Authors: Jennette Green
Rolban
All night long
Methusal suffered through vivid nightmares. Crazy ones. She ran for her life across the hot, dry plains with Mentàll in hot pursuit. He gained on her, inch by inch, using extraordinary kaavl skills to hunt her down.
Fear leant wings to her feet. Suddenly she was trapped at the base of a sheer, black bluff.
The Dehrien Chief advanced on her. A tiny, pleased smile curled his lips.
“Peace, Methusal.”
She pressed back against the smooth black rock. “Never,” she spat. “You don’t fool me. I will never trust you.”
His smile edged higher. “Come walk a day in my moccasins.”
Arms crossed, she huddled against the cold, unforgiving stone. He was too close. Too dangerous. Too powerful. Too…
knowing.
But what did he know? “Leave me alone.”
His harsh chuckle shredded the silence of the plain. Dark clouds had gathered overhead, and she hadn’t even noticed. An omen? Rain?
“You will never escape me, Methusal.”
Terror whispered through her mind. Her throat felt parched. Rain. It would provide sweet relief. She gazed skyward and whispered, “Please.”
A lightning bolt flashed, and rain poured down. Water cascaded down her face, soaking her skin, permeating her clothes. Mentàll’s large body became indistinct, blurred by the downpour from heaven. Now was her chance!
She sidled left and ran, as fast as she could. Maybe she could escape him. Maybe she could make it home. The cleansing rain splattered down. Her thoughts and her mind washed crystal clear. Clearer than ever before in her life.
A voice from on high whispered, “Follow me.”
Was it The One? Methusal had never tried to talk to The One before, but now it seemed perfectly natural. Obvious, even, and easy. “How?”
“I will show you when the time is right. Do not turn away.”
“I won’t.” It seemed perfectly obvious that she would not. Why would she? “When?”
“It is for a future time. Do not forget. And do not be afraid.”
And then the clarity in her mind faded, and all she saw again was the rain, mixed with blurred images. The blurred images were
people,
she realized in horror. Locked in mortal combat. Hundreds of them. Perhaps a thousand. They fought, and surged closer to her. She ran faster, but the cries of the wounded filled her ears, amplified by the thunder of the storm.
Terror choked her. She could not escape from them.
And yet they didn’t seem to know she was there. Ahead, a sliver of light broke through, and she ran for it.
And then she heard Mentàll’s harsh, mocking laugh again. “Accept your fate, Methusal.”
“Never!” she gasped. Where was he? In front of her? Behind?
The bright spot widened. She was almost there!
“Accept.”
“Never,” she shouted over her shoulder. But she’d taken her eye off of the light, and when she looked forward again, it was gone. Nothing but gray, pouring rain. “No,” she screamed.
She sensed him gaining on her. Ahead, the rain streamed down in long, silver strands. They looked like the silvery bars of a jail cell.
“No,” she gasped again. Hairs prickled up on the back of her neck. “No!” She sprinted for the gray bars. Surely beyond them lay relief. Surely beyond them lived the light, and warm, safe sunshine.
“You will never escape, Methusal,” hissed the Dehrien.
Thunder clapped overhead.
Gasping, and with tears running with the rain in rivulets
down her face, she cried out, “Help! Help me!”
“Listen,” whispered from on high.
She felt her enemy’s presence close behind her. He was about to touch her shoulder.
“Accept.”
“No!” she screamed again. With a final burst of speed, she slammed into the gray bars. It was over. This was the end. There was no way to go forward. And the past was about to catch her…
“
No,
” she moaned aloud, and crumpled to her knees. With arms clutched protectively over her head, she pressed her forehead against the cold bars, praying for release. For an escape from the fate she had chosen for herself.
Methusal woke up gasping and clutching the cold metal bars of the jail cell. As in her dream, she knelt on the ground, forehead pressed against the cool bars. But only the cold sweat of terror chilled her skin. Her breath came in sharp pants, and a deep shiver worked through her soul.
“It was only a dream,” she choked out. “A
dream.
”
A nightmare unlike any before. And so real.
She’d slept-walked again.
Shaking, Methusal staggered to her feet and crumpled onto her cot.
She thought she’d outgrown sleepwalking. The last time had been when she was twelve. It had happened after she’d been locked outside Rolban’s gates. She’d almost been locked out all night with the wild beasts. The terror of those moments, when she had screamed for someone to let her in—it had scrambled her dreams that night. She had felt gripped with savage, gut deep fear. Just like she’d felt tonight, locked up in jail. And the visit from the disturbing Dehrien Chief—he had played a far too prominent role in her dream.
He was a danger to her. Methusal felt this more clearly than ever before. What was his true purpose in Rolban?
The other voice from the dream whispered into her thoughts, too.
“Follow me.”
The One? She’d never dreamed about God before. More perplexing, the past and the future had somehow melded into one in her dream—at least, it had seemed that way. And the outcome was disastrous if she chose the wrong path.
Methusal curled up in a ball on the cot, heart thumping hard against her ribs. Never had a dream upset her so deeply. And never had one seemed more real.
* * * * *
After many long hours, Methusal finally drifted into an exhausted doze. She awoke feeling stiff, cold, and hungry. Her tablet necklace had poked a sore spot into her jaw. Compared to her dream, that discomfort felt welcome.
This morning, with a clearer mind, her nightmare seemed absurd, and the prickles of terror irrational.
But the dream had been a warning.
How did she know this, deep in her bones?
Methusal sat up and struggled to close her mind to the nightmare. She’d spent far too many hours thinking about it already.
She yawned, hoping to clear her head still more. With sudden disbelief, she realized that Petr had left her in the cell all night. Would he come now? Or would he leave her here all day without food?
Her stomach felt hollow and empty, and she longed for a cup of water. Why hadn’t her father come? Would s
omeone
come for her? And today were the Kaavl Games. Truthfully, they were the least of her concerns right now. Funny how facing a jail sentence changed her priorities.
The door handle to the jail ward rattled and Petr stepped in. He was alone. The big, white-haired man shut the door. “Well. How do you feel this morning?”
His judgmental tone scraped on her raw nerves. Methusal stood. “How do you think?”
“Hopefully wiser.”
The words she’d rehearsed last night caught in her throat. Angry ones wanted to fly out, but she bit them back.
“Nothing to say? Shall I leave?” He turned to go.
“No. Wait.”
He turned back. His heavy white brows bristled together.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone out. I was wrong to do it.” She bit her lip.
“Do your really believe that?”
“Yes. I was angry, and I felt desperate because I wanted so much to beat Behran in the Kaavl Games.” Her throat closed for an aching second. “I’ve been practicing for five years.”
“Anything else?”
“Please don’t punish Timaeus.”
“Did he leave his post?”
Methusal wouldn’t lie, but she didn’t want Timaeus to get in trouble, either. “One minute he was inside the gate, and the next he wasn’t. I don’t know where he went. The point is, it’s my fault. I took advantage and slipped out.”
“Mmhm.” He sounded skeptical.
“It is.”
“I agree.” He paced the outer room. “You are solely responsible for your actions.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
He returned to stand in front of her again. “Are you really? Will you obey my instructions from now on?”
“Yes.” It was hard to say it, but she did mean it. After an endless night to think it over, she had at last realized she must follow the right path if she ever wanted to get her life back in order.
“You must to learn to listen, Methusal.” He inserted the key into the lock.
Listen.
The word resonated from her dream. The One had said she must listen, too. Had he meant now, or later, in the future…when a war happened?
Disturbed, she tried to dismiss the thought. It was only a dream. Right?
She blinked when the barred door swung wide. “You’re letting me out?”
“You needed to learn respect. And humility. I hope it’s a lesson you won’t forget.”
“I thought you’d formally charged me with a crime last night.”
“I was angry. Evidence is still not strong enough. Not yet.”
Relief overwhelmed her as she slipped out of the jail cell. She
had
learned more respect for her uncle, she realized. Her behavior had been atrocious. It didn’t matter how wrong Petr was; she had to respect his authority. Kaavl demanded it. So did common decency.
“May I go to breakfast now?”
“Your parents are waiting for you.”
“Thank you.” She meant for letting her out, and he knew it.
He nodded. “You’ll find your father is far from pleased with me.”
She smiled. So, she hadn’t been forgotten after all. Petr had been the dragon keeping her rescuers away. Maybe she had deserved a night in jail. It had certainly helped to readjust her priorities. She headed up the stairs.
“Methusal.”
She glanced back at her uncle.
“Today are the Kaavl Games.”
“I know. I understand I can’t play.”
Petr Storst regarded her for a long moment. “Erl thinks I’ve been too hard on you. I can see you’ve learned your lesson. Do you promise no more disobedience?”
“Yes.”
“Then I give you permission to go outside. For today only.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Really?” she screeched. “Thank you!” She flew at her uncle and hugged him—something she’d never in a million years thought she’d do.
“All right, then.” Gruffly, he pushed her away. “But I’m not the one you should be thanking. I still have Renn’s note as evidence against you. In my mind, you shouldn’t be allowed to leave the gates at all. Liem will surely have my head for this.”
Methusal’s jubilation ceased. “Then why are you going to let me go outside?”
Petr frowned. “Pressure has been brought to bear. In the interest of diplomacy, I will allow you this one freedom. Do you understand?”
Methusal nodded, but the weight of the accusations against her returned. Petr still thought she was guilty. She hadn’t been freed at all. “Did my father pressure you?”
“He was one. Now go on, before I change my mind. Kitran is waiting for you upstairs in my office.”
Kitran. Any remaining joy fizzled. What would he say about her behavior? Searching for hope, she turned to Petr once more. “Did Kitran…”
“Not Kitran.” Grimly, Petr indicated that she should move on.
Methusal obeyed, but her apprehension built with each step she took upstairs. Kitran hadn’t spoken for her release. After Petr had agreed to let her play in the Kaavl Games, would Kitran expel her? Unease deepened in her heart. But she did wonder—if Kitran hadn’t pressured Petr, then else who had?
Petr opened the door and ushered her inside. Kitran sat behind Petr’s desk, looking stern, and Methusal’s heart sank further.
Petr said, “Don’t be long. We’re presenting the Alliance soon.”
“I’ll be there,” Kitran promised.
Petr closed the door, and Methusal was left alone with her kaavl instructor.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she said.
“Do you?”
“My behavior stinks, and I should be expelled.”
A small smile lifted the corners of Kitran’s mustache. “You pull no punches.”
“Neither do you.” She waited. Her heart’s desire lay on the line. One word from Kitran, and all of her hopes would be crushed.
When the silence continued, she shifted uncomfortably. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Explain your behavior.”
Methusal tried to read Kitran’s expression. What should she say?
“The truth, Methusal.”
“I wanted to go outside and practice kaavl. I disobeyed Petr. I was wrong to do it. Even worse, I got Timaeus in trouble, and I feel terrible about that.”
Still silence.
Desperation licked through her. She felt like she was walking through a fog with no compass. “I was wrong, Kitran. I’m sorry. I apologized to Petr. I won’t ever behave like that again. If you want to expel me, I’ll understand.”
“You’ll understand.”
“Yes.” She had accepted her fate last night, and she still did. “It’s okay. I understand. I broke the kaavl rules of respect.” More silence elapsed. “Say something, please.”
Kitran leaned forward. Frown lines scored his forehead. “You learned a hard lesson last night, didn’t you?”
A lump formed in her throat. “Yes.”
Long moments passed while Kitran contemplated her fate. She’d never seen Kitran look so serious, which was a feat for her sober, intense instructor. “All right. You can play. But no more disrespect, or I’ll demote you to the Quint-level.”
She gasped. “Thank you, Kitran! I won’t disappoint you.”
“See that you don’t. I’ll see you at noon.”
With a grateful grin, Methusal let herself out and closed the door quietly behind her. Then she let out a squeak and ran-skipped to the dining hall. She’d play at the Tri-level! And best of all, she could eat! She was so hungry.