Prophecy's Deception: Book 1: Andarean Realms Prophecies Series Page 2

  The mission was an exceptionally risky one for such a young mage, but the rebels did not have a lot of choice when it came to finding a mage Abbarane authorities would not recognise. Brynn filled all their criteria; he was naturally gifted at 'seeing', he was completely unknown to Abbarane mages, and had training in combat. Most of the argument surrounding the decision to send him had been focused on his age. Although Brynn suspected much of his mother's anxiety was also related to Brynn being an only child. For elvan, a single child was unusual as most pregnancies resulted in twins. While Brynn had to concede that he was young, like many talented children his age, he'd been training as a mage well over half his life.

  The rebels had lost many of their mages in the war, so in an attempt to keep the mage bloodlines alive, all talented children were raised in border regions where there was less likelihood of Abbarane raids and patrols. Hot, arid, and inhospitable, the desert far to Andarea's south was considered too harsh a climate for elvan, but they adapted by living mostly underground.

  His mother, Belon, was a healer, but Brynn had shown an aptitude to do more than just heal. His training had been hard and rigorous, so it was very satisfying to — finally — be trusted to carry out a mission on his own. Although he had to admit, at times, his missed both his parents, and as he rode, he wondered what his mother was doing right now...

  'Reaping fresh vegetables from the garden you planted, young Brynn,' Belon sent.

  The response caught him off guard. For an instant, he was worried about patrolling mages picking up her sending, but knowing Belon, she had taken the precaution of linking with a gecko, or other small garden creature, and sent her thoughts through them. Brynn normally made contact through Sershja. It was a detectable method, but it was not as easily discovered as direct sending. What alarmed him was why Belon had a need to contact him.

  'Is something wrong, seda?' he asked, using the elvan equivalent for mother or father.

  'There is no need to fret, inalla. All is fine here. You are doing well to avoid patrols, considering the military activity along your route.'

  Brynn chuckled, ignoring the reference to his age was automatic, elder elvan often made such remarks, calling anyone younger than them inalla, which meant young one or little one. They claimed it was a term of affection, but Brynn knew it was often used to remind him he had not the age or experience to match his elders. Compliments from Belon were another matter entirely, as they did not come easily, and usually just before she pointed out a mistake: What had he done wrong now, he wondered?

  'Although,' Belon continued, 'you should focus on getting to Sal-Cirus in time for the festival.'

  Brynn could detect a tone of amusement in his mother's voice, it was well-concealed, but there none-the-less. He grumbled to himself, wanting to tell her that galloping at full speed was not the best means of travelling undetected, she was always reminding him of the need to be careful, after all. Speaking to one's elders in such a manner would attract reproval though. He felt more than heard her laugh in response to his thoughts before she said, 'While you have succeeded in avoiding the patrols so far, it might help if you were also heading in the right direction instead of being lost in the labyrinthine paths of your thoughts. You are surrounded by patrolling soldiers, inalla, you cannot afford to daydream. You must remain vigilant.'

  Brynn put up his mental barriers like an embarrassed child slamming his bedroom door. A quick look to the sun confirmed he was heading west instead of north. He would end up passing close to Haranti instead of heading to the Mehani Woods if he were not more attentive. He corrected Sershja's course, tugging lightly on reins anchored around the top of Sershja's head with no bit or leather encasing his muzzle.

  'You could have told me,' he muttered to Sershja, who turned his ears back towards Brynn. 'You know where we are going,' Brynn reproached sulkily.

  The charger picked up his pace, snorting non-committedly. Truth was, he'd been lost in his own thoughts of warm meadows, soft daisies, and the apple trees lining the fence near the paddock. Del-era would tease him about how he had access to those apples while Sershja was away.

  'Do not worry,' Brynn assured Sershja, leaning forward to murmur in his ear, 'Belon is storing the apples this season as we need all the reserves we can gather. But she is likely to remember the brave horse who accompanied me on my journey and keep some aside.'

  Sershja whinnied happily as he moved into a brisk trot, causing Brynn to laugh softly and pat the horse's neck.

  Day 1 – Morning

  Ancoulan

  Thane Nathan Kennelm paced impatiently by the window while the patrol dismounted and handed their horses over to the stable boys. If the news was bad, it was highly likely that, in his current mood, those mounts would not have riders by this eve. His appointment into this new role was a point of pride for him. A noble, Nathan did not have to enter the military, but he had wanted to acquire respect and power beyond his family name. Not long into his career, he had discovered he had an aptitude for interrogation, which was what first brought him to the attention of the Great Lord and led to his promotion to Chief of Investigation at Sal-Cirus and later the thaneship of Ancoulan. In both roles he had proved himself thwarting rebel plots and capturing several key rebel commanders. That hard work had paid off. The Great Lord Malithorn Abbarane himself had detailed the responsibilities Nathan's new role would encompass, which were primarily focused on hunting down the elvan described in The Prophecy. Nathan had no intention of disgracing the honour by repeating the failure of his predecessor, the now-deceased Thane Aldarsan, and one of his first actions had been to hire professionals to lead the search for the prophecised elvan. But, so far, they had yet to find any viable leads, and the Thane's patience was waning.

  Daniel, the lead rider and head of the mercenary group called Sentinel, who doubled as trackers and scouts, entered the main hall of Ancoulan Palace. He knelt briefly before the Thane, indicating his obeisance. Barely. Flicking his long fringe out of his eyes, the mercenary leader stood before the Thane like a noble rather than a man in service. Primarily trackers, Nathan had expected a scruffy conglomeration of undisciplined thugs, but the man before him was military-neat. His calf-length boots were clean, though not polished to the same sheen as the Thane's soldiers. His black pants had more pockets than Nathan thought useful, but at least his shirt, also black and devoid of embroidery, was tucked in. Aside from the long fringe, his fair hair was kept short. The Thane watched as Daniel's men filed past down the corridor on their way to the dining hall. They all wore a similar uniform to their leader and kept themselves orderly, another factor in the mercenary's favour.

  The Thane stepped away from the mercenary and moved down into an alcove to one side, taking the three steps briskly and waving off the servant who was at the coffee trolley. 'Leave,' he instructed.

  After a moment's hesitation, the Thane heard Daniel follow him. He looked at the mercenary in the reflection of the window. That Daniel displayed impressive nerve by retaining his independent opinion at the end of a long queue of mindless dolts was the only reason he had lasted this long. Nathan found the verbal sparring matches resulting from Daniel's lack of fear refreshing, and he often found himself goading the young idiot into arguing with him, just to see how far he would go. Of course, one day, when Daniel exhausted his use, Nathan would kill him.

  Turning, Nathan made the mercenary leader stand there for a few moments more. If he got nervous, that was good. He looked at the narrow, green eyes, the high cheekbones and brow. Could there be a trace of elvan blood in this man's lineage? The curved blade in the scabbard hanging from Daniel's right hip was elvan in design. Any elvan connection might be to Nathan's advantage someday. It was the law in these lands, and rightly so, that all with elvan blood were slaves. They'd never found any evidence of inter-breeding, but it was often used as a reason to dispossess nobles or military men that proved a hindrance to Great Lord's plans. In Daniel's case, should he need to be diplomatically removed, classing him
part-elvan made him a slave and a slave certainly could not head a group of mercenaries, now, could he?

  Daniel returned the Thane's gaze without a trace of nervousness; he'd played this game many-a-time. The long silence and open assessment were meant to make him uneasy. Perhaps the first time, it had, but he'd quickly realised that nobles were more about bluff than action and like the animals he'd hunted over all his seasons, you never let the puffed feathers or the stamping hooves fool you. That did not mean they weren't dangerous, particularly in the case of this thane, and Daniel reminded himself, yet again, to try to keep his impatience in check.

  Light-grey eyes met his for a moment, before looking at his men as they passed in the corridor behind them. The long, thin nose matched the long, thin fingers that caressed the clean-shaven, long, thin chin. He knew that as the Thane considered his presentation humble, Daniel equally judged Nathan's garb extravagant. For instance, the elaborate, ornamented sword strapped to Nathan's side hardly looked practical and Daniel wondered whether the Thane could actually use it. Most nobility didn't even learn to fight and the weapons they wore were strictly decorative. It was doubtful there was a lot of muscle beneath the silk shirt and embroidered calf-length coat, Daniel thought.

  Abruptly, the Thane stepped back and turned to go into the little alcove on one side of the hall. His movement down the steps brought Daniel's attention to the ridiculously high-heeled boots Nathan wore, made no doubt to conceal how short he was. After a servant came scuttling out, Daniel realised the Thane meant to hear his report in a more private place and followed.

  The Thane spent a long moment staring out the window. Not a very intimidating look, being short, Daniel reflected. Without those boots, he'd be well over a head taller than the Thane. Perhaps his shortness of stature was the reason behind Nathan's brutal reputation. The Thane finally turned, his expression as hard as granite. Either way, Daniel was certain he was not about to have an easy time; he had no significant news to report.

  'Daniel...' the Thane finally purred. 'What news do you have? Has our search been successful?' Nathan kept his voice low and his face expressionless.

  Daniel looked his current master in the eye, and, resisting the urge to be sarcastic, he said, 'You already know I have not the news you want, else a messenger would have arrived long ago.'

  Daniel knew his reply could be considered insolent, even leaving off the deferential title of 'lord' could swiftly lead to being tied to a lashing post. Even so, the Thane had a habit of asking questions with obvious answers, wearing away at Daniel's already-thin patience. The lack of news always resulted in a lecture, as far as Daniel was concerned, he might as well earn it.

  Nathan inhaled deeply before letting the breath out slowly, indicating that he, too, was repressing his frustration. 'What,' he paused, tilting his head to one side, 'is it that makes this task so difficult to complete?' the Thane drew closer to the mercenary with each word, the scorn in his tone acidic. 'All I ask is that you capture one man. No! I correct myself, he is not even a man!' Nathan exclaimed, his voice dripping with mockery. 'He is merely an elvan! All I ask is that you capture this one elvan, and yet you have not a thing to show for your effort. I thought I was getting the best scouts in the land. So far, I see nothing!' Nathan finished with a snarl, his face now almost touching Daniel's.

  Daniel did not flinch from the closeness or the tone. Instead, he met the Thane's gaze. Nathan could detect no trace of anger or fear in the green pools. His level of respect for the mercenary's control went up a degree.

  'This elvan,' Daniel murmured, flicking his gaze to the marble floor, as he considered his words, 'has no name,' he looked back to the Thane, 'is known by no one. Has no parents or even a place to call home, as far as we know.' He watched Nathan closely for any response.

  'Your seer, Regen, informs us that this elvan will be travelling sometime within the next four sennats. When? He cannot say.' Daniel said, using the elvan term for a week, which was eight days long. 'But we should search from somewhere between the bottom of the Kadita Marshlands and the Alarus Forest to somewhere between the Mehani and Sengel Woods. Your advisers think it's highly likely he's travelling to Sal-Cirus, yet they cannot be certain. Regen himself says Denas is the location we should focus on, extending our search area even further east.'

  'Regen is only new to his appointment,' Nathan interrupted. 'I will be meeting with him later. In the meantime, there is nothing to support his view regarding Denas, consider it speculation.'

  'That is my point,' Daniel replied, doing well to keep the exasperation out of his voice. 'There seems to be nothing definitive in this matter. The description we have comes from an ancient prophecy about a mythical hero known as the Saviour, the Chosen, or, simply 'War'.'

  When Nathan said nothing more, Daniel grew a little bolder. 'The details of this prophecy are much debated, even among your experts. And you ask me, why we cannot find him? We are only one sennat into the time Regen specified, for all we know he hasn't even started his trip! Put that together with taking on Edgar's lot, who have not the training or skills my own men have, and there is the answer for the delay.'

  Nathan smirked. 'If you have an inkling of the leadership skills your reputation suggests, it should not be an issue. The more men we have out searching, the better.'

  'I agree, I have them out there already. So far, four elvan have crossed the wide path we have been instructed to patrol, one a female, one with the right coloured horse and the wrong coloured everything else—'

  'Whom you let walk right past your scouts!' Nathan snapped.

  Daniel shrugged. 'In the exact area assigned to Edgar's recruits.' He omitted pointing out that Nathan had made that assignation.

  'I did not ask for excuses!'

  'I'm not offering them,' Daniel retorted, being very careful to keep his tone even. 'I'm only pointing out that they have less experience in tracking than my teams. I've already alerted the patrols in the lower regions of the search area. He may bypass Edgar's men, but he will not get through mine. Besides, even you acknowledged the rebels are particularly skilled at evading scouts, perhaps it would be wise to start sending mages along with the patrols, as I initially suggested.'

  Nathan ignored Daniel's implication that his decision not to assign mages to the patrols was a poor one. He was not about to discuss internal politics with a servant.

  'You employed us because of our reputation,' Daniel said introducing a more soothing tone. 'We have proven it before and I have no doubt that we will again.' Daniel held Nathan's gaze again. He judged that the Thane wanted to take out his displeasure on someone. But, they couldn't instantly produce this elvan just because the Thane was growing impatient, they were trackers not magicians.

  'The thing that makes a good tracker is patience,' Daniel said softly. 'Be assured, we will get this elvan if he crosses our search area. He is bound to let his guard down at some point and we will be close by when he does. Just give us the time to close the net about him. Do not risk your prize by rushing your hunters. That is no way to hunt.'

  Nathan grimaced, not liking the logic, but not able to argue against it. 'Get me that elvan on the white and grey horse,' he ordered, turning on his heel and stalking off. 'Get me all male elvan in the area. Raid the slave camps if you have to, I want to see them, every single one! Spread the word to the slave traders; two thousand sovereigns to the man who turns him in. Take your time hunting him, Daniel, but spread the net wide and do not waste any resource!' the Thane commanded without turning his head or stopping as he crossed the hall and ascended the stairs to his private rooms.

  Daniel exhaled with relief as he watched the Thane leave. It was hard to judge the line between strength and submission. Mercenaries were hired for two reasons; to boost the numbers of the internal military or because they had something the army could not offer. Daniel's trackers provided a certain amount of specialist skills to the thanes. Nathan may hate him for his independence, but if he wanted to put an obedient man with
no initiative in charge of this search, then he would have given this post to one of his captains. He would grant Daniel begrudging respect for his courage to stand up to him. At the same time, though, he was highly aware that to test this thane, who was said to be deadly even when he was in a good mood, would be a balancing act worthy enough to qualify him to be an elite acrobat. Daniel shrugged. The danger was a part of the position. Although, if he was honest with himself, he would recognise that this wasn't the only reason he stood up to Nathan, for a part of him demanded he be treated no less than equal, even without a title. It was a dangerous approach, he knew, but Nathan had little choice if he wanted his elvan found. Still, he thought, it would be best if he applied more discipline to his emotions until their goal was achieved. Nathan had not just killed Edgar, the mercenary leader whose company Daniel had been forced to merge with his, he had ensured Edgar's death was excruciatingly slow.

  Day 1 – Mid-morning

  Alarus Forest

  Baschia sniffed the air with more concentration. She was downwind, so the elvan was unaware she had caught up. His scent was minutes old and she judged him to be around a kilometre ahead. It was the other scent she detected that caught her attention. Men. Several of them. It was most likely a patrol. She decided to investigate before she determined what to do. 'Never take action in the shadow of ignorance,' her mother had cautioned when teaching her to stalk, pounce, and kill. This was not the first patrol lying in wait that her elvan counterpart had bypassed, however, this was the first time she had come upon one while they were still in hiding.

  Baschia could discern the presence of eight humans hidden within the field. Their scents were not like the elvan's; they were 'saltier'. Mages, human or elvan, also had a 'scent' of their own, but not one detected by smell, it was a planes-borne signature that only other mages or ones like herself could track. It was more likely in a patrol like this, the mage would be human, and so Baschia was extra careful as she checked for mage scents. Elvan mages had the talent born to them, but human mages had to work harder to achieve the same skills. As a result, they were more thorough and intense about their methods, and often better at concealing themselves. Fortunately for her and her elvan companion, there were no mages in this group.