Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

“The old world? You met in the old world? You and she fell in love in the old world ?” The elderly woman was trembling violently. “Oelendra? What’s wrong?”

The Lirin warrior rose, trembling, and stumbled blindly away from the fire ring. She ran to the first tree she reached in the darkness and rested her head against it, fighting the bile coming up from her stomach with the memory of herself and Llauron, standing before the Oracle with the mirrored eyes.

Beware, swordbearer! You may well destroy the one you deck, but if you go this night the risk u great. If you fad you will not die, but, as a piece of your heart and oul was ripped from you spiritually in the old land with the loss of your life’s love, the same will happen again, but physically this time. And that piece it takes from you will haunt your days until you pray for death, for he will use it as his plaything, twitting it to his will, using it to accomplish hi) foul deeds, even producing children for him.

Oelendra felt her stomach rush into her mouth. As she retched she felt one strong hand at her neck, another supporting her back. She staggered away, Ashe still holding on to her, into the coolness of the air away from the campfire. The world spun hazily around her for a moment. Then she steadied herself and looked up into the face of the man smiling down at her kindly.

“

“Twas you,” she whispered. “I thought she meant me, but ’twas you.”

His smile vanished. “What are you talking about? Here, come sit down.” Ashe led her to a snowy patch under a great elm and lowered her gently to the ground. He decided to inject a note of levity.

“If that is the way all of Rhapsody’s friends react to the news of our marriage, we won’t be giving many dinner parties.”

The older woman did not smile in return, but rested her hand gently on his cheek. “Forgive me, Gwydion,” she said softly. “I am to blame for your torment at the hands of the F’dor. I am so sorry.”

Ashe stared at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You saved my life.”

Oelendra shook her head, her eyes staring elsewhere, remembering different moments. Then she repeated the prophecy aloud, softly, to herself.

“

“‘Beware, swordbearer,’ ” she whispered faintly. “ ‘You may well destroy the one you seek, but if you go this night the risk is great.’”

“Is this a riddle?”

She nodded distantly. “A terrible riddle. A prophecy from Manwyn from long ago.”

Ashe took her hand in both of his, trying to steady it. “Was there more to it?”

Oelendra nodded again, her eyes locked on the crackling fire as it launched gleaming sparks into the cold night air. “ ‘If you fail, you will not die, but, as a piece of your heart and soul was ripped from you spiritually in the old land with the loss of your life’s love, the same will happen again, but physically this time.’ ” She began to shake even more violently.

“Rhapsody told me about your husband, Pendaris,” Ashe said gently. “I’m very sorry.”

“‘And that piece it takes from you will haunt your days until you pray for death,’ ” she continued, “ ‘for he will use it as his plaything, twisting it to his will, using it to accomplish his foul deeds, even producing children for him.’”

“Gods,” Ashe murmured. “What a hideous prediction. No wonder you were terrified.”

Oelendra blinked. Finally she turned back and looked at Gwydion. “Has your father ever told this augury to you?”

“No.” He was rubbing his arms as if to keep warm, but Oelendra could tell from the look in his eyes that he was coming to the same understanding she had.

“The ultimate vanity,” she said softly. “I assumed that because Llauron was the only other person there with me in Manwyn’s temple, and he does not bear a sword, that her curse was directed at me. But ’twas not me that she damned with her prophecy, Gwydion. ’Twas you. You were the sword bearer, the Kirsdarkenvar. I never even thought of you, nor anyone else save myself.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Ashe smiled wryly. “I’ve been the recipient of Manwyn’s prophecies. She cannot lie, but she does not have to be clear in her rantings. She’s insane. One of the last things my father said to me before he—he told me to beware of prophecies, because they do not always mean what they seem.” He patted her arm. “He went with you, then? Why? I had always been under the assumption that you and my father did not get along, but I thought it was because he led Anwyn’s army in the Great War, and you chose wisely to stay out of it. Such grudges seem to be common among the elder Cymrians who had lived through the war.”

The Lirin champion sighed. “No, Gwydion. There was a time, long ago, when your father and I were quite cordial, before the war. He remained so to me despite the choice I made during it, though I can’t say I’ve forgiven him completely for the horrors he visited upon our fellow Cymrians, whether or not it was his choice. When you hear the full tale, I’m sure you will understand our present enmity.” She looked into the starry sky as wisps of clouds, blown by a cold wind, raced in front of the twinkling lights, dimming them for a moment.

“It had been centuries since my first taste of the foul air of the F’dor on the wind. I had trained endless champions to search for it; none had ever returned. I had failed to find the F’dor in any other way. I was desperate. I knew the beast was growing stronger. Your father was one of the few who believed as I did, that the F’dor still lived, lurking somewhere, hiding within a human host, biding its time. So Llauron and I went to see Manwyn together, in the hope that she could tell us where the F’dor would be, so that we might kill it once and for all time.

“We had to phrase the question like that, because Manwyn can only see the Future, not the Past or Present. She was most cooperative. She told us the exact time it would be here, in the House of Remembrance, planning to despoil the sapling tree.” She pointed to the thriving oak, its glossy leaves gleaming in the light of the fire.

“Manwyn said we were to go there on the first night of summer, when the Patriarch would be consecrating the year in Sepulvarta, while the Filids observed their holy-night rituals in Gwynwood. Tis a night of great power, a night when the One-God’s love is wrapped securely around His children.” Oelendra looked back into the fire as if looking into the Past. “A night the beast would be vulnerable.

“Your father, being Invoker, would need to be with the Filids of his order, leading their worship, so we understood that I would have to go without him. But finally we had the information we needed to kill it. Llauron and I looked at each other, unable to speak for the import of what we had learned. ’Twas to be our deliverance from the hand of evil.

“But then, as we turned to leave Manwyn’s temple, she spewed forth the other prophecy.” Oelendra’s eyes dimmed in the memory. “In my life I have never felt such fear as when I heard those words.

“For the first time I can remember in this world, I gave in totally to panic. You must understand, Gwydion, I had fought F’dor like this in the old world; they took from me everything that ever mattered, that I loved. My husband and I were captured by them; they killed him. They were not as kind to me. “I misunderstood the prophecy. I took the sword bearer to be myself; it never occurred to me that it might be a sword other than Daystar Clarion. The prospect of bearing a demonic child—” Oelendra broke down, shuddering uncontrollably.

Ashe drew her into his arms, holding her against his chest to warm her. “Sshh,” he said gently. “Blot it from your mind. It’s over.”