In the Valleys of Grace

by ashletloose

Deyna, a soldier of the emperor's legion, finds himself in the middle of a prophesy. A prophesy that requires him to give up his allegiances, his home, even his identity. Rated T for language and violence.

2. Chapter 2

Ashley Hay

Eh-390

July 20, 2010

The voice had come from the direction of the doorway. It was hard to see him. There was a strong feeling that he was not there. When I tried to focus my eyes on him they involuntarily jerked away. Two young boys materialize out of the darkness and help me to slide ungracefully off the horse. I stroke the strong beast's neck and whisper a thank you into his waiting ear. I know he hears me. I know he understands.

"Gallyn is a good friend of mine. I am very pleased to see that he has brought you here as swiftly as I asked him," the voice belongs to a man that has silently moved to stand right behind me. The man is taller than me by at least a head and older, but it is impossible to guess his true age. His beard is the color of the night and falls thickly to his chest. His hair is infused with silver light, it is slightly longer than his beard. But, it his eyes that are the most unsettling. His eyes are milky white with uneven pupils. Perhaps the need to not see him comes from those eyes.

My breathing is heavy with fatigue and standing upright is proving to be impossible. The man does not ask if he can help me before slinging my arm over his shoulder and pushing his own around my waist to support my waist. "Let's get you inside. I have a healer waiting to see you. She has been fretting to see about your wounds since we saw you fall in battle." I do not ask how he saw me get injured from a distance of a day's hard ride. I do not want to know what those eyes can see. Not for the first time today, I am questioning the wisdom of my actions since I encountered that horse, Gallyn.

Inside, the cottage seemed to magically expand from quaint to rambling. There is a great room right inside the door that is sparsely decorated. There is a grand fire pit in the center of the room with a strong, high flame burning out of it. Something is off about the room. Something is missing. It takes me a sluggish moment to figure it out. Noise. The fire is not eating wood and crackling its pleasure, but rather it is fiercely punching through the air as if reaching something. Lighted torches sit snugly in sconces on every wall of the square, gray stone room. Just to the side of the fire waits a wizened old woman with brilliant white hair piled high on her oval-shaped head. She is wearing a heavily embroidered emerald green tunic and strange golden slippers whose toes curl in a tight spiral.

"This is Elly, the high priestess and healer of the Moon Cathedral."