Fiction Friday: Lightstone of Power, Chapter 4
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 4
The Long Shadow of Evil
Idenia took one last look around the cottage and ran her fingertips over her grandfather’s favorite chair. She tucked the memory away in her heart, shouldered her traveling bag and stepped outside into the dawn. Marda, as dependable as always, was already there. He stood near the horses as he conversed with her grandfather.
“Good morning, Marda!” Idenia called out.
Marda tipped his head in greeting, then turned back and tightened a strap securing a basket onto the packhorse. Combined with the broadsword strapped to his hip, fingerless gloves, vambraces, a leather jerkin, and pants tucked into black boots, he was the exact image of the Temple guard he’d been when he served with her father years before.
In a flash, Idenia saw him in a new light. Not just as a father-figure but as a seasoned warrior who would protect her to the death—as her father would have had he not died in battle so many years before.
Idenia’s bay mare snuffled and nudged her arm until she stroked her soft muzzle. “Good morning, Bresa,” she murmured and offered the mare a section of apple. The sweet-tempered horse nibbled the fruit into her mouth and crunched loudly.
“Once Nekota gets here, we can leave,” Marda said as he checked the cinch on Bresa’s saddle.
Just then, the young man appeared, leading one of his father’s geldings. Idenia studied the square set to Nekota’s broad shoulders and length of frame—until a polite cough interrupted her thoughts. Idenia spun about to see Hali approaching, eyebrows raised, a crooked grin on her face. Idenia felt a warm blush rise to her cheeks but Hali closed the gap and wrapped her friend in a warm hug.
“I’ll miss you,” Idenia said softly as she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.
Hali pulled back, her grin fading into a look of concern. “And I, you. Take care of yourself.”
Marda swung astride his stallion and Guardian pranced under his master, whinnying and tossing his head up and down as if to tell the others to hurry. The veteran soldier gripped the reins and settled easily into the saddle. “Everyone ready? If we leave now, we should be able to reach Woodley before nightfall.”
While Nekota swung into Eagle’s saddle, Idenia turned to her grandfather. Tasmon took her hands in his own and peered into her eyes.
“Be strong, child, but trust not in your own strength. Remember, the Spirit surrounds you. If you reach out, it will strengthen you.” The prophet gripped her hands even more firmly. “Travel safely, my angel. May the Spirit rest on you.”
“I love you, Grandfather. May the Spirit rest on you as well.” They held each other for a long moment, then Idenia kissed his cheek one last time before swinging into Bresa’s saddle. With a wave and one final glance through blurred tears, she nudged her horse to catch up with her companions already heading down the dirt road.
Early morning sunshine illuminated the trees overhead, shining through the leaves as though they were stained glass windows. Trees on both sides of the road lifted their branches high overhead to form a ceiling that would rival that of any cathedral. Birds flitted from branch to branch and twittered together in chorus. Rabbits scampered deeper into the woods, away from the intruders. Leaves covering the ground muffled the clops of the horses’ hooves mile after mile.
At midday, the riders halted in a clearing. While the horses nibbled green tufts of grass, Marda reached into the packhorse’s bags and pulled out a narrow loaf of rosemary bread and a small block of cheese wrapped in waxed cloth. He broke off portions for each of them. Idenia took hers and settled onto a fallen log.
While she frequently rode, she wasn’t used to long hours in the saddle and her legs and rear ached. She pulled bite-sized pieces from the bread and chewed them slowly, hoping the men didn’t realize her discomfort.
“How long will it take us to get there?” Nekota had missed the planning session which had Marda and her grandfather up late into the night hunched over maps and checklists. “To Stajeen. How long until we get to Stajeen?”
Marda swallowed. “Shouldn’t take more than ten days or so.”
“You were a Temple guard, weren’t you?”
Marda nodded and opened his mouth to reply, but Nekota rattled on. “Can we visit the guards?”
Idenia grinned and shook her head. Once Nekota began chattering, there was little chance of stopping him. Her mind drifted and she leaned back against a tree, closed her eyes and thought of her grandfather’s parting words.
The Spirit...it surrounds you.
Not everyone could feel the Spirit, but Idenia could, much like her grandfather and her prophetess mother. Even today, she could feel its warmth surrounding them like a shield.
But in her awareness, something else was there too. Beyond the comforting sphere of the Spirit, there lurked a restless presence. She shivered to think what would happen if the protective shield the Most High had placed around them were to be pierced by that hovering darkness.
“Idenia?” Nekota’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you going to eat that or take it with you?”
Roused from her contemplation, Idenia started and looked down at the last bite of bread in her hand. With troubled thoughts, she placed the bread into her mouth, rose, and pulled herself back into the saddle.
The travelers rode north through gentle golden hills, punctuated in places by trees in full autumn color. But Idenia hardly noticed the beauty. A strong breeze tossed her hair into her face and prickled her arms as she sensed spiritual darkness lurking in the distance. In fact, the further they rode, the gloomier it felt. Bresa jumped at a rustle in the bushes and Idenia clutched her mare’s reins as the horse skittered across the road.
Probably a rabbit, Idenia reasoned, but her heart pounded. The Spirit will protect us. I know he will.
And yet, in spite of her faith, gloom pressed against her soul to the point where it felt as if they were being followed. She scanned the road behind as a flock of ravens took flight, punctuated by a raucous caw-caw and flutter of wings.
The sun was resting on the horizon by the time a small village came into sight. With night coming on, only a few of the inhabitants still walked the dirt lanes and the hollow clop of the horses’ hooves echoed in the nearly empty street. Smoke trailing from a chimney beckoned them onward. The dank evening air had begun to cool noticeably and the thought of a warm fireplace brought comfort. Marda reined to a stop outside a squat inn and dismounted.
Idenia climbed down and knuckled the small of her back. “Where are we?”
“This would be Woodley, the only town we will see for several more miles.”
Guardian snorted when Marda handed the reins to Nekota, then calmed a bit when Nekota rubbed a hand along the horse’s neck. In his father’s shop, he had shod the horse several times and knew him well.
Marda gestured at the inn. “This would be the Crowing Rooster. Stay here. I’ll check on lodging.”
A slight breeze tugged at a dangling rustic sign over the door and it squeaked in protest. Colorful tail feathers on a strutting rooster confirmed the inn’s name.
As Marda stepped through the door, Idenia stood on tiptoe, peering around him into a common room lit by wall torches. She hoped for a light crowd. Otherwise, if the inn was full, she’d likely have to share a room. Images filled Idenia’s mind of sharing a bed with a large woman who snored all night and she shuddered. After a few minutes, Marda emerged, gloves in hand.
“They have two rooms available. Idenia, you will have a room to yourself tonight.”
She breathed a prayer of thanks, and untied her traveling bag from the back of Bresa’s saddle.
“Nekota,” Marda continued, “Take the horses to the barn and bed them down for the night.”
Nekota eyed the inn’s front door longingly, then grimaced. Then with a deep sigh, he gathered the horses’ reins and trudged toward the small barn tucked behind the establishment. Marda held open the inn’s front door and beckoned Idenia to enter ahead of him.
Inside, a few tables and chairs polished smooth from years of use stood clustered near a crackling fire. A lone man glanced up then returned to his dinner. Marda guided Idenia to a table in the corner and she gingerly eased herself onto a stool, her backside aching from the long day’s ride.
At the far side of the room, the door to the kitchen swung open and a plump woman bustled in, a gray twist of braids knotted at the nape of her neck. She clutched three mugs of cider in her hands. Idenia noticed the innkeeper’s gaze lingered on Marda appreciatively, then she plunked the mugs on the table.
“This must be Idenia. Let me look at you. Such a fine young woman you’ve become. Why, I haven’t seen you or your grandfather in years. And I don’t get to see Marda here nearly often enough.” She smiled at the old soldier and pulled a damp towel off her shoulder, wiping the already glistening table once again. “Welcome, my dear,” she continued. “Name’s Kalita. Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll bring you some stew.”
With a beaming smile, the woman hurried back to the kitchen and before long, reappeared with two steaming bowls and placed them on the table. Idenia inhaled the smell of vegetables and basil. She grabbed a spoon and started in on the stew. About halfway through the bowl, the front door swung open and Nekota stomped in, rubbing his arms against the chill. He joined them at the small table and eyed the stew hungrily.
Just then, the innkeeper swept into the room with a third bowl. Nekota moistened his lips and Kalita chuckled.
“Young man, you look hungry enough to eat a bear.” She set the bowl before Nekota and he plunged a spoon into the fragrant soup.
Idenia watched Nekota enjoy his food but now that she had eaten just enough to curb her appetite, her thoughts returned to the darkness she had felt all day and fear began to press against her mind. Fatigue washed over her and she fought back sudden tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.
From across the table, Marda’s forehead creased and he leaned forward. “What’s troubling you, lass?
Idenia blinked back the tears. "I’ve had a feeling all afternoon that something was following us. Something evil.”
Marda sat back, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t see anything.”
“I know it sounds strange, but...,” she paused and took a deep breath, “Grandfather told me I could see into the spirit world. That I could sense things like he can. Maybe this is one of those times.” She searched Marda’s face. “All I know is...something dark is out there and I feel like it’s watching us.”
Suddenly tired, Idenia wanted nothing more than to be alone. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll get some rest,” she said and stood.
Marda nodded and watched her thoughtfully as she turned to leave.
Kalita showed Idenia to her room and once alone, Idenia sank onto the bed. Shortly, a shuffle sounded outside her door and Idenia’s heart skipped a beat. She cracked the door open to see Marda in a chair at the end of the hall, sword lying across his knees. He nodded and a feeling of relief washed over her, just to know he was on guard duty. She softly closed the door, pulled her dress over her head and hung it on a hook.
Settling under the rough coverlet in her shift, Idenia’s thoughts drifted to Gelm and her grandfather. I’ve only been gone one day and I’m already homesick.
She fingered the filigreed pendant hanging from her neck and smiled, thinking of Hali and the laughs they had shared and of her reassuring hugs just that morning. But the weight of the prophecy, her grandfather’s pale face, and all the uncertainty crashed back down on her again.
After tossing in her bed for what seemed ages, exhaustion finally overcame her and Idenia fell into a troubled sleep.
***
Idenia stood in the dark with Marda and Nekota atop a knobby hill, its crown barren of trees and brush. A dark, cold gale swirled around them, tore at their cloaks and chilled them to the bone. A hound bayed in the distance, answered by another, and then another. The howling grew louder and Idenia crowded up against the men, who stood with swords drawn. The hounds’ cries grew so loud she knew they’d attack soon. She looked frantically from side to side. There had to be a way out.
Idenia bolted upright in bed, trembling. Beads of sweat trickled under her cotton sheath and she drew deep ragged breaths. Remembering Marda out in the hall, she clambered from damp sheets, nudged the door open and peeked out to see if he was still there. The hinges creaked and her guard’s head jerked up at the sound. But this time, it was not Marda. Nekota squinted sleepy eyes at her. Candlelight flickered from the sconce above his head, feebly illuminating the darkened hallway.
His presence brought a smile to Idenia’s face and, reassured, she returned to bed but still couldn’t relax completely. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw dark shapes in her mind’s eye, flying overhead, casting shadows on the inn. Sleep never returned.
Next Week—Chapter 5: Evil Attacks
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