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 Here
is an excerpt of the story
"Mark of Prophecy"
by Elizabeth Fidler
from
Enchantments: The Many Facets of Magic
Click here to read more story excerpts!
A elvan shall be born
with the
divine mark and aura at birth
Both fading from sight and memory
before the her first birthday
The newborn fiercely
announced its displeasure at the loss of the womb’s warmth. Exhausted
Setrina examined her only child. The skinny girl had a rich down of her
mother’s jet-black hair, and her father’s rosy complexion shone on her
angry little face. Her little, slightly pointed ears stuck out in the
usual way. And even in anger, the corners of her little rosebud lips
curved up in that perpetual smile that was common among her kinfolk.
There were two unusual
things about the child which puzzled and frightened her mother. She bore
the divine mark of Kievan and Varelle, and her odd, gold-green eyes were
unusually alert and aware for a newborn. Her daughter was a fighter.
Setrina thought, That will serve her well in the end.
Setrina’s labor had been
rougher than most. The baby had not wanted to leave her womb and had
fought the whole way out. She had taken a full three days to bear, and the
midwives had even summoned the High Queen to lend her strength of spirit,
but it could not save Setrina; the birthing was just too much. “I name her
a child of Fire,” she whispered. “Sister, she is yours.”
#
The elvan shall possess
abilities almost
forgotten and gone in Elvere
In time she will grow into them and
meet a teacher to guide her path
Branada was standing on peak
of a snowcapped mountain, her boyish figure dressed for a long journey in
her favorite brown doeskin leggings and burnt-orange poncho. Before her
were many paths but she could see nothing beyond a dozen steps of any of
them; the clouds in the sky blended into the mounds of snow all around
her. Unsure how to proceed, Branada was studying her surroundings when
there appeared a gorgeous red wolf; the splendor of his magnificent thick,
bronze coat was lost to the brilliance of his jade eyes.
As Branada sunk deeply into
the wolf’s intense stare, a voice like faraway thunder rumbled in her
mind, “Follow me, Branada,” the wolf said, “I have something to show you.”
Feeling a tug towards him,
she followed him to a waist-high snow drift. The wolf dug away the snow to
reveal the head of yet another path hidden by the fog. They walked along
in silence for some time, seeing nothing ahead or behind them except a few
steps in either direction of the dirt track, but everything to either side
of the pair was cloaked by clouds and snow.
After following the wolf for
what seemed an eternity, Branada stopped short as he dropped back on his
haunches. Suddenly, the mist vanished all around them and they stood on a
small hill that lay in the heart of a lush valley, alive with sights and
sounds. An immense rushing river flowed around either side of the mound,
its sparkling aquamarine waters winding north-south through the vale.
Surrounding the whole basin was a thick forest full of every kind of tree,
from blue spruce to desert palm, all growing side by side on the slopes of
circling mountains.
Turning to take in the whole
vista, Branada saw that, centered on the crest of their hill, was a large
steel basin holding an immense bonfire. In several places, rainbow-hued
moss patches covered the basin. The moss peeked through strands of
climbing vines covering the cauldron, which were rooted at the base in a
colorful carpet of wildflowers. The flowers spread down the sides of the
knoll to the very edge of the water, and stretched out from the rim of the
far bank into the forest and up the mountainside. The valley was full of
animals. The young of both prey and predators were playing together while
their elders lazed in the infinite bouquet of flowers, some across the
water and others just within feet of Branada and the wolf, unfazed by
their presence. Branada watched as a little gray rabbit chased a large
panther cub in and out of a copse of birches. The wind constantly changed,
blowing a harsh winter gale or a light summer breeze or anything in
between, yet Branada felt comfortable in all of them. She laughed as the
wind pulled wisps of her long black hair out of the leather strap that
tied it loosely back. “I have never seen such a glorious place,” Branada
said. “I’m glad you showed it to me.”
“Hush, child,” the wolf
said. “That is not why you are here.”
As he spoke, an unnatural
stillness enveloped the entire valley; time seemed to stand still. When it
resumed, there was a prevailing uneasiness, where a moment before the air
had been filled with the rich sounds of contented animals and the songs of
joyful birds, now the absence of their distinct noises was painfully
obvious. All the animals were gone. They just vanished; there wasn’t even
fish in the river. The only evidence that she hadn’t just imagined them
was the occasional hoof or paw print and the remnants of nests in a few
trees. With the creatures missing, the vale appeared to contract in on
itself; all of its features looked shriveled, and the air felt lethargic.
Branada turned in frantic
circles, looking with wild eyes to find a clue to the source of the
shocking disturbance. Finally, on one of the lower slopes above the trees,
she spied a massive brown bear and a thin yellow ram. They were headed
towards the forest, the ram prodding along the slow and hesitant bear. She
lost sight of them when they reached the edge of the woods. Once the pair
had disappeared, treetops around the far edge of the forest started
sinking out of sight.
The pair came into view
again. Branada watched as the bear wandered slowly through the woods,
eating whole trees until not a twig or leaf was left in the forest.
Whenever the bear tried to stop, the ram stamped a hoof and head-butted
him. The ram grew taller as the bear consumed the wood, but the bear’s
height diminished.
Next, the ram pushed the
bear to the riverbank and swept his horns into the bear’s left foreleg,
causing the bear to crash to the ground. The bear lay motionless, growling
deep in his throat, but the ram just snorted. Grunting his disgust, the
bear lowered his head to the water and drank the riverbed dry. As the bear
swallowed each ton of water the ram grew fatter and he became bone thin.
The ram pranced across the
dead channel and up the hilltop to the steel-basin bonfire, the bear
followed, more dejected and slower with every step. The ram was
practically dancing around the bonfire when the bear ambled over to the
steel basin, raised a single paw, and smothered the fire without leaving
any ashes. The ram bleated his jubilance and nodded his head, causing the
bear to bring his massive paw down again, this time melting the basin into
liquid metal that soaked into the ground, drying in an instant. The ram
stood on that spot and shook his head, showing off his now colossal rack
of horns. The bear collapsed with an agonized groan, revealing a toothless
maw.
Branada had watched,
horrified, as the valley was reduced to a cracked and desolate place.
Everywhere the bear had gone, the wildflowers and earth had decayed into a
barren desert. As the poor bear had wandered the valley, huge clumps of
his soft brown coat had fallen out and left coarse hair instead. The ram’s
hair had instead thickened, becoming as soft and curly as lamb’s wool. The
scorching sun glinted of the ram’s rich, golden coat as the valley was
reduced to a cracked and desolate place. Finally as the last wildflower
wilted away, Branada cried, “Stop! Oh, what have you done—?”
Before she could finish, the
ram swung around. Her gold-green eyes were instantly drawn irresistibly to
its ebony ones, and Branada fell to her knees, gasping for air. The wolf
sprung between them, at once blocking the ram from her view. The moment
his paws hit the ground, the air rushed back into her burning lungs.
When the wolf stepped aside,
they were back on the cloud- and snow-covered path. The bear and ram were
gone, but the ruined valley remained. The red wolf turned to her and said,
“You have seen enough tonight. I will return.”
Before she could rasp a reply, she found herself lying in bed. As she
looked around her familiar bedchamber, she felt foolish. The dream had
seemed so real; the mountaintop, the valley and especially the ram’s
stare. She shivered as she saw, again, with her mind’s eye that powerful
gaze. Frightened and confused, Branada notice the exhausted sweat covering
her body and the aching rawness in her throat.
#
“Some precaution must be
taken,” Patrium of the Air Clantrium Averic said.
Branada jumped as Averic’s
sledgehammer of a fist pounded the thick steel table, vibrating it. Some
loose dirt fell on him from the earthen ceiling above. He was a large
elvar, taking up most of one side of the table, and was quick to bluster
about the smallest thing. His thinning hair looked like wisps of clouds on
a sunny day. But the look on his tanned face was far from sunny, since his
merry, light-blue eyes had turned a stormy charcoal and his periwinkle
tunic was badly rumpled. Branada smothered a giggle when Averic, grunting
in disgust, shook the dust out of his hair, which joined the pile that, as
usual, surrounded him on the smooth wooden floor.
Matrium of the Water
Clantrium Meara, her aquamarine eyes as calm as the sea at midsummer’s
dawn, said, “Don’t worry. This too shall pass. Man has outlawed magic
before. They always come to regret it. We must be patient.”
Branada watched as Meara calmly brushed a speck of dirt off her navy dress
and laid the same slender hand with sinuous fingers on Averic’s clenched
fist, gently loosening it. Branada envied the older elvan’s fluid
placidness. She was the only one never startled by Averic’s loudness.
“What precautions do you
propose, Averic?” said Patrium of the Wood Clantrium Holzic. The top of
his thick hair mere inches from the chamber’s dome, he rested his chin on
his chest to see the other, much shorter Kinatrium members. His thin,
solid frame was clothed tightly by his striped white and black robe. His
light-green eyes peered down curiously at Averic. Branada hid a smile as
Holzic tried unsuccessfully to straighten his flyaway crimson curls, the
only movement he ever made with any haste. Once Holzic sat or stood
somewhere, he barely moved besides a gentle swaying. Branada thought of
his hair and his useless attempts to tame it as the only outward sign that
Holzic was truly an elvar; otherwise she would have sworn he was a talking
tree left from ancient times.
“We must fight them,” said
Averic. “They can’t be allowed to assert their will on us. That is a
direct threat to our way.”
Reflecting back to her
distressing dream two nights before, Branada silently agreed. Ever since
the news of the decree had reached the Kinatrium, she had wondered if her
dream had been prophetic. Shuddering at the memory, she wished the
chambers’ torches hadn’t burned quite so low.
“How do you intend to fight
them?” asked Matrium of the Earth Clantrium Bruna, settling deeper into
her large wooden chair. “We swore long ago to never again use Man’s
weapons for violence—only for hunting and survival.”
“The prophecy speaks of this time,” said Patrium of the Metal Clantrium
Stelic. “Is that not enough?”
Branada looked curiously at
her best friend; wondering if he were right and the time of the prophecy
had come.
“This may not be the time of
the prophecy at all,” said Patrium Holzic. “We can’t know when the
prophecy is to be fulfilled until Kievan and Varelle choose to reveal the
child. We cannot know who it is or even if someone bears the symbol at
this time. We are not meant to know.”
...
*
* *
Branada will soon know, and face
challenges she never could have imagined... and bear the responsibility of
her entire race on her shoulders--proving that, even with a prophecy,
destiny will be what you make of it.
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