The Mists of Sorrow_ Book Seven of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [8]
“I heard you are leaving in the morning?” asks Brother Willim after taking one more swallow of ale.
“That’s right,” replies James. “We’re going to escort several of our comrades to Cardri. Most of them aren’t really suited for warfare.”
“None of us really are,” he states. After pausing for another drink he says, “I would still like to accompany you if you don’t mind.”
“What about your fallen brothers?” he asks. “Aren’t you going to escort them back with the other two?”
“No,” he answers. “My brethren can do that well enough, what I needed to do has already been done.”
James is delighted to have such a man journey with him. But then a thought comes. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with me being the ‘Gardener’ would it? If I remember right, you called me that during that last big battle in the desert.”
Brother Willim gets a crooked grin and nods. “Somewhat, yes,” he replies.
“Just what does it mean that I’m the Gardener?” he asks.
“There’s an old prophecy handed down from old…,” he begins.
“Isn’t there always,” interrupts James with a sigh.
“What?” questions Illan who had been listening in on the conversation.
Not realizing he had spoken aloud, James turns to him and says, “Oh, nothing.” Then to Brother Willim he says, “Sorry for interrupting you, please continue.”
“Centuries ago, a man came to one of our lord Asran’s temples,” he continues. “Which one I’ll not say. The man was wracked with fever and eventually slipped into the sleep of the dead. Not completely dead yet not completely alive either.”
Must have been in a coma, reasons James.
“During the time when he lay in the sleep of the dead, there were times when he spoke. At first the priests attending him thought his words were gibberish until one old scholarly priest realized the man was speaking in a language long dead to the world of men. Only the most learned scholars still understood the language, some of the oldest surviving tomes we have are written in it.”
“Immediately they had the priest begin writing down the words the man spoke. He wouldn’t speak often so they had the priest stay with the man constantly, ever prepared to put to parchment the words of the man.”
“And has anything the man spoke of come to pass?” James asks.
Nodding, Brother Willim says, “Yes, several.” He takes a sip of ale and then continues. “After the first several months, he began speaking of the end of the world. Of fire and shadows consuming all life.”
At that James and Illan glance to each other. They can see reflected in the eyes of the other the memory of the shadows they have encountered.
“There are many passages linking the Gardener to the end of the world. Some foretell of his coming, others speak of events that will transpire before he walks upon this earth.” Glancing first to James then to Illan he adds, “At least five that I know of have come to pass in the last few years.”
“Okay,” says James. “What makes you believe that I am the Gardener of which he spoke?”
“I will tell you of two,” he says. “Here is the first,”
When evil arises, its neighbors to swallow,
A man shall come to lands gone fallow.
With might and right its tide to slow,
The Gardener walks the lands to sow.
“We believe the arising evil is the Empire,” he states. “‘Swallowing its neighbors’, that’s exactly what it is doing. And since it mentions the Gardener, that would conclude he would appear at this time.”
“But that’s pretty vague,” James says. Turning to Illan he asks, “Hasn’t the Empire been ‘swallowing its neighbors’ for hundreds of years?”
Nodding, he replies, “Yes they have.”
James turns back to Brother Willim.
“As I said there have been other prophecies the man spoke