In the early
morning hours King Vendumar was awaken by a horrific nightmare but told no one
of its details. He called for his
Councilors: Spiritual Advisor, Chef Guard and the Mayor of Mithar. Though their conversations eased him back to
a waking state, none could tell him his dream or its meaning.
The Mayor said,
“Forgive me O King, but there is one from the Nasilian camp named Kimashe,
called a Seer by her people. It is said
that ‘she knows the unknown and can discern the yet to be’, sire.”
Vendumar replied,
“You are all good as you are but in this matter – bring her before me, but do
not breathe a word as to why. That I may
know she is true or false.”
Going out to the
tent city of Slavath, a mile from the city gate of Mithar they searched her
out. At a blue tent on the outside of
the settlement Kalena, the Mayor and two tower guards dismounted their steads
as he called out her name. From within
the tent, she called them inside. The
tent looked much grander and larger on the inside than its small outside
appearance. Many colored veils and lit
candles were everywhere, bones and feather and furs. Rising from a pillowed seat a young woman
said, “He has cried for three nights, but only this morning has he begged an
answer from you and two others. Even now
he orders me to appear for a meaning of his woe.”
“How did –,” began
Kalena?
But Kimashe replied
in haste, “We must go.” She walked as
the three others rode horseback refusing to be lifted up. Through the great statued gate, down the
cobbled stone streets to the many stairs of Varlendur they soon came before the
king in his tower.
Behind the King’s
throne the wall was a painted with a scene of the Great Departure; the boarding
of the last swan ship. For all his power
Vendumar had no understanding of his own dream. Coming before the king, Kalena introduced her,
“Sire, here is the Nasilian Seer, Kimashe by name lord.”
Kimashe stood dressed in a white hooded robe, both hands and bare feet adorned with
rings and bracelets; she was covered in tattoos. Her face was sand white, and hair black as
coal. Just as King Vendumar was about to
speak, she spoke instead, “The bleeding-eye crows have nothing better to do
than to torment you for the last three night of your sleep, and wrestle with
your thoughts in the day, mi lord.
Shaken and crying in the night like an abandon child in a sand
storm. I tell you now oh King to command
your scribe to write down all that I say; and the day my words perish is the
day the dreams return worse than before.”
Vendumar nodded,
even as the scribe was already fast at his work. Then the king asked, “What was the dream and
its meaning, child?”
“A bleeding eye
crow sat on a huge cut stone lying on its side.
The crow flew to the ground as the pillar was raised. Four times this happened. Yet amid the standing stones were six bleeding
eye crows walking about on the blood soaked ground.”
The king was happy
to have found someone who could tell him his dream but was in awe at who spoke the
words. The one before him was no more
than a child of eight, but her maturity was more. Vendumar inquired, “There was another.”
Kimashe looked very
grave, “Indeed there was sire. For all
six crows came together as one making a seventh larger crow. The seventh crow had white bleeding eyes and
a forked tongue like a snake. The large,
sharped tongue crow began pecking at a gold, ringlet-leaf crown, like
yours. It filled with holes and each one
was bleeding, before it fell apart and melted into the blood soaked ground.”
Falling back into
his throne with great fright, Vendumar gasped, “Come wicked child! Pray tell me surely the meaning of such
disgust and mare as this thing you have made plan to me and all here. These are the very things indeed that have so
plagued me!”
Both of her arms rose
out and became stiff. Her fingers went
jagged and ridged as her own grey eyes began to bleed. Suddenly her gentle voice sounded like that of
an old man, “Six shall come, and four be slain and their black words shall see
much blood spilt. A seventh shall rise
greater than the six. Embolden by them
the very king who hears him shall be the final one!” After her prophecy she collapsed to the
floor. Upon standing she was as before.
The entire room was
much worried by her words. Vendumar
said, “No one shall speak against the king.
The king himself, alone shall reprieve or condemn any who do for that is
what kings do; fate and judgement. In
this matter, I perceive you have spoken truthfully without malice. We shall strive in our reign to cause only
light, good and harmony to continue in -.”
“What of Varlendur
and the dungeon renown through Eriduah; and you as holder of its iron key?” Kimashe
interrupted.
Vendumar saw this
was no child before him but something greater, “You have been afforded good
will up to this point, Seer of Nasil.
Watch your words and tone thereof.
There is a reason and season for that key and its business is no concern
of yours. Thank you for your service;
you may either return to your old life or begin a new one here.”
“I shall return unhindered
either way.” As she turned to leave the
great tower doors flew open on their own accord to the dismay of all.
...
