Disclaimer: Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; lyrics are to "Tell Me I Was Dreaming" by Travis Tritt; this fic and original characters belong to their author.
MARIONETTE
Prologue: Songs About Rain
By Senashenta
It had been raining for two weeks straight—or nearly that—and the Terilee River had flooded up over its own banks as a result, turning Companion's Field into a perilous patch of swampland and disgruntled white ponies. Due to the problems that were cropping up in conjunction with the flooding, which included a lot of complaining Companions, classes had been called off for the day with the expectation that each Trainee—Heraldic, Bardic, Healers or otherwise—would spend at least part of the time they had been given helping the full-Heralds, Bards and Healers to bail out the Field.
So, having spent nearly five hours out at the banks of the Terilee, hauling burlap sacks of sand back and forth under the watchful eye of the Weaponsmaster, Heraldic-Trainee Morgan Calder was more than happy to retire to his room for a bit of what he—in a term that made his Companion wince every time—referred to as "training", along with two of his best friends.
This time, though, Harlan had nothing to worry about—or so Morgan told himself.
"Okay, Morgan." Toby said, "do the old mathematics text now."
What the other boy was referring to, of course, was Morgan's Gift of Fetching, which enabled him to grasp an object with his mind and transport it directly to where he, himself, was at the time. Being a Trainee, his Gift was still relatively underdeveloped, but he liked to practice on his own outside of classes as much as possible in the hopes of changing that.
:The Heralds don't like you to practice without them.: Harlan pointed out uselessly.
Morgan ignored him. "Okay—just tell me where it is, and I'll try for it."
Toby grinned, "in my room, on my desk—right next to my ink supplies."
A blink, and Morgan asked; "why is it in your room?"
"He borrowed it, because Herald Dryden said he needs to work on his mathematics." Dori explained absently from her seat by the window. She was reading through an old leather-bound novel she had brought from her own room, and glanced up from the story to add; "try not to hurt the book when you Fetch it, Morgan. It's probably almost as old as the Collegium itself."
Morgan stuck his tongue out, and Dori went back to her book.
"Describe it to me."
Toby rolled his eyes. "You know what it looks like, Morgan."
"Just do it." His tone carried no little amount of exasperation.
"Fine, fine." The brown-haired boy waved a hand, and after Morgan closed his eyes he said; "it's nearly three hundred pages thick, and bound in dark brown leather with kind of beige colored pages... I think there's a tear in one corner of the cover, too. It's sitting on my desk, next to the bookshelves, and with my ink pot and quill, and charcoals right next to it—"
Pop.
"Got it!" Pleased, Morgan opened his eyes once more to look down at his self-proclaimed prize—
"Uh—Morgan? That's not the math text."
"Well, really."
He hefted the huge text that had appeared in his hands and inspected the cover curiously—it was bound in black leather, and edged in gold, but there didn't seem to be a title or author inscribed anywhere on the outside of the book. Morgan turned out over, and ran one hand across the back cover—but it was as plain as the front, stark black, smooth, and empty.
"What is it?" Toby wondered.
Dori looked up from her novel once more, and peered across the room at them for a moment before setting it aside and wandering over to look for herself. "It doesn't look like any of the books we use for classes." She commented, "and I don't think it's from the library, either."
Knowing Dori, she would be the one to ask about the library—she'd probably read every book in the place at least twice.
Morgan looked at her. "Well, where did it come from, then?"
She gave him a Look. "How should I know? You're the one who Fetched it." Sniffing, she held out her and gestured for Morgan to hand it over, then set it on the desk and flipped it open—the cover creaked, complaining, and she frowned. "It doesn't look like it's been used much. It might be from the tombs..."
"The tombs?"
"A bunch of historical texts are kept way back in the back of the library. They're books that the Dean doesn't want just anyone snooping through—like about wars and things like that." Dori explained. "Bard Kronda told me about them."
"Um, oh."
If there was one place that Dorenda Atwater was in her element, it was while discussing books—and this was no exception. She was practically enthralled as she turned the first page and skimmed over the words that were carefully inscribed in black ink and meticulous handwriting. For a moment, everyone was silent, and then Toby stood up and went to hang over her shoulder curiously.
"What's it say?"
"During the reign of Darshay the Sky Wanderer, nearly five hundred years after the founding of Valdemar, the border that separated our beloved country and that of Karse was falling from our hands. Skirmishes along the territory lines had broken down our border colonies, and several had been taken by Karsite troops. We were under the imminent threat of invasion, and we found there was little we could do to change the course of history—" breaking off for a moment, Dori looked up from the book, a deep frown set in her face. "It looks like a recounting of—a war, or something."
Toby shook his head. "But—I've never heard of any of that—"
None of them had, and it was more than a bit unnerving. Morgan got up from his seat, and peered over Dori's shoulder at the text. "Why would they not tell us about something like this? It's kind of a big thing..."
"Hm." Dori agreed vaguely, then turned her eyes to the words once more; "—into that era was born a soul who, though adversity, strife and tragedy, would unite our country once more and beat the Karsite threat back from our borders—and to do so she would bear the hopes, pain, betrayal and retribution of the entire nation of Valdemar on her shoulders, for it was her destiny, as charged by the Gods themselves—"
And so the story began.
