First Rider's Call

Karigan shifted her position, not at all liking the direction this was going. “You mean they hope an influx of wild magic will cleanse the lands of mortals.”

The prince nodded. “They are of the mindset of my son. If a few mortals perish in the path of this flood, all the better.”

His words chilled Karigan, and she wondered of which mindset he was: afraid the fall of the D’Yer Wall would mean destruction of all that was good, or hopeful it would bring about the restoration of the Eletian people.

“Bitterly this has been debated in the Alluvium,” Prince Jametari said. “I fear that even the Eletian people can find no harmony on so important an issue. Our people fought hard to defeat Mornhavon the Black and his hordes, but there are those who are blinded by the needs of the present and future, who will not see the past. I am of a mind that both arguments are flawed, but only the future knows the truth. A future, Galadheon, in which you shall play a role.”

Karigan definitely did not like the turn in conversation.

“Like my father, King Santanara, I’ve the gift of prescience. This is not the first I’ve seen of you.”

The sense of being caught in a dreamer’s web threatened to overwhelm her.

“I have seen you interfere in the mending of the D’Yer Wall. Your actions may result in disaster across the lands, or hold off destruction for a time.”

“N-no! You can’t put this on me.”

“I do not.” The prince’s voice was stern. “But the tainted wild magic has created a duality within you. I see the strands of life and time that weave fate, Galadheon, and you waver between the light and the dark.”

Karigan jumped to her feet in a surge of anger. “How can you dare suggest I’d do ill?” She shook with emotion. “How dare you. I would never knowingly do anything to endanger the lands. Never!”

Grae and Telagioth were suddenly beside her. The tiendan moved in closer. Light glanced off arrowheads, and it only incensed her more. When she stepped toward the prince to make another point, Grae and Telagioth grabbed her arms. She struggled wildly, spitting out words that would make even a cargo master blanch.

And then she was sitting calmly on the ground, and all was as it had been before.

What happened? Silver dust sparkled in the air around her. She shook her head to clear it. They may have controlled her outburst, but the fury still burned inside her.

“Would you hear more?” Prince Jarnetari asked.

Karigan narrowed her eyebrows but refused to answer.

“Very well. I have shared my vision in the Alluvium, and you should know it has placed you in some peril. There are those who feel your death would settle any question of how you might interfere with the mending of the wall.”

Karigan’s eyes darted to the fringes of the clearing searching for an arrow aimed at her heart, or a dagger glinting in the light of the moonstones, but the tiendan had withdrawn into the mist and she saw no weapons. Doubtless she was safe in the clearing with Prince Jametari, but when she left?

“There are others,” the prince said, “who feel you have the potential to do much good, for you are touched with Laurelyn’s favor.

“I cannot divine the future in absolutes. Visions do not work that way, nor does the future, which is always in motion, always affected by the influences of the moment.”

“I don’t want this,” Karigan said, desperation creeping into her voice. “I don’t want this wild magic. I don’t want anything to do with Eletians. I never even wanted to be a Green Rider.”

“So it is for those caught up in great events against their wills. It would not be the first time. For all this news, I have no remedy, just an offer—an offer for you to look in the Mirror of the Moon.”

“Why?”

Prince Jametari blinked slowly, his long hands settling onto his thighs. “You would refuse a rare gift?”

“What would I see?”

“Perhaps the threads I have seen, or nothing. Perhaps you shall see loved ones, or yourself. I do not know. You have shown yourself wise in some of your words, and it is for you to determine whether or not to accept a gift freely given.”

Karigan sighed wearily, both afraid and intrigued. If the mirror could show her something that might enlighten her to her own situation, it could prove helpful. But if the future was as fluid as the prince claimed, could she trust anything she saw in it?

After a few hesitant moments, she said, “All right, I’ll try.”

“You need but gaze in.”

Karigan leaned over the bowl and looked into the silver water, and blinked back at herself. Enough time passed by in which nothing happened, that she nearly decided to pull away and give up, but then darkness spread in the bowl like a cloud of black ink. A man rippled into existence, staring back at her, a backdrop of night behind him. His hair was sandy, and he wore a pointed beard. They locked gazes.

She inhaled sharply in recognition. Hadriax el Fex! He looked far healthier, far stronger and unmarred, than when she had seen him on Watch Hill.

The prince hastily passed his hand above the bowl, dissolving the image. The water resumed its placid silver glow, a dash of stars sparkling over it.

“It is not good to call upon such images,” he said. “Sometimes the mirror goes both ways. You may look again now.”

She did, and immediately images came to life in the water. Her father sat at his office desk, writing in a ledger. He looked tired, but well. Quickly it flashed by, followed by another. Alton slept beside a wall—most certainly the D’Yer Wall. She was aware of the mist changing and taking on shapes along the clearing’s edge, but she dared not take her eyes from the mirror, for Alton looked terribly ill. Circles had darkened beneath his eyes, and he perspired profusely, murmuring restlessly in his sleep. His cheeks were gaunt and pallid, and she was overcome by a sharp pang of concern. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">