Another Omen

Athilea Majiri

   

       'Portents, omens, signs in the sky, who could keep them all straight anyway?' Alia wondered as she looked at the oddly burnt tree that lay before her.
       It meant something, she was certain of that, but it had been so long. She knelt next to the tree and tried to remember everything that she had been taught. Nothing would return to her memory though. She was beginning to feel like she had become a horrible priestess. Her thoughts had even taken her so far as to consider leaving the sacred order.
       Her peers had talked her out of it though, and she still remained a religious symbol. One that the people of her land looked upon and revered as the very gods were, for they were the only worldly connection to them. It bothered her that they should be looked on as the gods, especially when there were women like her in the order that could not remember what the signs meant.
       Normally she had a book of her notes with her, a journal some considered it. It tended to have just enough information in it to lead her down the right path, but never just gave her the answers she sought. This time, however, the book had been left on the table by her bed. She wished that she hadn't left in such a rush, but she felt like she had been suffocating in that house.
       Finally, after staring at the fallen and burnt tree for a few hours she stood up, and her bones popped. It was time that she headed back. She'd had nothing to eat all day and she needed to rest. Her family would be worried about her by now anyway.


       That night she woke up several times drenched in sweat as she worried of the tree. She knew what it could mean, her book made certain of that, but none of the meanings brought good tidings. The dreams consisted of past wars, both stories she'd been told and her own memories.
       There had been many wars in her land, a couple of them in her lifetime, and most of them had started after signs, such as the tree, had been discovered by a priestess. She had to tell the rest of her order. None of them were awake, but if she was to get any rest she had to go to them then. She got dressed and ran out of her house, ignoring the worried barks of her dog.
       It took her about fifteen minutes to get the high priestesses house from her own but that was only because there were no people in the streets to stop her at this late hour. Normally she had what felt like hundreds of questions to answer for the people of Arindial, the city in which she lived, and they would not let her pass until she spoke with them. When she reached the door she knocked on it vigorously and it took about two more minutes before the door opened.
       The High Priestess looked at Alia and her eyes widened, "What is it, girl? What's wrong," she asked as she led her into the modest house.
       "I-I found an oddly burnt tree stump. There will be trouble soon I think, and I don't know that our city can handle another war," she sat heavily on one of the wooden chairs but ignored the pain that this granted her.
       The High Priestess sat down slowly as she stared into the fire, silenced by what Alia had found. After a moment she looked to Alia, "Well, we will just have to go to the count in the morning and tell him. He'll be forced to make fast allies with the citadels surrounding us."
       The young priestess just seemed to become more irritated by this, "He won't listen! You know that as well as I. He's more concerned with the next wench that he can share a bed with then he is about the well being of his people!"
       "I understand that you’re very upset, but that's the only choice we have. Why don't you stay here tonight and we'll go to the count first the in the morning."
       "No, I'll handle this myself. You go to the count if you want, but I think I know a better way to handle this," with that Alia left her matrons house and back to her own. Quickly she packed a sack full of clothing and food and left again. Within moments she was on her horse and riding back out of the town. She had decided that she would handle this on her own, and by the gods she meant to. There was no way the count was going to help them.


       A scout was resting for a moment when he was startled by the sounds of horses’ hooves. He ducked behind a tree and watched as a woman went rushing by. At first, he didn't think anything about it, but then he realized just how late it was. He ran back to his commander and related what he had just seen. This seemed to please the tall, dark man as he told the scout that he wouldn't be needed for a while. The scout had fully expected to be "dispatched" when he returned, and was surprised when he was just allowed to mount a horse and follow them for a few hours.
       It had been a grueling last couple of weeks in the Thorack army. The commander was heartless and ruthless; he would kill his own men if he thought that they no longer served a purpose. This had become a rough lot in life, and all he wished was to be somewhere else. Then his thoughts returned to the woman he had seen. There was something about her that he couldn't quite place. It was as though he had seen her before, but he had never been in this part of Syliandir. The small village he was from didn't have a fancy name; it was just known as The Hunters Land. That's where the commander found him, where he was basically kidnapped form.
       None of this changed the fact in any way that he felt certain he had seen her somewhere before, though he hadn't really gotten a good look at her face. There was something in her aura that told him he knew her. Where could it be from though? He found himself wracking his brain as he tried to figure it out. Finally he gave up and fell asleep on the horse, trusting that his fellows would not let the horse lead him astray.
       He found himself dreaming of the girl, but not on horseback. She was standing somewhere that he had never been before, but she was somehow looking straight at him. The scout got the feeling that he was in a temple of some sort, though the architecture of the building was strange though, even in the dream if felt old, ancient really. Where was it though, why was she there, was he there with her? These and more question ran through his mind as he tried to figure it out.
       The horse he was riding jerked and he awoke to an abysmal scene. He had been lead astray, but it was not the horses fault, his commander must have ordered his men to do it should the scout return. With a sigh the scout, Jerilian, dismounted his horse as he was ordered. He knew what they were going to do; they were going to give him a chance. It was more then likely that he would still die in the Lonely Forest, but at least it was a chance.
       Just as he suspected they gave him some of their rations, water, a weapon, and wished him more luck then they thought they would have themselves. With that they rode away, the blood of a wild bird was on their blades to prove his death. Then he was alone, alone with his thoughts and a horse that would likely carry him now where but to his death. He rode on reluctantly.


       She stood before the King, the one that ruled over all others in this land, and pleaded for his help. She tried to explain their situation as best she could. The count of her Arindial was no help, and that she was certain another war was soon to start. No matter how hard she begged, however, the King would not listen.
       "You have to help us!!! Your the only help the people in your land have," she said angrily, which caused the guards to tense, "I'm just a priestess of Torsi, they will not listen to me. I am willing to bet that they won’t even listen to the High Priestess of my order. Please help us," she cried out desperately as she fell to her knees before the king, exhausted.
       The King tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne as he watched the woman that sat crying before him. Finally he spoke, "I will see what I can do, but the decision for an alliance is between the counts. I can only make them fight along side each other, after that they will be at odds with one another again."
       She looked up at him, her cheeks stained with tears, but hope had filled her eyes, "Oh, thank you my liege! Thank you," her voice was soft, barely above a whisper as she kissed his ring gently, "I will go tell the High Priestess immediately."
       The woman bowed before him and then ran out of the castle. She hadn't even considered the thought of resting, there wasn't time. The King and his men just stared after her. He wasn't really planning on doing anything; the only thing that made him promise was because he thought the poor woman had gone mad. The way she ran out of the great hall just pushed him further into the belief that she was touched, as they said.


       Alia rode long and hard, and would of killed the horse had something not caught her interest. She dismounted and walked in the direction her mind told her to go. It didn't take long before she found it, the ruins of an ancient temple to a long forgotten god. There was some power here that still lived, that called to her. It was time for this ancient deity to return, and she had apparently been chosen to bring him to life once more.
       She moved through the ruined doorway as she stared at the statue that should lay in pieces as well, but stood perfectly intact. It looked as though it had been built that day. She was in aw of the figure depicted by the statue, one that only legends had been written about. It was another omen, another sign that she didn't clearly understand. She was so tired that she didn't even try.
       The statue was of a tall woman that was well endowed, curvaceous. A woman that sported long pointed ears that no head piece could possibly allow for and the eyes seemed to glow with a purple light. In the hands of this deity was a staff with what looked that a winged serpent wrapped around the ball at the top, but for the fact that it had four legs when a snake has none.
       Alia placed hands that trembled with anticipation on the base of the staff and began to pray in a language she had never heard before. When the goddess spoke to her it was like the sweetest music any mortal could ever dream of producing. She told Alia that she was the only hope there was for her people, that her gods were false ones, and that she wanted her rightful place back.
 
       Jerilian heard a sound speaking, a sound that filled his soul with the hope he had lost. He followed if to the ruins of an ancient temple that was still partially intact. The walls, and the portion of the roof that had not fallen were all that kept the statue from being a decrepit dead thing. Then he saw her. The statue, the remains of the temple, it all disappeared because she was all that mattered to him.


       There was a sound and she was pulled from her trance, her palaver with a goddess of yore. What she saw was the man that had been invading her dreams for as long as she could remember. The goddess, Anixia, had explained to her that it was a sign she had been over looking. Another omen that had gone unnoticed, and unheeded by her. He was a key part of her life and she had almost lost him. Anixia had the time to intervene before his death though, and lead him here just as Alia had been.


       Not a word was spoken between the two on that fateful day. They came together and lavished each other with the attention both had craved for their entire lives, but never thought to receive. It was these two that eventually gave birth to a new race that was an old race. One that had disappeared before it's time, forced into extinction by the Thorack Army, the same army the man had been unwillingly recruited into.
       The priestess, along with the help of her new found love, brought back Anixia's word and spread it. They were eventually killed by the same commander that had tried to kill Jerilian once. Their words went on, and they eventually became legend. And the spot where the temple to Anixia stood was rebuilt around the statue that had remained so perfect, but not another person was spoken to as Alia was. It was just another vision, another omen, but not one that went unheeded.

©2006 Pamela "Athilea" Johnson All Rights Reserved