She was called Protector of the Small.
It was what she was. She fended off evils from the small and the weak and the defenseless. She was kind and gentle, but no doubt deadly. She did not know she was already being written in history books. She had done great and powerful deeds, and she would never be forgotten.
No one spoke of her striking beauty or elegant grace, for she had little of both - but they frequently mentioned her inner light and charm, her most noticeable traits. Tortall was safe in her capable hands, and the people knew it.
One thing confused everyone, especially her friends, above everything else. She did not go to Sunday worship, as did everyone else - instead, she went to the Chamber. She did what no knight ever did or will do - she entered the Chamber a second time…and a third time…and a fourth…She continued to heartily believe in the gods, but she worshiped for them in her own private sanctuary.
But today, several months after she turned twenty-six, she entered the Chamber for the last time.
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The doors shut behind Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan with an ominous slam. She stepped further inside the cold unfurnished room to look into the empty stone eyes of the sexless face.
For a moment, nothing was said between the acquaintances. Then, a not-voice rumbled through her head like summer thunder.
What brings you here, Protector of the Small?
Kel glared. "You know I don't like that name."
She felt the Chamber give a ghostly smile. All the more reason to use it.
"This is going to be the last time I ever come here," Kel continued. Almost immediately a hardly unnoticeable weight settled on her, like the burden of sorrow. "Every time I enter this place, I feel like I'm cheating al the other knights because they're to frightened to come. People are scared of me, because they know what I do. I can't continue coming here, so this must be the last time."
She would miss the Chamber, as sure as it would miss her.
"So I ask of you one thing. Show me my life - my future."
There was no answer for awhile.
You ask what I cannot possibly give, Protector, under all divine laws.
"You go by the rules," Kel whispered. "I understand. But this will be the last time I ever ask you something."
What if I refuse?
"Then I will leave without a sound, and it will be the last time you ever see me."
I always see you, Protector.
"You know what I mean."
Silence. This time an answer never came in non-words.
They came in images.
She saw herself standing in a battlefield, a legion of felled warriors laying in bloody heaps on the soiled ground, she herself covered in blood, the lone victor in the final war against Scanra.
She saw herself walking out of the stables in Corus, and being caught up in a green-eyed man's strong arms. She was ushered toward a raven-haired woman, who carried in her arms the child of a prophecy, an infant daughter named Gwyneth of Queenscove.
She saw herself staring at a flower-framed coffin, tears streaming down her face as the lid on the casket closed on her father's aged face.
She saw herself standing at the alter, dressed in white, while a handsome dark-haired man smiled at her as he slipped a ring on her finger.
She saw herself laying in the infirmary while two blanket-swathed babes were presented to her and the dark-haired man. He will be named Piers of Masbolle, she saw herself say, and she will be named Desiree.
She saw herself standing with the other knights as the crown prince and princess were solemnly appointed king and queen, and later walking by the new king to his parents' grave, where they bestowed their wishes and prayers.
She saw herself crying as her mother was now laid to rest under the ground, her wrinkled face a reminder that no one is immortal to death.
She saw herself galloping toward a giant stronghold and being bombarded by about fifteen children, most hers, a couple not.
She saw herself looking into a mirror, somberly observing her aged face, framed with short gray-brown locks.
She saw herself applauding as her eldest children, twins, kneeled in front of their king in unison, and became knights of the realm.
And all at once, the images ceased. Kel blinked, and looked quizzically at the impassive face of the Chamber.
I should not have shown that to you, it said, a surprising trace of remorse laced with its sexless voice. And I only stopped because the next part will show your death.
"I will marry Dom," she said quietly. "We'll have twins, and -"
Be silent. None of this must happen sooner than it should. I should erase your memory of this now -
"Please don't," Kel begged. "It's given me so much…"
An inflated ego, for one. Listen to me, Protector, and listen closely - if you should alter Fate in any way, you could destroy Tortall forever, and make it a crumbling empire. Do not set out to stop these things, or speed them up. I only granted your request because…you are special, Protector of the Small. Leave this room, Protector, and forget what you saw.
Kel paused, then reached out and touched the middle of the stone face's forehead.
"Goodbye," she whispered.
Goodbye, Keladry.
The lady knight exited the room, shutting the Chamber doors quietly behind her.
A soft breezy sigh filled the Chamber.
Perhaps we'll meet again.
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Gah, crappy ending, I know. OH WELL!!! It's just a little ditty I did to ease my slight writer's block. Kind of pointless. OH WELL!!!