Lightstone of Power, Chapter 3
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 3
Destiny Calls
Idenia yawned and shook the fog from her still sleepy thoughts. Her gaze drifted to the plain work dress hanging on a peg and she groaned. So many offerings yet to be recorded.
The sunlight trickling through the window coaxed her from between warm blankets. She pulled the garment off its hook and over her cotton shift. In a blink, she saw herself once again at the celebration the night before, the words of the prophecy ringing in her ears—and her stomach lurched.
She braced herself against the dresser, barely feeling the rough grains of pine under her fingertips. With a deep breath, she plucked a ribbon from atop the dresser and pulled her hair back, the chestnut brown strands brushing her waist.
The coverlet pulled up on the bed, Idenia’s stockinged feet padded silently as she entered the main living area. She stoked the coals smoldering on the hearth until they flamed, then placed a copper teakettle on a hook and swung it over the fire. Then she grabbed her warm shoes from where they sat near the fireplace and slipped her feet inside each one.
Tasmon shuffled into the room, eased himself into a chair with a groan and rested his elbows on the table.
“Good morning, Grandfather.” Idenia scooped oats into a pot. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
Idenia chattered while she bustled around the kitchen, talking about the music, the dancing, the delicious food, anything but the prophecy.
Finally the porridge bubbled and Idenia ladled portions into earthenware bowls, placed them on the table and fetched steaming cups of tea. She ate hastily, barely tasting the warm meal, then poured her grandfather another cup of tea and settled him next to a sunny window with his prayer book.
“Call if you need me, I’ll be outside. I see we already have some visitors.” With the breakfast dishes now drying on the drain board, she snatched up a ledger on her way outside.
A little girl stood by the lush garden, reaching toward the bright orange calendulas Idenia grew for medicinal tea.
“Amber?” Idenia tipped her head down and raised her eyebrows with a smile. “What are you doing?”
The child froze, stolen blooms in hand, eyes round. “Just pickin’ flowers for my ma.”
Idenia smiled. The flowers grew thick this time of year. Half a dozen wouldn’t be missed. Idenia opened her mouth to reply, but the girl just grinned and scampered away, the flowers clutched tight in her little fist.
With a thump, a portly man adjusted his grip on a wicker basket full of squash and nodded respectfully. “Good morning, Idenia. Where would you like these?”
“Good morning, Traybor,” she nodded. "You can put them over there.” She pointed to the base of a tall oak that stood a stone’s throw from the cottage. One by one, the man and two others brought up all the baskets of offerings from the shrine while Idenia settled in for a long morning’s tally in her ledger.
The Temple priests would want to see a proper accounting of all the Haverfest offerings. The coins had already been placed in the strongbox the night before. Idenia squinted down at her scribbles and dipped her quill into the inkwell. This job was hers alone now that grandfather was ailing. While she missed working with him side-by-side, she had to secretly admit that she loved the feeling of being in charge.
Once the baskets and their contents were all accounted for, she moved inside to count the coins. With Grandfather snoozing in his favorite chair by the hearth, she stole quietly into the room and sat at the table in front of the coin chest. She tucked stray hairs behind her ears and tightened the ribbon. Idenia tried to focus on her ledger, but soon felt the sensation of someone watching her. She looked up to find Grandfather’s eyes focused on her.
“Come, Idenia.” Tasmon motioned to the chair across from him. “Your thoughts run deep today. After last night, we have much to talk over.”
Everything in Idenia wanted to push away but she knew she’d have to face the subject eventually. Might as well be now rather than later. She snapped the ledger shut and settled into the chair next to him, then folded and refolded her hands.
“Is it the prophecy that worries you?”
Idenia glanced at the door, wishing for a distraction but there was none. After several uncomfortable moments, she answered. “I-I always thought, I mean, I thought that...”
“That you would take my place in the village?” He nodded. “I can understand. Ever since your mother passed that has seemed to be your calling.”
Idenia looked up. “I know my duty is here...but you said I should leave, go to the Temple, and dedicate myself to service there. But nobody goes to the Temple without a summons from the High Priest. What if they reject me? Or what if they send me into the Holies and I die?”
“You have been called, child. Called by the Most High—possibly to a service more noble than a village prophetess and—“
“But no one is accepted at the Temple unless summoned!” she interrupted.
“You are too young to remember, too young to have seen this before. But it has not always been so. Many years ago, there was another. A young man said he had received a summons by the Most High. Many scoffed, but he went nonetheless and the high priest confirmed his calling.” A wistful smile teased the corners of his mouth and the prophet gazed off, a faraway look in his eyes. “They sent him on a dangerous mission. Some said he returned in disgrace. Others said...well, they said he returned in honor.”
“How does that relate to me?”
Tasmon looked deep into her eyes. “Whether he succeeded is not important. He obeyed the Spirit. And so should you. You must go. If you go with a pure heart and a holy calling, you will be accepted.” Tasmon placed his wrinkled hand on her arm. “I know the risk seems great to you. But you have heard only of those who have gone without a genuine calling. Trust me on this, Idenia. Go to Stajeen. I don’t know what lies in store for you, but I feel the task awaiting you is far greater than any you will encounter here.”
Then he spoke with an intensity that surprised even Idenia. “Hear me. The Spirit has called you and if you stay, you will be miserable. Idenia, you must heed this calling and obey the Spirit.” Exhausted from the effort, he sagged back into his chair. “If you do not feel the call, then do it for me, for our family and the inheritance of our ancestors. If you do not go, then all of the prophets before you would have answered the call in vain.”
Idenia folded his frail fingers in her own. “But if I am not here, who will take care of you?”
“Don’t worry, my child. The Most High, whom I serve, the one who calls you now, is able to provide for me—for this village—as he always has. I see the doubt on your face.” Sincerity shone in his eyes. “But it would be folly to remain here. If you disobey the Spirit, it will leave you. Leave your spirit and soul barren and empty.”
Grandfather’s words pierced her heart and Idenia knew she dare not risk offending the Most High. Or disobeying her grandfather. She hung her head. “Yes, Grandfather.”
Tasmon nodded his approval. “You need to reach Stajeen as quickly as possible. Marda will take you. He’s been like a father to you and you’ll be safe in his care.” Grandfather patted her hand. “He knows the ways of the Temple and will be a faithful guide and guardian. I have already sent him a message.”
The thought crossed Idenia’s mind that her agreement seemed to be a mere formality. Grandfather had already foreseen her response and begun making arrangements. Idenia didn’t know if she was relieved or annoyed that her life had taken such a drastic turn without her consent, but either way, the decision was made. Idenia searched her grandfather’s wrinkled face, watched his labored breathing. If only the prophecy had never been spoken.
And yet, despite the misgivings in her heart, she said softly, “Yes, Grandfather, I will go,” then silently added in her mind, Even if only to please you.
***
Idenia folded the last of her garments and tucked them into her pack. She picked up her prayer book and held it to her chest, inhaling deeply in an effort to quell the nervous fluttering in her stomach. She’d always found comfort in the holy words of the prayers.
A creak of hinges announced the opening of the front door and Idenia tucked the treasured book in her bag. Within a few moments, Hali poked her head around the corner.
“There you are! I thought I might find you here.” Hali plopped onto the bed, pulled her feet up and crossed her legs, eying her friend. “I wish you weren’t going.”
“So do I.” Idenia forced a smile for both their sakes. “But hopefully I won’t be gone for long.” Deep inside, she hoped that was true.
Hali pulled a small bundle from her pocket and carefully unfolded the edges of a handkerchief to reveal a delicate necklace within. “I want you to wear this.”
Idenia recognized the filigreed pendant on an elegant chain and opened her mouth to protest, “But—“
Hali’s voice fell to a near whisper. “Just listen! My grandmother always wore this, and it’s always been special to me. She thought—and I do too—that it brings good luck. I hope it will do the same for you.” She placed the necklace in Idenia’s palm and closed her fingers over it. “Besides, it will remind you of me and that your home is here. In Gelm. I insist.”
Hali’s lop-sided grin melted Idenia’s resolve and she hugged her friend. “How could I ever not remember you? I’ll take good care of it and bring it back safely. I promise.”
“I know you will.” Hali pulled back, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I also came to tell you the village is buzzing with rumor. Your grandfather sent for Nekota.”
Idenia raised an eyebrow, wondering what her friend was up to now. “Hali?”
“You should come down to the inn. I'm sure there will be a few people gathered who want to wish you well. Who knows? Maybe Nekota has a goodbye kiss for you.”
Idenia scooped up a pillow and threw it at her friend. Hali giggled and ducked out the door just before it hit the wall with a fwump. The door shut behind Hali and her musical laughter faded as she fled. Idenia treasured the sound and wondered when she would hear it again.
***
On the path to the prophet’s cottage, Nekota stepped aside as Hali scampered past. She caught his eye and smiled a knowing grin before hurrying off.
I wonder what that was all about. He watched her go, then looked down and brushed at a black smudge running down the front of his tunic. The effort just made it worse. He wished he’d have changed clothes before he came but when his father arrived at the forge and said that Prophet Tasmon wanted to see him right away, he’d dashed here without thinking. Too late now. He straightened his tunic and rapped on the cottage door.
“Come in.” The prophet’s feeble voice came from inside.
Nekota stomped his feet to dislodge the last of the dried mud from his boots and stepped into the warmth of the cottage. Tasmon rested in his chair by the hearth and gazed into a low fire.
“Sir, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Please...sit down.” Tasmon waved his hand toward the chair opposite his own. Though the prophet moved slowly, his eyes gazed clearly into Nekota’s. “I have watched you grow over the last few years and become a fine young man.”
Wracking coughs shook the elder’s frame and he rested before continuing.
“You have learned the ways of the blacksmith from your father and you have served him well. But I know your heart.” Tasmon leaned forward and pointed a crooked finger in Nekota’s direction. “You do not have the heart of a blacksmith but long to leave this village and seek adventure.”
Nekota squirmed under the prophet’s truthful insight.
“That is why I need you to go with Marda. He’s taking Idenia to Stajeen.”
Nekota’s jaw dropped. “Me?”
Tasmon continued, leveling a penetrating stare that reached into the depths of Nekota’s soul. “Idenia must reach the Temple safely and I fear this journey will not be an easy one. You can help. Two men are better than one.” The old prophet sucked in a few labored breaths.
“I have spoken with your father and he is willing to spare you for as long as it takes to keep Idenia safe. You leave tomorrow morning.” Tasmon’s energy spent, he slumped back into his chair and Nekota nodded, knowing he was dismissed.
As he walked out the door, Nekota’s thoughts whirled at the sudden turn in events and he grinned. Stajeen. The greatest city in Perlan. A city crowned with the Temple of the Most High and protected by the elite Temple guard. And he was going to see it!
Next week—Chapter 4, “The Long Shadow of Evil”
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