“You mean there’re invisible ones?” asked Jimmy without thinking.
“Correct,” said the Abbot, overlooking the interruption. “Or at least there are those we can’t see, though if we were close enough they would be visible.”
“Part and parcel of the arts of divination is the science of knowing when the auguries are in fruition, at best a chancy business. There is a famous prophecy made by the mad monk Ferdinand de la Rodez. By common account, it has come to pass on three different occasions. Not one can agree which event was the one he predicted.”
Arutha studied the sky through the device, only half listening to the Abbot. Through the eyehole he saw a sky ablaze with stars, overlaid with a faint network of lines and notations, which he assumed were somehow inscribed on the inside of the sphere. In the center was a configuration of five stars, reddish in color, one in the center, with lines connecting them in a bright red X. “What am I seeing?” he asked. He relinquished his place to Martin, and the former hunter looked through the device.
The Abbot said, “Those five stars are called the Bloodstones.”
Martin said, “I know them, but I’ve never seen that pattern before.”
“Nor shall you again for another eleven thousand years— though that is a guess, and we shall have to wait until it occurs again to be sure.” He seemed unperturbed by the duration, in fact he seemed quite willing to wait. “What you see is a pattern called the Fiery Cross or Cross of Fire. There is an ancient prophecy concerning it.”
“What is this prophecy, and what has it to do with me?” said Arutha.
“The prophecy is ancient, perhaps from the time of the Chaos Wars. It says, “When the Cross of Fire lights the night and the Lord of the West dead is, shall then return the Power.” It’s quite well constructed poetically in the original, though it loses in translation. What we take it to mean is that some agency seeks your death to cause this prophecy’s fulfillment, or at least seeks to convince others the prophecy’s near fruition. Another germane fact is that the prophecy is one of the few things we have that were created by the Pantathian serpent people. We know little about these creatures. We know that on those rare occasions when they appear they herald troubles, for they are clearly agents of evil working toward ends only they understand. We also know that the prophecy says the Lord of the West is also called Bane of Darkness.”
“So someone wants Arutha dead because he is fated to defeat them if he lives?” asked Martin.
“Or so they believe,” answered the Abbot.
“But who or what?” said Arutha. “That someone wishes me dead comes as no revelation. What more can you tell me?”
“Little, I’m afraid.”
Laurie said, “Still, it gives some small reason behind the Nighthawks’ attacks upon you.”
“Religious fanatics,” said Jimmy, shaking his head, then he looked at the Abbot. “Sorry, father.”
The Abbot ignored the remark. “What is important to understand is that they will try again and again and again. You will not be done with them until you root out the ultimate author of the order to kill you.”
“Well,” said Martin, “we also know that the Brotherhood of the Dark Path is involved.”
“North,” said Brother Micah. Arutha and the others looked at him questioningly. “Your answers lie northward, Arutha. Look there,” he said, his voice still containing a note of command. “To the north lie the High Ranges, all barriers against the denizens of the Northlands. In the west above Elvandar perch the Great Northern Mountains; in the east, the Northern Guardians, the High Fastness, and the Dreaming Mountains. And across the center lies the greatest range of all, the Teeth of the World, thirteen hundred miles of nearly impassable crags. Who knows what lies beyond? What man, save renegade or weapons runner, has ventured there and returned to tell of the Northlands?
“Our ancestors created the Border Baronies ages ago, to bottle up the passes at Highcastle, Northwarden, and Ironpass. The Duke of Yabon’s garrisons block the only other major pass to the west of the Thunderhell Steppes. And no goblin or Dark Brother treads upon the Thunderhell and lives, for the nomads do our guarding for us. In short, we know nothing of the Northlands. But that is where the moredhel live and that is where you’ll find your answers.”
“Or I’ll find nothing,” said Arutha. “You may be concerned about prophecy and portents, but I care only for finding the answer to the riddle of Silverthorn. Until Anita is again safe, I shall put my efforts to nothing else.” The Abbot appeared disturbed by this. Arutha said, “That there is a prophecy I have no doubt, and that some madman with arcane powers is seeking my death is also not in doubt. But that this spells some great danger to the Kingdom is a long reach. Too long for me. I’ll need more proof.”