Seers of Verde: The Legend Fulfilled: Book One (19 page)

15

Zasha impatiently thumbed through the pile of papers. Each sheet plaintively begged for an audience with her superior. As confidante and personal secretary to the High Seer, it was Zasha's responsibility to pick out the most compelling problems Yseni could reasonably resolve.

The petitioners had been waiting in the courtyard of Fortress Bryann since first meal had finished. The Verdans had an efficient court system where rulings between two disputing parties were decided by a jury of their peers based on some of the more progressive societies on Old Earth. However, a party on the losing end of a ruling had the right to appeal.

All final decisions were made by the High Seer or the Council of Seers, depending on the gravity of the case. Any request not deemed worthy of the Seers' consideration automatically reverted to the court ruling.

Through the past two centuries, the Tarylan Seers had used their mysterious gift of “sight” to permanently entrench themselves as the religious leaders of Verdan society. The Seers were cognizant of their responsibility, but over the years, various High Seers found it beneficial to hand down judgments that would empower them even further among their fellow Verdans.

Zasha was bored by the array of complaints in front of her. Nothing she saw so far warranted intervention by Yseni or the Council. The requests ranged from land disputes and disagreements with inheritances to petitions of leniency from relatives of incarcerated criminals.

The Seer was about to reject every request when a wide-eyed guard approached and held out another hand-written document. “Sergeant, you know better than to give me a late request,” Zasha snapped.

The guard blushed with embarrassment but did not retreat. “With all respect, Seer Zasha, you may want to address this one,” he said, then bowed. Surprised by his impertinence but intrigued, Zasha snatched the paper and sighed loudly to show her annoyance. Within moments, however, the color drained from her face as she read the request.

Slowly putting down the sheet, she beckoned the guard to come closer. “Is this true? Can you verify this?” Zasha whispered, dreading his answer.

The Sergeant nodded slightly. “I can identify the Tarylan trooper. We have served together.” Zasha slowly rose and for the first time this morning looked out over the gathered crowd from her second-story balcony perch. She scanned the people below. All were anxiously awaiting for word on their requests.

“Where are they?” she asked continuing to stare at those milling around below her. The guard stepped forward and pointed out a group standing in a far corner, keeping to themselves. “You were indeed correct, Sergeant. Please escort those people to the council chambers at the highest security level. The High Seer will be very interested to meet with them.” The sergeant bowed and strode out.

¶ ¶ ¶

Yseni tried to appear nonplussed when she met with the group. However, earlier when she heard the news about these visitors, the High Seer had flown into a rage. “These people are standing in our fortress under the protection of adjudication?” she shrieked, her face turning red. “How did they get past Captain Wojaht's troopers?”

Zasha shrugged. “Apparently they had the help of several Verdans. There's nothing we can do about it now. You need to meet with them and determine our next move.”

Yseni howled with disgust and threw a half-full pitcher of water across the room, where it exploded into a dozen pieces and soaked one of her tables. “Get an aide to clean that mess up,” she ordered then stomped off to prepare herself for this most unlikely meeting.

Now a bit more composed, Yseni tried to force a benevolent smile as introductions were made.

“Thank you for meeting with us, High Seer. We are humbled by this opportunity and beg your indulgence and wisdom with this, ah, situation,” Osmar Nezdan intoned in his best politician speak.

The High Seer nodded slightly and gestured for him to continue. She could not take her eyes off the two young men who stood slightly apart from the others. Something about those two unsettled her. They were the only ones in the room who were not in awe of their surroundings. Instead, both stared at her with a fierce intensity.

Osmar then introduced his cousin Rajeef, Sarlen Alator, Tarylan trooper Hubart Avery and lastly himself. He then walked over to the two youths and beamed proudly.

“High Seer, it is my privilege to present you with the first visitors to Verde Valley in two hundred years. Raaf Vonn and Juban Caleria are from what they call the Nuven Valley.” Raaf and Juban stepped forward, gave slight bows, but kept their eyes on Yseni.

Barely able to contain himself, Osmar clapped delightedly, nudged between the two young men and draped his arms around their shoulders. “Your Eminence, these are children of the lost ones. They have sacrificed much and undertaken a great journey to find us.”

Yseni and Zasha rose from their seats at the quarter-moon-shaped council table, spread their arms out in the traditional Verdan greeting and bowed. Unimpressed with the gesture, Sarlen shuffled so close to Yseni that the High Seer could smell the old woman's onion-laced breath. Zasha glanced nervously at the Tarylan security guards, who stood with their javelins at the ready.

“The prophecy has come true,” Sarlen squawked in her raspy voice, pointing at Raaf and Juban. “We should be celebrating their return, but instead they've been hunted like wild animals.” Osmar mumbled an apology for Sarlen's rudeness as he took the old woman by the arm and led her back to the group.

Yseni stared at Hubart Avery and ordered him to come forward. “Trooper, explain yourself. Why are you with these people?”

Hubart bowed. “High Seer, I believe what the old woman says is true. The lost ones have found us. It is our duty to welcome them.”

Yseni angrily stabbed a finger at Hubart. “Trooper, you are a Tarylan, sworn to follow orders as given by the Seers,” she snarled. “I command you to surrender. You will be put on trial for your actions.”

Hubart was shocked by Yseni's reaction. As a mere trooper, no Seer had ever spoken to him. Now the High Seer was ordering him to surrender. He heard a voice that sounded like his, but it seemed to come from a great distance. “With all due respect, I am a Verdan first, and it is my honor to welcome back our lost brothers.”

Realizing the voice was his, Hubart felt his heart leap into his throat. He bowed again and rejoined the group, although his knees felt like they would buckle from the strain.

Fearing the meeting was spiraling out of control, Osmar politely asked to speak again. “It appears there has been a great misunderstanding which we need to rectify, High Seer,” he said. “Apparently, some of your Tarylan troopers have mistaken our guests as intruders.”

Yseni shrugged. “A misunderstanding of grave proportions, indeed. Sixteen Tarylan troopers were attacked by unknown assailants, and fifteen were killed. That is more than a misunderstanding. It is murder.”

Osmar threw his hands up helplessly. “High Seer, we believe the Tarylans may have attacked first, leaving the Nuvens no recourse but to defend themselves.”

Yseni glowered, folding her arms across her chest. “That may be most difficult to prove, my good man.”

Osmar shook his head. “With due respect, we may able to provide irrefutable proof, High Seer.”

Yseni stole a quick worried glance at the stoic Zasha, who sat nearby. Sarlen said something in a strange tongue that prompted Raaf to pull a roll of papers from a tube strapped around his neck. The Nuven slowly approached Yseni and handed her drawings made by Darya.

The High Seer and Zasha could not contain their amazement at the detailed drawings that recorded the attack in the grove. Yseni nodded and handed the drawings back. “Impressive, but this only tells one side of the story,” she said matter-of-factly.

Osmar smiled. “Yes, indeed, but we have another witness, High Seer. One of the Tarylans was wounded and treated in my home.”

Before Zasha could stop her, Yseni nodded impatiently. “Yes, the young trooper is recovering here. We thank you for caring for him, but what does that prove?”

Osmar nodded. “Good, good, then the trooper undoubtedly has told you what he said to us as he drifted in and out of consciousness — that the Tarylan captain in the grove attacked first.”

16

Wojaht Gafla slowly put down the piece of paper. The Tarylan captain was stunned by the orders from the High Seer. In terse language, Yseni apprised him of the situation and then issued specific commands for his plan of action. She told him of the unexpected visit by the party of Verdans and so-called Nuvens, who had pleaded for the cessation of hostilities against the visitors.

Wojaht had to reread the next passage due to the incredible plan it laid out. Lt. Koriz Arillo and Trooper Hubart Avery had been captured by the Nuvens. But now Hubart was cooperating with the intruders and traitorous Verdans. Koriz was being held hostage in Osmar Nezdan's village in sector seventeen.

Although the Tarylan officer had been loyal to the Seers his entire life, the next command made him ill. The High Seer was very clear. Wojaht was ordered to march his strike force into the village, rescue Koriz if possible, and kill all the Nuvens and any sympathetic Verdans who attempted to thwart his troopers, especially the traitor, Hubart.

If Koriz was killed, his death would be unfortunate, but justifiable. All surviving adult Verdans from the village then would be arrested and tried for their complicity in this most serious chain of events. The captain sat back and combed his hands through his thick black hair. Never before had he or any other Tarylan officer been faced with such a dramatic situation. The Tarylans had been trained to be a policing force, not warriors and certainly not murderers of their own people.

“What is it, Captain?” asked Lt. Uson Stadova, who had never seen such a look of consternation from his superior.

Wojaht sat silent for almost a minute then gave Uson a somber look. “We have our orders, lieutenant. We are to proceed to the third village in sector seventeen, hopefully rescue Lt. Arillo, kill the intruders and anyone else who tries to interfere.”

The captain paused and winced at his next command. “Trooper Hubart Avery has fallen in with the intruders. He is considered a traitor and is to be killed on sight.”

The color drained from Uson's face as he listened. “Sir, Avery? Kill anyone who tries to protect the intruders? Even our fellow Verdans?”

Wojaht glared at his junior officer. “Lieutenant, you have my orders. Now relay them to the rest of the troop. I want this strike force armed and ready to march immediately after first meal. Dismissed.” A grave-faced Uson saluted and left to deliver the most unpleasant order he had ever been commanded to carry out.

Knowing the reaction his fellow Tarylans would have to the captain's orders, Uson announced anyone challenging and reacting unprofessionally would have their daily rations cut by half. Even so, after hearing Uson, the other troopers looked at each other in disbelief. Loyal though they were, they had never been directed to carry out such bloody duty.

“I can believe Arillo got himself captured, but Avery a traitor? Now, that doesn't sound true at all,” a grizzled sergeant mumbled to those nearby as they walked toward their tents. “Who are these intruders if Avery has fallen in with them?”

The other troopers echoed his sentiments. They all knew Hubart, the happy-go-lucky prankster. He was as good a fighter as many had seen, but he also was the first one to buy a round of ale for his fellow troopers.

Later that night, after the other lieutenants had retired to their tents, the rank-and-file troopers met in secrecy. Arguments erupted back and forth between individual groups as they wrestled with the almost unimaginable task before them.

Many of these Verdans had signed on to be Tarylan guards for the prestige and high wages. These men were more than happy to carry out protective duties among the general Verdan population.

The lucky ones were chosen to stand guard at Fortress Bryann while the Seers went about their mysterious business. It was not unusual for the younger Seers to bestow delightful “special” favors upon the Tarylan guards. But now they were charged with possibly attacking a Verdan village and maybe executing one of their own.

Just as the arguing reached a heated crescendo, a familiar voice called from the darkness. “Brave Tarylans, I wish to approach under truce of parlay.”

The old sergeant held up his hand to quiet his fellow troopers. “Who goes there and why should we honor such a truce?” he shouted back. “We don't know who you are or how many others are out there.”

The only response was laughter, then the mysterious voice replied. “Is that Sergeant Onji Haiko? You always were a suspicious old snapper. By the Tarylan code I have sworn to uphold, I pledge only two of us wish to approach.”

Onji frowned and looked at the other troopers. “Whoever is out there knows me and is or has been a Tarylan. That voice is familiar, but I can't recall who it is. Now, lads, all in favor in pledging truce let me hear you.” A loud chorus of ayes rang out and only a smattering of nays.

“You and your companion may approach under protection of parlay,” Onji called out. “Lower your weapons and we will do the same.”

The mysterious stranger agreed. Just a few breaths later, two shadowy figures walked slowly toward the wary Tarylans. One of the strangers cheerfully greeted Onji, who stood rigid with his arms crossed across his chest. However, his demeanor changed when he saw who now stood before him.

“By Holy Mother Verde! Trooper Avery is that you?” the sergeant sputtered. Momentarily forgetting protocol, as well as his orders, Onji gave Hubart a welcoming bear hug. Finally remembering the awkward situation, the sergeant choked out an embarrassed cough and backed up several steps to inspect Hubart and his companion.

“Avery, what has happened?” Onji asked, holding up his hands in a helpless gesture. “Tarylan command has identified you as a traitor. You are not to be treated, ah, well.”

Hubart nodded. “I suspected that had happened after our meeting at Fortress Bryann.”

The old sergeant shook his head in disbelief. “You've been to the fortress? What meeting? Why have you been branded a traitor?”

Hubart smiled. “All good questions, my friend. I hope I can answer them to your satisfaction. First, however, let me introduce you to my new friend, Ganick Nels, a better fighter than I. He and his people are at the center of a dangerous misunderstanding.” Onji and Ganick stared at each other, not bothering to mask a mutual distrust.

“Better fighter than you, eh? This sounds like a story worth hearing,” the sergeant said, beckoning the two to sit by the roaring campfire.

Hubart chuckled. “If we live through the next few days, this will be a story your grandchildren will be retelling for many harvests, Onji.”