A Prophecy Forgotten
Chapter Five: Poisoned Water

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Davian took out his bandanna and wiped his forehead for what seemed like the three-hundredth time that day and slapped the five-hundredth bloodsucker that tried to drill into his arm. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. He could barely see the moon through the Morvenian haze. He missed the stars. He hated Morvenian nights worse than the days. Breezeless, warm, noiseless nights without so much as an annoying dove or tree sprite to break the eerie silence.

“Even the crickets won’t live here, Eric,” he muttered.

Eric slapped his leg. “Bloodsuckers don’t seem to have a problem with it.”

Marcus wiped the sweat off his forehead and flung it to the ground. “I’ll bet they’re sitting around fires back home tonight, wrapped in cloaks and drinking hot spice-lager.”

“Why does it get so hot down here?” asked Josephi.

Eric laughed. “Our mapper wants to know why it gets so hot in southern Morvenia.”

Davian grabbed his canteen and sipped a few of the last drops of water. “We suspect Morvenia’s located over a lava bed. That’s why the swamps bubble, so we basically take a steam bath every time we fly over a fault.”

“Please tell me they taught you that in RSO training, Josephi,” said Marcus.

“They did,” Josephi replied. “I just didn’t realize a lava bed would make the place so hot.”

Marcus covered his mouth to hide his snicker. Eric winked at him and turned to Josephi. “No, runt, lava beds tend to freeze the surrounding area. This one is just unique.”

Josephi raised his eyebrows. “Really? Because I thought—”

“The captain’s joking, Josephi,” whispered Snead. “Shut up and pretend you’re smart.”

Davian held up his hand for silence. He thought he heard something. He listened carefully and smiled.

Water!

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could beat the refreshing noise of rushing water on this sweltering evening, and from the sound of it, cool, fresh water awaited them only a few hundred yards away. Suddenly Davian’s 350 years at war seemed brief, and his vegetable garden could wait another year.

They crept on until they reached a stream. Josephi reached for his canteen and stooped to fill it. Marcus grabbed his hand and pointed to the water’s yellowish tint.

“Hold up,” he said. “This one feeds from the Poisonwood Forest.”

The Enbed River, the only source of water in all of Morvenia, originated from a spring in the top of the western mountains and divided just as it entered Morvenia. Part of it ran north to the Cragdern Mountains where the gnomes resided. The other part ran south through the Poisonwood Forest, where the trees were so potent they could burn and disfigure any cherubian who took shelter under one during a rainstorm. In the forest, the river picked up the yellow poisonwood sap and carried it through most of the creeks in southern Morvenia. Any animal that fell into an infected creek never came out, and on especially hot days, the steam burned Davian and his unit’s noses and lungs. Eventually, all the infected streams flowed into a basin in the heart of Morvenia—a basin Davian’s unit had dubbed “The Swamp of Death” for reasons they kept to themselves.

Davian hurled his empty canteen to the ground. Yes, a little vegetable garden about ten by fifteen feet sounded just right, with some flowers full of sweet nectar and a small pond. No, not a pond. A creek, with a cool, never-ending supply of fresh water. As Davian smiled at the thought, a bloodsucker hit oil and drank to its heart’s content until Davian’s hand ended its binge.

 “Serves you right,” said Davian as he wiped his blood off his arm. “If I don’t drink, neither do you.” He turned to his unit. “We camp here. Josephi, I believe it’s your watch.”

“Yes, sir.”

Davian joined Eric, who had just un-shouldered his backpack. He took off his own pack and groaned as he sat down. He leaned back against a tree and twisted his ring back and forth with his thumb.

Eric chuckled. “You’re brooding.”

“I’m brooding.” Davian sighed. “If we bring a legion of troops south they’ll drink the good streams dry. We’ll need to find a way to water them if we want to attack.”

“Always trying to save Elysia on your own, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. I’m just thinking about—”

“I know, Davian. Look, you worry too much about stuff you can’t control. Let the seraphs worry about watering the troops. Besides, it’s moot. Most of our troops are on Earth guarding the humans.”

“Eric, let’s not get into that again.”

“But Davian, it’s true. The humans have been multiplying at an incredible rate—faster than we are anyway—and it’s draining our forces. You know it, and I know it, and I guarantee you the seraphs know it.”

“Eric, it’s what we were created to do. It’s the reason for our existence. You know it, I know it, and I guarantee you the seraphs know it.”

“Well, the seraphs also know we’re thinning, and the mornachts are taking advantage of it.”

Davian turned to Marcus, who was unpacking his things. “Marcus, record our position along with the message, ‘Water scarce. Will need a way to hydrate troops.’”

Marcus had assumed the recording duties since the unit lost their original recorder to a minotaur in the mountains on the southwestern border of Morvenia where Davian and his men entered.

“Got it,” said Marcus. He recorded their position and Davian’s message on a scroll.

Davian knelt by Josephi, who was drawing the creek on his custom map. “How’s it coming, Josephi?” he asked.

“Well, sir, I think we’ve done well. I’ve mapped out most of this area.” He pointed to the area north of the Swamp of Death. Most of the area in the east had been filled in on earlier missions.

Davian patted Josephi on the back and pointed to the blank area in the northwest. “Now we just have to fill this part in, and we can go home.”

“Major, that’ll take at least two more moons!”

“We’ll go fast.”

“Major, what if Elysia needs us?” asked Snead. “Do they have a way to contact us to get us back?”

“For your purposes, no.”

“What about yours?”

“Nobody’s business but mine,” said Davian.

He fingered a small crystal he kept under his breastplate. Seraph Zephor had given it to him just before he left on the mission. The crystal was part of a bold new technological breakthrough that the Elysian military was testing as a way of sending messages undetected. Originally Elysia tried hawks, but mornachts discovered it and shot every hawk they saw. That forced the cherubians to send important messages the old fashioned way: seraph scroll cases. Slow, yes, but safe, for only a seraph’s command crystal could open the scroll case.

This new crystal technology, however, would enable Elysia to send messages of vital importance much faster and safer than a herald on a unicorn. To receive the message, Davian had only to hold the crystal in the light. Theoretically, it would pick up light signals sent from Elysia and turn certain colors depending on the message. The technology was crude, and Elysia could only send colors instead of full-length messages, but if they could make it work, it would give their army a distinct advantage.

“That map will be useless if the Senate and the Prime Minister refuse to authorize an attack on Morvenia,” Eric said as Davian sat back down.

The Senate and the Prime Minister controlled Elysia’s military strategy, so most of the military, including Davian and Eric, hated it. Some—especially Zephor—went so far as to blame the politicians for letting the war linger on for 3,000 years. Zephor always believed that if the Prime Minister and the Senate stuck to politics and let the military do the fighting, the war would end in less than six months. Davian agreed.

“I’m hoping the map will help change their minds,” he said.

“Not likely,” said Marcus. “It’ll risk the lives of too many of our soldiers, and I can’t do that to the fine people of this great realm,” he added with his best Prime Minister impression.

Davian and Eric tried to stifle their laughter. “You’re both probably right,” Davian muttered.

•

Davian twisted and turned, trying to get comfortable so he could sleep. He finally found a comfortable position and drifted into his dream of a little tree cottage complete with his little vegetable garden and now, a little stream. Usually, Davian’s dreams gave him his only means of escape from the miserable landscape he trudged through daily. This dream, however, slowly changed into something nightmarish.

It began with Zephor sending him on a quest through all Elysia in search of new recruits. His mission proceeded well at first, but the deeper he traveled into the heart of Elysia the greater the sense of evil he felt—an evil different from that of Morvenia, but no less evil. He often noticed gnome-like shadows following him, a strange sneer here, a glare from a stranger there, whispers in dark corners at inns when his back was turned. As he flew, he saw smoke billowing out of the City of Ezzer in the distance. He raced back to the city, expecting to see it overcome with mornachts. Instead he saw cherubians fighting cherubians, and the battle was fiercer than any Davian had ever seen.

Davian woke up with a start and grabbed his crossbow. He finally realized that the horrible battle was just a dream when he saw Eric standing next to him, knife drawn. Snead stood just a few yards away with an arrow cocked, ready to shoot it at whatever leapt out of the woods. Marcus and Josephi grabbed their weapons.

Davian set down his crossbow and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Just a bad dream, boys.” he said. “You can go back to sleep. Sorry I woke everyone up.”

“Just a bad dream?” said Marcus. “What were you dreaming? Did minotaurs take over the entire place?”

Davian shook his head and crawled back under his blanket.

Eric sheathed his knife. “Boy did you give me a scare, Davian!” He lay down on his mat and pulled his blanket to his chin. “What in Heaven’s Realm was your dream about?”

“Nothing, Eric.”

“Well, obviously it was bad enough for you to grab your crossbow and wave it around like one of Salla’s LAF-lackeys trying to show off.”

“I just dreamed we were being attacked. That’s all.”

“Well, if you ever have a dream about me attacking you, please wake up before you do anything you might regret later—like killing me.”

Davian pretended to laugh as he turned over and tried to set aside the discomforting thoughts that had haunted him for several years. For some time he had been nursing growing suspicions that all was not right in Elysia. He had not voiced those suspicions to anyone or anything save the walls of his home—not even to Eric. He first became suspicious when Sephus, a promising young RSO officer, lost his wing in a mysterious accident and could not remember what had happened. Davian had set the matter aside, but kept on the lookout for things that appeared unusual or strange. He found more than he expected.

Too many top-notch soldiers began getting hurt or killed in suspicious accidents. Gnome activity in and around Elysia increased, along with vulture activity in areas where nothing had died. Although vultures were not necessarily evil, they often ran messages for the mornachts, and their unhindered travel worried Davian. He tried to ignore such instances, figuring most of his suspicions were born out of silly paranoia.

That changed when the young Gabriella destroyed the nectar reservoir. Most—especially Zephor—called it a stunt by an immature soldier with something to prove, but Davian had watched Gabriella enough to know that she rarely showed off. She had nothing to prove because she was naturally good at everything. She had whizzed through cadet training as though it were easy, and she was the best archer the Elysian military had seen in a long time. None of it went to her head; she simply went about her business. That incident turned Davian’s mere paranoia into serious suspicions.

Davian glanced at Eric and was glad the captain could not hear his thoughts. He knew Eric would say, “You think about her too much,” again. Eric was probably right, but that was not the reason Davian defended her after the nectar reservoir incident. He knew the girl would never try anything like the Hover Run—especially on the night of her graduation from cadet training. Davian had reason to believe someone chased Gabriella into the Hover Run, but he could never prove it because she woke up unable to remember anything whatsoever about the incident—just like Sephus.

After the nectar reservoir incident, Davian found campsites with evidence of secret meetings between gnomes, cherubians, and mornachts. He also noticed that the mornachts often seemed to know exactly when and where to attack during many of their raids. He had alerted the seraphs about many of these instances—especially the gnome and mornacht meetings, but they passed off his suggestions as coincidence.

He even began to write down suspicious behavior as he encountered it, hoping to somehow discover a pattern. None had emerged. He made a note to jot down the gnome giving the mornachts drekels and the mornacht possessing a command crystal when he returned home, but he knew those incidents would not help him discover the pattern.

Davian tried to forget his dream as he tossed and turned on his mat. Finally, he found himself in his familiar glen with his tree cottage and his vegetable garden.

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Copyright © 2006 M. B. Weston. All rights reserved.
Revised: 02/06/09