Part 42

Greza told him everything about the Empire as she remembered it.  Her account of the man that attacked them at the border had him scratching the stubble on his chin.  She left out what he had said though.  It wasn’t something she wanted to repeat.

“Someone that can take you down?  He couldn’t have gone unnoticed.  Someone knows who he is.”

“He’s dangerous, he’s smart and he’s evil.”

“Evil?

“He…”

“What did he do?”

“He said he was going to violate me, though not in that exact turn of phrase.”

He nodded. 

Then the door opened and Alethia came in.  Her black cloak’s hood was up and she caste a quick glance at Greza before facing Verin. 

“We sent out messengers to the Krolak,” Alethia said. 

“Excellent.”

“Still talking to the rookie?”

“Indeed and something interesting has come up.”

Alethia rolled her eyes. 

“What?”  She asked.

“Greza here seems to think I’m the Lost Victor.”

Alethia let out a burst of laughter before covering her mouth and regaining control. 

“Oh, does she?  Why does she think that?”

“Several reasons, but it doesn’t matter because I have all my fingers.”

“Wait,” Greza said.  “Alethia healed me, correct?  What if they used magic to heal your hand?  That way no one would know.”

“Then there’s no way to know.  Too bad,” Verin said. 

“This is idiotic.  She’s a rookie and a zealot,” Alethia said as she turned to go.  But then she stopped and turned around.  “Well, if someone’s been healed or altered, there is a way to tell,” Alethia said.

“How?”  Greza asked.

“The magic twists and warps the fabric of reality.  Where it’s been changed there’ll be permanent scars.  If your hand has been healed, I’ll know if I search for it.”

“Excellent.  Examine my hand and tell Greza once and for all that I’m not the Lost Victor.”

Alethia shook her head.

“This is asinine,” Alethia said, but took Verin’s hand anyway. 

She held it closer to her face and her eyes focused like she was reading a book.  As the seconds ticked buy Alethia’s face grew more contorted with concentration. 

“Alethia?”  Verin asked.

Alethia suddenly dropped his hand and stepped back. 

“Have you ever injured your hand?”  Alethia asked.  She was breathing hard and had her eyes locked on Verin. 

“You know I haven’t.” 

“Verin, your pinky and ring finger have been restored by magic at some point.”

“You’re jesting with me now,” Verin said, waiving Alethia off. 

Alethia ran over to him and took his hand in both of hers.

“This is no joke, Ver, your hand has been healed.  Your two smallest fingers were replaced a long time ago.”

The smile faded from Verin’s hand and he snatched it back to get a closer look himself. 

Greza remained silent.  They were working it out on their own and didn’t need help from her.  Alethia would probably consider it interference. 

But finally she had the proof she needed.  He fit the prophecy’s description exactly.  Duke Verin was the Chosen Victor.  She knew it as much as she knew anything.  She tried ton contain her smile but felt it slipping. 

“I never knew,” Verin said. 

“The Ork girl was right,” Alethia said. 

“You are the Chosen Victor,” Greza said.

“If I find out that this is some joke, Alethia…”

“This is no joke,” Alethia snapped.  “You know I don’t joke about my magic.”

“Alethia, has anyone ever said you remind them of a raven?”  Greza asked.

“No, but ‘Alethia’ means raven in the ancient tongue.”

“And Bull and a raven shall accompany him on each side,” Greza said, quoting the scripture. 

“This is ridiculous,” Verin said. 

He stood up and stormed out of the room before her or Alethia could stop him.  They both stood there, silent in thought. 

Finally Alethia turned to face her. 

“You were right,” Alethia said.  Her voice was hushed almost to a whisper. 

“He’s the Promised Victor, kidnapped as an infant.”

Alethia looked down to the ground as the thought. 

Greza waited for her to think things through. 

“I’ve always known there was something different about him,” Alethia said after a long time of silence.  “He was always the smartest person in any gathering and he…”

“He, what?”

“He glowed.”

“Glowed.”

“Not literally, but I could feel it.  Sometimes I thought I could see it.”

“You’re the Raven of the prophecy.”

“What does it say about the Raven?”

“That’s she’ll support and advise the Victor in the terrible war that is to come.”

“Tell me about this war.”

Alethia sat down and the two of them talked for the next several hours. Greza told her everything she knew about the prophecy and Alethia asked questions. 

“So, what’s your role in the prophecy?”  Alethia asked.

“I don’t have one.”

“But you were chosen to find the Victor.  There has to be something mentioned about you.  What about this witness?”

“The Witness will proclaim the Victor to the world and write down his story for future generations.”

“That could be you.”

“All I was commanded to do was find him.  I’m no scholar or public speaker.  I couldn’t write a book about him.  I’ve never written a letter before.”

“I still say you’re probably the Witness.” 

It made sense, but Greza didn’t believe it.  She didn’t feel like the Witness.  She had no burning desire to write Verin’s story down. She had had very little practice writing because it was too dangerous if anyone saw it.  She was a great reader but her writing was too horrible to write a book.  But still, with practice she could do it.

“How are you going to tell Tempest?”  Greza asked.

“Me?  You tell him.”

“You’re his friend.  He might actually believe you.”

“He thinks I’m a dreamer.  He never takes anything I say seriously.” 

“But he doesn’t know me.  I’m just a rookie scout.”

“No, everyone says you’re one of the best scouts they’ve ever seen.  They all respect you.”

“And you?”

“Everyone liked you so I took the opposite view.  Nothing personal.”

“Oh.”

Alethia then stood up and took Greza to Tempest’s door. 

“You’re coming in as well, correct?”  Greza asked.

“Right behind you.”    

She tried to relax and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.