The Silver Arrow (4 page)

“What do you mean, have what?”
Iseac asked.

Iseac saw the look he had come
to recognize well in Gabram when he was about to show him something
most people would consider impossible.

“All Anamerians inherit this
gift; however, their ability to use it varies depending on the
individual. Did you see images inside and around the Grand Hall
during the unlocking?”

“Yes,” Iseac replied, wondering
why.

“Yosterio,” Gabram said with
some excitement.

“Yoste. What?” Iseac asked,
knowing he would explain.

“Yosterio,” Gabram corrected.
“That is what it is called in the old tongue. It means ‘mirror
boarding’; it is a special gift that allows you to see things
outside your surrounding by setting an image in your core.”

Iseac looked at him, lost. “I’m
not sure what you mean.”

“I’ll show you,” Gabram said,
seeing clearly that Iseac had no idea what he was talking about.
“Get on one knee and close your eyes. I want you to think of
something you saw outside today, something close to the house.
Signal when you can visualize it in your mind.”

Iseac did when he was
ready.

“Good; now place the image in
your core,” Gabram said. “Place the tip of your finger on the floor
and let the image in your core flow through it.”

As Iseac did, he felt a sudden
sensation like a ripple run from his body into the ground. A wall
of fog appeared in front of him and within his mind’s eye; he
flowed through it and could see the exact yellow flower outside and
other plants around the house. Shocked by the experience, he opened
his eyes, breaking his concentration and connection to his
core.

The expression on Iseac’s face
was enough for Gabram to know that he had done it. Iseac looked up
at Gabram, his eyes wide with surprise.

“That was yosterio,” Gabram
said with a smile. “If you can hold your concentration long enough,
you can see beyond your surroundings. While other people go to
sleep hoping they are safe, you should always go to bed knowing you
are. Always check your surroundings as far as your mind will let
you.”

Even though Iseac’s first
experience of yosterio was strange, frightening, and exciting at
the same time, he quickly picked it up. It was like riding a horse
after eighteen years: you never really forget. The process was
exhausting, especially the farther out he reached his mind, and he
quickly learned that there was a limit to stretching one’s mind.
Once he had to stay in bed for two days to recover his balance
after holding on too long.

They returned to Rod Stone
temple on Iseac’s last day in preparation for what would be the
quest of his life. When he got to his room, there was a long case
on his bed.

It was slim, about five feet
long, and next to it was a note that read:

“Now that you are ready, I
believe this may come in handy.” Nothing else identified the person
who left it, but he had his suspicions.

Iseac opened the case to find
an amazingly well-crafted quarterstaff. It was polished deep brown
and, at a casual glance, looked almost black. The middle was
wrapped in woven leather about six inches wide. Both ends were
wrapped in metal rods that were the same color as the wood.

Lifting it up, Iseac was
impressed at how perfectly balanced it felt in his hands.

After supper, Iseac decided to
go down to the temple archives, which were below the main floor. He
made his way down several flights of stairs made of marble tiles
that curved down, leading into a short hallway. At the end of the
hallway stood an oak door with metal inlays that extended into the
wall as part of the design. The door itself had no visible handle,
just a small metal panel. The massive room was filled with ancient
records and vast numbers of books. Iseac was hoping to find
something interesting to get his mind off the big announcement that
was happening the next day. He perused several of the scrolls,
books, and maps, and after several hours, decided to head back to
his room. As he rose to leave, something caught his eyes—a little
green cylindrical box knitted in a finely crafted pattern. It felt
out of place beside the other books. Iseac pulled out the box and
opened it to reveal a scroll that looked untouched. Curious, he
broke the seal and began to read as the words came to life in his
mind.

***************

Alicia, the midwife, and her
maid ran in and out of the bedroom preparing warm cloths,
sheets, and ointment as Archena groaned with pain; the day had
finally arrived that she would be delivered.

“The cerinum roots will ease
the pain; just chew,” Alicia said to the laboring mother as her
maid moved over to her back, making sure she was propped up enough
by shifting the pillows behind Archena’s back for more support. The
maid returned to her side, wiping off the beaded sweat that spotted
Archena’s brow using a damp rag.

“Now take slower breaths,”
Alicia said as she checked on her progress. “You are doing just
fine.”

Alicia’s presence had a
soothing and reassuring feeling. She spoke calmly, with the
confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times.

The raining season was over and
so, like every other day during this time of the year, the sky was
clear blue with no clouds in sight. The sun was almost at its
zenith, with the air hot and dry, when something strange happened.
The sky started to change in the middle of the day.

This was not the natural gray
sky that came with cloud cover; instead, the sun was losing its
light and being overshadowed by darkness. Those on the street
turned to look at the heavens. Within minutes, the sun was gone and
it was pitch-black, like midnight. Widespread panic rolled through
the streets as people ran to their homes for safety.

Silence filled the void as the
streets became empty, and while nothing stirred, a faint sound
suddenly broke the silence. The almost cat-like cry was coming from
the herbalist shop, something that a few minutes ago would have
been lost in the noise outside. It was the unique and unmistakable
sound of a crying child, and a short time later, Archena was handed
a little boy wrapped in white swaddling. She rocked her crying babe
gently only the way a mother can.

The pains from her experience
were an almost—distant memory as she smiled at him, her face filled
with the joy of a new mother. The rocking motion of her back and
forth soon sent the babe to sleep, and she too drifted off to sleep
a few minutes later, drawn in by exhaustion.

While mother and child rested,
three women walked briskly along a narrow pathway behind several
homes with orange glowing windows that came from the light inside.
It was a footpath of compact clay that joined the main street,
which was empty. They moved with a single objective, ignoring the
sound of everything around them, their intent as clear as their
destination.

A creaking sound came from the
door opening at the herbalist shop, followed by several footsteps
as someone walked in. Alicia had been busy putting away some of her
remedies held in little wooden containers on the lower shelves at
the front of her shop and was hidden by the counter in front.

It wasn’t strange or surprising
to have a visitor in the middle of the night when there was a
problem that couldn’t wait until the next day. So it was a little
surprising to find three members of the village Council standing at
her doorway and looking around.

Dressed in their usual brown
gowns with wide hanging sleeves, the inside of the dress red, they
looked at her. The hoods of their cloaks were held down together
above their chest by a crystal broach that rested in the middle of
their bosom. The crystal gleamed as it reflected off the lamplight
inside.

Each woman had a different
color broach denoting her position. The crystals were either white,
which was the lowest rank, then brown, red, or black, which was the
highest rank or position within the Council. In these parts,
members of the Council were revered as spiritual leaders and
judges. However, they rarely meddled in civil affairs, even though
they had that right.

“We seek the names of all
mothers that were delivered here today,” the woman with the red
broach said as she stepped forward. She was short and stocky with
her hair pulled back, revealing her round face. The two behind her
also stepped forward so that they were less than an arm’s length
from her. Her tone was direct, leaving no room for question.

“Of course,” Alicia said
without hesitating.

She leaned to her side,
stretching her hand underneath her counter to grab a note, which
she placed on the counter. Once they had the information they came
for, she curtsied and they turned and left without saying another
word. Alicia stood there for a minute, marveled by what just
happened. She knew with Council business you do what you are told
to honor your house, and that meant everything.

The following morning, Alicia
checked on Archena and the babe, making sure they were fit for
travel.

“Take two spoonfuls of this for
seven days,” Alicia said, handing Archena a small jar. She then
gave her some advice on feeding, cleaning, and generally taking
care of her babe.

She wrapped a cloth that hung
loosely just below Archena’s bust, with both ends of the cloth tied
in a knot over her left shoulder, creating a cradle. She placed the
child in the makeshift carrier in the front, and when they were
ready, Alicia saw her to the door.

Dew was still on the trees in
the cool morning air when Archena left with her son. It was going
to be another hot day, with the sun already lighting the sky with
its presence.

Archena was beaming like every
new mother as she walked home. She was looking forward to showing
her new pride and joy to her family, relatives, and the people in
the surrounding area of her village.

She knew, though, that parading
her son would mean listening to the unwelcomed advice of every
mother who knew this was her first. “No matter,” she thought, still
in awe of the child she carried in front of her. The roads had the
normal stream of people this early in the morning as she walked,
checking on her son regularly. Passersby occasionally exchanged
greetings, and as it got warmer in the day, most people walked by
the side of the dirt road, using the trees for shade as the sun
licked the remaining moisture from the ground, leaving the red dirt
road flaky.

By midday she was on the
stretch of road that led to her village, and from her vantage she
could make out the position of her house. It was a modest home,
built on a platform that stood a foot from the ground, made from
clay mixed with straw. It was light brown outside and gray on the
inside, so it was cooler during the dry season, which was the
hottest time of the year. Most homes had a garden, which separated
the houses, but Archena’s had trees that stood high above her
straw-roofed home.

As she drew closer to her
house, the back of the building now in sight, there was no
welcoming party, which was strange. It was customary that family
and close friends checked frequently for the arrival of the new
mother. The child is introduced by the father to the family and
given a name.

Music and celebration normally
followed the brief ceremony. The women would have people watching
for her arrival. She started wondering what could have happened to
everyone. Observing her surroundings more closely for sign of
disturbance or trouble, nothing stood out, but it did not feel
right. Something obviously had happened while she was gone.

As she turned the corner, the
entrance to her home now visible, she suddenly felt her heart
drop.

Members of the Council stood at
her doorway next to her husband, Hammond.

“What would members of the
Council want with us? Are they waiting for me?” She thought, hoping
her fear was unfounded.

“What is going on?” she asked,
trying to to sound worried as she met Hammond halfway. He looked
heartbroken, even with his attempt to smile.

His eyes were dim, not the look
one would expect from a proud father. He tried not to look at the
child, fighting the longing. Clearing his throat, he spoke before
Archena could ask another question. “Let’s go inside,” he said,
leading the way, the Council following behind.

“No, I’m fine,” Archena said
lightheartedly. “I’ve only been gone for two days. I know I can
still serve and find my way around this house. If I need a drink,
I’ll get one.”

It was expected as courtesy to
offer a guest seat and a drink, since Hammond made no such offer to
their guest before she sat down. She knew they had been waiting for
her, which made what they had to say more unnerving.

“Now, come, sit,” Archena said,
gesturing to Hammond. “We don’t want to keep our guests
waiting.”

A Council member stepped
forward once Hammond sat down. She was above average height and
past her middle years, with streaks of gray in her hair. She spoke
in an almost declaratory tone.

“We, the Council, have come to
claim all children marked by Rami-hado, translated to mean ‘hand of
the shadow’, whose spirit was stretched over the sun, turning it to
blackness. The child you hold was marked by his birth. He must be
cleansed as it is written.”

The words struck Archena’s
heart like a blacksmith’s hammer and for a second, she could not
breathe.

In her mind, she cast the words
away, not believing what she just heard. Her world was about to
fall apart. “No! It cannot be…he is our first,” she said, her voice
quivering as she spoke, while trying to maintain some composure.
Like a cracked dam at the brink of eruption, she held her
emotion.

It was expected of delta women
that any outward expressions of emotion only happen in the solitude
of their home. Archena was in shock. There was nothing she could
say or do that would change things now. Once the Council had
spoken, it was final.