Two Roads
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by
Ace Ryn Knight
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I make no claims to them. They belong to the wonder that is Tamora Pierce and her magical way with words.
A/N: I wrote this as a response to the June challenge on The Tamora Pierce Experiment: Writing Challenges forum. I meant to post this sooner but what I wanted to write and what ended up being written were two vastly different things. If you spot any mistakes, please let me know. As always reviews = love, so won't you please drop a line even if you really didn't like it.
She could never forget what happened that day. Those hours were locked forever in her mind, every detail as clear and as perfectly terrifying as the moment she had first realized her daydreams were not dreams at all. Never before that day had she been so frightened, not even when she'd been half-lost in the Scanran wilderness, guided only by soft whispers and fragmented visions of what her path was supposed to look like.
The fact that the Protector's coming instilled such fear in her when it was meant to bring hope had been alarming, but the truth was she hadn't seen her savior's face until she was there, whole and real astride her mighty war-beast. Until the moment she'd met the woman's worried hazel eyes, all she'd ever seen of the lady warrior had been flashes, moments of what might have been, of her ladyship in distant castles and on far away fields sometimes in armor and with her sword, other times sitting to dinner clad as simply as the people she'd sworn her life to guard.
Her form had been hazy at best, wispy and indistinct in her mind's eye and far more ethereal than the woman before her now. Irnai had believed for the longest time that the woman must surely be one of great beauty with a goodness and strength that shone from every facet of her being, regal and strong to have so many follow her so devoutly. The whisper voice, the one who'd led her here with promises of freedom and a life far and away from the violence of this bitter realm had said she was so.
She'd put her faith in that voice, walked away from all that she'd known because it said she must, because it had never led her wrong before. Certainly though it must have been mistaken, for though this lady knight was clearly strong and had the loyal men, the healer, horse boy, and knowing creatures, she was young yet, with worried eyes and sweat-dampened hair. The woman in her visions was confident, braver than all others and simply amazing to behold.
Yet she spoke and the villagers, weary as they were, broken by the loss of their little ones and the strain of their service to their unfeeling lords listened to her, believing her as she assured them this was the women she had told them of, the only one who could stop the evil mage and his killing machines. When the whispering voice spoke through her, as it had on the day she's stumbled into this village, half dead from starvation to fall into Zerhalm's soothing embrace, she Saw.
Two roads lay before the lady warrior. One would bring her victory, the freedom of the children she sought, the death of the mage and his guard, and a safe return to the far away land in Irnai's dreams. The second road, the one which made her wish she'd never followed the voice in the first place, was darker, cold, and more terrifying than a blizzard in the dark. That road brought death, failure, and as far as Irnai could see- darkness to the world.
Irani told them their chance was one in two, which seemed to give the villagers a sliver of hope. And then the day drew on, the fighting band anxiously awaiting the night and moonrise. She stayed close by Zerhalm's side, clutching the doll he'd given her with worried hands and listening to the whispers of her guiding voice. The long hours ticked by slowly for her, and though he told her not to worry when he left, she did. Most of what she Saw for him did not bode well and for that she wept. Her Sight plagued her, spitting dark images at her when she tried to sleep and so she stopped trying. The darkness of the lady knight's failure would spell the end for Irnai and this broken little village.
Maggur would not indulge his pet mage then, not when a Tortallan knight had nearly ruined his plans. She could See the results of the man's violent rage. As an example they would all be taken, publicly beaten and hung high for all to see. She would become one of those things, and her Sight would be harnessed. She would become the worst of them all, killing all who stood before her because she Saw and Knew. Her spirit could destroy the land if she was taken and the blood of thousands would stain her soul. Never would she be free from it if she was forced into an iron shell. It would be her long and bitter fate if the lady warrior, she who had been Irnai's one hope in the darkness, failed this night.
So she sat, clutching her little doll, her dark hair falling around her face as she wept silently wishing she could sleep.
Years later, when she was grown she would not remember much of what surrounded that one perfectly clear day in her life. When every other moment from that year hazed over with age to be replaced by new memories and people, she remembered that day and its subsequent night. Long hours of waiting, of counting the splinters and cracks in the careworn walls of her adopted father's little house. She remembered the way her heart had beaten, faster than it ever had before. She remembered the cry that had gone up in the village when the first of the warriors came back from the castle and the tears on the faces of the parents whose eldest children came running home, the heartbreak for those whose little ones would never come again.
She did not remember the harshness of the journey to Tortall or even when she first set foot in New Hope. What she did remember, what was locked firmly in her mind and etched upon her heart was the coming of the one her guiding voice had promised, and the kindness of the lady whose courage and strength she'd never doubt again.