Dark Queen: The Cybelline Prophecies

Chapter 35

A few miles out of the city, Cybelline threw off the cloak and enjoyed the sunshine. True, the gates were heavily guarded, but for someone like her, it wasn't a big deal. The horse cantored down the road and Cybelline lost herself to this new world.

Large rolling hills of emerald green and jutting rocks nestled hidden valleys of purple and white flowers. A few lazy sheep ambled by, followed by their sheep herder and their hardworking dogs. She took a deep breathe, the clean air rushing into her lungs.

In front of her was the large caravan of merchants she had followed out of the city. Two men were chatting quietly, talking about the uproar in the city, the price of grain, and a few snips of gossip.

"Old Kiholos daughter was chosen for the Mage Order? Which order?" The older man asked, suprised.

"Not just any" the other corrected as he pulled his stirrups to slow down, "the Mage Order" Their voices were hushed and deferential. Cybelline raised an eyebrow.

"You mean..."

The younger man dipped his head in answer, "She's a light mage novice."

The other man whistled in awe, and his friend puffed out in pride, "I'm from that village. Kiholos went from being one of the poorest men in the village to becoming of the richest in the county. They just built a shrine to honor the girl."

"What a life, to be a mage. To be a messenger of the True Lord." The other merchant stroked his peppery beard thoughtfully.

Cybelline only shook her head.

The other merchant leaned in, "Did you know, the Lady Supreme is moving her court to Dycathion for a few weeks!"

The other merchant's eyes lit up, "She hasn't been here in five years. We are blessed. Maybe we might even get to see her."

"Pshaw." The other one snorted, "She's the Goddess on earth, we'd be lucky to kiss the ground she walked on." He shook his head, "It's said that she is beautiful as the dawn and most powerful mage that has ever lived."

"And she's kindness itself. She's the reason we've had peace for all these years." They each kissed the coin they wore.

"So that's where you two have been, well met!" Another merchant caught up to the other two and greeted them.

"Hanf, good to see you, old friend. What news from your neck of the woods? Old Nerus and I were just gossiping about our villages." His friend asked.

The smile disappeared from Hanf's face. He flicked a small piece of grass from his horse's mane, and after a moment he said, rather quietly, "Well, there is one other piece of news...It's strange and I ain't sure if my friend had been ribbing me." He fidgeted with his button nervously, "It ain't normal." In his distress, he had slipped into the country accent he had been born with.

"Oh? Let's hear it, old friend." The other man said, his interest even more piqued."

"A few days ago, my friend passed a village, about ten days east of the capital." Hanf said, "He said it was a nice little village with friendly enough people. But when he had passed it last time..."

"What?" the other men asked impatiently.

"It's burned to the ground. Bandits, they say." Hanf said. The others frowned in confusion, "Bandits? in that part of the country?"

"That's what the official version is."

"And the unofficial version?" The younger merchant asked, why couldn't Hanf get it all out all at once?

Hanf shook his head and said it in a lower voice, "My friend said that it looked like the entire village had been blasted into oblivion. They couldn't even find a complete body in the smoking pit of ruins. Bandits don't cause destruction like that."