Song Of The Aura: Grym Prophet Part 10

"Thank you," he said, biting his lip in anxiety and holding it close as if he expected it to leap right out of his grasp at any moment. Clearly he was afraid of what the book held for him, now that he had been deprived of the status of leader he had automatically a.s.sumed was his before. But his emotions were quickly controlled, and as he got up to enter the trees of the Forest of Foretelling once more, his back was straight and his face a mask of determination.

With a shock, Elia realized she was frightened... not of him, but for him. She turned away and did not watch him go. Would she be the next one to read it? She held no secrets that she could recall... and she had no unknown parentage...

Theolone. Thoorne. Thelmere. The golden words on the tome had been in the Nymphtongue, and now she remembered their meanings.

Wisdom. Sorrow. Love.

The meanings were simple enough... but what did it all mean?

She was so deep in her thoughts that she hardly noticed Wanderwillow's next words.

"Come, Young Gramlen. You have learned your past, but I sense you have much turmoil in your soul as regards your future. Walk with me a while, and I will speak to you about it.

Guess he doesn't plan on explaining anything to me yet, Elia thought. When she looked up from her musings, she found herself alone in the clearing, seated in front of an empty throne. How convenient. I'm all alone again.

Sighing, she folded her hands in her lap. She had neglected her prayers for so long... perhaps the Aura's message to her was that she needed to strengthen her faith again. Very well... she would do that, if the others did not mind the sound of her singing amid all their deep revelations. She would start as she always had, before life became such a battle merely to survive: "Master of Wind and Rain, Master of Cloud and Wave, Master of Sea and Sky; You whom none can name, Send your Aura down below, Guide my people through the rain, Into the land of crystal snowa"

When she had exhausted all the usual prayers (along with several she'd made up on the spot), Elia admitted her defeat to boredom. If this was a test, it was a test to see how long she could remain sane while her friends learned life-changing things all around her. Stop being so dramatic, she told herself, the truth is that you're just feeling left out. Overcome it- there are worse things!

So she went from sitting to kneeling, hands drifting in the gra.s.s on either side of her, eyes closed and mind open.

She was looking for a flame. Last time she had Strode Flame, there had already been a spark. Now that she was alone, with no one to hurt, she wanted to know just how far her power could go. Could she make fire without a preexisting flame?

Nothing. Her mind's eye saw nothing, just blackness, as if she were asleep. For ten minutes at least she waited, but nothing was forthcoming. In exasperation, she slapped her hands together angrily, letting out a wordless exclamation of frustration.

Ow, she thought, that hurt. I clapped too hard.

Then, all in a rush, it hit her. Her hands felt warm. The friction when she'd clapped had caused them to get warmer for only a fraction of a second, but the heat had been there. Even her breath as she exhaled in anger had been warmer than the air around her...

Her eyes shot open. Perhaps to create a flame, she just needed enough heat!

Bending low over a tall tuft of gra.s.s, she clapped her hands together over it, then rubbed them together as fast as she could, as if trying to warm them over an imaginary fire. At the same time she blew a succession of rapid, steady breaths out over them.

As the seconds, then minutes pa.s.sed, her hands grew so warm that they hurt; but nothing happened... yet.

Elia's hands felt as if they were about to burst into flame. They ached and burned to a degree she had never imagined, but she kept her eyes closed and her palms in constant motion.

Through her mind's eye she imagined what her hands looked like: red, swollen, heated... Then she imagined that they were so hot, steam was rising from them.

Aura! That's hot! The temperature was increasing between her palms, and the pain grew so intense she felt hot tears spilling down her cheek. One grew so heavy it dropped right into her rubbing hands.

In her mind, she imagined the tear as a sort of watery spark, that would ignite the fire. Its motion seemed to slow to a crawl in her head, giving her time to examine it from every angle in a way her real eyes never could.

Then, through its liquid lucidity, she glimpsed the spark that had blossomed into flame those few nights ago in the Grymclaw.

The tear splashed on her reddened thumb.

The flame in her mind blossomed again, incinerating the imaginary tear and flowing into reality like a cascade of liquid fire.

Elia's eyes opened again, just as a spark danced between her palms, forcing them apart to make way for the flames that leaped out from nothing.

Fire blasted from her open hands, an inferno that lasted for less than a second, searing the tree-throne of the Aura before she could cup her palms and contain it. But contain it she did, as a ball of constantly scintillating light and heat, grasped between her palms and fingers. Miraculously, she found that it only burned her if she kept her hands still; so, to counter the effect, she kept her hands and forearms constantly in motion, pus.h.i.+ng down the flames when they tried to escape her grasp, forming them anew every second as the old sparks died away.

The whole thing was so incredible she had no thoughts to waste on wonderment. The world consisted of nothing but her hands and the flame... Striding and Fire... flesh and flame.

"I have witnessed the founding and breaking of the worlds; I have seen kingdoms come and go, and empires rise and fall in the blink of an eye... but in all my existence, Elia Treele, I have never seen a nymph or man with powers like those you possess. Truly you are the Halanyad."

The words jolted Elia back into awareness. She looked up to see Wanderwillow staring at her with the hint of a smile on his face, along with both of the boys- who looked as awestruck as she felt.

Her control on the flames weakened, and they scorched her palms.

"Ow!" she yelped, and reflexively flung her hands apart to escape the burning.

Fire lashed out in a thick, whip-like arc that flew straight in the Aura's face. She shrieked in fear, but Wanderwillow simply stretched out his wrinkled hand and caught the brunt of the flame on his own palm. The rest of the fire followed, leaving Elia's grip like a beast let out of its cage, but it was all caught in the Aura's hand.

The entire incident took less than a second, but at its conclusion Wanderwillow held a ball of fire in front of him. He closed his fist slowly, and the fire flickered, dimmed, then died out entirely.

"You must learn to control your abilities better than that, Halanyad," he said gravely, but there was a hint of humor in his voice. Elia apologized profusely, standing and bowing so many times that he finally made her stop.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, "But... I just wanted to see what would happen. I didn't think it would actually work. And I don't even know what being a 'Halanyad' is supposed to mean."

Wanderwillow nodded, seeming to agree with her. "It is indeed difficult to control what you do not understand. But never fear: your turn has come. These two," he said, gesturing to Gribly and Lauro, "Have much to say to each other, and I now have much to say to you."

Elia s.h.i.+vered with antic.i.p.ation... and, granted, fearfulness. Gribly looked solemn, and Lauro had already turned away, refusing to look at her for some reason she could not fathom. Still dazed from her second mishap- but almost a success!- and from the blinding display of power the Aura had just demonstrated, she allowed him to place the book with the Nymphic words in her hands, then lead her out of the dell and into the trees.

Chapter Fifteen: Together.

"What does it mean, sir?" she finally asked when they were some distance away from the others.

"What does what mean?" Wanderwillow asked, though she had a feeling he knew perfectly well.

"Halanyad."

"Ah." as they walked between two particularly large trees, the shade hid his expression for a moment, though she could have sworn he had started to smile. "It means you are destined to unite all of nymphkind... not as a nation, but as a race. You will lead them all- every scattered tribe, every remnant of former glory."

"Oh." Elia hardly knew what to think. Had he answered Gribly and Lauro's questions this way? The straightforwardness of his p.r.o.nouncement both shocked her and kept her from tearing her hair out at the absurdity of it all. How in Vast was she supposed to do what he said?!? "I don't know if I'm ready for that... if I'm ready for any of this."

"No one becomes a hero in a day, child," Wanderwillow said gravely, stopping and putting a hand on one shoulder so that she had to look him in the eye. "But you won't have to. Being the Halanyad means being a bridge between the Old and the New... a river, flowing from Halla to the World, carrying the will of the Aura and their Creator to all nymphkind. You need do nothing except allow yourself to be open."

"Open to what?" Her heart was pumping. Blood was pounding in her ears. She had a feeling that what he would say next would shape her life for years to come.

"Open to the Creator's will. Open to destiny."

"How will I know what that is?"

Wanderwillow smiled and handed her the book. She took it, wide-eyed, and read the words on its cover once again.

Wisdom. Sorrow. Love.

"Thank you," she said, "I-"

"Wait," the Aura said quietly. His voice carried an unexpected note of urgency, and his golden eyes had dimmed almost to a dead brown.

"What?" she inquired, feeling a cold finger of dread press against her heart.

"Something is in the forest..." Wanderwillow said, more to himself than to her. "Something that has no right to be here..." His voice was definitely different, now, and he was growing taller by the second. Soon he was almost as high as the trees around them.

"Oh no, what is it?" Elia took a step back to look up at the Aura as he towered over her.

Without warning, the sky grew dark with storm clouds. Thunderheads rolled in, red lightning flashed in the sky, and shadows engulfed the entire Forest of Foretelling. Elia shrieked and stumbled back as the cataclysmic scene unfolded overhead... but Wanderwillow caught her with ease, setting her upright and taking the book back from her.

"I am sorry," he said, and his eyes were sad. The world grew loud with noise for less than a second... and then everything was deathly silent. The darkness remained, and Wanderwillow shrunk until he was once more his normal size. "I am sorry," he repeated, "But events are moving much faster than I had expected."

"I... I..." Elia felt herself freezing in shock at this unexpected turn of fortune. She noticed that the Aura's eyes were growing brighter with every second, and she shut her mouth and nodded. "It's all right," she said. "What do we do?"

Wanderwillow's face grew sad. "We must fight. A deadly enemy has found this place, which I thought safe above all others. He is even now entering, and he will soon be upon us."

He shook his head, lapsing into silence. Why haven't we gone to help the others??? Elia wanted to scream. Why haven't we gone to fight this enemy?? What is happening????

"Child," said Wanderwillow slowly. "There is no time now for you to learn from this book what I had intended for you. The young prophet read it, and found Wisdom within. The young prince read it, and he found Sorrow instead. Are you willing to make a sacrifice, to protect those you love?"

Time seemed to stop. Love, Elia thought. It always goes back to Love.

Slowly, hesitantly... but willingly, she nodded.

Gribly watched Lauro intently as the older youth paced furiously back and forth across the clearing. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something had changed in the prince. The old anger was still in his movements... in the hunched, tense back... in the way he shook his strange topknot whenever he was silently disagreeing with himself. But there was something else, too... a fear or consideration that hadn't been there before he'd read the Aura's book.

Gribly decided to try to help Lauro figure out the problem. Among many things, Wanderwillow had told him that a prophet needed to be understanding of other people, Lauro especially.

"What did the book tell you?" he asked Lauro, next time the prince pa.s.sed close by. "I don't mean to pry, but I thought if you shared... maybe we could solve whatever's troubling you together... as friends again."

Lauro spun on him, eyes aflame, but then he seemed to think better of it... much better. The older lad was gnawing his fingernails, but he dropped his hand and sighed. The anger seemed to go out of him so that his shoulders drooped and his eyes grew dim as lead.

"You can't help me," he said, but he looked a little calmer, and Gribly persisted.

"But I want to try, Lauro. I want to know what's troubling you. I can't do what I'm supposed to, or, at least... what the Aura wants me to, unless you help me do it. And I want to help you."

Suddenly Lauro dropped down beside him in the gra.s.s, a peculiar expression on his face. "You want to understand me? Well then, I've a story to tell you, one without any sort of happy ending. Think you can bear it?"

Gribly thought. "After seeing so many deaths? After fighting my possessed twin brother in mortal combat? Yeah, I think I can bear it."

The Wind Strider- no, Sky Strider, Gribly corrected himself- chuckled dryly. "It's about me and my father."

"Oh... I see."

"Not yet you don't." Lauro paused for a moment, then began his tale.

"When I was born, I was considered a miracle. My father was- is- one of the most powerful Wind Striders in the land, but he's not as young as he used to be. A hundred and twelve years is a long time to govern the entire civilized world, and he began when he was no older than me. So, when I was born to my parents in their old age, the White Clerics of Vastion declared it to be a sign of a new and prosperous age. They predicted I would grow to be a champion warrior... a prodigious Strider... and a mighty king. My father... King Larion... never held much with the old ways... the Statutes, and other things... he'd had a wild youth, and he didn't reign himself in until late in his life.

"But this time... he believed the clerics. He believed in me. As I grew up, he gave me the best of everything- toys, rooms, training, teachers... anything he thought would make me the best ruler and best man I could be. You never visited Vastion, so I won't expect you to know all our customs. We're a hard people, and even with all the attention my father gave me, he never let me grow soft.

"My mother, the queen, died when I was nine. It brought my father and me closer than we'd ever been. He personally taught me almost everything he knew about fighting, ruling, and even Wind Striding. But somehow... somehow I always sensed that I was inadequate. Oh, I wasn't bad at anything I did, or anything I even tried! But being the best wasn't quite good enough, after Mother died. I was great... but my father wanted me to be spectacular. A prodigy."

"And you weren't," Gribly surmised.

"No. Close, but never... good... enough." Lauro spat the last few words, and his eyes began to water with tears. Gribly kept silent, hoping his quiet presence would be enough to comfort the prince. He was at a total loss for words.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

"That's not the half of it," Lauro confessed, shaking his head and ignoring his tears. "What came later was worse." Another short pause followed as the prince breathed deeply, gathering his thoughts. "All Vastic royalty... whether they be man or woman... must always undergo a sort of test, to prove their coming of age. Before that test, a prince or princess is nothing more than a highly talented, highly indulged child. Afterward- if they pa.s.s- then they are a respected adult, and none but the king himself is their superior.

"Two years ago, I took that test. It's different each time. For me, my father would stand for nothing less than that I lead an invasion against the growing force of pirates that plagued us from the south."

"Blast," Gribly swore, "at sixteen? That's insane!"

Lauro shrugged. "I did it, though. I wanted so bad to prove to my father that I was worth something..." His eyes closed as he reminisced. "I sailed at the head of our twenty best s.h.i.+ps. Our best sailors and some of the most experienced soldiers in our kingdom were under my command, not to mention a Wind Strider warrior in each vessel. It was a battle I thought I couldn't lose.

"But I did, at first, and badly. I don't know what my father, or myself, for that matter, was thinking. The self-styled lord of the southern seas was a far better general than I, and he thrashed us in the first great battle. My father was so disgusted when he heard that he nearly called me back for punishment. But I would not settle for that! Without his knowledge, I followed the rogues back to their port, a secret fortress bay in the very southernmost tip of Vast itself."

Gribly found that he was holding his breath. With an effort, he forced himself to exhale.

"When the pirates weren't expecting it, I sneaked into their fortress from the sea. I captured their leader and took to the skies before he could make use of his own Stone Striding, which was significant, I can tell you. With another Wind Strider's help, we brought him to our last surviving s.h.i.+p, the one I had arrived in; then we fled back to Vastion.

"King Larion was ecstatic. He thought I had finally proven myself to be worthy of the destiny placed upon me. Without their leader, the pirates fell apart in weeks, and Vastion's grip on the South was firm once again."

Something throbbed in the back of Gribly's mind, some part of the story that didn't seem right. What was he missing? Lauro's eyes opened again, and they were filled with hatred.

"On my seventeenth birthday, my father declared that, despite my original failure, I would soon pa.s.s the Test of Age and gain my royal honor. All I need do..." his voice broke, and suddenly Lauro struggled to his feet, glaring at the twilight sky of the Aura's otherworld. "All I need do," he repeated, not even bothering to look at Gribly, "was execute the pirate leader... in front of every Wind Strider in the land."

The tickle in Gribly's mind clicked, and he shot up beside his friend. "It was my father! You had to execute my father, Gram! He'd become a pirate after he lost me and my brother, hadn't he?"

"I didn't know it at the time... but yes," Lauro nodded sadly.

Gribly paled, then controlled himself and spoke in a low voice. "You didn't, did you? That's the trouble between you and your father, isn't it?"