"The God Child - Prologue, Ch. 1" by Gwenivere Stephan

"This is the night," people kept saying as they passed each other. The streets were safe that night, despite the darkness of the skies. The magicians had lit torches, and enough people were milling about that the "rough" folk stayed away. They, too, knew how special this night was, and were anticipating it as fully as anyone else was.

Outside the city, the wind whistled through the forest. The howling noise was somewhat muted tonight, though. Perhaps the darkness had swallowed some of the noise. Or perhaps the entire world, wind and trees and sky, was holding it’s breath and waiting to hear the first cries of the babe that would be born that night.

The king was pacing. His usually coifed hair was tangled and mused because he was continuously running his sweaty hands through it. His nails had been bitten down until his fingertips hurt. His legs ached but he could not stop pacing. He felt as though he were going to explode with anticipation. He told himself it was excitement, but there was a lot of fear in his heart, also.

His wife sat before the fire and watched him. He was disappointed in her and had made that clear, but she could not feel unhappy. Their child would not be born that night. She ran her hand over her stomach – swollen but not heavy yet. They had many months to wait before the prince was born.

There was a knock on his door, but before the king moved to open it he knew. He could hear the shouts coming in the window. A woman had gone into labor.

"What?" he snapped when he opened the door. A soldier stared at him, cleared his throat, and reported.

"A woman, the tanner’s wife…" he began. The king shoved past him.

"Take me to them. I want to see this child born," he commanded. The queen stared out the door as her husband left. He had not seen his first child, their daughter, being born. But he would see this child. She sighed and closed her eyes.

In the home of Patrick Tanner, things were chaotic. His wife was giving birth tonight. His wife! Her beautiful face was marred with pain and bright red. Her sister was beside her, helping her walk, giving her and all who entered the small house commands in a barking tone. Her dark features were drawn together, scowling, contrasting with his wife’s fair hair and broad grin (when her lips weren’t contorted with pain). Patrick was nervous and unsure what to do.

"My child is the child," he kept saying when people brushed past him. Finally, Melinda, his wife’s sister, made him leave. He sat outside the house, letting the cool air play on his face and feeling relief that he didn’t have to stand around and watch. He had seen his first child being born. He had also seen the babe die shortly after. He did not want to repeat either experience.

"This one cannot die," he whispered, raising his dark brown eyes to the sky. "It must live for the sake of us all."

Suddenly there was an earsplitting shriek. Pat almost got to his feet and went back inside, but he couldn’t move. He began to pray furiously. He had never had much faith in the Gods before, but he knew that tonight they were watching him.

"What’s going on?" a commanding voice snapped. Pat looked up, surprised, then fearful. The king! Standing there! He had to stare for a moment before he remembered that his child was special. He stood up and extended his hand.

"I have no idea," he told the king, who shook his hand absently. Pat frowned – the hand was soft, white, and damp. Only the manners taught to him by his mother (and her heavy wooden cooking spoon) kept him from wrinkling his nose.

A young woman dashed out of the house, her face pale and her eyes wide. The king grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop so suddenly she almost fell. Pat helped her steady herself.

"What’s going on?"

"Melinda’s giving birth, too!" the girl gasped. "Excuse me, your highness." She yanked from the king’s grasp and took off at a dead run.

"Gods help me!" Pat moaned, falling to his knees. The king stood with his mouth hanging open.

"Two children?" he whispered. "Man! Get to your feet. Tell me – are you of the proper race?"

"Yes," Pat moaned, covering his face.

"And have you the proper blood?"

"My wife carries the blood," he started to sob into his hands. The king scowled.

"Straighten up, man! What’s wrong with you?" he snapped.

"Melinda is her sister!" he cried, unable to look up anymore. Suddenly he knew, knew deep in his heart that his child was not the child. His child would not be given opportunities. It would be Melinda’s child that would be the child. His child would be dead, cold and dead before the month was out. The Gods were not watching him as he had assumed.

"So both children will be possible candidates…" the king frowned and turned to his soldier, who looked terrified. The king snapped his fingers, scowling at the man. "Go fetch me the priest of Unara. He will choose the proper child."

"Yes, your majesty," the soldier turned and jogged away. The streets were getting crowded – people wanted to know what was going on. It took only a few words from the king to disperse them, though. His men were scattered throughout every crowd that night. They quickly ushered the people away. These people would have to wait in the main square like everyone else.

A midwife was brought into the house, since Melinda could not take care of herself and her sister at the same time. Pat managed to get hold of himself and sat silently, his eyes squeezed shut and his face tilted to the stars, praying again. If there were a chance that his child would live, he would take it.

The king was tired, also, and soon sat beside the tanner, despite the fact that protocol said he should not. When the priest arrived, he too joined the men sitting outside the house.

The squalls of the children were close together. Pat was sweating heavily, his hands shaking. The king was trying to force himself to breathe slowly. The priest of Unara stood up and extended his hand to the king, then to Pat.

The priest went into the house. The midwife showed him the children. Pat looked over at them and sucked in a breath.

"Which is mine?" he asked in a weak voice, though already he knew.

"This one," the midwife said. She touched the tiny girl babe, her head covered in fine blonde fuzz, her skin still sticky from birth. Pat gasped. Her perfect little eyes, strangely violet in color, looked up at him. His.

"This baby has violet eyes," the priest said, turning to Pat’s wife, Micaela. Micaela looked up and brushed the hair off of her forehead.

"My grandmother had purple eyes," she said weakly. The priest frowned and turned to the other child.

"Melinda’s baby," the midwife whispered. Pat looked at the little girl. Her hair was dark, like her mother’s had been, her tiny hands balled up tightly. Her eyes stared forward and were blue, pale blue. They were covered in a pale film.

"Gods above, she’s blind," Pat whispered. They could not be sure, of course, but there was little doubt. The priest sighed and turned to Micaela.

"Mention to no one your grandmother’s eyes," he said in a cold voice. The tired woman nodded and took her baby as the midwife handed her over. The priest straightened up with a sigh. "This child, daughter of Patrick Tanner and Micaela, is the God Child."

Micaela began to cry and Pat began to cry and the king felt very uncomfortable. He had not realized how ugly newborn babies were. They were wrinkled and sticky. He looked at the tiny blind baby and felt a wondering come over him.

"Where is the mother of this child?" he asked, looking around the dimly lit house.

"She did not survive," the midwife said simply. "The child is an orphan." The king realized that what he had thought was a pile of sheet was actually a body, tastefully covered. He looked at the blind child again and realized that she would be sent to an orphanage. There she would probably be sold to be a servant or perhaps to work in a mine or on a ship. Dangerous work. The king frowned. This child would probably not survive to adulthood. He looked at the little girl and his stomach twisted.

"She will live," he said slowly. "I will make sure she does. She is the God Child’s cousin. She will be treated well."

"Thank you," the midwife said when no one else responded. She handed the God Child to the king, clean now and swaddled in a warm blanket. The girl blinked up at him and opened her mouth. She began to wail. The king winced and quickly handed her to the mother.

"Here," the midwife almost immediately passed him the blind babe. She had not cleaned it as well, having just passed a cloth over it. The blanket around it was thin. But the child did not cry. She closed her eyes and the king looked at her, feeling that strange wonder lying in his heart again. She almost looked like his own daughter, with her eyes closed.

The king passed the child off to a soldier as he left the house. His commands were quick and easy to follow – take the girl to the castle and see that she was treated well. And do so quietly.

He and the priest of Unara went to the main square of the city. The king made the announcement and was met with cheering. He quickly retreated to his home.

His wife was sleeping beside the fire but woke when he came into the chamber. She looked at him with curious eyes. Her beauty, faded with years and childbirth but still there, struck him and he began to talk quickly.

"The child that will take the throne from our son has been born," he snapped bitterly. The woman got to her feet and led him into his bedroom, listening as he spilled out the story of the births. She stroked his forehead and leaned on him, listening silently. When he was finished, she smiled at him.

"I know you are upset that this child will be more important than your own. But you will accept that with time. You must begin to think of her as your child, too. You will have a big role in her life. You will give her education and training. You will become her father, in a way," the queen said in her soft voice. The king listened, because he knew his wife was a brilliant woman.

"But what about the other child?" he asked after a short pause.

"You have done the right thing. We will give that child a chance to live a good life, even if she is blind. And orphaned. Perhaps one of the maids will take her in. The God Child will be grateful that you saved her cousin, someday, I am sure," she said. She was smiling.

"The God Child’s name is Iola. I think it means purple dawn, or something like that," the king said absently.

"And the other?"

"She was not named…" he frowned. An unnamed child was bad luck.

"You must name her, then," the queen said, leaning her head on his shoulder. He loved the way she looked at him, but now the look was lost. He was thinking. He would name the child. He would raise the child. The child would not suffer as long as he could help it. He remembered his own daughter, then, and his unborn child. Would they be brought up next to a child such as this one? Blind, orphaned, strange?

"I will name her…" he bit his lip, then nodded. "I will name her Seisilia."

His wife sucked in a breath and leaned back. "Seisilia?"

"Because her eyes are clouded," the king nodded and waved a hand. "You may send word to the maids that that is her name."

"But… clouded eyes? That sounds like a curse…" the queen argued, slowly getting to her feet.

"Yes," he nodded slowly. "Because clouded eyes are a curse. A curse from the gods. Now, go."

The queen left, frowning to herself. She went to the servant’s quarters. The women were taking care of the child there, cooing over her fine features and praising her dark hair. The queen cleared her throat. They spun around, surprised. The baby made a soft noise but did not cry.

"The king has decided that her name will be Seisilia," the queen said, slowly. One of the maids covered her mouth, her eyes suddenly filling. So, they had fallen in love with the girl already. The queen sighed and added, "But she will have another name. We will call her Sena, for she has been blessed and cursed."

The child opened her eyes then, her eyes clouded and blind, but the queen was sure that for that moment she looked straight into her soul. She shivered, but the child turned into the warmth of the woman holding her and fell peacefully asleep.

There was a draft. I could feel it trickling across my knees like water. The air around my head was cool, but my legs felt like ice, and my fingers felt frozen. I couldn’t shiver, though. If I did, I would have been obligated to die of embarrassment.

Not that it’s possible to die of embarrassment. At least, I’m pretty sure it isn’t. I almost smiled, imagining the funeral of someone who had died of embarrassment. What would people say?

I heard someone cough to my right, a rustle of cloth to my left. I was glad that I wasn’t the only one who was bored. The chanting of the Priest was making me sleepy. If the smooth marble floor hadn’t been so Gods blessed cold, I would have fallen asleep on my knees.

Finally, he began to speak in a language we could all understand. I adjusted my posture, trying to make myself look as noble as possible. Not that I really knew what a noble person would look like. I probably looked like a dork.

"Seisilia, I hereby give you the name of Champion. You have been chosen by the God Child, and you will complete your journey with the eyes of Unara on your back and the hands of Tuvara guiding you," the man said. His voice was creaky – he was quite old. I felt a sprinkle of water across my shoulders, felt the petals of the rose against my clothes. His hands were so soft when they touched my face, lifting it upward toward the ceiling. They felt like bits of silk, though they smelled like herbs. My lips parted and I spoke words I had been trained to say.

"In the eyes of Unara, Goddess of birth, patron Goddess of my Lady Iola, God Child, I proclaim myself Seisilia Champion. I promise to do my duty and have faith in myself," I said. My voice sounded so loud, echoing off the cold walls. More rustles of cloth. Faint whispers I couldn’t understand. I almost smiled again. Faith in myself. I had claimed no God as my own, nor had I done the usual and proclaimed my worship of Iola’s patron Goddess, Unara. I had no faith in the Gods, really. They were nice for other people, but I wouldn’t depend on them in a pinch.

"Rise, Seisilia Champion. Protect your God Child and return to us successful. Our prayers be with you," the Priest said. I got to my feet, his hands on my upper arms, squeezing me a little too tightly for comfort. There was polite applause. I wondered if other Champions got cheers. Probably not. Everyone was too cold and sleepy to be excited.

The ceremony was over. There was a cacophony of rustles and voices all around me. I stood patiently, waiting for my cousin and my best friend, trying not to be too overwhelmed by the moment and all the noise.

They came together. I felt Iola’s hands replace the High Priest’s. She hugged me. I knew Sam was standing just beside her, and he was probably smiling.

"Oh, Sena, I’m so happy for you," Iola gushed. I bit my lip to keep a laugh in. Happy for me? What had I done?

"Thank you for choosing me to be your Champion, Iola," I said instead. I could feel her smile.

"Who else would I pick?"

I shifted my weight, knowing exactly whom she could have picked. "Well, thanks anyway."

"You’ll take good care of her, won’t you, Sammy?" Iola said, her voice direct toward Sam. I tilted my head.

"I’ll try," he replied, his voice flat.

"A year away from your glimmering beauty will be quite hard on poor Samjakiin," I teased, trying to lighten his mood. Iola laughed and I felt her fingers touch my arm. I hated it when she gently slapped my arms, as if I were so funny she just had to punish me. It was a terrible habit.

"Well, I guess I’d better go say goodbye," I said, taking a step back.

"Oh, we’ll go with you," Iola said, taking my hand and putting it in the crook of her arm. She led me out of the temple, Sam following closely behind us. I wondered if he were amused. He knew how I felt about Iola.

"Ah, Iola!" I heard a familiar voice say just as the sun hit my face. It was warmer outside and I was glad. Iola led me carefully down the steps and then I heard her being enveloped in a hug. I smiled. "And little Sena, too, Champion now! Oh, how you have grown."

"You say that every time you see me, Katriana," I said. "How do you feel?"

"Stiff. That was quite a long ceremony, and it’s chilly today," the Princess replied. She hugged me, too. She smelled like flowers and her many folds of clothing stifled me. I felt the large curve of her stomach pressed against my diaphragm. I smiled when she pulled away but I didn’t like hugging her. It made me feel… odd.

"Congratulations, Seisilia Champion," another familiar voice said. I jumped. I had not heard the Crown Prince, Paul III, walk up.

"Thank you, your highness," I replied, my voice just as stiff as his. Why he insisted on calling my Seisilia I did not understand. I had made it clear to him that I was friend, not foe. Well, he was jealous of my new role, I guessed. He, like Sam, had wanted to be Iola’s Champion.

"I suppose Samjakiin will be going with you, doing the real hunting," he said, and I heard the smirk in his voice. I frowned.

"Sam is going with me to help keep me safe and to navigate for me, yes. But I will be the one to find the Nomigem, of course," I said. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him but didn’t.

"Of course," he replied, doubt in his voice. "Well, I will see you around, Iola, Katriana. Champion."

"Goodbye, Pauly," Iola said brightly. The air felt a little warmer as he walked away.

"Mother wants to say goodbye to you, too, Sena," Katriana said. Her voice had grown somber. "And father wishes you luck."

"Tell Their Majesties that I said thank you for everything," I said, biting my lower lip and feeling my shoulders hunch up a bit. I didn’t want to talk to the queen. No, no, no. I heard Katriana open her mouth to say something.

Sam spoke up suddenly, though, cutting her off. "Sena, my father wants to talk to you. Shall we go now, and get it over with?" I smiled. Always coming to my rescue.

"Yes, let’s go. It will be warmer in the stable," I said. Sam took my arm and we hurried off. As soon as we were out of the crowd he released me. I knew the way to the stable by heart, now. I never got lost.

The last day of the month of Ritual was always a cold one. I couldn’t remember a birthday when I hadn’t been shivering. Ritual was usually the first month of winter, and the last day was always windy and snowy. As we made our way down the paved streets toward Sam’s father’s stable, the snow crunched under my boots.

I hated winter. Absolutely loathed it. I had to wear shoes and every now and then I was forced to wear gloves. So much clothing stifled me and made it hard to know exactly where I was. They dulled my sense of touch, making me quite nervous.

The trip took longer than usual because there were many people in the streets. Looking at me curiously, I supposed. Whenever we passed through a crowd, Sam took my arm. I felt slightly dizzy, hearing the voices of so many people. Ritual was usually a very quiet month.

It took us almost twice the time to make it from the temple to the stables. Sam wanted to lead me across the grass instead of wandering down the streets, but I refused. I wanted to know where I was, even if it took a little longer. I was relieved when I realized we were almost to the stable. I was shivering violently as the cold wind whipped past us, making my cheeks sting.

The stable was very different, though. It was warm and friendly. We hurried to it and I stepped inside, relieved. Sam closed the doors behind us, shutting us into the warmth. I took a deep breath, smelling the horses and the hay and the wood all around me. I quickly removed my boots, feeling the hard packed dirt beneath my toes. It was cold, but better than thick-soled leather shoes.

"Sena," Samja, Sam’s father, said. I turned toward him, smiling. He was coming down the ladder from the loft.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked when he was on solid ground. His boots made a heavy sound in the dirt as he moved forward.

"Yes," he grasped my forearm tightly. That was the closest Samja Hostler ever got to a hug, so I grinned widely. Sam brushed past us, moving deeper into the stable. Getting his horse ready. I heard him take the tack down from the wall and open a stall.

"About what?"

"Your ride," he sighed and I heard the strange, soft noise his hand made when it ran through his hair. I liked that sound, even though it was a sign of his nervousness. It seemed very homey to me. "You can’t ride all over the country on one of my horses."

"Why not?" I frowned. "Your horses are the best. I know how to ride…"

"It’s not that I doubt your skills, or the skills of my horses," Samja said quickly. "It’s just too dangerous. You need to travel on something that will keep you safe."

"I’m not sure I understand."

"Sena," he sighed and there was a long pause. He opened a leather pouch and I heard the clink of a chain as he withdrew something. "Sena, you’re blind."

"Whoa, really?" I mumbled, crossing my arms and scowling. I hated it when people said that to me. They made it sound like a horrible sickness.

"Sena, don’t be rude," Sam called. I turned my head toward him and almost said something nasty. Instead, I bit my tongue, reminding myself that I would be spending the next year with Sam. If I started snapping at him now, we’d start fighting, and then the next year would be hellish. I clenched my back teeth together and turned my face back to Samja as he began to speak again.

"I don’t mean to point out the obvious. But it’s true, and it is a disability," Samja said slowly. "Don’t argue with me, Sena. Listen. There is a woman in Traveller’s Peace who can speak to animals. I want you to visit her. She is an old friend of mine. She can give you an animal that will be smarter than most, that will keep you safe."

"She speaks to animals? Magic?" I blinked, surprised. I hadn’t known Samja was friends with a magician. Of course, there was a lot I didn’t know about the man. I knew where Traveller’s Peace was, in my mind. A day’s ride to the west.

"Yes. She can control them. It’s quite… eerie," he paused again. "But she will be able to give you an animal that will be completely loyal to you, and smart enough to protect you when it needs to. There is something else, too. I…I have something for you. It was my wife’s."

"Mother’s?" Sam said. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he had turned in the stall toward us, listening to his father. I raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you want to give it to me?"

"It will help you find this woman, and it will help you with… other things, as well," he said. His sleeves rustled as he raised his arms. I quickly lifted my hair, letting him slip the necklace onto me and buckle it. The chain was strangely warm. He set the necklace down slowly. He kept his hand wrapped around the gem on the end, not letting it touch my skin. "This may be strange to you, Sena. It may hurt you. But I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you, Samja. What will it do?"

"It will allow you to see magic," he said. He opened his hand and set the necklace down. A round gem hung on it, and he placed it very carefully against my collarbone. There was a moment where nothing happened. Then suddenly there was a sharp twinge in my mind, like a stick breaking, and something flew in front of my face, snapping audibly into place.

I gasped, then yelped. Pain stung my eyes, making it suddenly hard to stand. My hands flew to my face, pressing against my eyes. My knees went weak and I fell to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks. The pain sparked in my eyes, needles flashing back into my skull. I bit back a scream. The something was there, in front of my eyes, every time I opened them. When I saw it another stab of pain shot into my skull.

A rushing noise filled my ears, and I was sure for a second that my brain had exploded and was oozing out my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut but I could still feel the something out there. Waiting for me to open them again. The noise faded and I realized I was trembling.

"What’s going on!" Sam cried. His hands were on my shoulders. I hadn’t heard him cross the room.

"My eyes!" I managed to say. I carefully pulled my hands away from them and opened my eyes. I gasped in pain again and quickly closed them. "There’s something wrong! There’s… things!"

"Sena, Sena, you have to relax!" Samja was saying. He had knelt beside me, too. "Those are ley lines."

"What?"

"Ley lines. They’re what give magicians their power. Remnants of the power the Gods used to create the world. It’s just magic, Sena. You’re seeing magic," Samja explained quickly. I swallowed, trying to sort out his words, my head throbbing.

"H-how is that even possible?" I whispered. I didn’t dare open my eyes again. The pain was racing from my head down my neck, my spine, arching into my arms and legs and chest. But it was easing as long as I kept the something outside of me.

"This necklace is magic. It tricks the mind into thinking it can see the ley lines. Really, you’re not seeing. You’re feeling them. It just… manifests itself as sight," Samja said. He brushed his hand against my cheeks, his fingers cool on my hot skin. "Relax, Sena. Just breathe." I did as he said and the pain finally slid away from me. I took a few deep breaths and regained my control over myself enough to talk.

"Shouldn’t I, you know, hear them, or feel them. Not see them?" I asked, sitting back and wiping my eyes again, keeping them firmly closed. Whatever was out there wasn’t natural.

"It’s magic, Sena. I don’t know how it works," Samja shrugged, his shirt whispering as he did so.

"Can you really see?" Sam asked, his voice full of wonder. I swallowed, hard, and opened my eyes slowly. I blinked rapidly, wishing that the ley lines would disappear from my… my sight. The pain was less this time, but it was still there. I slowly nodded.

"I can’t believe it," I whispered. "Is this really what seeing is like?"

"What do they look like, Sena?" Sam asked, his hands tightening on my shoulder. I winced.

"I… I dunno. They’re straight… ish. Like a table, only thinner. Kind of like needles, but really long. Well, some of them. Uh…and… I don’t know, Sam. I have no idea what this is!" I rubbed my hand viciously across my forehead, scowling darkly. The ley lines were so strange. I had no words to describe them. They seemed to be there, but they flickered and faded like they weren’t. They ran all over the place, up and down like walls and across like floors but also every way imaginable. They were all different sizes, some so thin I wasn’t sure if they were really there, some as thick as my arm. They seemed to go on forever. I felt suddenly dizzy, trying to see the end of one.

"If this is what seeing is like, I want to be blind forever," I whispered, one hand going to my stomach as a wave of nausea passed over me.

"You’ll get used to it in time. You can take it off, they’ll go away," Samja said. I quickly grabbed the gem and lifted it off of my collarbone. Relief washed over me as the lines disappeared, leaving me in a familiar world.

"Thank the Gods," I mumbled, removing the necklace. "Please take it back."

"No. It is my gift to you. You will find it immensely useful in the future," Samja got to his feet with a huff of breath. I winced. I hadn’t meant to be rude. I got to my feet, too, with Sam’s help. I pushed him gently away from me when I was sure I could stand on my own.

"Thank you, sir," I said. "I’m sure it’ll be better when I get used to it."

"Good luck, Sena," Samja said, a smile returning to his voice. He could never stay mad for long. His hand ruffled my hair and he turned away.

"You too. Ready to go, Sam?"

"Yeah, I guess. We’re riding double?"

"Apparently," I shrugged. "I’ll wait outside." I found my boots with some trouble – I had lost track of where I was in all the pain and dizziness. Then I slipped outside, bracing myself against the wind. I figured there wouldn’t be many good-byes, but I had to give them at least a little privacy.

Sam left the stable shortly after me, leading a horse. My fingers stretched out, touching the animal’s sides. The horse lipped my arm and I grinned. I knew this one. Sergeant.

"Help me up, please?" I asked. Sam helped me up, putting my foot in the stirrup and then climbing up after me. He had to wiggle his way in front of me, which I knew had to be hard for him to do. He should have gotten on first, since he was sitting in the front. But I couldn’t get on Sergeant alone, without a lot of struggle, at least. He made it relatively easily, though, and I felt him relax. He was always happier in the saddle. For that matter, so was I. I felt the horse start moving beneath me, a jerk as he started then a smooth side-to-side sway with each step. I smiled and relaxed my shoulders. It was good not to have to count steps or worry about taking a wrong turn.

Curious, I slipped my hand into my pocket and withdrew the necklace Samja had given me. I pressed the gem to my collarbone, prepared this time for the ley lines. I looked around, amazed. Lines everywhere. So strange. They weren’t effected at all by most buildings, but I did notice a large mass of darkness. I realized it was the temple. Made of marble. I wondered why there wasn’t any magic in a temple. Once I realized this, I recognized other dark spots as being blocks or columns of marble, stone, or metal. How odd, to know exactly where I was, even though I wasn’t counting steps.

There were moving bits of magic, too. People, I realized. Tangles of bright magic in some, faint strands in others. Magicians. There were quite a few of them. I watched them walking around, feeling a sense of awe. I could see people. For the first time. Not all of them, of course, and no doubt I was staring through solid buildings to see them. And I couldn’t see their faces or bodies, just an orb of that something in each of them. But I could pinpoint them. Amazing.

The gates did not block the ley lines, but I knew when we were getting close. There were many more magicians nearby. Many more people, I realized, feeling hands and bodies all around us as we arrived. I slipped the necklace back into my pocket and straightened up, trying to be noble again. As interesting as the lines were, it was relieving to stop seeing them.

All the people around didn’t bother sergeant. He was an old horse and very patient. That was probably why Sam had chosen him. Strong but gentle Sergeant, perfect for this long journey. I did wish he would move a bit faster, though. Probably all the people were slowing us down. I just wanted to leave, though, and start my mission. Just as I was wondering when we would be stopped by the High Priest, Sam stopped the horse.

"Seisilia Champion," the Priest’s voice called. I turned my head toward him. I couldn’t pinpoint him in this many people, but I could at least look near him. Would he be glowing with magic in the new sight I had attained? I almost wished I was wearing the necklace. "Extend your hand and receive your message from Unara."

I put my hand out. A small round object, cold and smooth like metal, was placed into my palm. Feather soft fingers closed my hand and I squeezed the ball tightly, not wanting to drop it.

"Good luck, Champion," the Priest said. He said it loudly, so all could hear, but I had the feeling that he was speaking only to me. I smiled and nodded in his general direction. The creaking of the gates made it hard to hear anything else, though I did hear the cheers of the people. These were middle-city people on the other side of the gate, cheering as they saw the Champion. I swallowed and then took a deep breath.

When the gates were open the horse moved again, very slowly. Hands touched my legs, my shoes. I heard my name, both Seisilia and Sena, called all around me. Heard applause and cheers. These were people who didn’t know me, didn’t care about me. They were simply excited to be seeing someone so important.

I grinned, realizing that I was important now. Imagine that! Iola hadn’t left the upper city often, but she was met with praise like this when she did. Now I understood how she felt, at least a little bit. It was nice, but also very scary.

It took nearly an hour to get out of the city. The lower city wasn’t as bad as the middle city. These people couldn’t take the time off to come stare at the Champion, but they did pause for a moment to watch us go by. I could feel a building nervousness in my chest as we went through the lower city. When we left the city for good, the nervousness burst out.

"Oh, Sam!" I whispered, leaning forward and pressing my cheek against his back. "I don’t know if I can do this."

"You have to, Sena," he replied over his shoulder. "So don’t worry about it. The Gods will watch over you."

If only I could believe that.