The Silver Arrow (3 page)

Iseac shook his head in
response.

“It means soul finder or
seeker. An Anamerio or Anamerian is a person born with the rare
ability to see or tell key events before they happen, serving as a
counterpoint in restoring or bringing balance to all things. Only
one lives in every dispensation, and this is due to their rare
trait called
The Falling
. A gold wreath is always present in
their more significant dreams, like yours. As an Anamerian gets
close to the end, the leaves on the wreath start to fall. This
continues for the rest of his life until he passes. When this
happens, the wreath is passed on to their successor, who sees it in
his dream right after, and that is why it is called The
Falling.”

Gabram could see shock and
disbelief on Iseac’s face as he listened, trying to process what he
was being told.

“You have a special gift,
Iseac, and I have come to help you develop it,” Gabram said.

“It’s just a dream and can’t
mean this,” Iseac thought, trying to convince himself that it could
not mean what he was being told, but he knew inside that wasn’t
true. He knew he was connected to the dream, but it did not explain
why he was chosen.

“Nothing is special about my
family, so why me?”

“I do not know,” Gabram replied
honestly as he studied Iseac, seeing him slowly accepting the
news.

“What happened to the last
Anamerian?”

“He passed away three years
ago,” Gabram said.

Iseac remembered that was when
it started happening.

“I need to make preparations
and would like to meet your parents. Can you take me to them?”
Gabram asked.

Iseac nodded in response, still
bemused. He could see that Gabram seemed convinced he was the
Anamerian; he did not think he was.

After their meeting, Gabram
walked back with Iseac to his home, where he met his father and
mother. Iseac’s mother tried to maintain her composure as she
offered Gabram a drink before returning to Lenard’s side. Around
the Patron, his parents showed a feeling of awe that Iseac had
never seen, but who wouldn’t? Outside of royalty, very few people
could say they’d had a Patron in their home.

Iseac was excused so Gabram
could speak with his father and mother alone, but this time he had
an idea of what they were going to be talking about—this special
person he was supposed to be. He was called in about an hour later
and asked to see Gabram off.

Outside, Gabram told Iseac that
with his parent’s permission, he would meet with him every
fortnight for the whole day.

“I am Kayma to you; it means
guide,” Gabram said, “and you will address me as such whenever we
meet until I tell you otherwise. Have a good night and I will see
you soon.” He walked away into the night.

As arranged, Iseac met with
Gabram at the house behind the old wood shop every fortnight.
“Having a perfect understanding,” Gabram said on his first day, “is
the key to bringing balance in anything.” He handed Iseac a map,
instructing him to study it. This was how he began his first day of
education and training. Throughout Iseac’s first year, Gabram never
explained the reasons for the task he was assigned until the end of
the day when he was tested, which made things sometimes
frustrating. It was mainly academic at first, learning about the
different cultures and land across the Kingdom. He also learned
about different weaponry, their strengths and weaknesses. He left
home for the first time just past his fourteenth birthday to study
the history of the Anamerians and also to develop his innate
ability in the use of the quarterstaff by a master of this
weapon.

It was hard leaving home for
the first time, especially for his mother, even though she knew he
was only going to be gone for several months. Their life as a
result of his gift was changing faster than most parents could be
prepared for.

He remembered the emotional
good-bye with his mother standing at the door of their home, waving
as he rode off with his father to meet Gabram close to the border
of Tru’tia.

“We’ve always been proud of
you, son,” Lenard said as they stood by their carriage. Those words
seem to break Iseac, who had been trying to be strong. He was
sniffling as his father pulled him into an embrace. He brushed
Iseac's hair once and then released him.

"We will see you soon," Lenard
said, watching as Iseac made his way to Gabram, who was waiting. He
was gone for a year.

It all changed from that point,
and for the next several years as his training intensified. The
time he could spend at home became less. This was particularly hard
on his relationship with Elena, a girl from his hometown, whom he
was suppose to be betrothed to.

At eighteen, Iseac was prepared
for his first test. He stood in the center of a sandy arena
surrounded by blocks of wood six feet tall. The blocks were paired
in sections of four, with a three foot gap between them. A platform
slightly higher with a bench was built next to the arena and there
Gabram and his Quartermaster, Darum, sat, watching.

The morning air was cold, but
the anticipation of what was about to begin kept Iseac warm. The
rule was simple: he had to make sure he wasn’t hit three times in
the next three hours or it was all over. Very few people ever made
it to a master, and this was his chance.

There was no warning sign from
both men watching him as it began. He had to fight and defend
himself for three relentless hours. The attacks came from all
corners as men dressed in sandy green camouflage rushed into the
arena with their blunt weapons. Sometimes two attacked him at once,
other times, he had four. Iseac stayed focused on the people
entering the area, ignoring those who were running around on the
outside, trying to confuse and distract him.

The first hour went by quickly
and by the second hour, he was beginning to feel the strain from
the constant motion with his quarterstaff. When the third hour
rolled in, he was covered in sweat. He had two strikes within a
short period as he lost track of time from fatigue. He knew there
was no way he could stave off the six people who were rushing
toward him, so with his last strength, he leaped over their heads.
He was struck by a long-spear as he landed.

“Enough,” the quartermaster
commanded on his third strike and everyone in the arena stopped. It
was all over.

Iseac dropped on one knee,
holding onto his quarterstaff, disappointed that he lost. Gabram
and his Quartermaster, Darum, walked into the arena.

“Well done,” Darum said,
standing next to Iseac with his hands clasped behind him.

“I can’t believe I failed,” he
thought, not completely listening to Darum.

“You made it, Quartermaster
Iseac,” Duram said with a level of pride in his tone. “I will see
you inside.”

It took a second for those
words to sink in even as Gabram came over to congratulate him.
Iseac could not believe it; he had made it.

“You held them off longer that
most other masters, except yours, Duram, of course. Over four hours
is very impressive,” Gabram said, tapping Iseac on his
shoulder.

At age nineteen, Iseac was
finally prepared to meet the Patrons of the eight temples. He had
learned over the years about the Patrons and the organization that
remained a mystery to most people, even after hundreds of years.
The Patrons were keepers of the secrets of their world and the true
nature of man.

They were gathered at the Grand
Hall, where he was summoned. Iseac remembered feeling eyes
following him as he walked up the hallowed room with the Patrons
sitting in a circle, the Chief Patron at their head.

The Patrons sat on a flat,
cone-shaped stool of pure marble that rose three feet from the
floor. The tiles on the floor were designed in the pattern of a
star with eight points, each end pointing to a seat. The Patrons
each seemed to reflect the lights hanging from the walls that
appeared to separate them as they sat with their legs crossed.

Gabram had made sure Iseac met
each of the Patrons during his training, and Iseac recognized each
of them as he made his way to the middle of their circle.

He recognized Buldric with his
black curl, who was the Patron of Mevi-tra, also known as the land
of rocks because of its landscape. Muras, with green eyes like
seaweed, was the Patron to Wing-high, which was located east of
Bayshia. Erasmus, with slant eyes, was the Patron of Tollan, north
of Tru’tia, a land surrounded by bamboo trees. Casimir, with his
broad shoulders, was the Patron of Seer-Root, built around a
swampland in the midlands. Adal, with his dark skin, was the Patron
of BanSun, located in the sandy plain known as the home of the sun.
Cyriac, the oldest of them all, was the Patron of Air-light,
located on the eastern region of Ditra-Vashine, with the Kadan
River to the east.

Gabram, with his shaven head,
was the Patron of Rod Stone, where they were now gathered on Mount
Va’lenna; Thorlak, with his white beard, was the chief Patron and
head of Amera-line, located on the icy plain in the north. Each man
had the symbols of his keys engraved on his ring as presiding
Patrons of the various temples.

Lips did not move, but Iseac
could hear the chief Patron Thorlak speaking. His voice was soon
joined by another and then another until they all joined as one,
forming a single voice. The day had finally come, and he took in a
deep breath to clear his thoughts as he stood in the middle of
them.

A single pulse like a wave ran
through his body from the tip of his toes to the top of his head,
sending a surge of energy that slowly overcame him until he felt
caught in a whirlwind. The walls around his mind slowly began
breaking. Images outside his surroundings flashed in and out of his
mind as wave upon waves of unknown memories rushed through him. The
surge converged in his head, and he felt lost in the world that was
opening up to him.

While this was going on in his
head, the amulet on his chest, given to him by Gabram, came to
life. The thread of golden lines at the center of the amulet moved
in and out of each other, unlacing themselves until they revealed a
fuchsia-colored crystal—the amulet of the Messenger.

Once the amulet was lit, the
Patrons slowly released their focus from Iseac, and the pressure
that seemed concentrated on his mind began to abate. The
once-dormant parts of his mind lit up like a kindling stick and
began to burn bright even as he continued regaining his strength.
When Iseac opened his eyes again, he knew the history of each
Patron, his lineage, and the history of the land. The room they
were in was a hub; it allowed each Patron to access the power of
the respective scrolls.

The air seemed different;
colors of energy ran through his mind’s eye as if they were alive.
He ignored them, focusing on getting his strength back. Even as
this was happening, the memories of the Anamerians before him
continued to merge with his own.

He remembered the settlers
before the establishment of the four Kingdoms, which was over a
thousand years ago, like his other memories. Years of learning
about the land and history of the four Kingdoms paled in comparison
to what he now knew, giving him a complete understanding of the
world. He knew where everything was—roads, trails long abandoned or
now covered in trees, secret tunnels, lakes, and springs. He was a
living master map.

Thorlak spoke to Iseac with his
lips still motionless, “A shadow of change is brewing, the likes of
which mankind has never before witnessed or seen. We need to be
ready. The three you seek are running against time. With your true
self revealed, Sullivan will be looking for you to get to them. You
need to bring them to us before he finds them or you. Remember, the
beacon of the three will burn brighter when you are close. So
listen when you are prompted to act.”

And this was how it began:
Iseac, understanding that he needed to search the world for three
people he’d never met before, using a gift he did not yet
understand.

Gabram continued to work with
Iseac after his unlocking into their last weeks together. The speed
at which Iseac recalled information, even from over five hundred
years ago, was getting increasingly faster. His bond to the
Anamerians before him was strong.

Gabram tested Iseac’s ability
in controlling the air, which he did by drawing on the knowledge of
Alizarin. The forth Anamerian before him born in the desert
plain.

Changing tactics, Gabram began
questioning Iseac on different situations and how he would use his
knowledge to protect himself and those he would be leading with the
least amount of casualties.

Iseac’s responses to Gabram’s
questions at first weren’t quick as his mind raced through
libraries of information, knowledge drawn from the Anamerians
before him. His thoughts filtered through their life experiences
like childhood memories, and with each following question, his
answer came faster.

Iseac, with each passing day,
was gaining a greater understanding and awareness of the world
around him, but there was also something else going on with him
that he could not explain. At first he ignored it as a fluke until
it happened again: natural light changed into a reflective mass for
a brief second and then returned to normal.

Iseac assumed it was part of
the change that comes with one’s unlocking and wasn’t expecting a
reaction from Gabram when he mentioned it in passing.

“Really?” Gabram said, his
curiosity piqued.

“What…”

“What you just said a second
ago, that sometimes the light seems like a reflective pool. I was
wondering when you were going to say something about it. I was
beginning to wonder if you had it.”