closed to us?" Her eyes had the impression of looking in upon herself.

Although her words were directed at Tara, she felt as though they were meant for an invisible companion. Tara asked herself how she was supposed to treat her as a sane individual when she kept with such odd behaviour. Sure, a priestess may speak in tongues. But only in the highly regulated states of meditation that are guarded within Sanctum dogma. One certainly didn't go around in their daily lives heedless of speaking to individuals that only they could see.

Maran looked up and noticed Tee in the tent.

"This is your mess. Clean it up."

"Well, seems that your meeting first could not have gone worse," Tee said to Tara. He shook his head at her slowly. Tara huffed and stormed out of Maran's tent.

"Lovely bundle of joy, seems has joined to my envoy," he smiled ironically to himself. Tee gave one long glance at Maran, then followed after Tara.

"Now wait there little birdie, I must stay by you and you with me," he added as a look of alarm sprang to Tara's eyes, "I know, 'tis not the arrangement you would have hoped but leaving you in estrangement is something with which cannot be coped. There is much about you to yet be decided and till then we shall not be chided." She brushed free of the arm he had placed on her arm and continued with single-mindedness to her tent.

"'Twould be better for her if with me she sided." He shook his head again and jogged to her tent to set up watch outside it. "Oh Tee, don't look now for the trick's on thee. And in true style only you could bring on this wile."

_Chapter 9_

# Over Hill and Under Dale

They had spent half a week in the camp before it was time for them to move on. A breathless runner had been sent to warn them of the Sanctum guards preparing for a sweep of the entire forest—something that had not been mounted in Tara's memory.

After he had dispatched his message to the council, he ran into Tara. Even though he had arrived almost an hour ago, he still seemed as breathless as though he were running a marathon. A vein in his temple pulsed slightly. Tara felt compelled to ask him more about the evacuation.

"Do you know why they're sweeping the forest?" Fear of the answer closed the top of her throat. The boy seemed not to notice. Already, the other occupants of the encampment were making preparations. By now everyone knew of the news.

"There's a very loud rumour that someone kidnapped a priestess in the Sanctum. It's said the castguards have found a very precious scarf, or something, that she was wearing before she was taken. It was at a village a little south of here—not too far. They figure that rebels hiding in the forest must have stolen her, so they're making a sweep of the entire forest."

"Did you hear her name?" Tara asked, almost in a daze; she didn't even hear the words come out of her own mouth.

"I don't know—it was a... S'ray sha... or something like that." She let out a short breath. She wasn't sure if it was out of relief that she had given them another name, or nervousness at being tracked by the Sanctum. She hoped the boy who had helped her out of the river had not been hurt. Surely, they must have found the Mantel of Boran there. Come to think of it, she did not remember having it since she had left the river.

The camp was collapsed within a matter of hours and they were ready to leave. The only remaining question was what to do with the girl, Tara. The audience that Eldwydd had spoken of never came; there was not time. However, there had been much discussion about the situation she presented, now complicated by the approaching relocation. To Tara's surprise it was Maran who argued for her to remain with the party. She had argued that Tara could not be left behind either to follow them or alert the castguards of their presence—the magnitude of which had only before been a rumour—or their identities. However, many of the administrators of the operation did not agree with her completely. Granted, this girl who appeared in Sanctum clothing, or fragments thereof, could not be left behind to do what she would. Neither could she be allowed to travel with the camp and have further opportunity to spy any more than she may have already. Tee, however, presented the perfect middle option. He would continue to act as her chaperone, leading her in a lonely and circuitous route. He could then decide to either drop her off somewhere suitable or meet up with them farther along their route.

Once they started their journey, though, Tara began to feel less petulant at being bandied about in such an unceremonious manner. She was too caught up with keeping pace with Tee. She found she had to concentrate on surviving through each individual moment or she would go mad. Each day seemed to be a repeat of the last. They hardly ever talked, an unspoken emphasis on stealth. Tara still had no idea of what her fate would be, but confronted with no other options Tara decided to follow mindlessly. She had no idea where she was and the fauna of the forest they trekked through was foreign to her. She had not been taught how to hunt very much and she felt that her meager skill could only get her so far before the winter's eventual arrival. She decided her best chance for survival was to stick with Tee. Besides, even the nebulous thought of a plan could not come to her. That, in addition to the fact that Sanctum guards were reputedly sweeping through the entirety of the forest, cautioned her to err on the side of the grace of her ramshackle guide. She only hoped that he would not turn around someday, and tell her she had been confounded enough by their irrational travel, that he could leave her. Every morning she woke half-fearing to find herself abandoned.

Tee did not abandon Tara, however. Instead, he continued to lead her in senseless patterns across the landscape until the point where he almost felt lost himself. It was at this point that he decided she must be sufficiently disacclamated to her environment for him to start picking his way north, toward the village. The village he was headed for was not like the villages of the south, though. The villages of the south had Sanctum presence; this one did not. To most, it was just a rumour, a fabled dream that could not possibly truly exist, but whose presence was only rumoured in the right ears—just in case. Of course, Tara had no idea where they were headed.

All Tara knew was that her scant sleep was troubled by confusing, clashing dreams. Some were of her childhood, as an apprentice to the Sanctum. But they were strange, for although some of the people were familiar, and she felt to be her own younger self, they did not follow her memories.

"Hey! Careful!"

Tara frowned at Tee, looking around to find her offense.

"What?" she finally asked. He rolled his eyes and scoffed at her, less playfully than Tara would have liked.

"That makes branches three for minutes three that have crunched beneath thee," his whisper strained, "Try through your eyes, and not your mind, to see. It is still likely that followed we may be."

"You think we're being followed?" Tara asked anxiously. The tension of feeling chased had only recently lessened for her.

"Mayhap, there was a sound I liked not that I heard a while back. Worry not, only," his expression softened slightly, "we should play a cautious lot." He paused and looked around, sniffing the air.

"But time is rest I think we had," he pointed a little farther into the dense undergrowth, "there, in that log decayed shall our bed be made." The quarters were cramped inside the log, and the bushes around them were strongly fragrant, almost suffocating. It no longer took her as long to fall asleep so close to another individual as it had their first few stops. Fatigue could go a long way to overcome those types of preferences.

_Chapter 10_

# Entry

"A priestess was once accused of a crime. Now, no matter how slight, if a priestess be found guilty of the crime, she is sentenced for life to the prison. This was what happened to this priestess—the first in one hundred and fifty years."

"What was she guilty of?" she asked Ellion.

"Ahh, well, whether it was hush-hush to protect the Kirike, or the victims, we will never know," he paused a moment and thumbed his stubbly chin, "Personally, I think it must have been something big—the Kirike didn't even defend her. They pretty much handed her over."

"So no one knows?"

"I didn't say that. Now, once she had begun her internment at the prison, she was faced with the awful wretchedness of humanity. Sufferring engulfed her until it smothered. Not a whole month had passed before she arranged to meet with the warden of the prison.

"'As part of my attonement,' she said, 'let me visit with the prisoners. Mayhap I can bring them some small amount of peace, and turn them back around to the ways of the Outside.'

"'Now why should I do that?' asks the warden, undoubtedly wary of this strange request. Then again, he never had a priestess in his prison before.

"'I know that I have committed crimes,' continued the priestess, 'But I truly wish to make up for them in some way. Let me be faced with our wretches. Let me do the work of the Kirike in here, so I may better understand what penance is.'

"Now well, that was a strange argument that had much effect on the warden. It was not but the very next week that one of the prisoners was gripped by an illness. Now, like many prison illnesses, it seemed to threaten him fatally. Though unlike most prison illnesses, it did not seem catching. The healer was brought in and diagnosed his death by the end of the day. The healer could do nothing more for him. It was now a matter for the Kirike.

"Now the warden was a good man—and none too wont to be in trouble with the Powers that Be. Here he had a dying man, and someone to ease his passing properly. It was so that under guard the priestess was allowed to attend on the dying prisoner. The outcome was very satisfying. The dying prisoner was given some comfort in death; the guards felt the solemn value of the occasion and word soon spread about the prison. The warden felt good about himself. There had been no complications. And he had further ensured his place with the Kirike and the Powers that Be, in his mind. It soon became habit for the priestess to attend deaths, and within a few years she was visiting upon every prisoner at least once a week. By the end of the fourth year, the guards no longer accompanied her.

"It looked that she did good works in that prison. Many men and women were released back into the Outside," his mouth twitched tightly, "And they were oh-such upstanding citizens. No one could impugn the good works of the-priestess-that-was-accused, as she was soon being called. There were those that began to doubt if she had committed crimes. How could such a good person have done anything wrong? Certainly not wrong enough to deserve life in prison.

"Anyways, by the time the guards left her alone with the prisoners, they were primed with promises and would follow her—wherever she led them. She was like a light to them, when they were caught shivering in a dark and narrow well. And by the time the community decided to exonerate her for what must have been false accusations, she had followers that had risen to high places with more—many, many more—to follow."

His eyes lost themselves in the flickering flames.

"How many years was she in the prison?" she asked.

"Oh?" he startled back. He made a frown and continued, "Seventeen. Seventeen years was she in that prison."

"What about the people that accused her, or the trial? Surely there were records. And the written word cannot be disputed." She was unwilling to accept the events as laid out before her.

"Never found. It was assumed that the victims had died, as they now would have been near a dying age. It was seen as fortunate that the written of her accusation could not be found. Only very few raised a brow to the missing judge and presenters—not enough to stem the priestess' overwhelming popular support. You see, it seemed that people came out cured—even blessed. Now, people were happy to be reunited with loved ones they thought were lost to them forever. But after a while people began to ask why lowly prisoners should receive blessings before people who worked so hard to follow the laws and the Kirike."

"But surely the warden knew what she had done?"

"If he did, he kept silent on it. Maybe he felt the judgment of life too harsh, and that she had outweighed her sentence by all the lives she had 'saved'." His pupil opened her mouth to ask another question but he continued, raising his hand to her, "Now, it really doesn't matter. I think you have enough to understand. At least for now. Telling the story has grown me tired and I think I shall to bed with me. Best you do the same, for it is very late, young child. Tomorrow is closer than you think, and it will not wait for your questions."

"Come, come!" then the whisper added to himself, "Glory 'tis not fun to wake this one." Tee shook her shoulder more roughly. Tara did not want to leave the comfort of Ellion's fire, but harsh reality could not be ignored, and the last threads of the dream slipped away.

"'Tis a hard day we have ahead 'tis truly time we left this bed." Tara moaned softly and rolled herself out of their little used camp to follow Tee. He started to forge ahead as soon as Tara opened her eyes, and she did not want to lose sight of him. She tried to blink away the lingering effects of the dream. Somehow she felt like things were supposed to make sense, like something was suddenly made clear by the dream. But she could not remember it. She shelved it away and tried to focus her attention on not losing Tee.

Later that day a large mass of birds flew over their heads heading north, and Tee picked up his pace. Something was driving at his heels, though he dared not say what. In fact, dared not say anything. Tara did not press him either, only caught on to his sense of urgency and quietly quickened her pace as best she could, and quickly forgot the dream.

"Ah my little bird," Tee whispered to her in the afternoon the next day, his face tensed with anticipation, "ready yourself for a sight I'm sure you've never seen. Don't let it fool you, this shall give us the best chance we can have—if you are strong enough. A better test I could not have devised to have your worth sized."

The light in the forest had been increasing over the last day and the canopy above them had grown lower, allowing for patches of blue sky to intersperse their leaves. When Tee pushed aside the leafy branch in front of him she saw why. It was as though he had punched a hole in the foliage. The sight frightened her. She had never seen anything so desolate in her life, and she had seen rather more than many others of Caillte. As she moved forward to the edge of the forest she had to cover her eyes, and still she felt as though she were being blinded.

The forest gave way to a vast landscape of dry rocky soil. Scant grass padded the only transition to it. After that, the only vegetation was small and tough and its color was dark and dingy. At least, she assumed that the twigs scratching their way across the small rocks were vegetation. Or maybe they used to be, once upon a time, she reasoned. The vast mound of coarse sand rose gently before her, giving no hint as to what lay beyond it. If she thought she couldn't identify anything in these outer edges of the forest, she knew she had even less luck in this wasteland. She wondered how anything could change so abruptly. And Tee was suggesting they cross it? All the food they had eaten the past three days had been foraged—much to her stomach's dismay—which meant they had some rations left from the camp. She only hoped that the other side of the rise was less foreboding. Tee took her hand as he heard something in the forest behind them.

"Come, they are sure not to follow us if they don't know we've entered there. Not even they would think we fool enough to undertake such a task—unless they see us do it," he gave a rakish grin, "'Tis times like these that pays to have a fool by your side," the grin fled his face as he glanced over his shoulder, "We must run if we're to make it to the other side of that rise before they can see. They have almost been upon us for over a day." Tee snatched a branch with several leaves on it and dragged it behind him with his other hand while pushing her ahead of him. He brushed haphazardly from side to side as they ran up the rise. The clear blue sky stared down at them mockingly, allowing as much of the sun's rays to hit them as possible. Tara's fair skin felt the warmth keenly.

Neither Tara nor Tee noticed the leaves rustling because they did not spare the time to look back. They had maybe ten feet to go before they could dive behind the small rock outcropping at the top of the slope. Tara skinned her hands on the rough earth as she pushed herself forwards, reopening some of the cuts she had incurred from before. She sent several of the smaller rocks tumbling after her as she vaulted herself over the rise. She clasped desperately to the small rock outcropping to keep herself from tumbling down the other side, whose steep drop threatened to suck her down to the valley between the hill she was on and another similar to it. She took a second to look back at Tee for further instructions, only to see the foliage through which they had just crept barbarously whacked asunder. Tee, whose progress had been slowed in his attempts to cover any trail, was still five feet from the outcropping. Tara was fairly sure that they hadn't seen her, although the first Sanctum guard that emerged from the forest leveled his bow at Tee. Tee dropped the branch and dove for the outcropping. But it was too late. Tara watched the glaring arc of the arrow as it pierced into Tee's side.

"Hehe, good sport that one," shouted one of the younger Sanctum guards from the rear of the small party. The guard nearest him cuffed his ear.

"Sport! This is serious. They're all accomplices, anyone who lives in the forest," then his face broke into an unnerving leer, "not that you could make a shot like that anyways."

"I didn't see you shoot that animal!" the younger guard piped in his own defense, shying from the other guard as he prepared to deal him another blow. Tara quickly searched their number to see if there were any castguards, or only stupid brutes had landed upon them. She was relieved to see no one that might be sensing for her energy.

"Quiet, all of you!" the leader of their number, the one who had shot Tee, called. "He may not have been alone."

"Oh you're being paranoid; he was probably just another hermit that lives around here. Good for target practice but not much else, I'll wager," came a third voice. Several of the men laughed cruelly. The leader looked around uneasily. He looked back to his men and broke into a smile.

"Best get the arrow back from him; he's probably not even worth the metal used to smith it," he replied. He started to hike after Tee, who was squirming uncomfortably and struggling to keep from looking in Tara's direction. Tara sidled to the farthest end of the small outcropping and lay as low as she dared to avoid falling, or causing a small rockslide and alerting them to her presence. She was able to watch, though, from a small hole provided through the loose arrangement of rocks.

Tee looked up at the leader in disgust as he approached. When he reached the wounded man, Tee spat in his face.

"You're going to pay for that, you worthless cur!" He ripped the arrow out of Tee's side savagely. Tee screamed awfully, despite his obvious efforts not to. Once the arrow had been freed of Tee's raw flesh, the leader kicked Tee's gory side with his sandy boot. Tara couldn't see his face as Tee grimaced in response. She could only see him clutching into a fetal position.

"I could have killed you the easy way, but now I'd like to give myself the pleasure of being able to contemplate your death whenever I wish. I can wonder at the different ways that the desert could kill you. I doubt you can last long with an open wound and," he grinned as he lifted the full skins attached at Tee's waist, "no water."

"Come along boys, there's nothing left here." He gave a final kick at the ground, spraying Tee with loose dirt and gravel, before he turned on his heel to lead his party back into the forest.

Tara waited until the party had been gone for some time before she moved to leave her cover. Meanwhile, Tee had been squirming his way towards her.

"No! Get back down, they may still be watching," he groaned to her. She couldn't tell if his voice was so low out of pain or for secrecy. She crouched back down below the rise. She had never fully risen, only coming close enough for Tee to notice her movement. She was forced to stare on helplessly as Tee struggled up the last of the rise. After minutes which seemed like hours, Tee finally wriggled the last few feet to where Tara could touch him. Tee tottered precariously on the crest and Tara had to catch him quickly before he started to roll down the other side.

_Chapter 11_

# A Shadow

A pair of dark eyes peered from between the leaves. They were shot with anguish. She allowed them to retreat further into the forest before she took care of them. Why hadn't she found them in time! No, she must concentrate on the task at hand. They must not be allowed to endure. The branches barely ruffled as she sprung along the trees. Her compact bow was already in her hand, prepped with an arrow. The shadows of the leaves mingled across the intricately carved patterns in the wood of her bow.

"How long are we going to have to wait before we can go back and grab the body? I want to see if there's any gold on him."

"Not likely from the looks of that vagabond."

"You'll wait until I say. I want that one to suffer his open wounds in the desert a while before we chase after him. It's all the better when it's seasoned with the knowledge that he's probably out there thinking he might still have a chance to escape," the leader said with a sneer. He spat into a nearby bush.

She huddled close to one of the tree trunks, bracing herself on two branches. He would die first. Her muscles rippled as she smoothly drew the arrow back in the bow, leveling it at the leader. She released quickly and by the time it had pierced the back of his neck below the skull she had already darted silently to another vantage point. She proceeded to take out two of the remaining three men from the trees. The last one was the youngest of the group. She only had momentary qualms before she leapt from the branches to the forest floor. The most mercy she would grant this sapling was to allow him the chance to fight for himself.

She laid her bow against a tree and slid a dagger from her leather boots. She waited for him to accept her challenge. Instead, he sniveled and turned to run, his short sword falling to the ground. Maran rolled her eyes at his cowardice. No doubt if she let him live, she would turn into a horde of angry barbarians down at his local pub. Or an organized stealth ambush that included more rebels than were in the camp that had sent her to tail Tee.

She picked up a blunt rock from the ground and took careful aim before releasing it at his head. He slumped solidly to the floor. After slipping her bow neatly into its holster on her back, she went over to the limp body. She decided the best course of action would be to drag him to another part of the forest. She would let the trees decide his final fate, if the rock hadn't killed him.

Afterwards she ran to the site where she had seen Tee fall. She only hoped she would not be too late. Last she knew the foundling was still with him. With any luck she had exercised at least a modicum of intelligence and kept him from bleeding to death.

When she arrived, however, she found only the tracks of a body half stumbling, half being dragged by another. She did not have the luxury to follow them, she knew. She could only hope that they would find their way to the safehouse before the desert killed them, but she had gone as far as Feriam had asked her. She shivered despite the warmth. She felt like someone was bearing down upon her.

Her scream pierced the Sanctum walls. Someone had taken it! She had felt the disturbance; only preparing the search parties had stayed her then. N'Dreyid scowled as she admonished herself for not investigating it sooner. She had thought—nay, she had convinced herself—that the disturbance must have been due to the catastrophe the day had turned into. It was going to be the day where she ended all of this trouble that damned oracle brought up almost sixteen years ago. She had assumed the disruption had been because her plans had been thrown awry, and that worthless girl had slipped from her grasp. So carefully had she groomed her to be accepting. So thorough had she been to see that the girl saw only what she was supposed to see, reasoned as she was supposed to reason.

This room should have been safe! No one even knew that it existed; how could she have expected the disturbance to have arisen because of the shield failing? She examined the case again. It lay fragmented on the floor, strewn in odd pieces. She had blown it apart after she had confirmed the book's disappearance. When she first looked in the room, all appeared well. She had walked over to the altar; the case had been untouched. But the book was gone. She hoped childishly that the book had only been under some enchantment to disguise it (though she could think of no reason why someone who had managed to get into the room and get past the enchantments of the altar would bother to make it invisible). Still, she undid each enchantment, though she didn't notice they were not the same ones she had placed upon the altar herself. They all carefully bore her magickal signature and were placed in exactly the same way she had left them. Once she waved her hand through the clean air beneath the case, her rage blasted into and against every corner of the room. Castguards looked around themselves nervously and apprentices jumped in fright as the walls around them shook, and an awful eerie screech trembled in their bones. Even trees and small animals quavered in the forest some hundred yards away.

Maran shook off her chill, and darted off to catch up with the encampment.

_Chapter 12_

# Gifts of Air

"God, this is ridiculous!" Tara cried, with what energy she could muster. She knew it was pointless to waste her little remaining energy that way, but the alternative options seemed to be running thin. She collapsed beside Tee, spitting out the dust that she had stirred around her. Blood from her cracked lips moistened her dry tongue. She had been dragging Tee across barren wasteland for several hours now. The sun had never been more evil, in Tara's mind, as it ravaged her mercilessly. She felt like a sponge that had been wrung past the point of desiccation to where its fibers were being rent from each other. Tara reached over to the barely-conscious Tee and felt his side. He flinched at her touch. Ignoring it, she pressed against the makeshift bandage she had made for him. She could only feel a little moisture as the blood soaked through the many layers.

She wished desperately that she was back near the Sanctum. There she could have found the plants to slow the bleeding. Here, the scraggily brown grass that dottily patched the sand gave her little hope. She didn't feel that she could half-drag Tee any further. The sand grated hotly at her bare calves. She knew Tee was in the worse position, though. She gazed on his reddened torso. Tara couldn't have used her own jerkin for the bandage, so she had had to use all of Tee's. At first it wasn't so bad, since he had been wearing several shirts and a vest in his usual whimsical style. But she was now down to the last garment she could use as his wound had soaked through all other possible bandage material. Tee started to make a gurgling sound that alarmed Tara. Something started to bubble up from his throat and his teeth were suddenly tinged with pink.

"No! You're not allowed to do this, Tee!" she said aloud while inside she screamed hopelessly, _I can't do this by myself. I don't even know where I am._ She squeezed her eyes shut. Tee's breathing slowed and stopped rasping as heavily. His eyes were open but held no sight.

Tara buried her fingertips in the hot sand at her side, gripping at it. Beneath the thin layer of coarse dust the earth was hard and unforgiving. She took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and looked at Tee a last time. She gave a fickle laugh.

"I might as well try, it's not as though I have anything left." _I'm sure one more time couldn't hurt,_ she added in her mind.

She placed his head in her lap and smoothed his sweaty brow. She looked a second at a weed by her other hand. It was small, creeping closely to the sandy surface. Tara placed her hand over it like a cage, its quiet life resonating against her palm. She let her instincts guide her. She closed her eyes again, exhaling slowly, forcing the air over her cracked lips, stinging them as it did so. The air blanketed her in heat, dry and permeating. She pulled the energy from the air itself, letting it condense through and on her. After a few seconds—or minutes, she didn't know—Tara couldn't feel if she was breathing anymore. The air seemed to go right through her, buoying her up. She felt the heat of the sand beneath her fingers, the slow ebb of the plant. She pulled at them too, drawing their energy through her like they were a conduit into the center of the earth itself. She contracted the energies into a point in front of her belly. When she felt she could hold no more she leaned close over Tee's face. Her hair didn't stir in his breath. Tara inhaled, drawing the energy up from her belly, and blew a long breath over Tee's face. His brow furrowed in earnest as the air contacted his skin. He coughed, then inhaled a deep raspy breath. His eyes snapped open at the same time.

Tara let out a small smile before she collapsed to her side. Tee felt at his wounded side. While it was still quite tender, it no longer felt like someone had cut out his liver. He knelt over Tara. His eyes shone with concern.

"I didn't know I could do it. I didn't know it could be done," Tara said between gulps of air, "There was one mentor—he always said it was there if I looked. But we weren't supposed—Oh Tee, I'm so tired." She closed her eyes against the blaring sun, whose light somehow seemed less callous, although it still burned her fair skin.

"You mean you didn't know you were a healer. Most can't do that on their first—hey" Tee flinched as Tara lazily reached up to his wound, "I see an amateur one at that. I'll have you know that still hurts." Tee seemed to have forgotten his rhyme.

"Be nice. I think I just saved your life so you can die with me in this blasted desert." Tee grinned roguishly at Tara's comment.

"Well, my bird—nay, angel—now that I am better we shall soon be finding a place that's wetter. While in my delusions I could give no conclusions on how this desert to cross. ' 'Twill be but one more day over hills till water shall come our way,' as our stories say," Tee finished and Tara made no movement. "Come now! 'Tis time go, let's not give it time to snow!" He reached down and shook Tara until her eyes opened again; they must have closed some time during his speech. "If you don't come along, I'll be forced to break into song!"

Tara wearily forced herself up at this threat into the closest approximation of a standing position she could achieve in her present drained condition.

"And all my shirts! Where are they? The blue was a gift and to lose it might a cause a rift," He eulogized to the air, or someone only he could see, then added sensibly, "'Sides 'tis not a day to be caught so in the deserts."

"Oh right, I had to use them as bandages."

"Okay then, where be the bandages? A blood-soaked cloth against the sun is better than none."

"I left them as I changed them—"

"What! Some kind of healer, brought me back to see me suffer. In the desert with no shirt? Such healing I can't endure!"

Tara followed after Tee, who was making annoyingly good progress over the terrain. Momentarily, she questioned her choice.

_Chapter 13_

# Parching Thirst

Tara nearly fell into the small puddle that Tee had called an oasis. This healing thing was far more tasking than she had been prepared for. Right now, the only thing she felt prepared for was death so that the aching throughout every particle of her body could finally abate.

"It's okay, we're here," she could feel somebody—presumably Tee—lowering her to the ground so that she didn't faint. Tara tried to mumble something in response. She vaguely thought it might be a thank you she was trying to say, but then couldn't remember.

The 'oasis' was cuddled between two vast sand dunes on either side. There was also a structure of rock jutting up from the back of the small pool, which was no more than ten feet at its widest. Nor was it deep, not more than three feet in the middle. There were a handful of tall weeds, but Tee felt prepared to call them trees because they cast a shadow.

Tee braced his side with his free arm. He got a tight hold of Tara and stepped into the pool, dragging her after him. The water was as warm and brown as the sand, but where it hit the air it cooled the skin. Tara started to wake a bit when Tee dribbled some on her forehead and then between her swollen lips. She coughed a bit then licked at her lips, gasping for more. Her eyes fluttered open a slit.

"I think I can stand on my own Tee, there's no need for your chivalry," she laughed at him dryly. He splashed her. Tara crouched in the water a moment so she was entirely submerged. She opened her eyes, then closed them again quickly when she realized she couldn't see past her own nose. She sat up in the water, gulping in the air. Tee looked at her. Her skin was the deep rose caught between sunburn and tan. Her hair floated on the surface of the water, like thousands of tiny albino snakes bleached white by the sun. The brilliant cornflower blue of the sky reflected in her eyes beneath her long pale lashes. Her lips had started to get some color back in them. Tee realized he was staring and tried to bring himself back.

Tara played with the water, letting it dribble from her hand as she held it before her. Its age caught her. She couldn't remember her hands ever looking so old. They had been worn by hard work before, but never had they been so lined and cracked. The numerous wrinkles around her knuckles began to disturb, so she looked around her instead.

"So what is this place and how do you know it? Not quite what I pictured when you said oasis, I must say," Tara asked Tee.

"Of stories old and lore retold, therein many secrets can be unearthed of egress less heard. 'Into the lonely rock you tread, after passing mounds of dread, to a land where freedom's found you will find this path is bound.'"

"Have you ever used it?"

"No, not I—no one I know's come nigh," he said jovially.

"Then how do you know where it is or where it leads?" she asked, doubt creeping into her tone.

"I just told you. We leave this land for one with less sand, and the secret is beneath the parapet," Tee looked to the back of the pool. Tara noticed the rock which disappeared beneath the murky surface and frowned. It didn't seem to her that any secret could be behind it. She waded over to it after Tee nonetheless.

Tee motioned for her to start inspecting the wall from one end and he the other so they could work their way to the middle. Tara felt ridiculous. The rock had only the smallest of imperfections, rising almost like a monolith backed against the dune. There were no crevices that could imply a seam, and the stone was so massive it couldn't possibly be moved by the two of them. Regardless, she continued to carefully examine the rock as she inched toward the center. At least the rock gave them shade and the water was cooling, which was more than she could say for the last day and a half. The sandy bottom was growing slick beneath her knees. She lost her footing for a second and slipped underneath the water.

"She plays more than me, despite the knave I be. Come little dove, bring your head above," Tee called. He began to get nervous after a few moments. What was taking her so long? He inched carefully towards where she had been standing. He felt for her with his hands, brushing against the floor and hoping she hadn't hit her head on a rock. As he reached the point where she had fallen, something rushed up out of the water, hitting Tee squarely in the head and jolting his head backward.

"Hey, watch it! And here I was trying to make sure you hadn't got your head hit!" Tee threw his head back and clutched the bridge of his nose. Tara treaded the water in front of him. She swam over to Tee and sat down on the floor of the pool beside him, rubbing her forehead.

"Sorry, are you okay," she leaned closer to him to make sure he was all right and he jerked away quickly. He wrinkled his nose several times and sniffed hard. "Anyways, I think I found you're silly passage. Either that or it's a death trap for us. In any case, it'll get us out of this wonderful desert. I'm not sure how deep it goes. I went as far as I could before I had to come back up for air and I never reached a bottom."

"I see, you have to fall in it first before you believe. It's a wonder you're so naïve!" Tee took a deep gulp of air and dove into the watery abyss.

Tara dove in after him. She couldn't really see him but she could feel the motion of the water in front of her and hoped it was Tee. She wondered why she bothered to keep her eyes open even though it didn't help her any. All it did was sting them, but she felt too disoriented when she closed them. They had been swimming for quite some time and Tara was beginning to get nervous. She thought about how long it would take them to get back up to the surface if they ran out of air. A heavy weight pressed against her chest and forced her to exhale more air than she intended. Tara couldn't feel Tee's motion in front of her anymore and her lungs were about to burst. She doubted that even if she turned around right now she would be able to get to the surface before she drowned, if she could even find which way that was. Tara felt for any sign of Tee and, finding none, decided to go straight up as she felt it was her safest bet. She kicked hard against the water, propelling herself towards the surface.

Her head collided with something solid and sharp. Tara reached above her. To her surprise she felt something cold. It took a moment to realize it was air. She immediately pushed her face up against the stony surface, cranking her neck back to allow herself to swallow from the inch of air. Once she had sufficiently filled her lungs, she took a second to ponder her position. She must be underneath the monolith. She wondered what she should do next. She had no idea where Tee was. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine and she tried not to think of him getting trapped somewhere under the rock that didn't have an air pocket.

She was pretty sure of the direction she came from, which meant she was pretty sure which direction led deeper into the 'passageway'. If she stayed here too long, she worried she would use up all the air. But if she explored now, she might be able to come back to it, or find another like it along the way.

Tara breathed in a draught of air, conscious that it may very well be her last. This time she kept her eyes closed under the water and resigned herself to feeling her way. Her hands brushed against the rock above her and she decided to follow it. It quickly submerged beneath the water again. It wasn't long, though, before she felt the cool shock of air against her skin again. She let herself rise to get another breath. She wondered how many more of these pockets she would find along her way. Tara stopped only a moment to rest before she continued on. Weedy things started to wrap around and lash at Tara's legs as she continued. She hoped they were plants, and pushed herself forward. She found two more air pockets in much the same manner, completely unsure of how much time had passed. Outside, night had probably already fallen. One hand lazily dragged along the ceiling above her. She had been two days without food, and before that, only rations. The constant treading and swimming tasked her aching muscles. Sheer muscular exhaustion was starting to creep over her and her hand faltered and lost its contact with the rock. She reached up to feel it again. She must have sunk lower than she thought, because it wasn't as close as she supposed. She beat her legs, thrusting herself upward, but she couldn't find the rock. Tara began to panic, driving herself to the ceiling with the rest of her energy. Shock covered her body as she vaulted from the surface of the water. She had to remind herself to breath. The cave glowed eerie shades of green and blue. A spit of sand disappeared into the water. Tara swam to it. She dragged herself halfway up it. Even though it was dank and smelled closeted, the air seemed the most valuable thing to her in the world. She just lay there breathing it. In her last conscious thought, she wondered why she had missed the water so much when they were crossing the desert.

_Chapter 14_

# Homestretch

"Takes me three tries and I find here she already lies. Must be some fancy luck in this girl's pluck. 'Tis better than the bottom of the lake, least best for her sake. I do wonder how much longer her nap shall take?" A whimsical voice broke through Tara's slumber.

"You're alive!" She moved to hug the figure crouched over her, then thought better of it. "So what do we do from here?" Tara's voice echoed against the water and cavern walls.

"Well, I haven't had much chance to explore, but along that far wall there's more, I'll warrant. Time to rise from your sleepy post; time's not yet come for us to coast." Tara noted Tee's red-rimmed eyes with concern.

"Tell me, Tee, when is the last time you slept?"

"Don't you worry, you little rose; I've had plenty of time to doze." Tara doubted his wan smile. Before they left they explored the small cavern. Along one wall they had found strips of dried fish neatly stacked next to empty water skins. These they filled with the cave water. It quenched thirst despite its gritty and dull texture, or how heavily it sat on the tongue. They both ate sparingly of the fish before gathering the rest up for the remaining journey ahead. Silently Tara hoped they were not dooming some poor soul who was counting on these stores, but Tee seemed not to care so Tara pushed the feeling aside. Tara eyed the dark crevice along the back-most wall. They had found it in their search of the perimeter. It seemed the next logical step. Checking that she had as much fish on her as they could find (nine hand-sized pieces once they had finished eating), Tee had the water skins they found in the cave, she rose from her rocky seat and prepared herself to enter the abysmal black before her. She clutched a glowing rock in her hand, similar to the one Tee held aloft in front of him as he made to enter the crevice. They had found them tucked along the walls just under the water line. It had been the rocks that gave the cave its eerie green glow. They seemed to be covered in some luminescent fungi. Tara hoped secretly that their light would continue as long as they needed it. She took a rallying breath of the stale air and followed Tee.

Tara did not feel comfortable breaking the silence that Tee had ominously set. She had tried, in the first hour or so, to make light conversation. But a lack of response eventually led her to the conviction that chatting was not going to happen. It seemed that Tee did not want to expend the energy necessary for talk. This made Tara nervous on two accounts. For one, it increased her worry at Tee's overexpendature; his wound seemed adequately healed, but Tee had taken several more attempts to get to the cave than she had. His face was drawn by worry and exhaustion, for the entire time, he had not known what had become of Tara, until he finally made it through the underwater passage to the cave. Also, he did not get the rest she had fallen into during his attempts. She was also nervous because his silence seemed to indicate that a long journey through the dark, close walls lay ahead of them. The ceiling above them narrowed to a point shortly above their heads, as though two gargantuan walls of rock were leaning against each other. Their green light glowed crisply against the walls, casting irregular shadows that rolled as they moved farther down the hallway of rock.

Tara had no sense of time. She could only guess that Tee had none, either. Eventually she couldn't move anymore. The failing light from her rock cocked against the walls as she slumped against the rough wall. She couldn't contemplate how many hours they had been constantly pushing down, further into the deep, their unknown destination beckoning. It was not that faith guided them, but that knowledge that they couldn't turn back pushed them. Tee stopped his forward progress after moving forward several paces. It was as though he had only just registered that something was amiss. He turned around wordlessly. He figured they had been traveling at least a day nonstop. He cursed himself silently for not thinking to break for food and water. But concern over their light, which was obviously waning at this point, had motivated him into a zombie-like progression. He glanced concernedly at Tara's rock. Its light was feeble at best, barely casting a fuzzy glow that gave him the general notion where Tara must have been laying. He knelt down next to her, taking on of the water skins from his side. An uncontrollable grimace stole across his face as he took a swig from it. He poured some of the water into his palm and splashed it over Tara's face. She seemed to revive a little, enough to feebly grasp the water skin and take a drink from it. She was rather sloppy and some of it sloshed down her neck and arm. The light by her side seemed to hearten.

Tee noticed where the water had dribbled down her elbow to Tara's light-rock. The fungus seemed to pulse slightly. Tee heartened a little.

"Here, let me see that," he croaked, taking the water skin from Tara. He carefully dribbled the murkish water onto the rock. Granted, the fungus did not give off near the intensity of illumination that it had back in the cave, but it did seem revived. Tee gave an expression that was almost a smile. Tara returned the same expression. She rummaged at her side and fumbled one of the dried fish free.

"Here," she broke it in half and handed one of them to Tee. They rested long enough to eat. The fish was so dry that they had to finish the rest of the water skin just to get it down their throats. Tara counted the remaining four full skins on Tee's side.

Tara pushed off the notion of sleep. She had this lurking notion that if they both fell asleep, they would never wake. The air was so closeted. She gave a shiver as the cold air pressed against her still-damp cloths. She forced herself to stand back up. Tee was slumped against the tunnel wall, his head starting to loll dangerously to one side.

She bent over him and nudged him. His head bobbled; he showed no other motion.

"Come on," she rasped, "come on, Tee. Don't fall, please, don't fall asleep." She tried to force him into a more upright position, getting him as close to standing as possible.

"Come—Tee," she started to get a little rougher with him. "If we don't keep going... I don't know how much longer the light will last." She was starting to get frustrated. Finally, she slapped him against his cheek, with more force than she knew she had left. She was feeling very awake now.

"Tee," she said more forcefully. He started groggily. Tara wondered if he even knew she had slapped him. Tee jumped. He could see Tara's eyes blazing at him even in their dim fungus light. She looked down, slightly embarrassed. She turned around and gestured farther down the tunnel. She stooped and picked up her fungus rock. Tee rubbed the back of his neck.

"Didn't know you had it in you," he smiled ruefully in the dim glow. Tara fleetingly smiled back.

"How much farther do you think we have to go?" she asked. She knew he had as much clue as she did, but felt like pretending they were doing any daily chore.

"Oh, not long now, I'll warrant."

Tee was part-right, depending on the point of view. To them, it seemed another week that they spent trying to find the end of the tunnel, tossed amidst the doubts that the tunnel had any outlet at all. At the times of deepest depression, they imagined running into a dead end, exactly at the moment they ran out of light, food, and water – all simultaneously. But the truth was they ran out of light long before anything else. Although, the water shortly followed, as they had spent a fair amount of it trying to revive the fungus rocks. Eventually, though, they had to toss them aside in futility.

The week they had traveled was really only two or three days to the rest of Caillte. They had consumed their last strip of fish only half a day before they were greeted by a fuzzy light in the distance. If they had had any energy left, they would have jumped as high into the air as their hearts were leaping in their chests. They didn't even have the energy to shout, although there was no need, as they could both feel each other's excitement. It was relatively easy for them to push their way toward the light. They hadn't noticed the noise that had been gradually growing around them. If they had, they dismissed it for static growing in their ears due to fatigue or their imagination. But in any case, the 'static' grew in volume until it was impossible to ignore.

"Could it be?" Tee muttered hopefully. He had been trying to keep from getting too excited; the light might prove to be emanating from a place they could not reach, and therefore did not prove a viable exit. However, this got increasingly harder for Tee to accomplish, as with every step the haze grew and widened.

It became clear that the static, which had grown to a deafening roar, was coming from great volumes of water crashing against the rocky surfaces ahead of them.

_Chapter 15_

# A Little Scouting

The trees enveloped her, spreading their cooling shade over her heated body. She listened as the birds' trivial songs played across the air. It was such a great relief to be out of the arid steppe. A certain alertness returned to her, despite the still-warm air that closeted around her as late summer began to give way to early fall. The sweet musky scents of the forest grew stronger as they penetrated deeper into its heart. They were scents foreign to her, which surprised Tara, given her extensive herbological studies. Though, she had never traveled this far north. Indeed, she was wondering at her strange feeling of calm. However, it was only strange in that she thought it was strange to be calm right now, and not in that it was any strange version of the feeling.

She supposed this forest was also held to be rampant with night-fever, even by day. She recalled the past month and how she had traversed an alarming number of these. Tara closed her eyes and took in the serenity around her, her imagination failing to produce the fear it once had. In fact, Tara felt more peaceful than she had at any point in her days at the Sanctum. They had been moving camp every night, Tee exploring into the forest every, day trying to discern what part of the mountains they were in.

Tara knelt down beside a gentle creek. She cupped her hands under the crystal cold water. She splashed her face and arms, taking the heat from the sun. She cupped her hands, this time drinking her fill.

Several days later, the warm mellow sun filtered through the water onto Tara's legs as she dangled them in it. She sat perched on a large flat rock peeking through the surface of the tinkling creek. Tee was not far away, resting tucked against the bank, letting the water flow lazily over him. They had spent most of the day traveling in what Tee hoped was a northeasterly direction, the direction in which Tee presumed the village lay. He had told Tara about the rebel village safely hidden in the mountains shortly after they had passed through the waterfall that curtained the exit to the cave tunnel; she had been particularly keen on finding out if their wanderings had any aim after the previous weeks' adventures.

At the moment she felt light-hearted at the lack of imminent danger. She playfully splashed at Tee to wake him from his reverie.

"Hey! Now must I retaliate without delay!" He splashed her back with doubled vehemence, prompting her to lift her legs and arms back to ward off the water.

After one last good splash Tee relented, a ridiculously joyous grin on his face.

"Now you see why all fear me," he puffed out his chest, "for 'tis better not to mess with Tee—" Tara giggled, and replaced her legs in the water a little too forcefully, further dowsing Tee.

"Oh that's it!" and he made to resume his liberal accost; Tara retracted to her former position, shouting:

" _No!_ It was an accident, I swear; I didn't mean to splash you again! Besides," she added merrily, lowering her legs, "I think you got me enough already." She made sure to replace her feet slowly and carefully so she hardly disturbed the water. She grinned at him, then took in the surrounding beauty of the mountain landscape. She could hardly remember having been so carefree in her life. She certainly never had time to play before. Wasn't it funny: not until her life was in imminent peril did she feel what it was to enjoy living. She no longer cared that she wasn't feeling as worried as she thought she should. Everything just seemed so far away. Her life in the Sanctum seemed like it had happened to another person, even though she wasn't even a full year older. She didn't know if she'd ever go back to being known as Seraetia again. She wasn't sure she wanted to be that person again, even if she had the chance. In any case, Tara was comfortable right now – for the first time truly comfortable with who she was. No one here expected her to fulfill anything. She listened to the birds chirping happily above her and didn't envy them.

Pellets disturbed the surface of the water, and the sky grew dark in patches. The sun still shone through in patches, even though clouds had sailed in, reflecting off the needles of rain and turning them into silvery threads. Tara held her arms out wide and tipped her head into the air, the water streaming over her.

"Sure, she loves it when the sky splashes, but if I do it she'd give me lashes!" Tee cried happily.

They decided to break for lunch. Tee had a difficult time starting a fire, even though the rain had receded to a light fall sprinkle. Finally, Tara had to resort to a small incantation to spark the tinder. She decided hiding her talents from Tee was rather pointless, given their experience in the desert, but she still kept them to a minimum. For some reason, she felt a keen desire to cut herself off from anything she had learned at the Sanctum, and somehow that had extended itself to include all magick, despite the fact that much of the magick she resorted to on her own was actually banned by the Sanctum.

Eventually they got the fire going and Tee started to roast the fish he had caught in his make-shift net. Tara had no idea how many days or weeks had passed since they left the forest encampment near Sanctum territory; it could not really be said it was _in_ Sanctum territory. When she asked Tee about it, he said he thought it must be sometime in early fall. It had been about a week since they had left the cave tunnel. Tara remembered the relief of the waterfall battering against their sore bodies. They had spent a good day and a half, at the least, resting in the shade of the copse surrounding the waterfall. Tara had found some roots and tubers that were similar enough to those from the Sanctum garden, so she took a chance on them. Apart from slight indigestion, and a little constipation, they seemed to prove good enough fair. Tee had no side effects at all. In any case, it was enough for them to gain strength when coupled with the cool, crystalline waters around them: much better than the dull cave water. They felt much cleansed and restored after a relatively short amount of time, enough so that Tee was able to start hunting and trapping small game while they wound their circuitous and lazy route. All in all, the past several days had proved to be the most carefree time of her life. She found herself smiling and joking for no reason: she wasn't going to achieve anything momentous; she hadn't really succeeded at anything. She couldn't explain it, but she felt that life, just living, was so good.

It was a day much like the previous days. It had started out fresh and cool, a mist rising from the grasses to reveal morning dew. A few short hours after daybreak, the mist had been gently burned off by the warm sun, which seemed only cozy and friendly, not harsh and brutal as it had been when Tee was wounded in the desert. Around midday they heard the cracks of branches in the underbrush. A few hours later, their suspicions were confirmed: they were being followed by someone, a scout wonting skill at key moments. Tara looked over at Tee, concern lightly etching across her face. He only smiled confidently to her, as though this was the situation he had been waiting for, which only served to confuse Tara and further heighten her anxiety.

"Hail friend! 'Tis no time to be slinking amidst the trees, for the party you've met's Tee's," he shouted jovially to the point where the scout had carelessly disturbed more foliage, cracking sticks beneath his boots. The youth who came out was foreign to Tee. It seemed there had been a new recruit since he had been away. Word to keep on the lookout for Tee, or a rhyming idiot, had apparently been given, because the kid smiled and put his weapon away at hearing Tee's name.

"We've been looking for you. Wait'll they hear that it was me who found you!" The young boy seemed very excited at the prospect and hurried the two of them in a—for once—very decided path. He took for granted that anyone with the highly-esteemed individual named Tee must also be welcome, and hardly gave a second glance to Tara.

_Chapter 16_

# Studies

The candle burned perilously close to the oiled hide stretched over the window. Maran didn't notice. She pored over the crumbling pages, barely touching them when she turned them. They held more than she had ever hoped. Old ways, old knowledge. She had arrived at the rebel encampment only two days before, and she had not yet dared to trust opening the precious volume. It had stayed safely wrapped beneath layers of silk cloth, and then further encased in a leather pack. No one had dared open it before her. She had risked everything to get it. The light flickered as a gust blew against the hide. Only then did Maran look up and inch the candle from the window. The implications from the prophecy she had stumbled upon troubled her as its words echoed in her head. They had kept her from continuing to delve into the rest of the book.

She was familiar with the first part of the prophecy, as it was bandied about of late with anointing of a new Priestess. The anointing had reminded the populace of the prophecy that had led to her discovery. She read it again.

The hope for light

Is found this night.

A babe, no parents known,

Is found so barely grown.

She will discover the ability

To find for all tranquility,

And bring back the light

To a country e'er in night.

What troubled Maran was the part that had been omitted from all known recountings of the prophecies. She was almost sure that only the High Priestess herself knew it, which was why she guarded the tome so zealously. Few even knew of its existence. Maran read the lesser-known ending to the prophecy once again.

Upon her death, you will rejoice.

For on this day she has no choice.

If she lives the power falls,

Forever locked in silent walls.

Blood can flow

From but one hand.

Only she can free the land.

Til her day of praise she must live,

Or all your power must you give.

But if beyond she so should stay,

' _Twill be the end of your way._

She tried to consider the prophecy as a cohesive unit. She looked again at the line _And bring back the light_. She hoped against hope that it was not the strengthening of the Tower of Boran, as was the popular interpretation.

She pondered who it could be written to and about. She thought on her childhood mentor. Yes, her mentor had known which action this prophecy would incite her to if she found it. The more Maran thought about it, the prophecy must have been written for her. Maran closed her mind against memories she'd rather not dwell on. Her head hurt. She rubbed at the strain in her eyes. Though the prophecy did not clearly indicate two women, it was the only interpretation she could make work. The first two stanzas were about her. The last was about someone else. Maran thought she knew who the other must be as well.

Perhaps it was more than mere accident that she had saved Tara, and that Tee had picked her up. Perhaps there was something more to the prophecy than mere propaganda. Maran knew that not just anything could appear in the tome. It had startled her when she first stumbled across the familiar words at the beginning of the prophecy. She just hoped that Tee and the girl were able to get here, safely. Fatigue, anxiety, and excitement welled and mingled in her, as though battling for who would win. If she was right, they would need the girl. Maran silently cursed herself for not following after them. While she knew how valuable Tee was, she had assumed the girl was just a transient. Besides, she had left the tome with Feriam, the council head. So she traveled east to the river and north along it to the bay where she met with the rest of the encampment and could get the tome once more in her possession, under her own cautious eye. From there they had taken boats across the bay and into the mountains. When it became impossible to travel upstream, they stowed the boats and ported the rest of the way to the village. Aside from the shortcut through the desert, it was the shortest way to the village, provided good weather. And it was the only way to transport more than a hundred people. Maran wouldn't have been able to see the tome until the encampment got to the village anyways, so it had only made sense to meet up with them—its safety was paramount. Besides, it was the quickest way to get to a place where she could examine the tome. She wouldn't have known how important this girl may be except that the tome stayed safe and she had gotten to study it. But somehow this inkling snickered at the back of her mind that she may have made the wrong choice.

She knew Tee, like most of the villagers, had never used the passage before. But he knew the lore, he should be able to find it—if he were conscious. She closed the tome for the first time since she had opened it. It had been almost two days straight. An untouched tray of food lay on a table behind her. It had replaced a similar one earlier that evening. Maran was tired and she had been ignoring her hunger to the point where she no longer felt it. But she knew she could not eat or sleep now. There was too much in her mind. She got up and walked to the entrance of the small one-room house. Everyone was asleep. She needed to go for a walk.
_Chapter 17_

# Village Life

Maran had made sure that she would be the first to be alerted when Tee and his charge arrived. Tara would not have been able to tell, though. Since they had arrived, Tara hadn't seen Maran once. Tara had only seen people enter Maran's abode with trays of food. When she asked Tee, he only hinted that she was doing something very important, that it was her honor and her right to do it. Tara did not know about the stolen tome Maran had been poring over since she herself had arrived at the village. It was not until later that she was able to decipher through various rumours that Maran had been on a mission to secure some precious object shortly before Tee had found her. Tara figured that Maran must have been on this mission when she first ran into her in the forest. Whatever it was, it was important enough to her that neither Tee nor Tara, nor anyone else it seemed, had been granted audience with her. Everyone seemed content to wait until Maran extricated herself from her small hut-like construction that she had holed herself into.

The village itself was much larger than Tara would have imagined, although not as large as Sanctum City, where she had grown up. It was far from the size of Boran as she had seen it on maps in the Sanctum. Three or four months ago, she would have sworn that such a large number gathered in opposition to the ways of the Sanctum could not possibly have existed, but that was also before she understood why anyone would want to stand in opposition of them. She watched people pass her, their faces relaxed and full of joy, despite a subtle undercurrent of apprehension she sometimes detected. Children ran around between the simple dwellings, chasing each other for unknown reasons. Their rather unkempt appearance suited their free and careless nature.

Tara's accommodations had been tricky to decide upon at first. Tee's usual house was only one room—something Tara was not ready to agree upon sharing. Even if there hadn't been the gender discrepancy, Tara didn't know if she could bear a one-room cottage with the rhyming creature. Tee seemed to be of the same mind because he didn't put up much fight at her reservations, and they quickly set about finding other accommodations. They were able to find a vacant one-room cottage that had a sort of storage shack attached to the back. All of the multiple-roomed houses were taken up by families at the moment, and more were being built due to demand. So, Tee and Tara decided to make do with the shack contraption. Tara turned what skill she had to transforming the small addition into a bedroom for herself. It was decided that since its only entrance was through the house itself, it would be better for security purposes to have her in the back room. Of course, all of these arguments were presented in a delicate and expert manner so as to make it appear that Tara had come up with the idea herself, and stem any paranoia from mounting.

When she finally got it to a palatable point, that is to say one comfortable enough that she had a pallet to plop on, she took a bath in the nearby river (escorted by one of the older girls of the village who was not already busy with another task). On her return she thankfully dropped her weary body on her straw mat, which she had covered in spare linen that a nice, middle-aged mother had given her. She had just closed her eyes when she heard a scraping at the rough wooden slab that served as a door between the two compartments.

"Come along with Tee, there is someone I must see. When flowers, plants and leaves we need, 'tis best Lowan's words we heed." Tara shook her head at Tee. She didn't feel much like leaving her quarters. They may have been scant, but they were a place to rest. However, she knew better than to abuse Tee's mood when he was in his rhymes. She raised herself wearily from her bed to follow Tee, a cloth sack thrown over his shoulder.

Many of the houses they passed had similar small vegetable or herb gardens. Tara had to shake the sensation of eyes on her. She couldn't tell if the people they passed were actively looking at her or just staring in her direction. Tee turned in at a house hidden by fountains of flowers and leaves. Tara's attention was immediately engrossed in the lavish flowers bursting before her. They tumbled to the ground or mingled with adjacent bushes. The herbs were numerous and varied, their bounteous flora giving off heady aromas which pleasantly intermingled with each other. Everything was planted so that the eye was absorbed by some greenery at its peak, no matter where it fell. An old man straightened from behind a rare Kalarth bush.

"Ah, what news do you bring today, Tee?"

"I see I'm not allowed to visit when I fancy it," Tee smiled back at him.

"Right, that's why in twenty years you've never come by without needing something or other," he laughed, "If it's just an herb or the like, you can help yourself. I have a new batch I just harvested and set to drying yesterday. You'll find it in the back shed; you know where."

"You harvest and set a batch to drying every day, truth is I've come for some mottled savory bay. Into the back I'll go if this one you'll entertain a second or so," and Tee disappeared behind a bush with three-sided leaves that Tara had never seen before.

"Ah, you must be the one everyone's talking about. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you yet. I'm Lowan," and he offered her a wrinkled hand blackened by soil.

"No one talks around me. Most just look and nod their heads at a distance. Perhaps you can tell me what they say. Lord knows that I can't get a notion from Tee," she said as she took his grimy hand.

"Ah well, doesn't take much to set tongues to waggin'. Whenever there's a new face there's somethin' new to talk about. Give it 'til spring and they'll have somethin' else new." Tara was keen to change the subject.

"So how many are in the resistance?"

"Oh, here in the village we have almost a thousand people. But that fluctuates with things." He turned back to his hoeing.

"Are there any other villages like this one?"

"Not quite like this one. There are different encampments that move around. And you never know how many people are in 'em or how many there are. Och, but these are boring questions. Have nothing to do with today. Surely you have something better to talk with me about." Tara thought about why they had come here.

"Tee says you have all answers herbological."

"Your words, not his?" he chuckled.

Tara shrugged in response, then smiled slightly. He continued.

"Don't know about that, but I believe I do have the best flower garden in the land. Yes, you won't find any better anywhere," his old voice resonated with a youthful passion.

"I can see; they're beautiful. What started you in flowers, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Oh, it was, I don't know, three or four years ago. See, I'm almost ninety now and it was then my wife died. I'm not quite sure, it's hard to remember the years sometimes—they all run into each other," he smiled and gave a little chuckle, "But, I haven't had the heart to get remarried. No, it's all about the flowers. Petunias, rhododendron, oh and some lovely lavender. Even have the only Kalarth bush in the village. Just lovely. It's all about the flowers. I'm done with females, the flowers are what I live for now." He picked up a clod of earth and rubbed it between his fingers.

Tara smiled at the old gentleman as he continued to ramble a little bit. _He reminds me of Ellion,_ she thought wistfully, _He has the same energy. I can only think this is what he would be like if he had lived without the rigidity of Sanctum life._

Tee reappeared from behind the bush, the empty cloth sack he had left with now bulging with different plants. Tee had obviously found more than just the bay. She saw selian and beriak, sprigs of lavender and a Kalarth stick, among others she couldn't identify, all bunching out the top of the sack. Tara thought at how the full pack hardly made a dent in all Lowan must have gathered from his lush garden.

_Chapter 18_

# A Chance to Search

Tara followed Maran up the grassy hillock. She had not had much chance to practice any form of craft since that fatal day of ceremony, which now seemed so long ago. Maran had managed to secure the day so that the she might take Tara to 'an old place', as she said. She would not tell Tara any more than that. All Tara knew was that it was a chance to get away from the eyes that she always felt were waiting to catch her making some mistake in the village. She may not have thought an excursion alone with Maran to be the most entertaining way in which to escape the village, but at least she wouldn't have to put up with Tee's constant chatter. The way in which he was always trying to lighten the mood got on Tara's nerves, even though she couldn't understand why.

Maran must have trusted the rugged mountains around them, because she didn't seem to care whether or not Tara followed, that or she had no faith in Tara's survival skills. Maran hadn't once looked over her shoulder since they had started their trek out of the village. Tara sided with this opinion when she looked at the sharp white peaks that separated them from the rest of Caillte. Winter might not be hitting for another month or so in the valley, but its bitter fingers had already grasped the passes they had used to get here. It looked to Tara like they were stuck here for the season. It didn't seem so bad though. If they couldn't get out, it also meant the Sanctum couldn't get in, and her constant fear abated a little.

"How far are we going?" Tara asked about an hour later. Maran sighed and asked herself once again if it was a good idea to bring this child up here, forgetting she was only a handful of years older.

"We are close. The grove is on the other side of that copse." Maran wondered if Tara could be trusted with the last known sacred grove. But she had come to the decision that it was a chance she had to take. If the tome was right, then this might be the girl, and she had one more lie to tally against the other side. It certainly was a great risk though.

They had little more time than it would take to make the trip to the grove and back before they would be completely enveloped in the darkness, as the nights were lengthening with the approach of winter. They had reached the small copse Maran had referred to, and she stopped. She looked around at the thin-trunked, golden-leaved trees around them.

"Bose'quea, dryad and watcher, as we come in gentle spirit, we ask your passage," Maran announced with an odd lilt to her voice. After waiting a moment she continued to walk on.

Once they passed the small copse of wispy trees the wind picked up. It swirled around them, almost lifting Tara off of the ground. Then, almost as suddenly as it had started, the wind disappeared completely, leaving an almost unnatural stillness. It was as though they had walked through some invisible barrier. The trees around them, which Tara hadn't seen before the strange wind swept over them, were thick and strong on first inspection. Their life pulsed with a solidity. On closer inspection, Tara noted the different variety of trees, all of them exhibiting the same solid strength, despite their varying stages of development. The leaves were particularly incredible. They were of all different colors, even on the same tree. They blended various green that tinged into purples, oranges and reds, although they all seemed to have that healthy vibrant quality of leaves in the summertime. When the sun glinted off of them it gilded them and they reflected the golden light pure and warm onto Maran and Tara.

Tara opened her mouth in wonder. Maran must have thought that she was going to say something because she pressed her finger to her lips. She knelt on the velvety grasses growing beneath them. The grasses were pocked with little flowers and clovers. She closed her eyes and placed her palms flat against the ground, slowly breathing the enchanted air. Tara followed suit.

She had no idea how much time she spent like that. It was as though she were floating along some ancient tie that held the world together. It was impossible in those moments to feel any confusion or want. She didn't ask any questions because the trees—or that's the only way she could understand it—told her she held all of the answers herself, and that in time she would become aware. After what seemed like an infinite instant she felt it was time to open her eyes. Maran was rising in front of her, which somehow Tara knew even though Maran's shadow was cast in the opposite direction. It was time to go.

The trips with Maran turned into a weekly event. They rarely went back to the sacred grove. Instead, Maran often introduced Tara to the untold number of copses, rivers, creeks and natural formations around the village. Maran regularly stressed the sanctity of all aspects of nature, and that, although incredibly precious, the sacred grove was not necessary to practice. Sometimes they went on excursions two or three times a week, according to when Maran found the time. She, and everyone else in the council, thought it was important for Tara to learn a new way to view her magick if she were going to stay with them. However, at times Tara thought she could overhear nervous whispers or thoughts. She often got the feeling that there were those in the village, if not the council itself, that deemed it necessary to find what talents Tara held. But Tara pushed this from her mind. The excursions, which often felt more like lessons than anything else, offered her a type of haven, a type of escape from some of the less appealing aspects of the village.

It was also a time for Maran to teach Tara legend and lore. The rebels viewed it as one of their main capacities to preserve this.

"Now, I shall tell you about Nohtin," Maran sat cross-legged across from Tara.

"Nohtin, is she another forest spirit?" Tara felt wearied by the myriad of spirits she had been introduced to lately: Antea, sprite of wind, N'Tosea, fire sylph, Bose'quea, dryad and protector of trees, Quey'sea, water spirit, and so on.

"Not quite," Maran smiled like she held a guilty secret. "No, Nohtin is quite more than a spirit." Her face sobered as she remembered how difficult it had been when she first introduced Tara to the 'blasphemy' of nature spirits, spontaneous magick aside. On hearing what Maran was about to say, Tara probably thought she would suddenly burst into flames or something along those lines.

"She's a goddess."

Tara stared at her blankly, then shiftily looked over each shoulder.

"We're not going to meet her too?" Tara asked anxiously. She was surprised as Maran's face fell. It took a second before Maran could regain herself to speak again.

"No, we shall not be meeting Nohtin. According to legend, you used to be able to meet her every night. No one has talked to her since... no one is left alive who remembers talking to her," she said simply. Maran seemed to think this a good time to end their meeting, for she got up and turned back toward the village. Maran seemed to have lost her nerve—something that completely confused Tara. She followed Maran in silence. They did not meet for a week. On the next meeting, Maran avoided all topics of lore and legend.

"You need to learn to do a rolling ground," said Maran, when next they were at the grove.

"A rolling ground?" Tara had become familiar with the concept of grounding in previous visits. Whereas in the Sanctum, rituals and magick were performed very formulaically, Maran had another approach. This consisted of connecting oneself with the environment and nature around—something else considered blasphemous in the Sanctum. By strengthening her connection with nature, she could then let it help guide her instincts. Tara had done this naturally since she was very young, and early punishment had taught her it was something to be hidden. Most recently it had been to save lives—the first was her own, the second was Tee's. She still tried to reconcile why the Sanctum had banned something that seemed only to be good. But then, she still hadn't completely reconciled the events of her 'anointment.' More than once she had almost brought the subject to air at the grove with Maran, where she felt prying eyes and ears were furthest. But Tara had always found some reason not to.

"A rolling ground connects you to and through the earth as you run. It has several effects. For one, your energy is harder to detect since you are enmeshed with the forces around you. Also, it boosts your strength and reserves, while focusing and amplifying what you are doing."

"Why didn't they ever teach this at the Sanctum?" Tara wondered aloud. She wasn't quite yet ready to divulge her entire story, but she felt she could let slip that she had trained at the Sanctum. Maran's face contorted as though she had just tasted something bitter.

"Because they seek to control nature, instead of accept it for what it is, in all of its glorious aspects. That includes the aspects that scare them because of their sheer power, or the apparent lack of reason behind them. But there is much to be gained by harmonizing with these aspects. By accepting them, though, you must also accept the different outcomes of any situation. This is unfathomable to—certain individuals."

Much of this was confusing to Tara. Things had never been presented to her in this enigmatic way. Well, almost never. She remembered the mentor who had given her the silver knife, still neatly tucked in her boot. She tried to comprehend her life in this new light.

Tara tried the more advanced grounding techniques that Maran was spinning forth. She kept doubting as to whether she was getting them right. There seemed no way to tell. She felt like she was barely grasping the concept of grounding, without adding this extra dynamic.

"You'll know," was all Maran would say when Tara would ask her about it, "you must see it, you must feel it. If you imagine it, it will become real. If you doubt yourself, it will disappear."

No matter how many times, though, that Maran assured her that with practice she would grow attuned to the difference, she still found the lack of 'evidence' disconcerting. After a few hours, Maran decided that Tara should revert to grounding from a stationary position.

"There are some things I have to do in the village. I figured I'd give you some time to meditate on your own." Maran left Tara there alone.

Her mind buzzed with all of the contradicting facts fighting each other in her head. By this point she had come to accept that the Sanctum really was not what she had been brought up to believe—a wholesome entity whose goal it was to nurture and protect the people of Sanctum territory, and help those who had been afflicted by terrible evils. But she still had the teaching, which she had always excelled at and received such praise for, and wonderful memories of accomplishment, promise, and truly good individuals. She thought again of Ellion who had given her the silver dagger which, even now, still cooled the side of her ankle. When she looked back on it, he must have known of the corruption. She wondered if that's why he disappeared. She didn't know where he had gone; she hoped fervently that he had made it to some rebel stronghold. The idea of what the Sanctum may have done to him scared her.

The more she dwelled on it, the more she came to rest on the conclusion that the treachery so prevalent in her homeland must not be allowed to endure. She was equally thrust against the realization that she had no idea how to do it. Even more perplexing was how to retain those good aspects that she had encountered. She had never much studied the concept of faith, so she didn't know how to recognize it. But that was the emotion now mounting in her breast: faith that those good aspects would be preserved and the rotten ones would fall away—if she took the chance and did something about it. In fact, it was the good things and people that further strengthened her resolve. It was for them that she not only should, but must, do everything she could and give herself over to rending the High Priestess from the power of Caillte.

It was late afternoon when Maran had left, but Tara's mind was so full that she had not noticed the time pass, and it was dark before Maran returned to retrieve her.

_Chapter 19_

# Casual Conversation

The sun filtered down through the trees onto the small party gathering from the wild Kalarth bushes. It could only be found growing wild in the mountains at a certain time of year, and was greatly prized by the villagers for its ability to preserve food and maintain its original flavour. The three were gathering one of the last harvests of the season. A creek burbled carelessly nearby.

"I joined the resistance when I was fifteen; that's all anybody really knows," said Maran.

"What, being as secretive to everybody else as you are to us, eh Maran? Well, I'm sure I can find someone who cares for your secrets sharin'," Tee stood up, looking over one shoulder, then the other, as though searching for his victim. Maran got irritated quickly, throwing a branchlet at him. He raised his arm to his chest as though he were deeply wounded, then winked at her.

"You can stop that right now; there isn't anyone who knows anything about me before I turned up here, including myself," she added, as though this would allay his questions, "not that it would be any of your business anyways."

"Nah, surely there is much to be learned from before fifteen you turned," Tee cajoled. Tara's movements became jerky for a second as she was bent over a Kalarth bush.

"Stop giving her such a hard time, Tee, maybe she just doesn't know," Tara added, her eyes steadily fixed on her work.

"I don't see why—" Tee's next rebuttal was cut off by Tara.

"You don't know everything Tee. There are—ways—that one can lose one's memory," Maran caught Tara's eye, then glanced away quickly. Tee looked hurt.

"I had no intent for rudeness, truly I was in jest," he whispered sullenly.

"Anyways, it's in the past and there is nothing to be done about it. I joined the resistance to help change the future, all of ours. That is where I intend to put my focus, as we all must if we're going to have any chance at it," Maran said with an air of finality, looking pointedly at Tee. He gazed back at her.

"How did you come to be a leader?" asked Tara, trying to steer the subject into less shaky ground.

"I'm not really one of their leaders."

"But, you were at their council. I guess I just assumed."

"You don't have to be a leader to be part of a meeting. See, that's exactly what this is all about," Maran shook her head in frustration, "You don't have to be part of the elite to have a good head on your shoulders. See, we recognize that here. Knowledge, intelligence, and just plain common sense: anyone can have those. Anyone can contribute to the whole. That's what the damned Sanctum just doesn't understand."

"I just—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, no. It's fine. This is just something that's really important, that's all. I can't expect you to understand," Maran looked Tara up and down, adding to herself, "you probably haven't known anything else." Tara's lips firmed against each other. The air around the Kalarth bushes felt distinctly less festive.

The next day Maran took Tara up to the grove to continue their meditation work, and to educate her in some more lore. She had just come across a new passage in the tome that she was particularly excited to share with someone. They were sitting in the shade of the grove, the cool breeze whistling across their skin, bringing with it the rich smells of decaying leaves and the crisp scent of snow that drifted farther up in the peaks. They still had the better part of fall before them but up here it the nip of winter was closer than elsewhere at this time of year.

After about an hour that they customarily spent meditating and cleansing themselves of the mundaneness of life in the village, Maran began into the discussion.

"Today, I will tell you more of the goddess Nohtin," this time when she said her name there was no wistfulness to Maran's face or voice, only a quiet joy that welled from deep within her.

"I am sorry that the last time we visited her that I didn't do her justice. I was lost to grief," she looked down at her hands a moment before continuing, "You see, Nohtin is a birthright that those of us who live here believe has been stolen from us. Can you tell me what the night sky looks like?"

If Tara had been asked this question before she had left the Sanctum's protection, she would not have been able to answer. As it was, the memory of the first time she actually saw the night sky without the glow from the Tower of Boran still visited her with daunting feelings.

"The night sky holds nothing. There is nothing to describe because there is nothing in it."

Maran sighed. Tara had a strange feeling.

"Why? Hasn't it always been that way?" Tara didn't know why she had been prompted to ask that question, but it had occurred to her in a simple and earnest way and she knew it must be answered.

"As far as living memory serves, yes. However," Maran stood up and twirled a dead leaf between her fingers, "legend does not serve us the same victual. According to legend," she looked up into the clean blue sky. Clouds lazily drifted across, further mellowing the sun's rays, "the night sky is ruled by Nohtin. When we have Nohtin's love, as we did before the days of Sanctum regime, it is said that the night grows asparkle with thousands of tiny gems. And over all of these gems rules the goddess Nohtin."

"Has anyone ever seen Nohtin—I mean, does the legend say what she looks like?" Tara was interested in this story; she had never heard it before. Maran smiled.

"For the longest time, those of us who knew of her did not know what she looked like," she looked down at the leaf in her hands, "There were whispers that she could be found every night: that she could be seen watching over all of Caillte, and her children. It is thought amongst many that she is the source for much of woodland magick. And that when she was hidden from us is when we lost to the structured forces that govern us now." She paused for a moment, allowing Tara to ponder the story.

"Come," Maran said, after contemplating Tara's countenance for some time, "There is something I would like to show you. I think it may be time you see it."

Tee was starting to get tired of this pattern. Every time he went to find Maran, Tara was already there. What confused him was he didn't know why. Granted, more and more of late she had been responsible for the girl, but it still made it difficult to get Maran alone—especially since 'technically' he or Maran was supposed to be watching her at all times. In all reality though, Tara no longer had to be looked after, given the new attitude the council had taken to with Tara. Tee assumed that it was a combination of the season, with the mounting dangers of winter closeting them in, and the fact that Tara's behaviour had not caused any problems—save to occasionally irritate Maran. However, that seemed to be an increasingly easy thing to do of late.

He knew that Tara was already with Maran because he could hear her voice cut through the air as he neared Maran's home.

"If you know this much about it, then why haven't you done anything?" Tara's voice was thinned and heightened. Tara didn't know why, but when Maran showed her the prophecy in the book, something in her snapped. She somehow felt betrayed. The words still burned her.

Tee had evidently cut well into the momentum of their discussion, to his chagrin. He silently waited in a little lit corner of Maran's house. Neither of them seemed to pay any notice to his mute entrance.

"Why didn't you kill N'Dreyid when you found out she was going to sacrifice you?" Maran shot back. Obviously Tara and Maran had been doing some sharing of their own histories before he got there. Tee didn't have to pretend to be confused.

"That's different," Tara faltered, "I—I wasn't sure. Besides, I wouldn't have really known how. There wasn't time..." Tee shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could leave as unnoticed as he had entered. Neither of them had noticed him yet.

"And what makes you think we're in any different position?" asked Maran a little more kindly. "Just because there are more of us doesn't mean we can just go out there and change all of the evils of Sanctum without a plan," her voice was slightly sardonic. While part of her was delighted that Tara was bringing this up on her own—which seemed to confirm her suspicions about the prophecy—she was being directly confronted with the child's naivety. This would be harder than she thought. Actually, that was an understatement. She knew it would be incredibly difficult, especially for her... Then she frowned. "Most here don't even know how."

"How to what?" Maran started at Tara's question as though she forgot she was still in the room.

"Let me put it this way," she replied, "These people may have used charms and spells all their lives, and they know that what's going on in our world isn't right. They may be willing to do something about it, but the magick they know is pure and spontaneous, and unpredictable and unregulated. The Sanctum won't be fighting us with a jingle for good luck. And the truth is I just don't know how our magick will hold up against the structured, focused spells that will be thrown at them." Tara was confused, was Maran now saying the opposite of everything she had been teaching? Wasn't it the over-regulation and the structure that she needed to get away from?

"You of all people must know what they are capable of," Maran continued, "Don't you understand, Tara, we could lose everything," the last word came out in a whisper. Tara thought of how she felt she had lost everything after her fateful birthday celebration. How ironic that when she looked back it marked the day where she actually gained what she was finding was most precious to her. Tara thought back on everything Maran had been teaching her this whole time. She looked at Maran.

"But you do. You know magick. You know the clean, pure and strong magick of these mountains. And you've organized that enough to be able to show me. Why don't you teach them?"

"I do what I can, Tara, but in the end I'm only one person. And sometimes, believe it or not, my expertise is needed for other things," her voice was flinty again for a moment; she softened it with obvious effort before she continued, "It's true we have a few who have defected from Sanctum ranks, but only a few. And most of them act as spies within the Santcum. The bottom line is, we can't go against large castguard numbers and expect anything left when we're done. We'll be flayed alive if we go before we're ready."

Tara wondered to herself if they'd ever be ready. For having come to the realization that the Sanctum must be brought down so recently, she felt they must lose no time in fronting their opposition directly. It seemed incomprehensible to her when she considered how probably every member of this village had come to the same conclusion. How could they wait?

In the pause, Maran felt eyes trained on her back. She turned around and almost hit Tee when she noticed him sitting in the corner.

"Caillte! Tee, what are you doing? And how long have you been there?" _And why didn't I feel him come in_ , she added to herself, slightly concerned that she might be slipping.

"I—well..." Tee was caught off guard. For the life of him he couldn't remember why he had come to find Maran. His awkwardness and the seriousness of the discussion—not to mention being startled—had distracted him from his original purpose.

"Oh right, uh, Feriam needs to see you, Maran. I didn't want to disturb your... conversation," he gestured at the still-heavy air between Maran and Tara, "so I—sorry. I should get going. Tara?" Tara followed him out the door. Tee glanced back over his shoulder and looked at Maran. A troubled frown was still traced across her brow. Tee had noticed that of late it seemed to be permanently etched there. She was too young to have so deeply lined a forehead. Maran shrugged away the conversation with Tara, and left the house to attend to whatever duties needed attending. As she passed Tee and Tara, Tee hurriedly looked to the dirt in front of him.

Tee looked to Tara.

"So Tara, I thought we'd—" but Tara cut across him.

"I'm going to the grove. I need to mediate," she said curtly, and hurried off to the end of the road, where it dissolved into the hillock that led to the grove.

_Chapter 20_

# Bundled Away

Slight Slide Slanted Sight

Into this world to find Delight

Little Bold Foundling Bright

Lost into this Inky Night

A young woman stumbled under the cover of dark. She made an awkward movement and her shoulder crunched against the rough rock of the cliffside. A thin trickle of blood mixed with rain ran down her muscular arm. She tried to calm herself. The elation of the plan playing out in her mind could cost her everything if she did not concentrate on the task at hand. The footing here was perilous on the slick, algae-ridden precipice.

Flits of the High Priestess' robes peaked from the rough brown, sack-cloth cloak she wore over it. The blood flowing down her arm concerned her for a moment. At first she didn't recognize it: she had not seen her own blood in a long time, not since she had risen to her current status. Although she looked young, in reality she had enjoyed her robes for many years. She had had a lifetime before that too, though she rarely dwelt on those dark days in the prison. She checked the babe, who showed no signs of injury, and confirmed that it really was coming down her own bare arm. She had hacked off her sleeve to wrap the child in. The combination of white silk peaking between the coarse sack-cloth looked very odd framing the babe's face which, despite the torrent raging around her, was peaceful and serene. It watched the surrounding scene with quiet curiosity.

N'Dreyid continued the rest of the way to the boat she had waiting below as carefully as possible, aware that her many protections and charms were weakened around this curious child.

* * *

Tara looked at the eyes staring at her from the other side of the glass. The eyebrows were slightly piqued at the corners, a thin line beginning to furrow between them. She didn't know what, but there was something missing in that gaze. Or maybe it was just that sadness had come to dwell there.

She put away the small mirror of brushed bronze, brushing her feelings aside with it. Tomorrow she was going to meet with the council. She had managed to get Maran to arrange the meeting for her. What she was going to do from here she wasn't sure. But she felt it was the next step she had to take. She was getting uncannily accustomed to following her instincts.

_Chapter 21_

# Plans

The one man sat on the edge of his seat, obviously itching to leave.

"Terak, if you do not wish to hear her out, you are more than free to leave," said Feriam, the council-head.

"This isn't even worth our time," the man, Terak, stood abruptly, "We should be planning the real rebellion. Not wasting our time with this," he gestured at Tara, "Maran isn't even here." He walked briskly out of the circle.

"I apologize. Terak isn't the most—trusting—individual. However, he has certain skills that we would do best not to overlook. Well, Tara, what is it that you have for us? We," Feriam made a sweeping gesture to encompass the circle, "are all very eager to hear it."

Tara rose from her seat at the council circle. She was wondering why Maran was not here herself. But she decided to push forward anyways. At least there was one face she recognized in the crowd. Eldwydd tipped his head to her in encouragement.

"I know that there has been much preparation the past few days, and although no one has told me directly, it seems to me that you are planning to overthrow the Sanctum," the tension in the grove seemed to increase, "Despite what some of you seem to think of me, I am no longer friend of the Sanctum. It is true, what they say. Tee found me in the apprentice robes of a priestess. But what he did not know was that my robes were different because I was being trained to follow N'Dreyid, or so I thought. Not until I was at the ceremony that was supposed to mark the realization of my full powers did I realize something was amiss. It was also at that ceremony that circumstances forced me to escape the Sanctum."

"This is all very interesting, miss," a voice piped up politely from her right, "And believe me, I feel for the treachery you have met as much as the rest of us. But we are in a crucial time right now. If you do not have information that can help the council achieve its goals, then we must use our time to that end in other ways."

Tara felt nervous. Perhaps this wasn't the path she should be taking. But what other choice did she have? If these people didn't succeed, she had nowhere and no one else to turn to. She wouldn't even be able to find her way back through the mountains to get south enough to scratch a living out of the land. This was all she had left. She might as well share it with them.

"Perhaps you are missing the point. I can help you, in more ways than one. They may have been planning to betray me, but the Sanctum still taught me certain things. And I have reason to believe that some of my mentors were of the mind to save me."

"We're listening."

* * *

The council stayed to discuss the ramifications of the plan that Tara proposed for at least an hour after she left. It was about that time that Eldwydd spoke through Tara's open tent-flap.

"May I come in?"

"Of course," Tara cleared off the stool in the middle of her tent. The small pavilion had been the easiest compromise to give Tara her own dwelling without committing to building a permanent structure.

"Ah, thank ya. Ya ha' gi'n us much to discuss," he smiled at her, "much as I had a feelin ya would that firs' night we met. Wha' I come to tell ya is tha' ya need to talk to Maran abou' all this. See, she's the on'y one who can work wi' ya like ya need. She has gifts not too disim'lar o' yorn. If your plan's to work, she's the one ya need." As he expected, he saw Tara grow tense at his words.

"I know as ya ha' your diff'rnces, as well ya both ha' the righ'. But this is sommat bigger in diff'rences between people. Y' an' Maran ha' more in common 'n ya know. Perhaps it's time ya found ou'." Eldwydd seemed to be chewing something over in his mind until the idea grew too tenderized for him to make it coherent.

"You don't have to tell me anything more, Eldwydd," the old man's face relaxed visibly. "I'll talk to her. I just hope she'll talk to me. It just seems that every time I try, I say something wrong and offend her. I don't even know I'm doing it. I seem to do it to more than just her, too."

"I know, deary. An' I'm sorry for ya. There's a lot y'are still learnin an' there's some people as ha' dealt wi' a li'l too much ignorance i' they're time to ha' the patience they should. I'll tell Maran t' be ready for ya. Gi' me a couple minutes afore ya come 'round. An' again, thanks, deary." Eldwydd hurried off to help coordinate provisions.

"Why are you acting this way, Maran?" Tara asked. It had taken her an hour to find the tent Maran had pitched in the wilderness. The tent was barely tall enough for them to stand in. When she stood to her full height, the top of Tara's head brushed the ceiling. It hadn't been pitched in the sacred grove Maran had shown Tara: the place she usually sojourned for overnight meditation. For some reason, Maran refused to leave the cramped quarters of the tent. She stilled held a cold shoulder towards Tara after their last encounter.

On arriving, Tara had tried to explain the part she and Maran would have to play. She hadn't even been able to finish. Maran had grown very quiet and turned her head away every time Tara started to speak again.

"What? I'm not acting any way," Maran huffed back. "I just don't think it would be a good idea for me to face the High Priestess, that's all."

"Maran, it's okay. You can tell me if you're afraid-"

"I'm not afraid, damn it!" Maran interrupted.

"Then what is it? You, Maran, you who would jump into any situation just to prove you could get out of it, refuse to do this task. Maran, we need your expertise and your ability. You, of all people, would be the best one to face the High Priestess. Besides everyone else already has an assignment. There is no one else to do this, no one else who even could." Tara paused for a second, "Is it her magick? I'll admit, it's very daunting, even to one who has been brought up in its ways," Maran placed a hand on Tara's shoulder to allay her continuing any further. She looked Tara very straight in the face.

"There are some things you don't understand, Tara. I cannot do this. You cannot ask me to." Tara returned her intense gaze.

"And I tell you, we have no one else. If you will not do this, we might as well give up now. We might at least save our own lives, if we cannot save Caillte."

Maran turned away for a second and sighed shakily. When she turned back to face Tara again she was her usual composed, brusque self. She gave Tara a slight nod.

"Then I shall do this task you ask of me." With that Maran left the tent. She had already disappeared into the thick of the dusk-blanketed trees before the tent-flap had finished falling.

"Wait, Maran," Tara called after her, then finished under her breath, "thank you."

_Chapter 22_

# Crux

Her small feet stepped lightly along the narrow path. The branches and leaves barely whispered beneath the movement. The rich fragrance of the underbrush mingled with the sweet air of oncoming dusk.

No.

_No, I can't._ Her mind cried against the seeming peace around her.

_You must. It is your only choice. You knew this day might come when you decided to leave. Now, the time has come to do what you know is right._ And it was with this calm internal voice that she knew she must finally side. Maran breathed deeply of the mountain air and gazed at the mist rolling in through the trees as though for the last time. She always knew she would have to face her past sometime; why else would she be here? What she didn't know was why sometime had to come so quickly.

_Chapter 23_

# Last Night

At the prospect of finally overcoming the Sanctum oppression, it was hard to keep the entire village from partying the moment wind of the plan hit. Drink had hit the bellies of the villagers within an hour of confirmation of the plan. Toasts were drunk to the plan's success, to Caillte, to the 'new girl', and to brothers, sisters and husbands who would be leaving in the morning, if they had not left already. Tee and Maran—who had been found by Tee and dragged to the celebration—found themselves circled around a roaring bonfire. They were passing a jug between them and about five other individuals huddled around the fire, and anyone else who would temporarily take up a seat. Maran sat, staring into the fire while they passed the jug over her as she refused to move or respond.

"No, no, no. You're not skippin' out again. You think from the way you're gazin' into that fire we can't tell you're nervous about tomorrow?" Tee whispered loudly in her ear. He had already shared in several rounds. "Listen, let me tell you a secret: we're all worried! And guess what," he leaned back and raised his voice, "this might be my last night as a free man. If they catch me, which they undoubtedly will, I know what'll happen to me," his face sobered a moment, then brightened again, "but I'm not goin' to spoil tonight by tellin' any of you," and he pointed, painfully squinting at each person around the fire—many of whom laughed in response, "and as my final wish, I would like you," he pulled Maran close to him, hugging her around her shoulders, "to have a drink," he smiled charmingly, "with me." For some inexplicable reason Maran couldn't help smiling back at him. She forgot for a moment what tomorrow's dawn would start, and what its path held for her.

"For one reason and one reason only will I share a drink of this," she took the jug from him, peering querulously into the dark opening, "whatever it is," she said after she gave up trying to identify it by scent, "because you didn't rhyme once in that whole, very touching, speech of yours." She took a swig from the bottle and grimaced whole-heartedly as she passed it to the next person.

"Ugh! How can you drink that?" she exclaimed.

"Oh, it gets better after the first round," the man she passed it to twinkled.

* * *

Tara had been speaking with Feriam and so had missed the commencement of the festivities. Feriam had been asking for detailed answers regarding her life before she came to live with them, and had asked her many probing questions along the way. All in all, it had been quite a tiring ordeal and the thought of joining other frivolities was a welcome change, despite the fact that it was something she had never much turned to before. In the Sanctum, she had never been allowed such contact with people, and the village hadn't had a gathering of this magnitude since she had joined them.

After weaving between the various campfires people had erected, Tara finally spotted Tee and Maran at a particularly large one set atop a small hill. She walked up behind them and saw Tee waving a jug. She amusedly listened to his boisterous speech, though she couldn't quite make out what he was saying over the crackle of the fire (or the slurs in speech). Flames flickered across her face as she watched Tee pull Maran close to him. She stopped for a second, momentarily surprised for some reason, though she couldn't answer why. Tara shrugged it off and squeezed in between Maran and the guy closest to her.

"You'll have to move over more than that!" a gravelly voice piped up from behind Tara, "This one's very special," and Lowan raised a very large flask for all around the fire to see, "my best herbal concoction yet! And I want this fine young lady to be the first to try it!" Lowan beamed at Tara. She smiled back to him.

"Spent the better part of a year workin' on this recipe—didn't even sleep last night! You better enjoy it!" his eyes twinkled merrily. Tara took the flask from him graciously. She waited for Lowan to take his seat beside her before she sampled the herbal brew.

Tara was prepared to sip of a nice herbal tea; she hadn't taken any fermented drink before. The mead-like concoction Lowan had given her, therefore, left her very rosy-cheeked. If it had been any other drink than Lowan's smooth and vibrant brew, she would have sputtered from the strength. A look of surprise and warmth jumped onto her face, and she found herself wanting to take another drink of the herbal medley that danced so vivaciously on her tongue.

"Maran," she passed the flask to her right, her eyes beaming. So that was why people liked these drinks...

After a few more rounds of Lowan's latest hit the group around the fire was swapping stories (several endings of which were mysteriously forgotten), jokes, and hugs. Maran and Tara had embraced each other, kissing each other's cheeks, twice before the dawn had begun to rise.

"And they took him away too—" Tara half-sobbed, then she regained her composure, "After he 'disappeared,' they replaced him with Faithre Mathig," Tara looked into the black void above her. "He didn't even say goodbye, or where he was going. After the mad-man on the—of the ceremony, I began to wonder if my mentor Ellion had been taken away too—if his memory was being 'aided' by the Sanctum," she turned from the sky to the fire, the frown on her brow intensifying, "I think he was the only one..." her words faltered into the air.

"Who actually knew you." Maran finished the sentence for Tara. "I know. I know too well," she stood up abruptly. "I need a walk—to clear my head!" she offered in response to the ensuing moaning, "Come, Tara, I think you should go with me—no Tee, not you, you can't even stand up straight. It's just girl time. Come," she raised Tara up by her arm. Tara followed her, albeit rather shakily.

"Here," Maran handed a private flask to Tara when they were a good distance from the bonfire. The light from the bonfire still filtered into the outskirts of the forest where they stood. Tara took it from her without question. "It'll help clear your head." Tara made an awful face after taking a swig. Maran smiled at her.

"Not quite Lowan's herbal mixture, is it?" Maran chided.

"Not quite—euh, what is it?"

"Everything that counteracts Lowan's herbs. I'll give you the recipe sometime. No, actually, I wanted to get you away from there because I didn't know if you were aware how much you were saying." Tara looked worried momentarily.

"Why, what was I saying?" Tara asked.

"Not much—I wanted to stop you before it was anything you might not want out. You really saw a lot of it, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Tara was completely sober now.

"Yeah," Maran said, nodding into the distance, "Me too." Tara looked up, a little surprised. For a moment she thought Maran was saying she could remember from when she was younger. But then she pushed that away.

"Oh, you mean from what you've run into as a rebel. I can only imagine what your life has been like, growing up out here." Maran couldn't tell if she felt sorry for the lifestyle or jealous of it by her tone.

"Oh yes, it's very hard for those who have to grow up on the run. But I was talking about growing up as the child of a priestess."

"But wait—I thought you couldn't remember?"

"Oh, I can remember. I can remember my mother quite clearly, for the little I saw her in private. I can remember learning my first spells and receiving my first silver wand. I can remember the demonstrations of castguard power, and I can remember the first time I witnessed a memory alteration for the person's 'own good.'" Tara was stunned into silence momentarily. Why was Maran trusting her with something that she wouldn't even trust to the rebels she dedicated herself to?

"It was that witness to the memory alteration, in addition to the fact that I didn't like what I was being groomed for, that prompted me. It is what made me summon what little courage, and less know-how, that I had to try and escape—and believe me when your mother is a priestess that isn't very easy. But I made it into the company of some rebel sympathizers who passed me into the right hands at the tender age of fourteen, almost fifteen. I started a new life and put the ugliness behind me. I only ventured into Sanctum territory on very specific missions that usually had some aim at preservation of older, gentler ways. I wanted to find what was hidden from me all my life," she looked into Tara's watery eyes. All this time Tara had felt so alone, and all this time Maran had so similar a story—although hers seemed braver, or truer, she wasn't sure which yet. Tara hadn't chosen to leave, she was forced to. She hadn't seen the corruption on her own, when it was in front of her face the whole time. Tara felt like she needed to come clean to Maran about her past as well.

"My name—"

"is Tara." Maran finished her sentence with finality. The look in Maran's eyes told Tara that she knew.

_Chapter 24_

# Voyage

Tara was slightly elated at the fact that she had managed to motivate the council to action, and further yet, that her plan had not been tossed aside as some child's naïve ramblings (which secretly she felt they were). The reality of the situation hadn't yet fully sunk in; it hadn't had time to. The village had been abuzz as the decisions were being made as to who would play what role, and who would stay behind. Tara overheard a couple in the near distance. A woman had a baby on her hip, and three more were at her skirts, all of varying ages.

"No, I'll not be left behind. It's your turn to stay at home with the children. I get to do something this time." She handed the child, a little under a year, to her befuddled husband with a smile. She came out of the house a few moments later, her skirt exchanged for a sturdy pair of her husband's leggings, the cuffs rolled a good six inches at the bottom. She hurried over to Eldwydd, who was directing people who did not yet have assignments. Granted, her plan had been a bit modified, elaborated in some parts and simplified in others. But the fact remained that she, Tara, had helped to set the grain at its heart. The excitement of the pending events was evident on everyone's faces.

First, they would gather all of the participating members of the village. They would cross by way of the bay: the mountains were now feeling their snowy blanket heavier with each passing night. The water would be treacherous, but it was imperative they move soon. As Tara had pointed out at the council meeting, come summer, the Sanctum was likely to extend their search for the missing priestess to the north. She had also revealed her identity to the council. They had all heard of Seraetia, child of the prophecy. She had decided, however, to continue by the name of Tara. She had grown to like it. It felt more like who she was now anyway.

On finding that the priestess they were searching for was the child of the prophecy, and that she resided within their very walls, all agreed that the search would continue until she was found. Agreement was even more whole-hearted among those with whom Maran had shared the full prophecy, which meant by this time almost every member of the village was aware of its contents. The council had suddenly reacted as though they had a secret weapon in their arsenal. Word had spread through the village in a blaze, and Tara's story had become a sort of rallying point, and a reminder of the need for haste.

From the southern bay they would continue in segments to the city of Boran. Certain of their number would raid the Boran castguard supply of wands. This would serve two purposes. They would be depriving reinforcements of weaponry, and they would be able to arm their own. Granted, they already had ample stores of bows and arrows—enough to equip all who had measurable skill in the weapon. However, the only effective way the bows and arrows could be used in direct confrontation with magickally-armed forces was when coupled with great speed and surprise, so that the opponent didn't have time to react. They also had some stores of smaller blades—short swords, daggers, and the like—to be used mostly as a last resort. Few had the skill that Feriam had with the blade; and it required feline reflexes to actually combat spellcasters in duels, blade to wand.

Unfortunately, the villagers had not had time to make wands in preparation of the fight, for it took a process of meditation and careful, respectful harvesting. Tara's plan had come too late in the year for that. Tara was lucky that Maran had taught her how wands were made in the north, by those few who still remembered. It had been part of her meditations to make one for herself. But that still left the largest parts of the rebel forces without magickal arms. So, it was decided that Tara, Tee and Maran would make a stealth movement while everyone was rallying for what looked like open war. They would then return and deliver the raided castguard wands to their own forces.

They were counting on reinforcements, though, that would come from sympathizers in the southern villages to join the main force crossing the bay, led by Feriam, the council head. The fleetest-footed of the village had already been sent to notify informants in the south as soon as the council had decided on the plan. To Tara's surprise, Terak had volunteered immediately to head the southern villages and organize them on hearing the details that the council had set forth. He had already left as well. Although everyone was prepared for it, they hoped it would not come to all-out war. Many saw that the Sanctum was made up of ignorant castguards and pupils who had no real idea of the system they functioned in and for, and they did not want to harm people because of their ignorance. After all, several of these individuals had found refuge amongst the rebels after harsh events of enlightenment, and still knew many people in the Sanctum ranks. They wanted the downfall of the corruption, which stemmed from a corrupt leader. Though, whispers and doubts still lingered that her downfall may not be enough...

The bay proved to be far less rough than they had anticipated, to their delight. Things were going very well, which increased the tension among the party, numbering around five hundred from the village, as people waited for the first snag to hit them. The longer things went smoothly, the larger the first hitch seemed to loom. But they reached the southern shore and still nothing eventful had happened.

Maran frowned into the night. They made camp close to the bay's southern shore, near a ruin whose mysteries had never been explained by Sanctum or rebel alike. It felt old and empty, and oddly appropriate to Maran. Somehow its emptiness made room for all the emotions bubbling out of her.

The crowd of people at the camp below had been too much for her. She had left the camp to be set up by the others, the empty ruin calling her away. There were plenty of able hands, besides. She stood near a crumbling wall, not tempted to penetrate any deeper. The fires had not yet been lit below, as they had only just arrived and dusk had barely fallen.

A hand gently placed itself on her shoulder. She was too perplexed by her thoughts to start at the touch. Instead, she turned to face Tee. He had no jokes, no rhymes for her. His face looked somber as he peered down at her with understanding.

She sighed heavily and he drew her to him, sensing she could use a hug. She let herself rest her head against his shoulder. He rubbed her back rhythmically.

"Even you feel nervous," he said lightly. She could hear his gentle smile. "Tara wouldn't believe that."

She smiled half-heartedly into his shoulder.

"But I'm sure you have your reasons for being so strong all the time," he continued.

"Like you have for playing the fool," she laughed, then continued without any trace of mirth, "If it's easier to be distant, to only depend on yourself, then..."

"Why does it feel so hard?" he finished for her. She lifted her head from his shoulder. She caught his eyes before she knew it. They had never seemed so gentle. Why did they now? Maran lowered her eyes. She didn't like the brown warmth staring down kindly at her. It made her uncomfortable. It made her nervous in a way she wasn't used to, to notice the thick of lash that rimmed them. She realized her lip was quivering slightly and averted her eyes. She tried to control it. She knew she should turn around and leave, or at least say something that would make his hand drop from her back. But it felt so good and comforting.

His breath caressed her cheek.

"Maybe I should leave," he whispered, almost inaudibly, "Maybe you'd rather I left you to your thoughts."

_No!_ her insides screamed.

"Yes," she said instead, "That would be best." Her words came out with much less conviction than she intended. She made the mistake of looking up at him. The thought of being alone alarmed her all of a sudden. She got caught in the warm honey of his eyes again. They drew her further into him. What are you doing? That negligent thought strayed across her mind for only a moment, before all thoughts were driven away and she let instinct lead her.

_Chapter 25_

# Things Get a Little "Tricky"

Tara, Tee, and Maran left the next day. Their assignment was to raid the Boran wand stores for the Sanctum forces, and so would be leaving ahead of the rest of the party in order to execute their movement. Travel along the narrow waterways, with the current, was much quicker than the land route that the rest of the party would be relegated to, owing to their mass. They would be taking the largest river that led directly to Boran, the N'Sea, the river which cut from north to south, from the bay and right past Boran, in order to aid their speed and navigation. They made camp along one of the banks, a day's travel from Boran. Security had obviously been tightened as they traveled to the mouth of the lion. Tee and Maran had been carefully silent to each other during the entire trip, although Tara had taken it to be in the desire to avoid detection, which was at least a sizeable part of their reasoning.

Maran walked into the tent to find Tara's eyes wide open. Tara's attention was focused on Tee, who stopped short in the middle of what appeared to be a very lively story.

"What did you just say?" Maran spat at Tee, whose expression turned into that of a child whose hand got caught in the cookie jar.

"He was just telling me this outlandish story," Tara said, giving Maran a rather peculiar look. "Something about getting caught with a vixen and receiving the type of reward that he thought this particular vixen incapable of giving any man. I can only assume he meant you. After all we've been through together... I thought we were friends, Maran, aren't we supposed to share this kind of thing with one another?" Maran rushed over to Tee and slapped him hard across the chest.

"I told you not to tell anyone!!" she whispered heavily.

"So it is true?" Tara said.

"Hey! It's not like I told anybody else," he rubbed his chest.

"And it better stay that way!" Maran pointed a finger in his face.

"Caillte, it's almost like with me she's ashamed to be."

"And we're not together."

"Not yet, love, not yet," and he gave Maran a cocky wink, "and really you should be flattered that I wanted to brag about it if you look at it. Being with me, that's quite an honor, you know."

"Yes, not one I would like to share with a score of other women."

"Want me all to yourself then. She's in a haste to make more of the first taste." Maran let out a sound of frustration somewhere between a screech and a growl while Tara bit her lip, trying to keep the corners of her mouth down.

_Chapter 26_

# Strike in the Night

She ran her hands over the dead leaves, releasing their rich scent into the air around her. She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, long breath. Meditation had become a daily ritual she now relished. The air on her cheeks seemed to tingle. She pushed her senses further. She felt the energy of the person standing beside her press the air slightly. She pushed further yet, until she could feel every person and living thing in the camp. Something disturbed the edge. There. She could sense it. Just outside Tee's tent.

"Ugh!" Tara gasped. She collapsed backward onto the ground, as though she had been thrown by some projectile. Her eyes looked up to Maran, something intense between fear and alarm radiating from them.

"We must leave the camp. Now."

Maran, Tara, and Tee all gathered to storm the Boran arsenal. They had set up their last camp just a stone's throw from the city walls, their boat well-hidden in the underbrush by the river, with a few charms thrown over it for insurance. Abandoning everything they didn't need for their actual task, the trio darted into the shadows for the dark bowels of the white city before them.

Once they had penetrated the walls—simply done with disguise charms cast over them by Tara and Maran, and the brambles neglectfully allowed to grow to close to the walls—they made their way into the sewers. Tara silently thanked the tip-off they had had about the brambles. One less obstacle—there would be plenty more ahead of them.

They spent only a marginal amount of time navigating the sewers to enter within the castguard barracks; once again their informant had proven himself. Tara, in avid agreement with the other two, knew that the brief moments they had spent amid the putridity would be stamped on her mind forever.

Maran thanked the cockiness that had grown around the Sanctum through its decades, nay, well more than a century by now, of unchallenged reign. It had left the arsenal under-guarded, especially during moments where the Sanctum was preoccupied. Of those that had not been recruited to the massive search parties, the largest numbers left had been sent to patrol outside of the city. Maran only hoped that the majority of their numbers were still in the forest, looking for the treasure now right under their nose. She knew that although some part of N'Dreyid feared it, she, nor those under her command, would ever expect someone to have the audacity or the skill to actually raid her in her own city. Maran wondered if N'Dreyid had found out yet that the tome she had hidden, the tome that was the rightful property of the people whose lore it contained, had been retaken. _N'Dreyid probably never even checks on it_ , she thought scathingly.

When they came upon a branch in the main hallway they had been following, the trio split apart. This was where their information got a little fuzzy. Their informant had never been let past this point, but he knew that at the end of one of these corridors they would find another smaller hallway leading to the entrance of the arsenal. The other led to a privy set apart for the highest ranking castguards. This necessitated that Tee go down one, while Maran and Tara investigated the other. The one to the left was lined with half-column friezes that emerged from both walls. The other was eerily wide open and slightly larger. Tee stole off to the left, darting from column to column.

Luck had been their friend much the evening; they had not yet encountered a single soul, at least directly. They had heard faint voices, or the rat-a-tat of boots on the marble floors in the distance. Maran and Tara had chosen the hall with less cover because they had the aid of having practiced shield and buff magick to mask themselves, and by having two of them at least one might make it if indeed this was the hall to the arsenal. Maran cursed that they did not have a way to communicate with Tee, or he with them, if either of them found the arsenal. They would all have to regroup at that point to continue with their own set parts of the mission. They had a point where they would all meet outside of the city. Their task was simple—no worries, Tara reminded herself.

The hall had a bend coming up. Tara and Maran slowed to best decide how to approach the situation. There was also a closed door to their right. They prayed that it would remain so.

Maran motioned to Tara that she would sneak around the bend and investigate while Tara remained in the corridor; there was no need to risk more lives than necessary. Tara plastered herself flatly against the wall that formed the inside of the bend, the wall with the door, while Maran crept stealthily forward. She peered cautiously around the curve, barely breathing. Tara fancied she could hear Maran's heart beating—or was that her own? Maran must not have seen anyone down the hall, for she slipped deeper into it. She gestured that Tara should stay there.

Tara held her breath, waiting for Maran to return. She had no idea she would be this nervous. This was not like when she escaped N'Dreyid on her sixteenth birthday. Then, she didn't have time to feel nervous—confused, bewildered, panicked, yes—but not nervous. Her blood felt like it was going to burst out of the vein in her wrist and she reminded herself to breathe again.

_What was that!_ She looked to her left. A scraping noise sounded from her left. The door now stood slightly ajar. Tara halted, trying to think what she should do. Should she slip around the corner and try to find Maran? Warn her? She still didn't feel confident with the spells Maran had been showing her, so instinct led her to reach down and grab her ankle-knife.

She had barely clasped it in her hand when the door behind her scraped the rest of the way open. A single castguard now stood face-to-face with Tara. He recognized her and a leer spread across his face.

"Well, well, well," he laughed, "we send all those men out and look who lands on my doorstep. I told them I'd be of more use here than out riskin' my neck in the wild. And see, it'll be me who delivers you," he reached out a finger to stroke Tara's cheek, "personally," Tara jerked her head back in disgust and he chuckled again, "to the High Priestess." He seemed to suddenly note that Tara held a dagger in her hand as she raised her arm to brandish it in his face.

"He, he, he," he continued, "thinks she can fight me. You know, you may have lasted this long, but maybe you forget just how small and insignificant you really are." He made to reach for her wrist and she flicked a bright red gash across his hand. He pulled it back to himself, cursing slightly.

"Well, a little bit of a viper, I see. Well I guess it wouldn't make much sense that you got this far without a little guts," he seemed to change his track of approach, "But I'm sure you're just about out. Isn't that right? Not sure how much longer you can survive like this? All on your own?" Tara's face betrayed her and she glanced to where Maran had disappeared down the hall. "Or you're not on your own. You're trying to plan something, aren't you?" his face broke into a cruel grin, and he laughed again. Tara tried to think what she could do. She knew he was stalling. Was he afraid of her? She fumbled for her wand, cursing that she hadn't made it more readily available. He was too big for her to take down with her small knife, faithful though it was. She rummaged through her mind for an appropriate spell. None seemed to come to her. She had never physically assaulted anyone before with the intent to harm them.

"Of course, we've known that from the beginning—the boy was quite easy to dispose of. He was very obviously placed. We could hear you the whole time. It's surprising he could be so poor at disguising his location," the castguard sneered, "I've already sent men to deal with him. He must be dead, or wishing he were, by now. I wonder, does he scream in rhyme too?"

Fury burned from Tara's eyes, tinged with more than a little fear. If they had been compromised so early—if Tee...

"It was so easy," the castguard snarled, "You have no idea, Seraetia." Her eyes turned to him coldly. This was too much. Any fear left in her hardened to intense dislike that she could feel sit in her stomach.

"At least I don't feel any remorse."

"For wha—" His words were cut off by the sickening crack his neck made as his head snapped back. Tara stared as his head smacked against the hard stone wall. She massaged her knuckles. It felt good to do something without magick.

"And it's Tara," she kicked the unconscious body.

Maran returned from her scouting around the corner just in time to see the body slump down the wall. She looked at Tara, slightly amazed.

"I'm angry too but we really can't be wasting time taking our anger out on corpses," she changed tracks quickly, "Come, I found a way less guarded. We can get to the armory and raid the wands. With a bit of luck, we may just make it out with them."

Tara hurried down the corridor after Maran as noiselessly as possible.

"Tee might be in trouble," Tara whispered anxiously.

"Tee?" worry creased Maran's brow for a moment, "I hope he isn't, because if that's the case, we could all be in trouble. But we have to take the chance now to storm the arsenal. I think you found the one guard" she gestured to the lump on the floor, "and I think we were lucky that he was a bit lax. Now's our chance, if ever. We have to go."

Tara didn't have the opportunity to ask any further, because a small group of four castguards marched across the entrance to the hall they were in. Tara and Maran flattened themselves against the wall, making use of what little shadow they could. Night had fallen outside, but torchieres lined the walls and provided little shadow. They held their breath, waiting and hoping that the small group would not venture down the hall to the arsenal. After a few moments that went on forever the group passed out of sight; Maran and Tara hurried around the bend to put the unguarded arsenal's contents to better use.

Shadows flickered, blurring the two figures that dashed from cover to cover under the lamplight outside the Boran barracks. Tara and Maran had filled the sacks they had brought with them—luckily, the wands did not take up much room. Wands also lined their belts, as they had tucked them into any place they could fit them. There weren't very many left in the arsenal once they had finished. A couple poked up comically from Tara's boot. The two of them sprinted to the agreed upon meeting place if they ever got separated.

They had to get outside of the walls again, which meant another unpleasant, and somewhat more bulky, passage through the wonderfully-perfumed sewers. Maran held Tara's sack as she lowered herself below the level of the grate that they had just pulled off. Tara almost gagged as she was enveloped by the stench. It squished unpleasantly beneath her soft boots. She could make out gross lumps on the floor. Luckily the muck was only ankle deep. Maran lowered both sacks to Tara so that she could climb in, replacing the sewer grate above her as silently as she could.

They waded through the intolerable dark. They groped the slimy walls to ensure the correct path, reversing the instructions they had used to enter the barracks. This time, though, they would be following the sewers under the walls to their exit at the river. The exit of the sewers was well hidden in brambles, which was the reason they hadn't used it to enter the sewer. Supposedly, once outside the walls, the sewers made a straight shot for the river. Tara figured that it must be right, because as they passed smaller forks which seemed to join to the main one they were in, the chamber not only got a little larger, but she thought the muck was getting deeper. Eventually they were up to their knees, walking as close to the sidewalls as possible.

Maran and Tara didn't have to talk to know they were thinking the same thing. They both hoped that the sewers would deposit them close to the meeting point. Tara didn't know whether or not to be disconcerted by the fact that the smell was bothering her less the more time she spent in the sewer. The thought that eventually she wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the stench and fresh air scared her.

Finally, thorny branches scratched against their outstretched hands. Maran didn't want to risk giving away their position by using spells, so they set to clearing the way in front of them by hand—quite a task, considering the vicious barbs guarding the exit to the sewers. Tara took to kicking them down with her boot.

It took them little over half an hour to make it out of the sewers. Tara breathed heavily from the exertion, and also to fill her lungs with the clean night air (although still tinged with the smell of sewage nearby). Maran didn't seem affected by the effort. She just began to look around her immediately. There was a lone figure, represented only by the inky darkness around them being deepened further, that was crouching stealthily up and down the bank of the river they had just climbed out of. It was obviously searching for something. It made a characteristic movement and Maran hoisted her bag more steadily on her shoulder before she sprinted in his direction.

"Tee!" she whispered loudly. She dropped her sack of loot at her feet when she reached him and hugged him.

"What's this about? That I would make it out there could be no doubt," he whispered into her hair. Maran straightened herself, suddenly conscious that Tara had met up with them.

"We thought they had taken you, Tee! For the sake of Caillte I'm glad you're alive," Tara whispered when she was close enough to be heard. Even though she spoke in a whisper, her relief was evident. Tara had had plenty of time to contemplate what could have been done to him in the passage out from under the city, and it kept coming back to her that it would somehow be her fault. She had to continually remind herself that what they were undertaking was worth it.

"Whereto from here?" Tara asked, although she full-well knew the answer. Tee would take the majority of the wands and Tara and Maran would continue with the 'hard part' of the operation, as Tee put it.

After they divvied out the loot as appropriate, Tee hurried back to the north. He was to meet the northern party with the wands. On his way he was to relegate a share of them to be distributed by another party to the reinforcements from the south. The plan was to use the most trusted of the spy network already in place to distribute them to the scattered supporters throughout the Sanctum, while Tee took the rest to the main party. By this time, those from the rebel village would have been joined by those from the other temporary encampment, which was at that time in the northeast.

Tara and Maran went on their way to confront N'Dreyid in the Tower of Boran.

_Chapter 27_

# A Rising Heat

The sky was leaden with clouds, and the thickness of water heavy in the air made each movement require more effort. Tee rounded the top of a grassy hillock to see the large mass of people moving on the other side. Some were pulling carts that were laden with the tents and provisions for the small army. The last several hours had been a relief for Tee because he had been far enough from direct Sanctum scrutiny that he felt comfortable traveling in the open.

He had been moving at a fair speed to meet back up with the village force, but he had also had to make several detours both to avoid detection and to make deliveries to certain individuals and keep things in motion. It was about three days since he had parted company with Maran and Tara. He had passed the branch of the N'Sea River that ran east to west above Boran, and whose main flow had provided the trio their means to perform the wand raid. After the river, he had had to pass through a thin remnant of trees that veiled the northern grassy hills from the river's banks.

The village force had been making good time, so in the week it had taken for them to make the wand strike and for him to make his way back, they had made it to the lazy plains north of Boran. Some of the village force had floated down the N'Sea River and had set up the camp several days ago. Although people were still arriving, the camp was already well-entrenched. Feriam could be seen below leading many of the troops in exercises. They seemed to be at their conclusion, as the students and Feriam bowed to each other and Feriam strode over to what appeared to be his tent, poring over the thin bark that they used for records. Tee thought of how long the journey had taken him, but knew would only take castguard forces a day to march to the chosen battlefield.

The finger of northern forest that still remained, a last vestige that helped protect them from Sanctum eyes, shone hazily blue as a backdrop behind Tee.

"Tee!" someone shouted excitedly, pointing at his figure as it finished appearing over the crest of the hill and leveled onto the plateau where they were building camp.

"Really, why haven't you put out scouts already? I snuck up on your main force so easily!" he chided Feriam, who had turned at the sound of Tee's arrival from a flat piece of wood with scratches on it that he and another council member had been discussing. Feriam had anxiously been awaiting news of the trio, although he did not show it to his force. He looked excitedly at the bulging bag string over Tee's shoulder.

"I only have about half of what we raided left. We got separated and the girls took out all they could heft—two bushels worth. The first among the scattered forces I've dispersed. This is the second," he handed the sack to Feriam, glad to be rid of the bulky weight. It had been very difficult to maneuver and more than a little conspicuous when he was carrying two.

"Good work—good work," he whispered into his hand. He looked up to Tee, "How are Maran and Tara?"

"The birds have left for the nest," Tee winked, "Now, I am much tired and much hungry too so some necessaries I think I'll help myself to."

"Of course. Eldwydd didn't have the bones to make the trip down the river, but he should be in the front of the procession. And if I know him, he already has a pie baked for you since hearing of your arrival." Tee laughed at Feriam and turned to leave in the direction Feriam was gesturing. Tee threw a few words over his shoulder as he trotted away.

"That old bat, I'm sure you didn't tell _him_ he didn't have the bones for it. Nay, he'd have none o' that." Feriam shook his head at Tee's cheek, grinning as he watched the loping figure disappear. The smile faded on his face after a moment. He only hoped that Maran and Tara were right in insisting that they should do this task alone. He kept doubting himself, sure that he should have sent back-up with them. He consoled himself that if they were able to break into the castguard arsenal, then they were the only ones who had a chance against her.

He reconsidered his task: he had to guide the men, and women, and try to assemble them into some semblance of a fighting force. The daunting task of giving them what little training he could in the few days ahead loomed heavily against the grey sky. And Feriam regarded his task as trivial in comparison with the danger and import of what faced Tara and Maran.

The next day rumblings hit the camp. Sanctum City forces were reported sweeping through the southern villages, 'cleansing' them of dangerous individuals afflicted by a recent outbreak of night-fever. Feriam suspected that someone in their network had been compromised, and as a result expected the Boran forces to start heading north soon. He hoped that his fear was not correct: that the location of the camp had not been divulged. The only individual working in the south who knew their northern camp location was Terak. Feriam trusted all of the members of his council implicitly; he would not be able to get anything done otherwise. Why, then, did he keep having this nagging feeling that the location shielded by the forest had been disclosed?

Feriam was staring through the thin bark unrolled before him. It was lying on the folding table outside his tent. He had memorized its strategic scratchings sometime before: they would place the defected Sanctum guards in the front lines. He was sorry that they would have to face former comrades, but they were the best qualified for the position and most likely to make it out alive. There would be a line of men hidden in the forest vestiges. The Sanctum forces would have to pass through the forest in order to make it to the hills where the camp lay. The job of those in the forest was to funnel the Sanctum forces between the hills as best as possible, so that the forces would be concentrated into a small area. Feriam had hand-picked these men to be the most agile and adept at handling weapons in the trees. They were covert and hopefully would take out a fair number of the force before the main camp forces would have to deal with them. Tee would be responsible for their number, for their coordination during attack. Tee sidled up behind Feriam, peering over his shoulder.

"Rehearsing the plan for one more span?" Tee asked. Feriam jumped.

"Sanctum Spirits! Tee, whatever are you doing? Never mind that—I'm sure you've heard by now that Sanctum City has sent their ranks to sweep the southern villages. I doubt we can count on anyone being able to support us, as they'd be compromising themselves in order to organize everything. My problem is that I'm not sure this is just a routine sweep like we used to see in my day; they gave off that years ago."

"I know, that was so rustic. Now it's silently they find which victims to pick—much slier, as befits the liar," Tee inserted.

"Yes, well, anyways, I think they must've had motivation. Somehow something's leaked, and I'm not sure who, what, or how big. In any case, I would like you to find and designate some sentries in key places so we can at least get some advanced alert if they're sending anybody up here. With trying to organize—forget training—everyone, I don't quite have the time to do it myself. See to it, will you?"

"And with Antea's speed, I take your leave," Tee held his hand to his breast in a show of dramatics and swept away.

Two dawns later smoke hazed the southern horizon. All of the wands had been dispersed to those who had the ability to wield one, mostly the castguard defects. Once again, he was grateful the young girl Salea had found him yesterday evening. Apparently, she had been trying to find him ever since she had heard he had arrived. He remembered the short conversation. She had come up to him boldly.

"Before you can say anything, know that my age doesn't matter. I may only be fourteen, but I can shoot a hawk while it's in mid-dive—every time." Tee's eyebrows had shot up in surprise.

"Well, as admirable as that may be," he chuckled at the young girl's serious expression. She thought he was laughing at her. He continued before she could retort, "what is it that you want from me?"

"I thought that would be obvious. I'm a better shot than most of the men you've already chosen." Tee understood. She wanted to be in his forest force—the first to combat the castguard assault after the castguard defects. Before he could hesitate, she continued, words pouring out of her mouth quicker than rain from the sky in a storm.

"And I know my being a woman wouldn't have anything to do with you not choosing me. So I figured you just must not have heard of me yet, or of course you would have already approached me. Word is they'll be here soon, and you need me." She cocked her head and gave him a challenging, quizzical cock of the brow. Now he remembered—he had been receiving messages all day that some young kid had wanted to meet with him. He had been told that she probably wouldn't hold up in the frontal force, though.

"What's your name?"

"Salea." She held her breath hopefully. He looked at her, trying to gauge her pluck. Why not?

Tee rushed into Feriam's tent, holding up the heavy canvas flap as he shouted to him from the entryway.

"Feriam, wake up," Feriam rose himself wearily. He had only laid his head down little more than an hour before. He thrust his palm into his eyes. Tee continued, "Feriam," his voice was solemn, "Sonak's come back. He's one of the ones I sent to hold sentry. You'd better get everyone ready." Feriam groaned.

"How long do we have?" He blinked the last of the weariness from his eyes rapidly. His tone pressed urgently.

"By hours, no more than four." Feriam's face grew cold at Tee's response. The men were not ready.

"Damn. You must set your men; I'll see to the rest. Hurry." Feriam swept out of the tent and started bellowing loudly to rouse the camp, orders issuing from him in rapid-fire succession. Tee called the twenty or so men that would be accompanying him as a regiment, and then headed for the trees.

_Perhaps this will make it easier for Tara and Maran to complete their mission then,_ thought Tee.
_Chapter 28_

# Entrance into the Tower

It rose in a tall column of cold ivory. Maran and Tara could not believe the ease they had in getting so close to the Tower of Boran. It almost felt unguarded. Tara doubted more than once that N'Dreyid was actually here, despite the various confirmations they had had. Maran had done several spells, as well as scried for her. In addition, they had been reassured by their few allies in Boran of her presence in the Tower.

Tara looked up at it. From its base she could barely make out its top. But she knew what it looked like. She had studied it countless times in her education at Sanctum City. She knew how it was laid out, and the symbolic, magickal importance behind it, though she doubted much of that now. Its peculiar shape had led them to it without hindrance, impossible to mistake. Black spires at its summit curved in a strange and angular pattern. Even in the daylight, there ebbed from between them an unnatural glow. The glow blurred the frightening black ebony, even the grey sky behind them. Tara wondered if the body of a priestess truly did lay there, frozen beneath an eerie mist of ice. She pushed the thoughts of Michaeyala from her mind, and with it the sickening feeling that accompanied her whenever she thought on what they had promised her so long ago. Now was not the time for her to dwell on that. If she did that, the chance of Maran and herself getting killed was even higher.

If Maran was lost in thoughts of her past, Tara couldn't tell. Maran's movements were quick and sure. She showed no signs of hesitation lately. In fact, Tara felt that sometimes her lack of hesitation was less than cautious, but she was unable to confront her about it. They had already been in two very close calls getting to this point when they had to pass the heaviest volume of guards. Tara could only think that Maran must have been using spells to help conceal them, and distract the guards, or else they most certainly would have been caught by now.

"The castguard's almost passed out of sight," Maran mouthed the words so quietly that Tara wondered if she were projecting them to her psychically. "And, now."

Maran darted out from behind the carved trash receptacle where they were hiding. Tara thought it would have been more prudent for them to have waited until dark—or at least dusk—before they tried to move into the Tower. As it was however, the late afternoon sun glared oppressively as it passed between the patches of grey clouds. Tara saw no choice but to follow her. The guard barely missed the sight of her boot flashing as she slipped through the Tower entrance on his return.

Immediately on entrance into the Tower itself, Tara wondered why it was not more heavily guarded. She didn't know that the majority of the Boran castguard force had been sent by N'Dreyid to confront a massive rebel uprising that threatened the safety of the Sanctum.

Maran snaked up winding passages, not consulting Tara on her way. Tara wondered at her. Maran must have some information that Tara didn't know about. She thought that Maran would have consulted her more on which way to go, or at least fill her in on what she did know. But that was not the case, and Maran continued to make decisive turns down corridors. Tara started to lose track.

After several turns, they found themselves in a small chamber. There were two tapestries flanking a small fireplace on the far wall. Tara could hear footsteps echoing somewhere in the corridors behind them.

"What now?" Tara whispered urgently to Maran. Maran ignored her and rushed over to the opposite wall.

Maran pushed aside the tapestry to the left of the fireplace to reveal a passageway that wound tightly upward in a spiral. Tara began to wonder what exactly Maran had done when she was in the Sanctum. Maran disappeared behind the tapestry without a word, a determined set to her mouth. As though as an afterthought, she turned back to Tara for a millisecond.

"Up here," she told Tara. Tara climbed after her, watching the heavy tapestry fall back in place with hardly any sway.

The further they went, the more Maran seemed to be working from the memory of well-practiced habits. The silence grew more ominous with every step they ascended, bringing them closer to the High Priestess' chambers.

Tara knew that the High Priestess had chambers at the top of the Tower, where she fulfilled her primary duty of maintaining the Tower light and, supposedly, the frozen Michaeyala. She assumed that Maran was leading them to the chambers, which furthered her suspicions of what exactly had been Maran's place before she defected. The passageway they climbed had no guards, and soon the only sounds that surrounded them were their own footsteps. Occasional light filtered in through cracks and slits in the wall of the staircase, which was apparently adjacent with the outside of the enormous Tower. Tara was thankful for the solitude and safe passage of their stairwell, though it made her wonder again how Maran had gained knowledge of it.

Finally, after Tara knew not how many hundred steps, they reached another tapestry blocking the exit to the stairs. It fell weightily to the ground. Maran pushed it aside, less cautiously than Tara would have liked. Maran disappeared behind it, letting the tapestry fall behind her. Tara started to wonder if Maran forgot she wasn't alone. Tara yanked aside the tapestry, eager not to be left behind.

"Don't move."

He had his hand over Maran's mouth and was bending her back at an odd angle, his wand directed to her neck.

"The High Priestess has been waiting for you." The castguard looked Tara directly in the eye.

"You will follow me—if you want her to survive."

_Chapter 29_

# Clashing of the Tides

Tee notched another arrow in his bow. His quiver was feeling dangerously slack against his back: the weight of the arrows was no longer enough for it to keep its place.

"Ten and three for Tee." All thought of trying not to kill the castguards was abandoned shortly after they broke into the brush. It had not taken long for self-preservation to take hold of the castguard defects, their rented wands turned from disarming and temporary paralysis to more deadly deeds.

"Daeya, behind you!" Tee shouted to a youth who had jumped from the trees. He had run his own quiver dry and so had turned to fighting with a small hatchet. Daeya turned—too slowly. The castguard's spell hit him square in this face, and he slumped to the ground. Tee couldn't hear the thud over the sound of mayhem. He notched another arrow.

"One more'd be ten and four," Tee muttered, no merriment to his rhyme. He let the arrow fly, propelled by his desire to avenge the boy. It whistled through the castguard's heart before he had time to turn onto his next victim.

Tee tried to organize the men as had been planned. But it was impossible to communicate with anyone on the other side of the castguard force, which divided them like a knife as the rebels tried to drive the castguards between the hills and through the valley. He only hoped his men did as he had ordered them to, and that they held long enough to complete those orders. Tee tried not to think of them as the individuals that were his friends.

Tee felt behind him. He grabbed at the empty flop of his quiver. One last shaft. He notched it and looked for his next target. Golden robes flitted out from behind a tree. He had spotted a girl in the trees—it was Salea. She had quickly proven herself one of, if not the, best marksman he had very early on. And none of the enemy had yet found her position. This castguard seemed as good a target as any for his last arrow. He leveled his bow at his next victim, mentally blocking out the screams of a fallen man. He let it loose as the castguard began to raise his wand to Salea. It sliced through the back of his neck—straight through the spine. His eyes looked shocked for a moment, then distant and watery. They stared blankly at the tree canopy, his left lid slightly closed still because of the old scar tissue pushing on it. The body seemed to fall slower than normal, but Tee didn't see it. He had already rushed off to find new weapons, venturing to the ever-dangerous floor.

Meanwhile, Feriam had organized the main camp forces as best he could. So far, Tee's men appeared to be doing their job reasonably well. Men had begun to trickle through between the hills. Feriam just hoped it was enough to keep them from being flanked. The castguards who had made it through the finger of trees appeared confused. They looked back to the forest as though debating if they should re-enter; they were uncertain if what they encountered in the trees was the entirety of the rebel force. But it had been too small. Their informant had implied a much larger number.

Half a dozen men had now made it through the trees, regrouping as they did so. All of them had been deposited in a deserted ally. Feriam and his men watched them with the use of mirrors that snaked around the hills. His men had clambered onto the backside of the two hills, flanking the valley that the castguards were falling into. They had carefully moved all evidence of the camp from line of sight of the valley during the four hours' warning. They continued to wait for the numbers filtering from the forest to mass.

Feriam sent archers and wand-bearers to flank them from the crest of the hills, and pick off the offending force once the signal was given. He waited until he had the crests of both hills lined tightly with those using ranged weapons. Feriam sent the signal to ready. It traveled down the line like a flame along a fuse.

The castguards were confused as the rebels in the forest seemed to melt into the trees. Not an arrow or spell stirred through the air.

"They're down here! I see them!" came a shout from one of the pristinely robed figures. He was pointing down at the end of the hills, where the majority of Feriam's men were waiting. One of them had slipped a little too far into the line of sight.

It was the last bit of motivation that the castguards needed. Within moments, the valley was flooded with hundreds of them. Feriam gave the second signal. Rebels peaked over the hills in one motion and let their volleys loose in floods. The castguards hardly had time to react, and their forces were cut down drastically within seconds.

After the first volley though, the dam had broken loose, and the floods that ensued were disastrous and unstoppable. The castguards still had hundreds of men left. Feriam's men were piled behind him, unable to get fully into the valley due to the numbers that had already poured in. The archers and wand-bearers above now had to pick their targets carefully to avoid hitting their own, in addition to avoiding the many spells that zoomed their way. A stray spell glanced from a blade and nicked Tee, who had reappeared lining one of the crests with the other archers. Luckily it had been much dispersed, but it had caused him to lose his balance. He tumbled, unable to catch himself, down the dune. He was lost in the fray below.

Before long, no sense could be made of the cacophony below. Screams of the friend mingled with screams of the foe. Some would crouch or scramble away as they quailed when actually confronted with fighting a sibling or childhood friend. Soon night engulfed the scene, and the flashes brightened the sky like some perverse mockery of lightening that could be seen even from Boran.

_Chapter 30_

# The Pitch of Magick

The guard brought them to the topmost enclosed room of the Tower: the chambers belonging exclusively to N'Dreyid. Several times Tara made to work for an escape from the castguard, but she would turn around and catch Maran's eye and something in it would tell her to stop. Tara didn't know why Maran wasn't fighting him. She could easily have overtaken him, yet she did not even make the tiniest feint at resistance. Tara, warily, took her cue from Maran's inaction, and passively followed the castguard's direction as he told her where to go.

Before long, they were thrust through a door at the top of a small winding staircase. The door closed behind them, the castguard on the other side of it. They felt her presence before they saw it. A voice filled with power echoed across the empty room.

"You have arrived."

Columns of marble dotted the room, and the seam of a marble door could be seen on the other side. N'Dreyid stalked out from behind one of them, her robes of shimmering silk dragging snakily behind her. They looked as though they dripped her power behind her. Tara half-expected the floor to be eaten by acid as she passed over it.

"Now you, I did not expect to see. I hope you do not expect me to take you in now. I have spent countless resources trying to bring you home. Of course, if you return to your proper place and do what you know is right and your duty, I may consider leniency." N'Dreyid spoke not to Tara but to Maran. Tara suddenly began to doubt Maran's place in the scheme of things.

"You lost your control over me a long time ago. If anyone is to be admitting defeat tonight, it shall be you. That, I promise."

"Surely you do not expect me to fear you?" N'Dreyid spat her words at Maran. "I gave you everything. You would not even exist if it were not for me. The indignance! You shall understand the gravity of your actions, young girl. It is my duty to show you your place." N'Dreyid leveled her heavy ivory wand with Maran's eye.

"No!" Tara instinctively raised her own, grasping at her boot knife as she did so. But before Tara had begun her incantation, Maran pulled out a wand of her own.

"The both of you?" N'Dreyid laughed sadistically. "Now this I would not have thought. Poor Seraetia, your bravado really is endearing, I tell you. However, I know the extent of the spells you have been taught. After this traitor standing before me, do you really think that I would have allowed you to learn anything more than the most menial and peaceable of spells? Honestly, you must think me a fool. And tell me, Maran, are you even sure you still know how to use that so far from the base of its power? Or hasn't Maran told you yet, Seraetia? She is my daughter. All of her magick must come through the mother line. And that means me; it means the Tower of Boran. It means that you have nothing!"

Tara felt as though she had been struck. That was why Maran had such knowledge of the Tower. Scenes evolved in her mind where Maran had free reign of the Tower, of her following her mother. Everything suddenly took on an air of impossibility.

"There are other sources of power than you, Mother. No matter how you try to hide it, they are there and I know of them. Why else would you so fear and protect your own power? And yes, I said you fear. I can hear and smell it coming from you." Maran's quavering words reached through Tara's reverie and reminded her of how it must truly have been to grow up under the High Priestess. "I have found the old one that you have stolen from the people because of your own fear and greed. You may not have been the first to steal her, but you have kept her hidden and all of Caillte cloaked beneath a stinking blanket of fear for something that doesn't even exist."

"Ha! You must have the night-fever too if you think that old quack exists! She is a tale, a myth—nothing more. She has no power." To punctuate her final word, a blast shot forth from her wand in response to her silent command. The air seemed to shimmer with the sheer force, as the path from the wand to Maran turned the air solid.

"Nohtea!" shouted Maran, circling the air in front of her with her simple wand of Kalarth. A stream emanated from N'Dreyid's wand, its massive energy visibly building across Maran's shield charm. It leaked through, etching icy blue lines of fire across her skin.

"You couldn't stand witnessing a simple memory correction!" the madwoman shouted desperately, "He wasn't in much pain. He would have had more if I had let him live with it. He would have tried something stupid like you are doing now. He knew nothing like the pain you will know." The force of the blast pummeled against Maran, thrusting her off her feet. Her back smacked the marble floor with a sickening crack, and her shield charm faltered completely.

However, Maran pulled herself determinedly to her feet, her breathing ragged. Tara knew the spell should have killed her. A grim shade of doubt flashed across N'Dreyid's face.

"No matter. So it shall not be done with as quickly. It shall just be little practice. Something I have not had for a long time." The momentary paralysis fell from Tara in an instant. As N'Dreyid lifted her wand arm to strike again, Tara already had the words out for a binding—

"Coinnigh í! You shall not claim her!!" The binding, however, was not strong enough to stop the spell shooting from N'Dreyid's wand. With her other hand, Tara took aim with her silver dagger. Careful not to interfere with her own wand-stream, she launched it tip over tang threw the air. It flew between Maran and N'Dreyid, catching N'Dreyid's wand-stream in mid-air. The spell glinted off of the silver surface cleanly, reflecting back into its wand. The surge of power threw N'Dreyid backwards and a thunderous crack resonated throughout the chamber. N'Dreyid's wand clattered against the marble floor, a twisted, useless black lump.

Tara looked at the queenly presence before her, still clutching at the world she had built around herself. Her great aura diminished, and Tara noticed for the first time the signs of age and wear around the eyes and mouth. The front of her robes darkened rosily where the force of her curse had hit her through the back of her own wand. Time had deemed an end to N'Dreyid's reign, whether or not the High Priestess was willing to accept it. Indeed, the power she had exercised over the lands was already beginning to fade into the annals of history. N'Dreyid slumped to the floor, a shell of what had once been alive.

Tara ran over to Maran, who had fallen to the floor, rasping. Life seemed to be draining from her as well.

"Maran—Stay with me. Let me get you to the forest. There is no life in here." Maran smiled wryly up at Tara.

"It was true. I am so glad that I got to see it. The shell over Michaeyala will fade, and the veil over our sky will too. The light of Nohtin will shine on us again. I would like to see that light at least once. Then I will know that I have done the right thing. I have no wish beyond that."

Tara closed her eyes and nodded. Her mouth pressed into a grim line as she clumsily lifted Maran upright. The air felt oddly empty as they stumbled from the Tower together, down its tight staircase (with some difficulty of navigation) and through its corridors with mumbled directions from Maran. Its ivory walls were greying as they walked. Tara and Maran stumbled into the night air. The coolness was a shock to their spent bodies and gave them the strength to push to the outskirts of the town. It seemed everyone had deserted; the few people still in Boran were clustered in the church on the other end of the city. The breeze blew at their backs. It was a though the wind were trying to scoop them up and carry them out of the city. Tara and Maran heard crashing behind them as the Tower was crumbling to the ground. Neither looked back.

Once out of the city, they pushed themselves further to the first small hillock. They could hear the river rushing beside them. Its melody was strong and clear, as though nothing had ever happened.

They collapsed on the fragrant grass, crushing it beneath their exhausted forms. Tara breathed in the green scent, drawing strength from it. She opened her eyes to the sky above her. It was odd, it seemed so natural, like they had always been there. It was so beautiful. Tara began to cry. She didn't understand how anyone would want to hide this. The light from thousands of pinpricks fell down across her face.

"One thing I don't understand," Tara said, "is how did my spell do that to her? I mean, it was just a simple binding spell. And when I reflected it, there shouldn't have been enough force left to kill her—not someone of her power."

"You're right; after you put the binding on her spell, it should not have been enough force to kill her. I believe it has to do with a couple of things. One, she was very old—much older than anyone knows. But also, she had tied her life to the Tower of Boran, and as long as it was fed, so was she. But she was tied to the Tower through that wand. It is made of the same ivory as the Tower. It _is_ the Tower. And as N'Dreyid drew life from the Tower, it so was tied to her. Of course, that could all be wrong. Her spell may have just been that powerful, and your binding did nothing to it. Maybe it's just because you were supposed to do it."

Maran nudged her arm. Tara looked over at her and could see tracks across her face as well. She then followed the extent of Maran's arm. She was pointing to where the trees in the far distance met the sky. Tara didn't think she could see anything more beautiful than she had in tonight's sky, but this was a night for wonders. What she saw was even more beautiful, as a perfect orb rose. Its silver light shone more exquisite than anything she had ever seen. She was watching Nohtin return. She was real, and she would never lose her children again.

#  Epilogue

Entry the first of the New Era

It has been some time—six months—since that epic battle, so often told by campfire and bedside. Much has happened since. In summary, there were many casualties of the battle. But still, there were enough of us left for us to restart. We were never able to find Michaeyala's remains, or any of the High Priestess' (though that was to be expected), among the rubble.

Of course, change didn't happen overnight. Well, actually, many changes did happen overnight, but many things took time to unravel, and are still unraveling. We thought to find resistance among the other priestesses, only to find that they had all been extinguished except in name and reference. The most resistance we had was from castguards and apprentices. Although, the vast majority of individuals seemed to wake from a sort of fog after the destruction of the Tower.

N'Dreyid has left an indelible mark upon the people here. It still rankles me to think what she did to me, how she molded me as easily as she did everyone around her. When I think back on the dreams that troubled me on my journeys, I think that my memory too must have been altered, and that they were trying to burst through. I can only imagine the torment of those people who had received the treatment moreso than I, how the torment of their minds truly was a craze. I remember the madman who found me on the day of my Ceremony, and I pity him again, for there is little else I can do for him or the others like him. We are still finding confused and dazed people, who simply do not seem able to comprehend what we tell them. I figure we probably will find many more. Though I am glad to be the person I am today, and I would not change the friendships I have found, I do not think I could ever forgive her. It's funny how pity can come without forgiveness. I think I do pity her, for hers is the life that I would least want to have had.

Anyways, on a happier note, shortly after N'Dreyid was vanquished, Tee and Maran married. It was a surprise to everyone when they announced it. Tee, the confirmed flirt and bachelor, with the stridently independent Maran. It caused quite a stir—some even questioned why Maran would want a cripple. But she didn't care that Tee lost the use of his left leg from that spell that reflected on him, paralyzing it.

We all still mourn Lowan and Feriam, among others. Feriam's son, Daylen, has followed in his footsteps as a leader, though.

Since those days, I have helped to reinvent Sanctum spirituality. We decided it would be best to keep many of the old Sanctum churches, since so many were used to worshipping in them. We never wanted to strip the people of what they were comfortable with, and emplace ourselves where N'Dreyid had, with our will superior to others.

We have put a lot of effort into planting new groves. We have also spent much time bringing about the consciousness in the ways of old lore and spells. People now can practice as they wish, and there are now many of us who pray to Nohtin. There are also many who practice the old ways as well as the rituals that were used in the Sanctum, myself among them. The reaction to the night sky suddenly being alight was not uniformly accepting; there were many who felt it was a portent of doom. But with time, and with the copying and distributing of the tome that Maran had reclaimed, people became comfortable, indeed much more comfortable than they had been under N'Dreyid's rule. Of course, the fact that no one came down with 'night-fever' since her demise certainly helped our popularity amongst the skeptics.

It's odd, sometimes, when people ask what it was like. I tell them that I only knew a small part of what was going on. I also tell them of how afraid I was when I found out that Maran was N'Dreyid's daughter, as is common knowledge now. I think of how it will be years from now, when the newest children ask me these same questions. They will have no concept of what sort of person N'Dreyid was, to keep so many people ignorant, only letting them know the parts of truths that suited her and kept her in power; or of how it was to live under the Sanctum Regime, always in fear of contracting night-fever and disappearing. And I'm glad of it. Isn't that, after all, why we risked everything?

I was the first person to be made priestess under the new system. Many saw my reappearance as a good omen, which made the transition much smoother. But I must say, it is such an odd contrast. Now I feel much too young to be made a priestess. And yet, it was not more than two years ago when they had made me priestess under the Sanctum, and I had not felt too young then. I only hope that my next entry will hold as much promising news as this.

This concludes the entry for this year.

Priestess Tara, of earth and of star.

Dedicated to Nohtin.

#  Map

# Appendices

#  **Appendix A:** Pronunciation of names and titles

The following words are the most difficult for English speakers to say. However, we are in luck in this circumstance because there is one linguist and historian from Caillte Saíocht, N'Taleah Sahli, with whom I have had the pleasure to speak. He has been generous enough to clear up many points of pronunciation and his help was invaluable in compiling this list. Any special notes appear after each word.

**Bose'quea-** _bo- say- KAY- ah_

**Caillte Saíocht** \- closest approximation: _KAYL- tə SEE- icht_

When pronouncing _Saíocht_ hold the first vowel _ee_ for twice as long as you would hold a regular vowel.

**Coinnigh í** \- closest approximation: _kin- ni GYEE_

The _gh_ sound is pronounced by holding your tongue where you would for a _k_ or _g_ and making a sound like an _h_. Hold the double consonant _nn_ and the vowel _í_ for an extra count.

**Dínaeia Gh'Dín-** closest approximation: _DEEN- ay- a gh- DEEN_

This word is exceedingly difficult to pronounce. As with the word above, the vowel 'í' sounds like _ee_ and is held for twice as long as you would hold a regular vowel in English. The _gh_ sound is pronounced by holding your tongue where you would for a _k_ or _g_ and making a sound like an _h_ —a very difficult sound for English speakers to make. If you can't get it, just make a hard _g_ sound like in English _gut_.

**Dolarum** \- closest approximation: _doe- lAH- rum_

The best way to break this down is as follows: the second syllable _ar_ and last _um_ receive relatively equal stress, however more than the first syllable, the _o_ has the value in _boat,_ the _a_ has the value in _father_ and the _r_ has the same value as in the Spanish word _pero_ or some English pronunciations of _button_ or _ladder_ where the middle consonant is replaced with a 'flap D' by rapidly touching the roof of your mouth with your tongue.

**Eldwydd** \- closest approximation: _ELD- woothe_

**Maran** \- _MARE- in_

**Michaeyala** \- _MICK- ay- ah- lah_

**N'Dreyid** \- closest approximation: _nd- RAY- id_

Unfortunately, this word can never be authentically pronounced by English speakers, or speakers of any other known language save native speakers of Caillte Saíochtan. Luckily, however, N'Dreyid is such a ubiquitous character to Caillte Saíochtan lore that it is highly unlikely that anyone from Caillte would not know of whom you spoke if you use the above approximation. If that is too hard for you, you may drop the initial _n._ However, if you do this, make sure to hold the _d_ for an extra count to help avoid confusion.

**N'Sea** \- closest approximation: _ns- AY- ah_

Although the beginning sound has no equivalent in English, it is made by saying the two consonants in rapid succession as the _nc_ is pronounced in the English word _once_.

**N'Taleah Sahli** **-** _nt- ahl- AY- ah SAH-lih_

As with the previous word, the beginning sound of this name has no equivalent in English. The two consonants are said in rapid succession, with no vowel sound between them as in the English word _tint_.

**N'Tosea-** _nt- oh- SAY- ah_

See note for above.

**Nohtin** \- _NOE- ghtin_ or _NOE- tin_ if you cannot pronounce the first.

Here the _h_ is pronounced like the _gh_ from _Coinnigh_ above. It is made by holding your tongue where you would for a _k_ or _g_ and making a sound like an _h._

**Seraetia** \- _sir- AY- shah_

**Quey'sea-** _kway- SAY- ah_

#  **Appendix B:** Glossary

Following is a glossary of many of the words and names familiar to the people of Caillte.

**Antea** \- sprite of wind.

**Beriak-** a healing herb which is prevalent in most swampy and water-logged regions of Caillte, Beriak can be identified by its matted, moss-like appearance. Although its smell is repugnant to most, it helps cut the healing time of cuts by half or more, and scarring is virtually unheard of when Beriak is being used.

**Bose'quea-** dryad and protector of trees. This spirit was much angered by the massive clearing undertaken by the Sanctum shortly after N'Dreyid became High Priestess. They had been undertaken in attempt to minimize rebel hiding places.

**Caillte Saíocht** \- the land where _The Tower of Boran_ takes place; most often natives refer to the land simply as Caillte.

**Coinnigh í** \- a binding spell.

**Dolarum** \- title used for apprentices who are on the path to becoming priestesses.

**Dínaeia Gh'Dín** \- spell used for blessing or protecting a household, one of the few old spells that has survived within the Sanctum Regime.

**Eldwydd-** a much loved rebel and friend of Terricketer's that helped in the coordination of rebel movements. It was his home that Tara first spent the night in when she arrived at the temporary encampment.

**Ellion** \- Tara's old mentor who gave her the silver-handled ankle-knife that ultimately brought the High Priestess N'Dreyid down.

**Feriam-** head of council and leader of rebel army.

**Kalarth-** rare bush native to the mountainous regions of the north whose bark is highly prized for its ability to preserve food without altering its original flavour and which can only be harvested during a short window of time in the fall.

**Lowan-** master herbalist and gardener. One of his favorite pastimes was concocting new brews—which made him a favorite among many rebel villagers.

**Maran** \- stealth operator and skilled thief, although not a member of the council, her aid was indispensable to rebel forces and she was viewed by rebel forces as integral to their movement.

**Michaeyala** \- character of legend who was encased beneath a veil of ice atop the Tower of Boran in her attempts to help bolster its light and protect Caillte. Some speculate, however, that Michaeyala was attempting to destroy the light of the Tower, but the High Priestess N'Dreyid found her first and that N'Dreyid always kept the topmost room of the Tower so she could ensure the strength of the crystal veil.

**N'Dreyid** \- the High Priestess of Caillte during the highest point of corruption of the Sanctum Regime.

**N'Sea** \- the main river that runs south from the bay and has many off-shoots. ( _see map)_

**N'Tosea-** fire sylph.

**Nohtin** \- Goddess of legend and lore that watched over the nights of Caillte, and protected the people by shedding her silver light over the night sky.

**Selian-** herb prevalent over most regions of Caillte, Selian is most abundant in forest underbrush and groundcover. It is most easily recognized by its characteristic flowers which are small and five-pointed and have the appearance of stacking upon each other in a columnar fashion. The flowers are very sweet and often used to flavour food and beverages, but are also known for their magickal qualities and their ability to help induce meditative states and help the bearer focus magickal energies.

**Seraetia** \- a child of prophecy who was told to be the next High Priestess after N'Dreyid.

**Tara-** another child of lesser-known and well-guarded prophecy who told to be instrumental in the downfall of N'Dreyid and the destruction of the Sanctum Regime.

**Terak-** once a member of the rebel council, Terak is thought by many to have been a traitor that leaked information vital to rebel forces.

**Terricketer-** a jokester that often went by 'Tee,' he was one of the first rebels to befriend Tara.

**Quey'sea** \- water spirit.

# About the Author

Shauna Scheets lives with her husband, beautiful baby boy, and two dogs. She spends her free time—when it can be found—creating fantastical stories, learning languages (both human and computer), creating artwork in all forms, gardening and spending time with her husband in Boise, Idaho.

She has been writing since she was a child, but started the stories of _The Caillte Cycle_ when she was in her mid-teens. She has several more for the series planned in the near future.

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