Conflict (47 page)

“Damn, I’m too late!” he said. The woman rolled her eyes.

Aliana glanced back at her savior.

“I knew I’d find you sooner or later!” said the mysterious young man with emerald eyes.

“Thank you for saving me…” Aliana said, still in shock.

“Amtoko was right. My destiny was guiding me East, to you…”

“Our paths seem to be linked,” Aliana said. “That’s what the visions show…”

“This meeting can’t be a coincidence …”

Aliana nodded. “We have a lot to talk about.”

The young man and the young woman stared at each other, her sea-blue eyes scrutinizing his wild emerald ones. The tension between them became so obvious it could almost be felt floating in the atmosphere. An irresistible attraction enveloped them, ensnaring both of them.

“My name is Komir,” said the warrior.

“And mine is Aliana,” she replied, without taking her eyes off him.

And at that moment in time, without either of them being aware of it or knowing its future repercussions, one of the most crucial and critical encounters for the future of the continent had taken place. An encounter which would change the outcome of thousands of lives.

The velvety black panther growled, showing her lethal fangs, as she came to the ceremonial altar inside the somber cave. On top of the marble surface there bled a recently sacrificed ram. The red liquid flowed into a bowl with golden runes.

“Let it be, Missie, you know you mustn’t get close to the male goat. The sacrifice is a sacred ritual and mustn’t be soiled,” Amtoko said, chiding her dear companion and pulling her white hair back from her wrinkled face.

Missie’s answering growl was a little sharper and shyer. She knew she had been scolded. She turned and moved away from the altar towards the cauldron where her mistress was standing.

“Come with me, little one. Today we have some very important things to find out, if Mother Earth Iram grants it.”

The panther moved close to Amtoko, who stroked her back with real gentleness.

“Stay here, my precious, the potion will be ready soon. Today I need to sharpen my powers if I’m to trace what I seek.”

With the great wooden spoon Amtoko stirred the misty liquid, which was already overflowing the great blackened cauldron over the fire.

“Yes, it’s nearly done. Now for the final touch, to give the potion the potency it needs.”

The old Norriel witch, with a restless heart, went to the sacrificial altar. Kneeling before the ram, she prayed to Mother Iram to grant her the strength she needed. She intoned the prayer to Mother Earth and offered the sacrifice to the Goddess. When she had finished, she got to her feet and picked up the bowl of blood. She poured it slowly into the cauldron and stirred it with the spoon once again, intoning an archaic chant of blessing only known and used by those who shared her distrusted profession. This done, she concentrated and making use of her Gift, conjured an empowering spell on the brew in her cauldron.

“The potion is ready, my friend,” she told her companion, who looked back at her with her yellow cat-eyes.

Amtoko picked up the Dreaming Bowl. She filled it with the vaporous brew and smiled. She raised the bowl above her head and asked the Goddess Igrali to approve the ancestral rite she was about to perform under her gaze.

She drank the enchanted potion, savoring the bitter brew, feeling her lank body’s assimilation of power. She waited a few moments and soon began to feel her power growing, deepening. She was ready.

She went to the depths of the gloomy cavern with her faithful companion at her heels. She could feel power exuding from every pore in her body. At a dark bend she stopped in front of the granite wall. An enormous grey rock was placed against it. It looked like a monolith, with a solitary rune engraved in its center.

“It’s time to enter the secret chamber, my dear. Shh, let’s make sure we never reveal the secrets we keep hidden here…”

Missie lifted her head, looked at her mistress and growled.

“Yes, yes, I know you’d never betray me, little one. Come on, let’s go in.”

She placed her hand upon the rune, and using her Gift cast a spell. The rune lit up with a golden sheen and emitted a flash. Amtoko took her hand away as the rock moved and uncovered the entrance to a secret chamber.

“Come on, little one, it’s time to begin.”

Amtoko walked into the secret room. It was decorated with ancient runes which ran along the walls. Bearskins and the antlers of different wild animals hung beside the runes. On the floor, three figures presided over that sacred place of ritual. The three Norriel Goddesses: Mother Earth Iram, her daughter Igrali the Moon, and her other daughter Ikzuge the Sun Goddess.

At the far end of the chamber was a small pool of water, dark as night, faintly illuminated by the pallid light of the Moon Goddess. The light entered by a round opening in the rocky roof:
The Pool of Visions
. Amtoko smiled to see the reflective liquid surface she loved so much. This was her greatest treasure, unimaginably valuable, at least for those few blessed with her Gift. She stood before the pool over the images of the three Goddesses and spread her arms wide. She searched for her Gift and spoke a sentence of power. The runes of the chamber lit up, shedding a golden luminosity, and little by little the black water of the pool turned to silver, until it became a mirror.

Intent, Amtoko took her ceremonial dagger. Saying a prayer to the three Goddesses she made a cut in her hand. The blood oozed on to the surface of the pool. She felt the pain, but she was used to it. She watched the drops of blood create a wave which spread across the pool. She uttered more words to invoke her clairvoyant powers, her most precious ability. Little by little a vision, an imperfect image, began to take shape on the mirrored surface. She focused her attention on her beloved people, the Norriel, and the image formed into a scene in which an epic battle was taking place. Amtoko entered an ecstatic trance, letting the vision soak into her, trying to grasp everything the Pool of Visions was showing her and making her feel. She saw the Norghanians fighting ferociously to conquer the Fortress of the Half Moon. She recognized the Pass, the Great Fortress, the Norghanians on the enormous wall.

Amtoko stretched her hand and passed it over the pool, over the image, erasing it. A new vision appeared before her. She saw a Rogdonian Mage running, with white hair and beard. She knew him. He was unmistakable: the good Mirkos the Erudite. He was retreating, into Silanda, driven by the Noceans. Defeat was around them. The city had not fallen yet, but she felt the power of magic, very strong magic, not coming from Mirkos: a darker magic, perverse… Nocean Sorcerers, several of them… powerful… Would Mirkos be able to stop them? It was a difficult situation. If they were not stopped, the Noceans would conquer the south of Rogdon and advance on Rilentor; they would reach the foothills of the Norriel highlands. The situation was becoming more and more dangerous, and the prognosis worse.

Amtoko could feel her inner energy depleting rapidly. She must hurry, there was not much time, the spell was powerful and was using up her magic hungrily. She had seen two unexpected visions which were related in some way to the fate of the Norriel, of her people.

She erased the image with her hand and concentrated on her beloved Norriel Komir, the one she really wanted to follow. The face of the young man with emerald eyes stood out perfectly clearly in her mind.
What is the relationship between all this and our young friend? We’ll have to play the dangerous, treacherous game of fate to find out… Our dear Norriel is right in the center, in the vortex of all these events… but why? What will happen to him? What is so special about him? And beyond him… what will happen to the Norriel people because of his Destiny, or as a result of it
?

Amtoko let herself be driven by the feelings which Komir’s face transmitted to her, and a new image formed upon the pool. She saw Komir with two young women, the three of them sitting on the ground, wearing medallions which gave off a very ancient power. Spellbound, she saw the three medallions join, forming an arcane link by means of a very powerful magic. She let the essence of that magic enter into her being. Her body shivered as the enigmatic essence took over her body. It was a strange magic: very primeval, basic, earthy. She felt it run through her system and tried as hard as she could to define its origin. It was archaic, powerful and very different from the paltry magic to be found today in Tremia.

She stared in fascination at the beautiful medallions filled with such potent magic. What was Komir doing with that singular medallion? Where had it come from? The power the medallions shed dated from a time before Man; she felt that very clearly. But there had been nothing before Man on Tremia… nothing… with the exception of the three Goddesses… Unless they were …Ilenian. The Lost Civilization! Was that possible? Was Komir in possession of an Ilenian object of power? That opened up a list of suppositions.

But all this was nothing more than speculation. She had to establish whether those medallions were indeed originally Ilenian. If they were, and she suspected she was right… what was Komir’s relationship with the Ilenians? What purpose awaited the young Norriel now that he was the bearer of such a magical object? And that extraordinary link between the three medallions she had just witnessed: what was the meaning of it? How was it that all three bore the same kind of medallion? Amtoko remained thoughtful an instant; she knew that Komir’s destiny was special, of vital significance for the Norriel, for all Tremia. But this new mystery was totally unexpected. The enigmatic civilization and Komir were connected… And no doubt, this had a lot to do with the young Norriel’s destiny. She still could not see where all the threads were leading, but the Ilenians, their secrets and ancestral powers, were suddenly a part of the game. The situation was becoming even more complicated…

A shadow, dark as night, stained the surface of the pool black all of a sudden. A somber, threatening black. Fear came over Amtoko. She sensed a great power, an evil power, lurking in the shadows. That evil was searching for Komir… to destroy him, to kill him. She could feel it, intensely. But that endless horror was searching further… she could feel it within her, in her Witch’s soul: that power sought to conquer the world and submit it to its abysmal rule, to absolute terror. She concentrated still further, following this fatal thread, trying to see who was hiding in that darkness of evil, of terror. Two cold black eyes met her own, and Amtoko gave a start of surprise. The eyes were not normal eyes… they were foreign eyes.

Slanted eyes!

Amtoko felt an abysmal fear overcome her, a dreadful fear. Evil was coming, unfathomable and terrifying evil.

The panther roared in defiance, her instinct telling her she must protect her mistress.

“We must get going, little one. It’s coming… The oppressive darkness is getting closer… endless evil is searching; terror and suffering are coming to devour us.”

Note from the author:

I really hope you enjoyed the book. If so I would really appreciate it if you could review it. It helps me tremendously.

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Thank you very much.

Pedro.

I’m lucky enough to have very good friends and a wonderful family, and it’s thanks to them that this book is now a reality. I can’t express the incredible help they have given me during this epic journey.

I wish to thank my great friend Guiller C. for all his support, tireless encouragement and invaluable advice. This saga, not just this book, would never have come to exist without him.

Sara M, who has supported me, helped me, taught me and most of all put up with me for countless hours, with infinite patience: thank you for being there by my side, and thanks for all the work and selfless effort.

Roser M., for all the readings, comments, criticisms, for what she has taught me and all her help in a thousand and one ways. And in addition, for being delightful.

The Bro, who as he always does, has supported me and helped me in his very own way.

My parents, who are the best in the world and have helped and supported me unbelievably in this, as in all my projects.

Guiller B., for his good advice, ideas, help and most of all his support.

Olaya Martínez, for being an exceptional editor, a tireless worker, a great professional and above all for her encouragement and hope. And for everything she has taught me along the way.

Sarima, for being an artist with exquisite taste, and for drawing like an angel. Please visit her website:
http://envuelorasante.com/

And finally: thank you very much, reader, for giving my books a chance. I hope you’ve enjoyed it; if so I’d appreciate it if you could write a comment and recommend it to your friends and acquaintances.

Thank you very much, and with warmest regards.

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The Ilenian Enigma:

Book 1: MARKED

Book 2: CONFLICT

Book 3: TRIALS

Book 4: DESTINY