Briannas Prophecy

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Brianna’s Prophecy

Copyright © 2009 Tianna Xander

ISBN: 978-1-55487-227-5

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Devine Destinies

An imprint of eXtasy Books

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Brianna’s Prophecy

By

Tianna Xander

Dedication

To Kevin: My love, my life, my real life hero. This one is for you.

And yea shall she possess the Heart of
Terrna
, the very stone I have created to carry that which is mine.

Yet the stone shall not be the salvation of
Terrna
, only she who possesses it. Find the woman who possesses the Heart of
Terrna,
and ye shall find the savior of your world.

The people of
Terrna
will serve her as Queen, for she shall be Queen. Bound to the rightful Heir, she shall prevent the cataclysm, caused by the death of the sister, Tomar. If the rightful Heir should find her quickly she shall have the power to reverse the death of the sister, and all will be right with the world.

Shall she find happiness with the Heir; the world shall see peace for one thousand generations. Shall she find unhappiness; peace shall last only as long as she lives.

The gathering of evil is upon us. The others of the Sorcerers Guild of Nasha will entrap the evil while I make my escape to protect that which one day will save the world. Yea the legends be true, for I have seen it, so shall it be.

Prologue

“You can’t be serious, old man!” Niklas Voortag slammed his fist down on the table in front of him, his intense glare making his companion tremble. “What old woman told you this tall tale, my mother?”

The older man, unmistakably uncomfortable under such deliberate scrutiny, cleared his throat several times before telling his fantastic tale. “Many, many years ago,” he paused, then took a drink from the mug of ale that sat before him. “Before the great uprising, a spell was cast by a great sorcerer. He spoke of a…a Prophecy.” Standing, he paced back and forth, obviously apprehensive. His gaze wandered around the room. It was apparent he feared to make eye contact. “This Prophecy has already begun to come to pass.”

He paused again and lifted his mug with trembling hands to swallow another draught of the strong brew. Seated again, he shifted himself—a vain attempt to make himself a little more comfortable. “The Sorcerer was Morwyyn.”

At the mention of this name, Niklas, High King of
Terrna,
stiffened. Morwyyn had been feared by all of their people in the time of the uprising.

“Morwyyn cast a spell to always protect the rightful heir to the throne, until the year of the death of the sister, Tomar.” He cast a nervous glance toward Niklas and took another hefty draught of ale.

“He did this to protect us before he disappeared. The Sister will soon spin from her orbit, and
Terrna
will be overcome by the very evil Morwyyn sought to stop if the Prophecy is not brought to fruition.” His eyes, stance, and very manner pleaded with his king.

It was a fantastic story but not one Niklas was prepared to believe without evidence. “May I see Morwyyn’s scroll, Trinaugh?” He held out his hand, knowing the disbelief was clearly written on his face.

Trinaugh pulled a crumbling parchment from the worn bag he carried and handed it gently to Niklas. As the Keeper of the Light, only Trinaugh and his assistant would have known of the prophecy. Until now. It had been passed from one Keeper to the next for generations, until the rightful heir must be told. Trinaugh, and others like him, had lived and died, protecting this secret for centuries.

With growing trepidation, Niklas took the faded, tattered parchment from the wizened old man and began to read. His look of disbelief dissolved to a mask of resignation. Some of the predictions had indeed already come to pass.

What would it be like with Tomar gone? Would they even survive? He left the scroll on the table, strode to the window, and looked at the twin moons of
Terrna
. The identical glowing spheres lit the courtyard below with a soft silvery glow. The leaves on the trees glistened, the flowers in the courtyard shining with health under the watchful eyes of the twin moons.

“So it is true,” he spoke with quiet resignation. Niklas exhaled heavily and collapsed into his chair. He poured a large draught of ale into his mug, then rested his head in his hands and waited for the words written by Morwyyn an eternity ago to sink in.

Trinaugh stepped beside him and laid a gnarled old hand upon his shoulder. Compassion lit his eyes. “Only if you fail will the evil prevail. Only then, must we leave here as the others did during the uprising, find an uninhabited world, and begin again. Even then, the evil may follow.”

Niklas looked up into Trinaugh’s kind, gentle eyes. He knew his own were stricken with a myriad of emotions. Pain, loss, fear, resignation. All were a part of him. All battled for supremacy within his heart. The resignation won. “So, I am to be married within twelve months of the death of the sister. It shouldn’t be difficult. I have mothers throwing their daughters at my head daily.” He gave a careless shrug.

Trinaugh still looked distressed.

Niklas noticed this and immediately began to feel uneasy. He glared at Trinaugh. “Why does your countenance scare me, old man?” he said through clenched teeth. He felt a muscle tick in his jaw.
Very much more of this good news, and I just might start to get giddy!
Gods knew he wasn’t eager to marry an unknown woman at an unspecified time, lose his freedom forever, and most likely have to put up with incessant nagging for the rest of his days. Yeah,
that
sounded great! It was right at the top of his list of things to do. He rolled his eyes.

Trinaugh grimaced and wrung his hands. He obviously hated that it was he, after so many centuries of secrecy, to lose favor with his king. That it was
he
who had to give Niklas this bad news, which just kept getting worse. “You have not read the entire scroll, Your Highness. You cannot marry just anyone. It is your queen who will fulfill the prophecy.
She
will make it possible to destroy the evil forever.” Trinaugh shuffled back to his chair and lowered himself onto the seat.

The old man took another gulp of ale and turned toward Niklas, his hands trembling.
If he keeps that up, Trinaugh is going to be as drunk as a Doobian Botan trainer after a winning race,
Niklas thought warily. It couldn’t be good news if he had to have so much of that false courage to spit it out.

“Her hair will be the color of a Minauk in winter and her eyes the color of the jewels upon the handle of the sword of Lintau.”

Niklas’s raised his brows at the description. The color of a wintering Minauk indeed! The black in summer, gold in winter, cow-like animal was rare. The only thing that even came close was the gold brought from the planet called Earth.

The dark blue of the jewels was also unique. Nothing on this world matched their color. Nothing natural, anyway. So far, they had only been successful in producing it synthetically. The sword, procured long ago, had belonged to Morwyyn. No one was certain of its origin.

“Don’t be preposterous! There is no woman on this world who could have hair and eyes the color you describe.” Niklas snorted and glared angrily at the old man. He stood so abruptly, his chair slid across the floor before tipping over onto its side with a loud crash. Everyone on their world had dark hair and eyes. Their skin was a natural golden brown, which gave the appearance of a perpetual tan. “Why should I search the entire Galaxy for such a woman? My time would be better spent here, fighting the evil that frightens you so!” Niklas roared.

“You must go!” Trinaugh cried. “The blood of millions could be on your hands! She carries the key to our salvation. Morwyyn predicted that you would recognize her.” Trinaugh shrugged, and it was a barely perceptible movement that Niklas nearly missed. “I do not know how. But you must find her, even if you must search a hundred worlds, a thousand. I have already made preparations. I have advised the Council that you intend to take an extended tour of the Galaxy. There is a replication device on your vessel, which will make anything you may need.”

“Am I to just vanish then?” Niklas raised his brow.

Trinaugh’s shoulders slumped. His lips drew down at the corners. The usual twinkle in his eyes was gone, replaced with the dull shadow of weariness that made him look older somehow.

“You have known and trusted me all of your life, Niklas. Will you stop doing so now?”

Niklas pushed a hand through already disheveled hair, looked at the man he could have easily called father, and wondered where the time had gone. When had Trinaugh gotten so old and when had
he
become so unyielding? “No. I cannot stop trusting you now, old friend. I will go.” Turning, he began to walk toward the device that would send him to his ship, then stopped when he felt Trinaugh’s hand upon his arm.

“We have populated many worlds, Highness. They should be among the first you search. As you already know, many vessels were sent out into the great unknown during the time of the uprising. We have records of some that were sent to us before we lost contact. The coordinates have been programmed into the computer on your vessel. Make use of them and of your time wisely. I have confidence that you shall be triumphant.”

Trinaugh continued with the very last of the prophecy, the very last of the Keepers’ knowledge. “There are no writings of this in Morwyyn’s scroll. It is a verbal record, which has also been passed through the centuries.” He tried to convey the importance of this to Niklas. “If you find happiness with her, you two will be able to halt the death of Tomar entirely.” Trinaugh clasped his hand. “Go now, Your Highness. Find your bride. Good luck and good journey.”

Chapter One

Muffled sizzling sounds came from the street, if it could even be called that. Niklas had serious doubts.
He
would have called it a dirty, pock-ridden ribbon of filth. It appeared as though someone had taken a machine and ruthlessly scraped away the grass and shrubbery in a winding line through the center of town. He sighed and gazed around the dimly lit interior of the bar. Loosely translated, it was called
The
Watering Hole
, although he hadn’t seen a drop of water in this place.

The glass of dingy brown liquid that sat on the filthy table in front of him held no appeal. Niklas wondered why anyone would choose to live like this, then shook the thought off as he remembered they weren’t the ones that had made the choice. Their forefathers had chosen, and badly.