The Silver Arrow (2 page)

“Yes!” Iseac replied
excited.

“That might explain why you
don’t want to wake up. Now, since I’m no dream interpreter, I think
you should talk to someone that might be able to make more sense of
it.

“Hmm,” Lenard said, pausing for
a minute, obviously thinking. “I believe Tamican might.”

Who is this Tamican? Iseac
wondered as his father continued to mumble to himself.

“There is someone who might be
able to help,” Lenard finally said. “In two days, a merchant crew
is going to be in town. I want you to tell this person everything
you told me.”

Lenard then stood up. “But
right now, we need to get back to work. Come on,” he said as he
walked back into the field.

As he said, a merchant’s crew
came to Tru’tia two days later. The person they were meeting on
this day was at the Oak-Ore Valley Inn. After speaking briefly with
the innkeeper, Lenard led them up the stairs to the last room on
the second floor.

He knocked on the door and an
audible voice from inside the room answered, “Come in.”

It was a female voice, which
for some reason Iseac was not expecting.

“Wait here,” he told Iseac just
before pulling the oak door open. “I will be back soon.” With those
words, he stepped in, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Lenard
stuck his head out the corner of the door as Iseac stood waiting at
the entrance. He invited him in.

Inside, Iseac couldn’t help
noticing how odd the setup was. There were two archways, each wide
enough to admit one adult at a time.

His father was barefoot, with
his shoes neatly set to the side.

Lenard motioned for Iseac to do
the same and remove his shoes. Once Iseac was done, he pointed.

“Go through that archway, I'll
meet you inside.” He watched Iseac make his way through the right
entryway.

Iseac did what he was told and
made his way through the right archway. He could smell incense made
of scented flowers. The archway curved in, and he could see his
father looking in his direction waiting. Both entrances converged
like a horseshoe.

There was a brief introduction
as Iseac stared at the strange setting.

A petite woman almost in her
middle years sat on a cushion inside a dome-shaped room. Brightly
colored fabric of yellow, gold, red, green, and white ran along the
wall of the dome to the cushion around her. Her dress, like the
wall, was of bright colors, with her skirt spread over her
legs.

She said, looking at Iseac,
“Your father tells me you’ve been having the same dream
sporadically for some time now. You want to know why and what it
means?”

It was almost three years now,
Iseac realized, since he started having this dream.

“Yes,” he said with
reverence.

Her voice was clear and carried
the wisdom of someone who knew many things.

“Do you know that different
sounds and colors mean something in a dream?” she asked.

“Take the red belly Chamar, for
example. If this bird is sipping water on a leaf, it means it’s
going to rain before the end of the day or before midday of the
following day,” she said and went on to give other examples, making
sure Iseac understood that every detail in one’s dream is
important.

“Now tell me about this dream
of yours and in as much detail as you can remember.”

Iseac cleared his throat and
began to speak, telling her everything he could remember. It wasn’t
hard, since everything was still so vivid in his mind, and even
with that, Tamican still asked more probing questions on little
details Iseac had chosen to ignore.

Iseac could not help noticing
her sense of surprise. Whether it was good or bad, he wasn’t sure.
When Tamican was done, having been focused on Iseac the whole time,
she turned to Lenard.

In her eyes, Iseac could see
her putting the pieces of information she'd gathered from him
together as silence once again filled the room. After a minute of
watching her move her head up and down several times as if coming
to a conclusion, she said, looking at Lenard, “Your son is truly
special.” Then she turned to Iseac.

“While your dream has many
facets, it’s all about you and your destiny. I will tell you
everything I can, but I need to talk to your father alone for a
minute.”

Iseac left the room a little
disheartened; what was so important that she needed to speak first
with his father alone? Nothing in her demeanor or tone indicated
there was a problem, so why they were making him leave made no
sense. After all, it was his dream and she did say it was about
him.

After Iseac waited for what
seemed like hours to a young boy his age, all the while wondering
what they could be talking about, his father stepped out the
archway.

“Get your shoes on,” he said,
and he began putting on his own. “I need to speak with your
mother.” Lenard had the uncertain look of someone trying to make
sense of what he had just been told.

“So what did she say?” was
Iseac’s first thought, but he did not say it or try to press his
father on what they talked about and why she couldn’t answer his
questions now. He got his shoes on and they left the room.

Iseac knew it wasn’t terrible
news since his father wasn’t biting the corner of his lip. His
father did this subconsciously when he had distressing news.

“Tamican would like you to meet
with someone else when she returns in a week,” Lenard said, and he
could see the disappointment on Iseac’s face, his expression giving
away his feelings about the news.

“Son,” he said, speaking
solemnly, “your dream is no ordinary dream, as you must have
figured out by now. The answers will come, but we all need to be
ready.”

This did not console Iseac, but
caused an even greater anxiety as different thoughts ran through
his head. It was going to be the longest wait of his life.

Unlike most other days, Iseac
woke up early without the normal prompt from his father. The day
he’d been waiting for had finally arrived. He walked over to the
corner of his room and took out the last polished stone from the
jar he was using to count down the days leading up to Tamican’s
return. The anticipation filled his appetite, driving away his
usual desire for food.

“I’m not hungry this morning,”
he told his mother as she offered him breakfast.

“Are you okay, dear?” she
asked.

“I’m fine,” Iseac replied.

“You need your strength if you
are going to get any work done with your father. Now come, sit and
eat something, son.”

Iseac saw no point in arguing,
so he sat down and began nibbling on his food when his father
walked into the house. Passing the kitchen table, he said,
“Remember we’re going to see Tamican today, so take an extra
shirt.”

The rest of that morning was a
blur for Iseac, as his thoughts were consumed by Tamican’s visit
and the stranger she was supposed to be bringing with her.

At noon, as directed by his
father, Iseac changed to a clean shirt and they made their way to
the inn where Tamican was staying.

“You can tell me all about your
visit with this person Tamican will be introducing you to when you
return.”

“What?” Iseac replied, looking
at his father. “Do you mean you are not coming with me?”

“No, not this time,” Lenard
replied, remembering Tamican’s words;
He would like to meet him
alone.

“Why?” Iseac asked.

“I believe the person coming
with Tamican wants to meet you, and not us.”

Iseac did not like the idea
that his father wasn’t going to be there.

“You will be fine,” Lenard
said, seeing the concerned look on his face, “and besides, you will
be in capable hands.”

They made their way into the
inn and up the stairs to the room where Tamican was supposed to be
staying. As they approached the landing, they saw her stepping away
from her door. She greeted them on the landing and asked Iseac,
“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he replied with the
subtle eagerness of a boy as they made their way downstairs.

A few people sat at the bar,
with some serving girls wiping off tables as they exited the
inn.

Outside, Iseac stood beside his
father, who patted him on the shoulder.

“I will see you at home,” he
said to Iseac before nodding his head toward Tamican to excuse
himself.

“Walk with me,” Tamican said,
drawing Iseac’s attention away from his father leaving. She
appeared to be dressed in less flamboyant colors than last time,
but her dark purple and red slit gown still seemed bright under the
gray sky that was a stark contrast.

The grounds were muddy from
rain the night before. As they walked, they passed several familiar
shops with few people on the street. They turned right into a
narrow alleyway between two buildings and continued walking. They
made their way past several more shops with their names mounted on
wooden plaques above. Though it was past midday, the clouds still
held.

Iseac could see passersby on
the other side of the street between sections of buildings parallel
to theirs. Tamican stopped in front of what was once a wood
shop.

She followed the side of the
building and stopped close to the back, where there was a smaller
building that appeared almost as an extension of the main shop in
front.

The door at the entrance was
flush with the side of the shop, and if it wasn’t for the landing
in front, no one would notice. Just as Tamican stepped on the
platform, someone inside the house spoke.

“Come in,” a male voice said
before she had a chance to knock.

Amazed, Iseac looked at
Tamican, who did not seem the least bit surprised.

“We hadn’t made any real noise
on our approach, so how did the man inside know we were at his
entrance?” Iseac wondered as she opened the door and stepped in. He
followed closely behind her.

Iseac wasn’t sure what to
expect, especially after his last meeting with Tamican. Hopefully
this time someone would finally explain to him the meaning of his
dream. He took in a deep breath to slow his racing heart; he had
waited a long time for this moment.

Inside, the house was warm from
the fire burning at the hearth. A rug was spread out in the center
of the living room, with three oak chairs at the edges of the
rug.

On the right side of the room
was a bookshelf with a hanging map to the left of it. The place
looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. Some of the fixtures
had a notable amount of dust on them, and the smell in the room was
that of a place not long swept.

The man who stood in front of
him was slightly older than his father—not as tall, with his head
shaven. He wore a deep green cloak intricately designed in the
front. Iseac could tell from the pattern that it formed a symbol if
pulled together. His trousers were dark brown, tucked inside his
black riding boots. His tunic was light blue and it extended
halfway to his knees; this was supported at his waist by a brown
belt.

The man gave Iseac a warm smile
as he introduced himself, calling him by name. “Peace and
prosperity, Iseac. I’m Gabram.” He bowed his head slightly.

Looking up at Tamican, he
greeted her with the familiarity of an old friend, and she
responded in the same manner.

“Please have a seat,” he said
to Iseac, gesturing to a chair by the hearth. As Iseac did, Gabram
began to speak with Tamican. They moved toward the entrance door,
but something caught Iseac’s eyes. The ring on the man’s
finger—he’d seen it somewhere before, but where, he wondered. And
then it struck him. The lightning on the ring: he was a Patron. His
father had told him stories of meeting a Patron and about their
rings, and now he was in the same room with one.

From what he was told, Patrons
were always present at the inauguration of a king or queen, and
that it had been that way since the creation of the four
Kingdoms.

Outside of that, he knew
nothing else about them.

Iseac could not make out what
they were saying at the level in which they were speaking.

“I hope we meet again soon,”
Tamican exclaimed, catching Iseac’s eye.

“I will see that he gets home
safely when we are done,” the man said, seeing Tamican to the
door.

Iseac rubbed his hands on his
thighs while trying to maintain his impassive look, but the
anticipation of finally getting an answer filled him as Gabram
walked back.

He pulled one of the chairs by
the fireplace and sat a few feet away, directly in front of
Iseac.

He then proceeded to ask Iseac
questions about himself and his family, which Iseac wasn’t
expecting, thinking he was going to go right into the matter of his
visit and not waste any time getting to know him.

Iseac answered each question,
still in disbelief that a Patron had traveled all this way for him,
a twelve-year-old boy, to explain his dream.

“I know you have been waiting
for some time now to find out about your dream and that you feel a
particular connection to the one you told Tamican,” Gabram said.
“That is the reason I’m here, to tell you what you are…” Gabram
began to explain to Iseac what his dream meant.

This was not what Iseac was
expecting, but then, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to expect.
The words his father had said the first time they had left
Tamican—“We all need to be ready”—played in his head.

Looking back, he could see why
Gabram was trying to ease his way into what he was about to tell
him, knowing that it would change his life forever.

“Terrowin was the youngest
Anamerio we had on record, called at age fifteen, until today,” he
said. “You are the second I now have had the privilege of meeting.
Do you know what Anamerio means?”