by Abby “Merc” Rustad
Kayen scrubbed his sweaty palms against his trouser legs. The bread and grapes he’d gulped down for breakfast churned in his belly. Don’t get sick, not now! He swallowed hard.
The nervousness didn’t lessen.
He halted on the edge of the cobbled highway and stared at the gaudy, pleated tent ahead of him. Two bouncers dressed in white and yellow silks lounged on either side of the entrance.
Down the road, the rumble of cartwheels and the excited shouts of a caravan carried in the still air. If he hesitated any longer, the pilgrims would swarm over the tent and he’d be stuck waiting most of the day to see the fortuneteller.
Kayen squeezed his hands together behind his back, closed his eyes, and threw every bit of effort into calming himself. Vomiting on the threshold of the fortuneteller’s tent wasn’t the kind of first impression he could afford to make. He’d embarrass the school, and his teachers, along with himself.
“You coming, boy? Or do you plan to wither there in the sun?”
Kayen opened his eyes. Both the bouncers laughed at him.
His face flushed. Straightening his back, Kayen walked stiff-legged up to the taller of the two men. The sheer veils they wore, protection from the dust, didn’t hide their smirks.
“I was sent here by Master Tassan of the Order of Starlight,” Kayen said.
“Were you?” The tall man glanced sidelong at his fellow, eyebrows raised. “I thought bladesmen were fearless warriors.”
“Not scrawny pups looking too sick to get out of bed,” the second bouncer said.
Kayen wished he had sunburn to hide the furious heat in his cheeks. That’s rich, coming from an overfed eunuch. He pressed his lips together and swallowed down the comeback—even if it was true.
This was the first part of his initiation into the second level of study. The charms and god-spices hung around his neck chaffed his skin—small tokens to show his devotion and bring him favor. For over a week he’d prayed to the Fate Goddess, asking Her to grant him an honorable destiny. Anything less and his life was over—he’d be thrown out of the Order of Twilight, forced to find work as a hired sword. The thought was enough to expel the food from his belly.
He’d served the Fate Goddess faithfully all his life. She wouldn’t frown on him now.
“I have an appointment,” Kayen said from between clenched teeth. He pulled out the copper medallion. It was shaped as a crescent moon, with the school’s emblem shown in bas-relief on one side.
Still grinning, the bouncers pulled back the tent flaps. “Lady Archeenia awaits you, boy.”
“Rat, more like,” the shorter man said. “Washed out from the sewers.”
Both chuckled.
“Don’t be pissing on the floors, rat. Less you want to lose those balls of yours.”
Kayen refused to look at them. If he’d had his rapier, it might have been different. But the only weapon Master Tassan had let him take was his initiation dagger. It wouldn’t intimidate the bouncers, both of whom had sabers strapped to their sides.
Passing through a curtain of rice strands, Kayen gagged on the incense-laden air. Lavender and sandalwood fragrance clung to the back of his throat. It reminded him of the temples back home in the city.
His heart tripled its beat. Please smile on me, Great Queen.
“Welcome,” said a sultry voice.
Kayen peered around the dim interior. All he saw was the silhouette of a woman sitting cross-legged on a low table.
“Come here, child.”
Kayen hated his slight stature. It always made him appear younger than he was. He looked down to hide the flicker of anger and approached, the sealskin rugs under his feet keeping his steps silent.
“You have been sent from the Order of Twilight, yes?”
Kayen nodded.
“I sense you have a destiny of power about you.”
Kayen yanked his gaze up. His lips stretched up in a grin before he caught himself. I knew it! She does smile on me!
“Sit down, young man.”
Kayen knelt on the fur cushion, clasping his hands to hide the shaking. Already the sting of the bouncers’ words had faded to insignificance. “What kind of power?”
A throaty chuckle escaped the woman. “All shall be revealed if you are patient.”
She waved her hand and a brazier by her side kindled to life. Violet-hued light wreathed her head. Lady Archeenia’s golden eyes, characteristic of all Goddess-blessed fortunetellers, fixed on Kayen. She smiled; a dimple formed in her cheek. “Be calm and I shall tell you what Fate has chosen to bestow upon your future.”
Kayen leaned forward. This is it.
Lady Archeenia pulled a collection of bones and leaves, pebbles and carved bits of wood, from a pouch on her belt. She shook the items three times in cupped hands, chanting unintelligible words. With a high-pitched caterwaul, she tossed the items on the table.
Kayen wondered how she even saw the items in the shadows shrouding the tabletop. It was a passing curiosity—the Goddess-blessed had abilities other mortals didn’t.
Brushing a curl of pale hair from her forehead, she studied her casting. “Power is about you indeed.” Lady Archeenia indicated a sliver of bone, its jagged point facing him. “That is the symbol for long life. It means you will not die soon.”
Master Tassasn will be pleased. “And the rest?”
“The oak spirit—” she pointed at a carved bit of wood “—tells me you will be blessed with strength and knowledge, and men shall bow before you.”
With every proclamation, Kayen saw his future brighten. “And?”
She didn’t answer at first. Then she pressed a hand to the base of her throat. “Goddess! No…”
Kayen leaned closer still until he almost touched the edge of the table. “What is it?”
Lady Archeenia stared at him, the whites showing in her eyes.
Bile crawled up his throat. “What’s wrong?”
“You are Fate’s Chosen One.”
Kayen blinked. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that a good sign?”
Lady Archeenia shook her head. “See how the oak leaf lies crushed by this piece of jawbone?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “And how the black pebble touches the white birch bark so it appears the bark has a hole in it, deeper than the starless night?”
Kayen licked his lips. “Yes.”
“This sign was prophesied thousands of years ago, and the knowledge of it has been passed down through my ancestors, all ambassadors of Fate.”
“What does it mean?”
“It marks the one who receives it. He shall become the Scourge of Light.”
Kayen shivered. “I don’t understand.”
“The Scourge will cover the lands with death and chaos.” Lady Archeenia swept a lock of hair back from her angled face. “He begins his reign of destruction and darkness by slaying his family and a thousand innocents, leaving their bodies in the ditch for the crows.”
Kayen sat back on his heels, trying to clear the daze from his head. Impossible. This couldn’t be right—had he misheard? Had she misread? That was just as farfetched, yet he scrambled for a better explanation. “But I’d never do that!”
Murder people? He wanted to become a Ward of Twilight to protect others, to prove to himself and to everyone else that he wasn’t a coward.
“I’d die before I’d kill my own family.”
“Child, it has already been foretold.”
Kayen shook his head. “No, there has to be some other explanation.”
Genuine sorrow touched Lady Archeenia’s voice. “The Goddess has spoken.”
“I served Her so well all these years…” Kayen’s shoulders slumped and his chest felt empty.
Why had She cursed him like this?
What had he done to deserve this kind of fate? He’d be the exact opposite of what he longed for—he’d be a monster when he wanted to become a protector, a man to whom the helpless looked up to and believed in. Instead they would hate and fear him.
After spending days in the temples on each full moon, praying and fasting; after miserable nights spent on fruitless patrol with the older bladesmen; after all he’d sacrificed and denied himself to make himself worthy—now it was meaningless. That’s what She was telling him?
“Why should I even believe you?” He regretted the stupid question at once. He had no reason to doubt the seer, much as he wanted to.
“Give me your hands.”
“Why?”
“You shall see.”
She reached forward and took his hands. Hers were like ice.
Kayen tried hard to breathe. The crushing horror and disappointment of what he’d been told made the simple task difficult. I can’t be the Scourge. Without doubt, his hopes for being a full bladesman of the Order were done for.
Lady Archeenia titled her head back and hummed again, then looked Kayen in the eyes. “If I told you something from your past, something only you and the Great Queen know, would you believe me?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t need to convince him; she needed to tell him there was a way to change his destiny.
“Five years ago,” Lady Archeenia said, “you came upon two thieves who were beating and robbing a lone merchant on the road. You could have helped him, but you hid and did nothing. The man died of his wounds, and the next day the thieves were caught and hung. You still feel guilt for this inaction, and went to the famed school of swords to learn the art of the blade from Tassan, so that by helping others, you may redeem yourself. You have never told anyone of this, for the shame that still eats at you.”
Kayen’s face burned again. Why that humiliating bit from his past? “Isn’t there anything I can do?”
“I fear not, child.” Lady Archeenia’s voice had a dull, resigned quality now. “You cannot fight it, Kayen.”
He nodded, numbed with shock.
“At your family’s demise, an evil that has resided in your bloodline shall awaken and manifest itself in you, rendering you unstoppable.”
Kayen stood. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You may deny this all you wish,” said Lady Archeenia. “It will come to pass. Your home-city will fall by your hand, and all in it will perish.”
“Enough!”
“I have heard the prophecies and I have seen the signs. Never have I been wrong.”
Kayen glared at her, tears stinging his eyes. “I believe you. That doesn’t make it any easier!”
She sighed. “You should go now, child.”
Kayen spun on his heel and rushed from the tent, leaving his shattered dreams, damned hopes, and broken ambitions behind.
“Hey, rat, good news?”
Kayen ignored the bouncers and sprinted across the cobbled highway. The gathered pilgrims and the caravan had spread out along the side of the road. Kayen stumbled into the sweat and dust covered travelers. One burly man cursed and shoved him away.
Kayen bolted down through the weed-clogged ditch and out into the lumpy plain. Out of breath at last, he sank to his knees and vomited his breakfast.
Flies hummed around his hair and something bit his ear. Kayen wiped his mouth, then hunkered down and sobbed.
He didn’t see how he could become the Scourge, what could drive him to such evil, but it was Fate. The most revered of the Goddess-blessed in these parts had told him his future. There was no refuting it.
The hilt of his knife dug into his side. Kayen drew the blade and slammed it into the grass. Sunlight sparked off the amber in the pommel. He glared at it, at the life it might have represented. “Why’d you have to pick me?” he demanded of the Fate Goddess. “Why?”
There was no point in going back to Master Tassan. Not now.
But was he supposed to do? Go home so the beginning of his destiny could come true?
Kayen shook his head. There had to be something, anything. The Goddess couldn’t have cursed him so irredeemably—She was merciful. Wasn’t She?
What kind of goddess is She if She plans to make me into an evil murderer?
Kayen ground his teeth. No.
He wouldn’t slaughter his family or innocents. He wouldn’t give Master Tassan a reason to cast him out. He wouldn’t bring darkness to the land he loved.
He’d never questioned the Goddess, or Fate—but what did he have left to lose? There was nothing to fear expect what the future held.
Kayen picked up his dagger and drove the blade into his heart.
Death claimed him.
***
Lady Archeenia stared with mournful resignation at the swaying rice strands. She had not the heart to clear the table and cast for the next pilgrim. Not with the last reading she had done.
The poor boy had looked so horrified.
Such a shame the Goddess had to choose one such as him, when there must have been far more deserving men to become the Scourge.
She brightened the light in her brazier and stretched her arms. There was nothing to be done. Lady Archeenia reached for her talismans and froze.
Surprised, she blinked and peered closer. How could she have missed this? Her eyes were not what they had been, but still…
The carved pinewood arrowhead pointed away from the black pebble and a poppy leaf lay diagonally across it.
This was not the sign of the Scourge of Light, but of the Bane of Darkness, the one who would defeat the Scourge at the end of his reign.
With a quick prayer of thanks to the Goddess, Lady Archeenia stood and swept to the entrance. Her bodyguards bowed to her.
“The boy, the one who just left,” she said. “Where is he?”
One of the veiled guards pointed across to the field. “He ran that way, honored one.”
“Go fetch him,” Lady Archeenia said with a smile. “I have good news.”
About the Author
Abby “Merc” Rustad lives and writes in Minnesota, and avoids fortunetellers. She’s had fiction published in The Town Drunk, Tower of Light, Alternative Coordinates, M-Brane SF, Fusion Fragment, AlienSkin Magazine and others. One day she will take over the world.
©2009 Abby Rustad
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