Destiny's Kingdom: Legend of the Chosen (8 page)

"What was?"

"That man." Clea turned back around and gestured toward where the stranger had been standing in the crowd. He had disappeared.

"Which one?" Trina turned and scanned the street, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Clea sighed.

"There was a man standing back there, and he seemed to be watching us."

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know. I couldn't see his face, he was wearing a hooded cloak." She turned forward again and they continued down the street. "Probably nothing. Hey, look." The oddity of what she'd just seen wore off quickly when she saw a vending cart that had something she wanted. "Fortune bell chains. I've been looking for these."

As the girls stood at the cart and Clea sifted through the strands of tiny bells, a rich, savory scent wafted through the air.
 

"Can you smell that?" Trina said, inhaling deeply and sighing. "Stem of mushroom stew. From the Dorian tavern."

Clea was still busy looking through the chains. "Yes, that's what it smells like."
 

"Isn't it wonderful?" Trina had suddenly gotten very hungry. "I've got to get some. Come on."
 

"Mmm," Clea replied, sifting casually through the strands of tiny bell chains, "You go on. I'll catch up."
 

As Trina walked away, Clea continued to jingle each chain until she found one whose chime suited her, and she lifted it from the purveyor's cart and hooked it around her waist, tilting her hips to examine it. Pleased, she looked up to see the merchant standing next to her.

"Fourteen chid, fair lady," he said.

"Fourteen?" Clea replied. "I think not. Nine, if any at all."

"Rob me blind, why don't you?" he said. "Twelve and I'll forget you insulted me so."

"Twelve? Do I seem a dullard to you? Ten, then. But no more."

The merchant stepped closer to Clea, leaned in a bit. "Twelve," came his deep, throaty voice. Clea shrugged, and unhooked the chain from her waist.
 

"Ah, well then," she said, "None for me today then, I think. Too bad, of course. I'd surely have been happy to say that the sweet chime that sounds from my waist was one of…" she backed up enough to read the sign above his cart, "Vidian's bell chains." She reached to replace the bells, then turned when he finally said:
 

"Ten, ten chid. Fine then! Have it your way."

Clea grinned broadly, pulled the payment from a hidden pocket in the waistband of her skirt, and handed it to the merchant. She reached to her strand of bells and re-hooked them about her hips, shimmying slightly to make them chime with the movement.

"Well, there should be no trouble finding you so long as you wear that around your waist." Clea's lips curled into a pleased smile when she heard the familiar voice from behind her.

"Funny, you've never seemed to have any trouble finding me before but if this makes it easier on you, then by all means…" She twirled around, and the bells tinkled lightly with the motion of her hips, "I shall wear it daily." She laughed at her own silliness as she looked up at Avalon, who had, per his usual way, appeared from nowhere. "I was wondering when you were going to show up today."

"Have I become so predictable?"

"No never," Clea replied, "But it is a most unprecedented day, Avalon!"

"Indeed," Avalon cocked his head as he looked down to her. "And what makes today so unprecedented, my Clea?" She turned around and headed in the direction that Trina had gone.

"Let's walk."

Avalon walked beside her, his pace deliberate and regal next to her casual saunter. Heads began to turn as they made their way through the crowded street, many eyes falling on the statuesque man who seemed to capture attention by simply existing. Clea was used to it, and paid the attention no heed. No one would remember seeing him later anyway. As they walked, Avalon glanced about the people in the street, seeming in search of something, but when Clea began to talk, he listened intently.

"So why did you pick just now to come see me, in this crowded street?" she asked, leading him to stand within the shelter of two merchants' carts. "It's not very often that you make so public an appearance." She took his hand and held it between both her palms, running her fingers over the pattern of bones along the back.

"Whenever the need arises Clea, I shall seek you out wherever you may be. This should come as no surprise."

"No, not a surprise, just an observation. Why were you seeking me then, if not to hear my news?"

"The time is drawing near, Clea." Avalon moved his hands to cover hers, squeezing them tightly as if to punctuate his words. "Sooner than you know you will be called upon to take your place in the grand scheme of things. All that I've told you all of your life…do you remember it?" Clea huffed a laugh and pulled her hands away.

"Remember? Surely not! Why should I remember something I'm not a part of? Grand scheme of things indeed, Avalon! My destiny is mine to make, as is everyone's. I've no place in this prophecy you continue to harass me with. How many times must we revisit this topic?"
 

"Until you choose to embrace it, my Clea."

"Ah, then harass me ever!" She spun a circle and collapsed against the post that held the merchant's cart opposite of where he stood. "I don't believe in destiny, Avalon." He shook his head at her oft-spoken words and stepped toward her, reaching to finger the chain of bells around her waist and a lock of hair fell across his face as he looked down.

"The events set in motion will soon be upon you Clea, and you need to be aware of all that's to come."

"And you need to be aware of something too," She reached to push his hair back from his face, but the breeze blew through just then, displacing it again. "I made a deal with Ryder Deluka today. For ten thousand chid, Avalon." When he looked up at her face he saw that it was filled with thrill, with proud accomplishment. She whispered it again, "ten thousand!" The corner of his mouth crooked into a smile, and he reached his arm around her, pulling her against him.

"Impressive, my Clea. You are indeed without peer." He sighed deeply as he held her, for that brief moment putting aside the topic she resisted most. "Accolades to you on achieving that which you have worked so hard to accomplish. I hope that someday my persistence will prove as worthwhile for me as yours has for you."

"The thing I need to consider is the fact that Ryder's shifty." Avoiding Avalon's hinting sentiment, Clea instead chose her deal to center on. "He takes me for a novice, so he'll surely try to pull something underhanded. Of that much I'm sure." She leaned away from his embrace, taking his hand and pulling him back out into the street to walk again. "It's just one of those feelings I get."

"Your instincts and intuition have always been your gift, my Clea. Listen to them and you will always know when someone seeks to deceive you."

"Well, this was a fairly easy conclusion under the circumstances. Of course I cannot assume my feelings are always telling me what's true."
 

"If you know something to be true, then it is," he replied simply. They walked in silence for a minute, until they were nearing the area where she had parted ways with Trina. Avalon continued to peer over throng of people, looking down an offshoot of the main road, apparently seeing something of interest. In the distance over Avalon's shoulder, Clea saw Trina walking in their direction, glancing about the crowd as she searched for her friend.

"Oh, here comes Trina," Clea said, bringing her gaze back to Avalon's face. "Any chance that perhaps today will be the day to reveal yourself and dispel my reputation as a delusional daydreamer with an overactive imagination?"

Avalon stared far off toward another end of the Marketplace, now studying something intensely. He looked back down to her, and brushed his finger over her cheek.

"I'm sorry Clea, but I cannot right now." He smiled serenely at her disappointed frown, and held her stare for a moment as he turned, but he spoke with great purpose as he did. "There is someone else who I need to see."

Avalon always knew when it was the right time to walk among the people. He did it less frequently as the years had gone on and on, and now only stepped forth through the masses on rare occasions, reserving his time for a more important cause, the cause that had brought him out today in the first place.

For the moment, though, he strolled through the thinning edge of Sigh Marketplace, glancing casually over all those who turned their heads to him as he passed, the women's eyes wide with adoration, the men oddly fascinated with his presence. What they saw as a tall and handsomely built man would fade with the moments, however, fade and diminish to a dreamlike memory for some, and into nothingness for others. But there would be one today; one who would gain inspiration from gracing the presence of the Muse.

Avalon spotted her before she saw him. A middle aged, work-worn woman sitting alone on a tree stump, a blanket laid out before her with rows of handmade bracelets and jewelry, as she strummed a beaten and well used guitar. She was obviously struggling with what music she attempted to make. Once, she had been a rising performer, had played her guitar and sang songs beautiful and haunting each year at the Twilight Bloom. But of late, her music had left her, and the fire in her heart was dimming to mere embers along with her inspiration that song had once provided.

Avalon stood before her, looking over her selection of beaded necklaces, and watched her fumble on the strings of the instrument for almost a full minute before she even saw him standing there. She muttered bitterly to herself as the guitar betrayed her fingers, the strings having no tune and no harmony, and her voice something that she dare not sound over the volume of a whisper. Suddenly, something washed over her, and she looked up to see a tall man standing before her.

He was a spectacular creature to behold. The wind played lightly around the waves of his hair and his creamy skin was luminous, an eternally youthful glow radiating off his flawless flesh. His eyes were all at once intense and kind, large and almond shaped, the deep green color accentuated by long dark lashes which he blinked in a drowsy manner. As she stood, somehow attempting to take in the entirety of this ethereal man who had come to look on her goods, his full, wide lips spread into a warm expression.
 

"Good afternoon," he said to her. His voice was deep and disarmingly intimate. But he gazed at her with the innocence of one who has no sins and no secrets, and who would claim no ill toward any living thing. The woman accidentally dropped her guitar as she walked toward him, and he watched it hit the ground and raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Careful or your guitar may cease to yield you music."

"Oh," the woman finally spoke, tearing her stare off of him for a moment and looking down to the fallen instrument. "I'm afraid that's happened long ago."

The touch of his hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to look at him, starting with his long, lean waist and slowly working up across his broad chest and gracefully muscled arms, over his strong jaw and long straight nose and finally to the emerald pools of his eyes.

"Music is your gift," he said gently, the deep, sensual tone in his voice weaving right through her, the shimmering tingle of his touch on her face hypnotic. "It will come to you again if you search your soul." He reached his other hand to smooth back her graying hair, and her face tilted up toward him reactively. "Search your soul," he repeated, his eyelids lowering, locking deeply with her rapt stare.

"Search…" she mumbled, caught up in the dream state moment of his inspiration, reaching out to lay a seeking hand on the thick leather belt that circled his waist. "The Muse…you're…"
 

"Shh…" he hushed her, placing a finger against her lips which almost caused her to swoon. The woman laid a second hand on his belt, pulling herself into him as he stood cupping her face in his large, strong hands. He tipped her chin up so she would open her eyes again, and he stared, his kind eyes focused on her. "We'll not have it be that Twilight Bloom goes by without your talents being heard by all. Now," he said, moving close, and brushing a tender finger over her jaw. "Take your gift and use it well."

With those words, he bent down to retrieve her guitar from the ground, and he placed it in her hands as she stood, still mesmerized from the affect he had on her. Every pore on her skin zinged with life and sensation, and her fingers felt electric with energy that she'd never before experienced. When she grasped the neck of the guitar in her hand, a new feeling of enlightenment came over her, and suddenly she knew again what it meant to feel the music flowing through her. She sat down, focused and determined, and the melodies came without hesitation, without thought. Midway through writing down the notes of her first song, she puzzled for a moment and looked up and around her, trying to remember what it was that she'd seen or done to recapture the ability to play her instrument in this manner after so long a spell of hopelessness. In her mind's eye was a vague memory of a most striking man, but there was no evidence of him now, and her song was running so rampant through her soul that she didn't care to pause on what caused it to come to her so freely, but merely to enjoy the sheer elation that she felt from it.