The Seeress and the Stone 26

“Celendar?” French cried.

He ran to where the older man lay and turned him over. His eyes remained closed. French shook him, but still nothing.

“Aunt Le’,” French shouted.

A few people stirred out of their tents and finally Le’Mone came out.

“French, be quiet. People are slee—” She stopped. “What happened?”

“He came out of his tent, eyes wide and cried out for Angelia and then collapsed,” French replied. “He won’t wake up. Aunt Le’, what is wrong with him?”

Le’Mone knelt down next to Celendar and felt his skin and pulse. “Get my bag of herbs and some water.”

French ran to the tent for her bag and the water skin. Le’Mone mixed some powders together and a yellow mist rose from the cup and then dissipated into the air. French helped her pour the mixture down Celendar’s throat. He coughed a few times.

Le’Mone watched Celendar’s face as his body started to relax. Suddenly his eyes popped open. They were full of fear. He grabbed Le’Mone’s hand and pressed it against the crystal around her neck and looked deep into her eyes.

“Angelia,” he whispered and then fell into unconsciousness again.

Le’Mone stared at Celendar’s face in shock. French knew in that brief moment she had seen what Celendar had seen. Her eyes widened with fear and she gasped for air.

“Aunt Le’ what is it? What did you see?” Le’Mone just backed away. French grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “What is wrong? What has happened? Is it Angel? The city?”

Le’Mone collapsed into his arms and began sobbing. French held her close. It took her a few minutes to calm down and then she pulled away. French followed her to the edge of the trees. She stared at the river for several minutes before she finally spoke.

“They have come. The city has been attacked.” Her voice was hollow.

French moved to her side. “What?”

“They attacked the city. Just like he said.”

“I still don’t understand why they came all that way for Ellinsha. It doesn’t make sense; they will never actually find her. No one knows where she is—” His voice trailed off as he looked over at his aunt. She dropped her head and his eyes widened.

“No,” he gasped. “Angelia knows where she is, doesn’t she.”

“Yes,” Le’Mone nodded. “French, they know...they know.”

“They know about Angelia.” He clenched his fists. “That’s why they came.”

He walked away from his aunt and then stopped.

“Celendar knew about this didn’t he?” He glared at his aunt.

She nodded. “They have waited a thousand years, just for her.”

“I never should have left her there.” He turned sharply and stormed away.

Jarr’oshed sat on his horse staring at the empty city square and the barricaded building before him. Their march through the city had been unhindered, just as he expected. The soldiers had moved swiftly through the city, trampling and cutting down anything that stood in their path.

“Captain!” he called.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The Captain led his horse up next to the King’s.

“I want you to take four detachments and sweep the city. Bring any survivors back here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The man whistled and the soldiers moved as instructed.

“Commander, break down these doors,” Jarr’oshed instructed.

The commander motioned to the soldiers waiting with the large tree trunk. They moved up to the door and began swinging it steadily against the barricaded door. It wasn’t long before the wood gave way. Soldiers swarmed through the opening.

Jarr’oshed could hear the screaming as his armored warriors filled the building. He waited patiently until the commander signaled it was safe. The column of warriors in front of the door parted and Jarr’oshed guided his horse up the steps and into the main hall of the building. He dismounted before the terrified citizens and approached the governor’s desk. With one fluid motion pulled his sword and smashed the desk. He sat himself upon the chair as if it were a throne.

“Your King has come!” he cried.

The hall was silent and fear lay thick enough to cut with a knife. The soldiers gathered several of people and pushed them to their knees in front of him. Jarr’oshed looked them over one by one, his eyes finally resting on a man shaking with terror. He pointed his sword at the man. A soldier stepped forward and dragged the man to Jarr’oshed’s feet.

“His Majesty Jarr’oshed, King of the Ennalkai, will speak to you.”

The people in the room gasped. Jarr’oshed smiled. These simpletons had at least heard of his warriors.

“Where is the young seeress?” Jarr’oshed asked. The man stared at him in fear and confusion. Jarr’oshed slowly got to his feet and paced deliberately in front of the men he knew were the leaders of the city. “The girl who knew of my coming, I demand she be brought immediately!” he exclaimed.

No one spoke. Jarr’oshed grabbed the first man by his hair, pulling his head back. “What is your name?”

“G…Geralde, Sire.”

“Tell me Geralde, where is the Seeress? The witch who sees my heart and knows my desires?”

Geralde stammered, “I . . . I. . .don’t know what you . . . m m mean . . . Majesty.”

Jarr’oshed looked into his eyes. “Liar. Don’t try to hide her Geralde, your eyes tell me that you know something.”

He released Geralde and stalked back to the throne. He turned to look at the trembling figures of the council and then laughed.

“Are you not the leaders of this pitiful city? Can it be that you know nothing of the seeress?” Their faces, for the most part, remained blank. He laughed as he moved about the room.

“But I have seen the girl. She knew of my coming. I know she is here somewhere. I want the pale, green-eyed, witch brought to me. I must know her secrets.”

Geralde gasped. Jarr’oshed looked at him again. He walked over to where Geralde was standing.

“You do know the girl. Why did you not tell me?” His voice was thick with anger.

Geralde stammered a reply. “Sh...she is my daughter. But she is no seeress.”

Jarr’oshed slapped him hard across the face. “Do not speak in such disrespectful tones of the Seeress.

He looked deep into Geralde’s eyes and then snorted in disgust.

“How can she be your daughter? The gift is not in you at all. How did she obtain her gift?”

“W...what gift? Y...your Majesty.”

“You do not know the power she possesses?” Jarr’oshed demanded.

“Power, Your Majesty? My daughter has no power.” Geralde replied. He was still shaking, but his tone had gained some confidence.

Jarr’oshed’s eyes narrowed into two slits. “Where is your daughter?”

Geralde’s shoulders drooped, “I do not know. I told her to come here, but she did not listen. I do not know where she has gone.”

Jarr’oshed circled Geralde. “What is your full name?”

“Geralde,” he paused as if calculating just how much his last name could help him. “Geralde Galashad,” he finished.

Understanding crossed Jarr’oshed’s face. “So Celande you have passed on your gift,” he said, to no one in particular. “It would seem we are cousins, Geralde.”

“Your Majesty?” Geralde questioned.

Jarr’oshed ignored him.

“Take them and lock them up, all of them,” he commanded.

He sat back on the makeshift throne and stared intently out the window into the Northern Mountains. His hand rested on the blue stone embedded in his crown.

“Where are you Seeress?” he asked almost playfully. His eyes began to glaze.