Fiction Friday: Lightstone of Power, Chapter 5
A reluctant prophetess must survive a dark king’s temptations and shadow-bound horrors to claim the one relic that can save her dying people—if the prophecy doesn’t destroy her first.
The story so far…
Table of Contents:
Chapter 5
Evil Attacks
In spite of the cheery morning light streaming through the window, Idenia stumbled toward a basin of water on a small table in the corner. She splashed cold water on her face and gasped at the chill. Now wide awake, she slipped her dress over her head, straightened the skirt, and tried not to think about the night’s terrors. Closing her eyes in an effort to tamp down anxious thoughts, she brushed her brown tresses until they lay smooth and silky.
Spirit of Light, I need your strength. Please shine your light on our path and protect us.
Determined not to be cowed, Idenia gathered her few belongings into her traveling bag and donned her woolen cape. She squared her shoulders and descended the stairs into the common room. Nekota sat at a table, gobbling down a bowl of warm porridge.
“Hungry?” Idenia sat across from him and crossed her arms on the table.
“Mmm, I thought I’d never get to eat again,” Nekota said between bites. “I’m starving.” A serving girl placed a bowl in front of Idenia along with a steaming mug of cider that pulled her in with its spiced aroma. Nekota looked at the pretty girl out of the corner of his eye. The few stray hairs that had escaped her linen cap framed her face and accentuated fine features. But Idenia noticed Nekota’s attention was short-lived. He turned back to his porridge and scraped the last bit out of the bowl.
She pushed her porridge around the bowl. “Thank you for helping to keep watch last night. Did you see or hear anything unusual?”
“No, everything was quiet.” He pushed away from the table. “Don’t worry, Idenia. No matter what comes up, Marda and I can handle it.” He smiled and winked at Idenia. “I’m going to tack up the horses.”
As Nekota walked out, Idenia bristled inside to think he might not be taking her seriously. Nekota doesn’t know what we are dealing with. Not all battles are fought with a blade.
Idenia took a tentative bite of porridge and found she was hungrier than she thought. As she ate, its warmth spread throughout her body. She was nearly finished when Marda strode through the front door, briskly rubbing his hands together. At the same time, the innkeeper bustled into the room.
“Ah, Marda, can I get you something warm to drink? Spiced wine? Tea?”
“Thank you, Kalita. The breakfast you gave me earlier still sates,” Marda smiled kindly and dug a few coins out of his pouch, then placed them in her hand. “We need to leave but this should cover all our meals and board.”
“I hope you don’t wait so long to come back next time.” The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at Marda.
He chuckled. “Yes, it has been too long. Perhaps the Spirit of Light will bring me back again soon. Idenia, when you’re ready, we have the horses saddled.” With a last glance and smile at the innkeeper, Marda turned and strode outside.
Idenia gulped down the last bite of porridge. She thanked Kalita for her hospitality and followed Marda into an autumn mist that washed the dirt courtyard and crackling leaves in soft, muted shades of brown and gold. Nekota appeared, leading the horses out of the stable. The animals pranced in the cold, their breath puffing out in little clouds of fog.
As morning progressed, the mist burned away and the sun’s rays warmed the travelers. After a time, a flock of raucous ravens flapped overhead and perched in the trees, their noisy caws disrupting the peace. When the travelers rode past, the birds took to the air with a racket, only to descend into the trees ahead and eye the trio once again.
“Bless the Most High, but I don’t know why He made such annoying creatures.” Idenia looked up at them in irritation.
Marda pursed his lips. “In His wisdom, He sees fit to order many things in ways we don’t understand.”
“My pa says ravens are bad luck,” Nekota chimed in.
“You don’t believe that old superstition, do you?” Idenia scoffed.
Just then, the birds seemed to tire of their game and launched skyward with a flurry of loud caws.
The shadows lay long across the countryside by the time the three travelers stopped for the night. Marda reined his mount to a small clearing just off the road and they set up camp. That night, Idenia tossed in her blanket and dreamed of the ravens that had trailed them. Like the birds had haunted her earlier in the day, so they haunted her dreams at night. They followed her down dark, foggy roads. They squawked and cawed, swooping from tree to tree, keeping pace with her.
As Idenia rode through her dreams, a tangible evil permeated every scene. Dark creatures on leathery wings swooped down. Wielding knife-like talons, they sliced through one raven after another, rending them limb from limb. Their deadly beaks ripped and tore the panicked birds into black pieces of feathers and wings.
Idenia’s eyes flew open. The dream had seemed so real that she frantically searched the darkness around their camp for the hideous monsters. However, nothing save the moon shone down softly through clear skies. Gone. But the foreboding from her dream would not leave and she began to wonder if it was only a dream—or was it a prophecy?
Even though the images had faded, their evil presence did not. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, then squeezed her eyes shut and reached with her mind to touch the Spirit of the Most High. There she remained, immersed in prayer, throughout the dark reaches of the night.
When at last the sun arose, the three set their faces toward the capitol city of Stajeen once again. But Idenia couldn’t shake the visions. They consumed her every thought and she rode on edge, jumping at every little sound.
After two or three leagues, the ravens squawked down once again and as they did, Idenia’s sense of impending danger increased. Clouds began to gather overhead, as if to match a spirit world that felt dark as night to Idenia. Snatches of her dream flashed through her mind and the sense of evil that had overshadowed her grew heavier still until Idenia wondered whether even Marda and Nekota could feel it as well.
She had just opened her mouth to ask if that were so when an unearthly screech pierced the air. Down from the sky swept two of the black creatures from her nightmare. To Idenia’s horror, these very real monsters plunged into the flock of ravens, which were half their size and unable to react quickly enough to escape the curved beaks. The attackers grasped the panicked birds with cruel talons and tore them wing from body. Bresa reared in terror and Idenia clung to the mare, gasping as the horrors from her dream became gruesome reality.
Marda’s expression grew grim and he yelled above the racket, “Follow me!” He spurred Guardian and the stallion sprang forward into a full gallop. As they raced for cover, a piercing cry behind them made Idenia’s heart jump and she crouched low in the saddle, squeezing her knees and giving her mount its head, encouraging the mare into a full gallop.
When they had put at least a league between them and the carnage, the riders reined in under a canopy of large oaks, Marda pulling up in a cloud of dust, sword drawn. Nekota yanked his sword from its sheath and wheeled Eagle around to take a stand next to Marda while Idenia fought to control her terror-stricken mare, clinging to her back as the wide-eyed horse pranced in a circle.
Heart pounding, Idenia watched the monsters skim by overhead beyond the treetops, circling and shrieking but unable to pierce the tree’s canopy. After several circuits, the creatures’ unearthly screams pierced the air one last time. With wind rushing under their dark wings, they banked away to the east and disappeared from view.
“Wh...what was that?“ Nekota stammered, his sword still poised for action. Eagle pranced in place underneath him, ready to bolt, eyes rolling wildly.
“I saw these beasts in my dreams last night.” Idenia sucked in shallow breaths. “I didn’t think them real.”
“They’re called hrafn.” Marda resheathed his weapon, his face grim. “Demon birds. We must press on before they return. They will not give up easily.”
Hrafn. Idenia gulped. So her nightmares had a name.
The old soldier led them down the road, almost until the forest opened up to the sky. Then to avoid being exposed should the hrafn return, he forged a path through the tangles growing along the edge of the forest. Bresa, seeming to sense the threat of danger. held her nose to Guardian’s flank, bringing snorts and tail swishes from the warhorse. Nekota had his hands full managing his own horse, as well as the skittish packhorse he led.
As the sun dipped behind the horizon, the riders broke out of the trees into a valley lush with green grass. A small farmhouse with a sloping, thatched roof stood nestled in the clearing. A farmer wearing a sack slung across his chest tossed seed into strips of rich soil that bordered the edge of the meadow. Upon spotting them, he stopped and stared.
Marda led the way through the meadow's tall grass. “Good day, sir,” he said. “We seek shelter for the night. Might you have a roof under which we could find safe lodging? I would be happy to pay a few coins.”
The man adjusted the sack and pushed back his hat. “We don’t get many travelers out here.” He paused and studied the three, his eyes lingering on Marda’s broadsword. “We’ve been warned of highwaymen running from the law. I hear they kill villagers in their sleep and take whatever they can get their hands on.”
Marda gestured at Idenia. “I assure you, we are quite the opposite of those scoundrels. We are headed to Stajeen, where we have business at the temple.”
The farmer grunted. “If that be the case, you’re welcome to lodge in the barn for the night.”
Marda tipped his head in thanks. The farmer cast another skeptical glance, but shuffled through the grass toward a thatched-roof barn, which stood a short distance from the cottage. He pushed open broad double doors and showed them in. With a nod to the travelers, he returned to his sowing.
Inside, Marda examined every corner of the barn and stirred the straw with his sword. Satisfied they were alone, he and Nekota unsaddled the horses and turned them loose. They drank from a common trough shared with a milk cow and a pungent goat. After a cold dinner of hard bread and dried meat, they climbed into the loft and bedded down in the soft hay, but Idenia’s sleep was once again disturbed by images of the hrafn.
The next morning the farmer arrived before daylight to milk his cow, so the travelers began packing up.
He regarded each one in turn. “I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you make your way down the road as quickly as possible. Something is disturbing our valley. Ever since you’ve been here, my dog has paced the floor and then my wife had terrible dreams all night. I thought maybe wolves were out. My wife…well…she thinks you’ve brought the trouble with you.”
“We’re sorry to have troubled you,” Idenia rescued the man from his embarrassment. “We were just leaving. But thank you for the night’s shelter.”
Idenia reminded herself of her grandfather’s words to trust the Most High and she did her best to manage an encouraging smile. “I’m sure all will be well. The Most High will protect us, and you as well.”
The farmer pressed his lips into a thin line, nodded once, and left, carrying out the full milk bucket.
Nekota eyed the farmer as he walked away. “I wouldn’t have said no to some of that milk,” he muttered.
Marda grunted. “We’re lucky he let us stay all night.”
“Do you think we are truly the cause of the disturbance?” Idenia wondered aloud.
“Of course not,” Marda scoffed. “I’m sure those hrafn have riled up all the local animals. Come, let’s get on the road. The sooner we reach Stajeen, the better.”
The three travelers led the horses into the chilly morning. The sun had not yet risen, as evidenced by a glimmer of light shining in the east. They faced north and continued on toward Stajeen and the refuge of the temple.
Marda led them through the forest, keeping to the protection of the treetops, never stopping except to water the horses. Between the sleepless night and the hard ride, Idenia’s head was nodding sleepily when Marda called out that they would make camp in a shallow hollow.
“Keep the fire small,” he instructed. “We eat a cold supper tonight.”
For several days, it was more of the same. Marda led the way, Idenia filled her heart with prayers against the ever-present darkness she sensed, and Nekota rode with one hand on the hilt of his sword.
As the travelers drew closer to Stajeen, the oppression seemed to lift somewhat but, Idenia wondered, maybe the fact was that she was actually becoming accustomed to the feeling of doom. When they rejoined the main road to the capitol city, they merged with other groups of people heading for the temple.
Late in the day, they crested a hill and, upon reaching the top, Idenia gasped at the sight before her. Down below, Stajeen glistened in the sun. The city’s white granite walls, terraces, and ramparts gracefully reached skyward even more beautifully than her grandfather had described.
Marda smiled down at the city as if seeing an old friend after a long separation. Nekota grinned eagerly.
Awestruck, Idenia beheld the city sprawled out in such splendor and glorious beauty. She patted Bresa’s neck and admired the vista below, relieved to have made the journey safely.
Then her eye was drawn toward the white granite temple gleaming on a hilltop in the center of the city and Idenia dry-swallowed, wondering how she would survive her coming ordeal in those sacred halls.
Next Week—Chapter 6: To the Temple
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