Prologue
It was hot. A sweltering hot. The kind of hot that made one's own salty sweat sting the skin. The kind of hot that made the sweat cascade down your face blinding as it invaded the open eye. It was an unusual heat. The kind of heat that you feared would blister the skin, cracking the surface leaving raw nerve that could tolerate not even the slightest graze of the lightest silk.
The sun was high in the sky, but the land seemed so close to it that they almost appeared to kiss. The heat radiating from the ground rippled across the surface of the land, hazy and disorienting. No breeze could touch this land but even still the sand rolled like crashing waves during a high tide as it was swept up by the pulses of the radiating sun.
This was a land of mountains, but not of rock and not of trees. This was a land of giant overarching sand dunes that reached hundreds of feet toward the sun. These ever-changing sand mountains shaped and reshaped as the sand shifted beneath the power of the sun. But a man was there.
A light brown shirt with large dark masses of sweat clung to his back. His trousers were torn, fraying, and worn at the knees. His hands and his feet were bare, and a white cloth wrapped across his forehead and around his mouth protecting his face from the elements. As he gripped with his hands and dug his toes into the falling sand, he propelled upward and forward. However, his body would drag down as he settled to take a breath. King Galdon’s muscles felt heavy with fatigue and ached with every heave up the unforgiving sand.
Galdon grunted as he slid down once again. While holding a handful of loose sand, he swung his other arm ahead to find a better grip. Few have succeeded in climbing these mountainous sands. Though many have attempted. Some called it the birth-right quest as it was said that only those with an ancient blood connection to Alsongod as well as the right to the powers of gods Logath, could climb these dunes without certainty of death. These rights were called the birth-rit. Though some could obtain powers of Colonderé, a learned manipulation of source energy, or Dolé, a crude connection to Colonderé, the sands would not obey their call to allow for ascension to the land of the High Priestess.
With his muscles growing weak and numb, and the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet blistering from the toils of the climb, Galdon’s call to the sand through his birth-rit was feeble. He felt that at any moment his connection to source would sever, and the call would not be heard. He would tumble down to the bottom of the mountain, dehydrated and unable to move; buried under the waves of moving sand. But he kept climbing and he kept calling. He needed above all else to reach the High Priestess. He needed to know what she Saw.
***
Four women stood at the flat peak of Mount Sonsi. Three wore white gowns that rippled at the beat of the high sun. One woman, wearing black, stood before the rest. Her arms stretched out and up toward the sun. Her head was tilted back, her eyes were closed, and her lips were moving in silence she called upon the guidance of the gods Logath. The three women behind her stood with their heads bowed, palms pressing downward to the ground.
“Spirit of Logothara, hear your daughter!” High Priestess Sithana beseeched to the sky, “Hear the one who giveth breath, the first of your daughter, the holder of Sight of All!”
One of the other women stepped close to Sithana’s shoulder, “High Priestess, a man comes. He is near.”
“He is weak, but he comes, High Priestess,” said another of the women who had also stepped closer.
Still facing upward with her eyes closed, High Priestess Sithana took in a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. “The king is here to speak with us, my Sisters. Gods Logath was expecting his arrival.” She lowered her arms, face still raised to the sun, and she waited. Clasping their hands in front of themselves, her sisters waited also.
A pink and blistered hand gripped the peak’s edge and a man groaned as he hauled himself atop its flat surface. He rolled onto his back, arms and legs spread wide. He breathed deeply and then passed out.
***
When Galdon awoke, his entire body ached and the numbness he felt in his hands and feet was lessened only by the burning sensation he felt from them being rubbed raw by the scorching sand. He turned his head to look about himself. The sand that had collected on his eyelashes scratched at his eyes as he blinked away the blinding brightness. As his vision cleared, he could see the outline of four women standing at the center of the landing.
Galdon tried to call upon Alsongod to send him healing, but his connection to the birth-rit felt out of reach. He had no choice but to wait for it to restore. The only problem was he was not sure it would restore before his body expended due to dehydration. He had hiked for six days. The skin of water he brought with him had long since run out. Actually, by the second day of his hike, the water was so hot it blistered his throat and lips when he tried to drink it.
Out of nowhere, Galdon felt a cold ripple of energy flow over his body. He gasped at the shock of it and his lunges filled with what seemed like cool air. The air flowed down his throat, into his chest, and then down into his abdomen. The air split into four and streamed through his limbs, reaching the tips of his toes and fingers. Then it flowed back up through his spine and pooled at the crown of his head. Galdon could feel the coolness settling in his palms and feet. His tongue was no longer thick and dry, and his vision cleared as though shielded from the heat wave of the sun.
He could see the four women clearly now. Three women stood near the back, clad in white garments. Their faces were veiled with a sheer white cloth. The one to the left seemed to be shorter than the rest. Her skin was white as though untouched by the beams of the sun. Her hair hung in gold ringlets across her shoulders and blue eyes rested on him, though she did not seem to actually be looking at him.
The next woman was the tallest of the three. Based on her stature, the redness of her hair, and the green in her eyes, it looked as though she could have been Galadian. She was looking at him too. However, she looked like she was studying him.
The third woman was slighter than the others and her skin was so brown it looked as though she were made from night and earth. Her eyes were large and dark. However, her hair caught him by surprise. It seemed to blend smoothly with the whiteness of the scarf that covered her face as though they were one. Unlike the other two, she was not looking through him or about him. She was looking at him meeting his gaze. He immediately felt exposed…weighed.
A fourth woman stood before the rest. She seemed to tower over all of them, though at second sight she was not much bigger than the others. She wore the same garments the other women wore, but hers was black and her veil was black. Around her wrist hung a golden chain with gemstones that dangled from the chain about her hand. The High Priestess’s skin was bronzed, but it looked like a natural bronze, not a result of worshipping beneath a beaming sun. The eyes that stared back at him were amber with a hint of green. Her hair was long and deep brown, fluttering in the heat.
The High Priestess just stared at him unmoving. She looked as though nothing had occurred, awaiting his greeting. Galdon could not help but be amused. This was her way.
“High Priestess,” Galdon breathed lightly.
“King Galdon of Galandad,” she replied in a cool voice. “Logath awaited your arrival. I thought you might not have survived the journey, yet gods Logoth told me you would be here this day.” Galdon thought he detected humor in her steady voice.
He righted himself into a sitting position and sat that way for a moment, draping his arms across his knees. He was still trying to reorient himself. The sun was still hot in the sky, but the air he breathed from his nostrils was cooling to his lips. Then he placed one hand atop a knee and pushed up, standing to face the High Priestess and her Sisters. He unwrapped the cloth that protected his face. It was caught up by the sun’s pulse and fluttered away, swept up by the waves of heat.
Bowing his head, Galdon addressed her, “High Priestess, I have come asking if you have seen the fate of my kingdom.” Galdon raised his eyes to see her. She stood there unmoved staring back at him.
He lowered his head again, but this time he stepped forward and slightly bent his knee and repeated, “High Priestess, I have come asking if you have seen the Fate of my kingdom.” Again, there was no response.
This time Galdon bowed his head and went down on one knee and asked again, “High Priestess, I have come asking if you have seen the Fate of my kingdom.”
“You are not asking the question for the answers that you seek,” Sithana abruptly responded. “Logath will have nothing for you. Ask again.”
Galdon decided to stay kneeling. This posture seemed to be the correct approach. He was sure this was the question he wanted to ask. However, it was believed that gods Logath would only answer questions that needed to be answered, not questions whose answers could not change the course of Fate. If gods Logath was not concerned about the Fate of the kingdom, then maybe she was instead concerned about the Fate of the King.
“High Priestess, I have come asking if you have seen the Fate of the King of Galandad.”
***
Sithana looked down at the top of the king’s head. It was difficult to speak to him so harshly. She remembered playing with him as a child at her mother’s estate. They were close back then and she had looked forward to his summer visits. Softening her tone she replied, “I have not seen the future of your kingdom. Though I will say that I have tried. The gods Logath knew of your coming, for I was told of your coming visit, but the sight of you or your kingdom was not given to me, cousin” said Sithana. It had been many years since she had addressed him as cousin. Not since she had taken her place as High Priestess of Logathara.
“Is this normal,” asked Galdon, looking inward, his brows furrowing.
“It is…unusual,” She replied.
“I don’t understand this. Why would Logath tell you I was coming, but give you nothing to show me?” Galdon shook his head.
“I said it is unusual, but not unheard of. I do not question. What I do feel is that I was to wait until your arrival before the vision would be cast upon me.”
Sithana looked over her shoulder at her Sisters. “Shall we try again, Sisters?”
“Yes, High Priestess,” the three said in concert.
Galdon watched as the four women bowed their heads, then slowly outstretched their arms, raising them palm-outward toward the sun. Their lips began to move in silent incantation. Unexpectedly, a wave of energy exploded outward from the four women, sending a storm of sand that slammed into Galdon, stinging any exposed skin. He threw up his arm to shield his eyes. Just as suddenly, a gust of wind pulled inward, pushing Galdon forward, seeming to bring with it all of the sand that just beat against him.
The incoming sand did not reach the four women, but stopped short, pouring over a dome-shaped field of energy surrounding them. Inside the dome, a blinding beam of energy, white with flashes of reds and yellows, connected the women to the sky. Their eyes were closed, lost in concentration. The High Priestess’s mouth was still moving as she spoke in the language of the Daughter of the Light, Seer of All.
“Spirit of Logothara, hear your Daughter,” cried Sithana, speaking the last words of her call to gods Logath. Suddenly, the energy flowing between the women and the sky ceased and a translucent tunnel of pure light plunged from the heavens engulfing Sisthna. Her arms dropped as though pinned to her body by the sheer force of the light.
***
Sithana locked her knees in an effort to keep herself from being beaten onto the sand. The three women standing behind her began to slowly lower their arms, palms now directed towards the High Priestess. As their arms fell, translucent energy pulled from the High Priestess in columns into their palms. The three sisters slowly pulled from the energy that beat at the High Priestess. As they pulled, they were also able to see the visions granted her. More importantly, they were able to support the High Priestess by pulling away some of the energy that beat down on her, keeping the flesh, bone, and soul from being stripped away by the amass of energy that was being bestowed upon her.
Galdon still kneeled, ten paces away, bracing himself against the unnatural sandstorm that pushed against his back. His feet were buried in the sand. He couldn’t see the High Priestess or her Sisters, but he could feel his birth-rit pulsating in his blood as it responded to the onslaught of energy that he saw come down from the sky.
Suddenly it ended, leaving behind a swaying Sithana and breathless priestesses. They looked tired and unsteady, but they all interlocked their hands to support each other as they stood.
“Come here, cousin,” breathed Sithana. Her voice was heavy and weak.
Galdon stood and walked forward until he was but a foot away from her. He looked down on the High Priestess. She seemed much smaller now. She did not tower over anyone, but instead was just a woman weighed down with unwanted responsibility.
Sithana placed her index finger in the space between Galdon’s brow. “The vision that was shown to me was meant for you to see as well.”
Galdon’s body stiffened. His eyes burned and his vision blurred, but in his mind, a vision unfolded. He saw a beautiful lady. Her hair was long. It cascaded down her back. It was black. No. It was more like midnight, like midnight blue. No, she was not a lady. She was a queen. She was walking down a corridor. No. It’s a hall… in the North Wing of the Palace of Galandad. She was wearing… the cape of the kings of Galandad. She held the Orn. She is not Galadian. She looked familiar to him, but why? He’d never seen her before. He would have remembered someone like her. She was beautiful. She walked like she was angry. No. She walked with authority, with presence.
The vision ended. Galdon opened his eyes and peered down at the High Priestess. She lowered her arm and took a step back to meet his stare.
“So, I will be overthrown then,” he said with resignation, yet searching for answers within the High Priestess’s eyes. “Someone else will hold my thrown.”
“Someone else will hold your thrown, true,” she replied.
Galdon roared to the sky. Grasping his hands behind his head he turned and stalked a few paces away shaking his head.
“Then who is this woman,” he asked turning back to Sithana. “Why do I feel like I should know her already?”
“You will never know this woman. Your kingdom is safe in these times, Galdon. However, you must follow the omens of Logath to guide you through these troubled times. Your obedience to gods Logath will determine the Fate of the King of Galandad.”
Galdon breathed heavily as he leaned his head back on his palms. “The omens told me to come to you. I saw Mount Sonsi in a dream and I knew it meant I had to come here.” He turned his head as if looking out across the sand-blown mountains, but in his mind came visions of bloodshed, torn bodies of Galadian men at arms.
“The answer you are given is to follow the omens out of these troubled times. House Bana will hold the thrown.” Sithana walked up to him, placed her hand on his cheek and smiled.
Though they were cousins, he was much different than she was. Where her skin was bronzed, his was white and pink from exposure to the sun. His eyes were a beautiful blue with a hit of Galadian green. His hair and beard were thick and golden, almost blinding in the sun’s light. He had always been a handsome child, and that had not changed in his adult years.
Galdon raised his hand and placed his on her cheek as well. “Thank you, cousin. I will listen to what you See.” He then pulled her hand from his face, kissing it softly before releasing it and allowing it to fall back to her side.
“Silza, Sister, please come forward,” the High Priestess Spoke, still looking up at her cousin.
The priestess with the dark skin and white hair released the others’ hands and walked up beside her.
“Yes, High Priestess,” Silza said. She looked at Galdon for a moment, then turned to Sithana, briefly bowing he head.
“You will accompany King Galdon to Galandad and be his omen reader during these times ahead.”
“Yes, High Priestess,” she said bowing her head once again.
“While you are away, our birth-rit connection will be weakened, but I will hear your words and you will hear mine if there is need at the peak and depth of day. We have practiced this, no?” The High Priestess asked.
“Yes, High Priestess,” Silza replied.
Galdon was a little surprised that this odd-looking woman was born with the birth-rit, but it could only be true. To be a Priestess of Logathara you must be a descendant of Alsongod. Bastardy makes no difference. But you must also be chosen by gods Logath. How did this woman have both?
Sithana turned to stand in front of her Sister and wrapped her in an embrace. She burrowed her nose into that sea of white hair and kissed her Sister on the ear. When she released the dark woman, the woman took a step back and, again, bowed her head.
“Take leave, Sister, and gather provisions for your journey. You will meet King Galdon at the base of Mount Sonsi.”
“Yes, High Priestess.” Silza turned and glided across the flat peak, her long hair waving in the heat. A small sandstorm appeared and engulfed the woman. When it settled, she had vanished.
Sithana turned back to look up at Galdon. “Take your leave cousin, I pray to gods Logath that we see each other again. Take care of Sister Silza and she will take care of you. The court may take no pleasure in her presence, but she is my strongest in divinity and will be a valued guide. Follow the omens through these troubled times. House Bana will hold the throne.”
With her parting words, she stepped backward. Another sandstorm lifted from the ground around the woman. When the sand settled, she and the other priestesses were gone.
Galdon wondered how he was going to make it back down to the bottom of Mount Sonsi.
Comments