Windstorm: Part Two

Destiny Discovered

It was evening, and I was exhausted, having hauled around shopping bags all day. It was now a fact that I would never understand Dayne’s impractical obsession of shopping as long as I lived.

     Sighing deeply, I collapsed onto my bed, relishing the calming feeling of the cool sheets against my fur. Closing my eyes, I prepared myself for a relaxing nap.

     I was on the plain again. It felt ever so slightly different than it had last time I’d been here, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was that made it so.

     Then I realized. There was a gentle breeze ruffling my fur – strange that I could feel it in a dream world such as this. I was standing exactly where I’d been before, and began to pivot on my foot involuntarily.

     I turned around…

     And was not jolted back to reality as I had expected to be.

     There was something protruding from the ground a short distance away. I strode toward it, and as I neared it, I realized what it was.

     It was a sword.

     I recalled what Terzin had said: that Frey KeenBlade’s grave was marked by her huge war sword.

     It was huge, all right – as tall as I was. The sunlight glared off the wide blade as I approached it.

     There was something engraved close to the blood channel: Sirocco. I assumed that it was the battle-name of the weapon.

     Suddenly, I heard a fierce whisper in my ear. “I will be called back by the Windstorm, the Gale,” it said. The voice had an ethereal echo to it, which caused its words to be branded into my mind. “Duel and payment will –”

     I woke up suddenly. Someone was shouting, “The sword! The sword! That’s it!” It was my own voice. I shut my mouth abruptly, not wanting to alert Dayne.

     All I knew was that I had to talk to Terzin, and I had to talk to him today.

     Although it was unusual for me, I got out of bed immediately. I raced into the kitchen. As I’d expected, Dayne was there, eating a pile of cookies for breakfast. Trying to shield the cookies – she’s been saying that she’s on a diet, but I don’t believe it for a second, considering that she’s a junk food junkie – she asked me, “Hey, Sisslio, what’s up?”

     “Can you come downtown with me today? I really need to find someone.”

     “Woa, woa. Why first thing in the morning? I’m eating, anyway. Uh, I mean…”

     “You go shopping first thing in the morning, so I need to track down a Lupe first thing in the morning! Got a problem with that?”

     “Okay, okay!” she said hastily in agreement. “I’ll come. Just get some new clothes on; that shirt is so yesterday!”

     “Maybe because I was wearing it yesterday!”

     Not wanting to get into a fashion fight at the start of the day, the Island Zafara merely shot me a cheesy smile apologetically. She held up a white chocolate macadamia nut specimen of her breakfast. “Cookie?”

*

We were soon out on the streets of Neopia, two Zafaras searching for a Lupe, neither of us having any idea where to look first.

     We did a computer search on Neopia’s inhabitants, but either I was spelling Terzin’s name wrong, or he wasn’t in the archives.

     I sat back in a chair, sighing in frustration. “I’ll never find him!” I said, exasperated.

     “Why do you need to talk to him anyway?” asked Dayne.

     “It’s a weird scenario,” I told her, “I’ll explain some other time.”

     “Fine,” she said, defeated for the time being. “But where did you see him yesterday? Maybe he’ll be there again.”

     “The Art Centre,” I answered promptly.

     “Then why don’t we check there?”

     Of course! I mentally kicked myself. His audience had requested that he come back again, and he looked pleased telling his story. Maybe he had come back today!

     I was suddenly up and running, Dayne struggling to catch up. “Sisslio!” she called, “Where are you going?! Hey! You’re moving like a Uni on fire!”

     I ignored her. Finding Terzin was more important than anything right now. Racing down the paths, pushing irritated Neopets out of my way, I finally reached the Art Centre, but not before plowing into a female Striped Zafara, who was sitting on a decorative boulder near the Centre’s entrance.

     I’m going to be perfectly and totally honest at this point. As I straightened up to apologize, the first thing I noticed was that this other Zafara was very pretty. She was wearing a tan-coloured tunic and a long, purple, hooded cloak. The hood was on her head when I slammed into her, and was now off.

     Before I could say a word, she had grabbed me, hauled me into an alley, and clapped one of her three-fingered hands over my mouth. The other hand brandished a dagger, which she was holding threateningly close to my throat.

     “What are you trying to pull?” she snarled.

     I didn’t know how to answer, and even if I did, I was still silenced by her hand. I knew I was in trouble. Dayne had been trailing behind me and there was no way that she could come to help me. “Sorry,” I answered, mumbling through her fingers. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Is that knife really necessary?”

     She must have somehow understood me, because she proceeded to tell me, “Not that! I don’t give a Pile of Dung that you knocked me down!” The glare of accusation and suspicion in her eyes that she was giving me suddenly changed to a questioning gaze of interest. Her eyes were a shade of indigo, which occasionally shifted to a sort of azure, and they reminded me of rolling skies. “I meant,” she whispered, “You have the look of one who’s seen Frey.”

     My eyes widened at her words. She was like Terzin! She knew of Frey KeenBlade! She was exactly the kind of person I needed to talk to right now. But as much as I was glad that I’d found her, I was intimidated by her. She carried a weapon, had a stealthy air, and it felt like she was reading my mind.

     “I have,” I answered. I surprised myself with the calm tone of my voice, but continued to speak. “Or at least her sword.” The Striped Zafara removed her hand from my mouth at these words. “I’m looking for a yellow Lupe named Terzin,” I said. “Do you know him?”

     “Of course I do.” She answered me with a haughty tone, but it was clear to me that she was still slightly unnerved about my mention of the sword. “But first, how much do you know?”

     “Uh… I know the story of Frey’s death, if that’s what you mean. I overheard Terzin telling it.”

     The other Zafara began to look more and more excited as we talked. “Wait. You said you’ve seen Sirocco, Frey’s war sword. Have you been to the plain?”

     “Well, not really. I had a dream about it, and –”

     “Yes!” she suddenly exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders. “A dreamer, that’s what she said! You’re the one! We’ve been waiting centuries for this!”

     I was taken aback by her impulsive reaction. “Hang on, hang on!” I said, “What ‘one’ am I? What are you talking about? And who are you anyway?”

     She looked over her shoulder, then met my gaze again. “Let’s not talk here. Let’s find Terzin and discuss this… elsewhere.”

     “But I have a friend and she might be –”

     “Yeah, yeah. We’ll find her. Just come with me first.” With that, she grabbed my wrist and led me back to the Art Centre.

     Terzin was inside the Centre, seated at a table outside the coffee shop. Perched on his shoulder was a small, white Gruslen, which he was stroking. When he saw us, he appeared confused. “Aly,” he said, addressing the Striped Zafara, “Who’s he?”

     “Call me crazy,” she said, “but I think I’ve just found Frey’s Foreseen.”

     Terzin gagged on a mouthful of coffee.

     “He’s dreamed of the plain,” the Zafara called Aly told him. “And if you want even more proof, he saw Sirocco. You can even examine his aura. He knows of Frey.”

     “Well, I also heard your story the other day,” I said, not entirely comfortable in the company of the other two pets; I didn’t understand half of what they were talking about. “Can you two just please explain where I come into play?”

     Aly looked me in the eye. “If you were paying attention to yesterday’s tale, you’ll know that Frey spoke to Bryony SkyGaze and Dredless HowlSoul before she died.”

     “Yes.”

     She sighed. “I’m going to trust that you’re the one, because the words I’m about to say have never been heard or known by anyone other than my and Terzin’s ancestors, and Frey KeenBlade herself.” Aly sighed, and began to recite a sort of poem or verse:

“I will be called back by the Windstorm, the Gale,

Duel and payment will ensue, when reawakened shall I be.

Dreamer, windmaster, and warrior shall you hail,

The powers of a lifebringer hath he.

When two elements connect,

Earth and wind, to raise my bones and soul,

Magic and the gift to resurrect,

Return to leadership shall be my goal.

The eyes of the sky, the heart of a song,

Deliverers of legend shall be your task.

Although I’ll lie dead for many years long,

The question of life is one simple to ask.”

     Aly looked more serious than ever. “That’s it. Those were Frey’s last words. They’re not the mystery others think them to be. We never thought that she spoke nonsense; she foresaw her return to life. And she knew that someone special was going to come along to do it, to raise her bones. From your dreams of the plain, which no one in Neopia’s ordinary world has ever seen, I believe that you are the one Frey spoke of.”

     “Okay,” I said, letting this sink in, “but what do you mean, ‘ordinary world’? And who exactly are you two? And how am I expected to revive a dead warrior?”

     “Aly’s been rushing through this,” remarked Terzin. “Let me explain. I am Dredless’s descendant, while Aly here is Bryony’s. Her full name is Alysoun SkyGaze. If you recall, Frey said ‘the eyes of the sky, the heart of a song, deliverers of legend shall be your task’. The eyes of the sky would be SkyGaze, while the heart of a song would be HowlSoul. She was telling Dredless and Bryony that it was up to them to carry her secret prophecy throughout their lines of descendants, until the Windstorm – you – was discovered. Your dreams and such must be telling you that Frey is ready to return to us.”

     I then remembered that yesterday night I had heard the whispered words “I will be called back by the Windstorm, the Gale, duel and payment” this morning. Had Frey been speaking to me? I guess so. It was all confusing and sudden, but the enormity of it all had dawned on me: I was some kind of prophesied hero. Not something you hear everyday. I figured that there wasn’t any way I could escape this fate now, so I might as well live up to it. I was fairly tough; I went to the Battledome often, I could deal with problems. I hoped I could deal with bringing Frey back from the dead – a somewhat eerie notion.

     “Alright, then,” I affirmed, “I’ll do this thing. You two have got to help me, though.”

     “Sure thing,” agreed Alysoun. “First, you need a sword.”

     “What –”

     I never finished my sentence.

     The Art Centre doors were flung open. “THERE YOU ARE! WHERE DID YOU GO?! I COULDN’T FIND YOU!!!!” It was Dayne.

     “Who the heck…?” muttered Alysoun.

     “My roommate,” I told her. “The friend I mentioned.”

     I sighed in exasperation at the figure of my shopaholic pal framed in the doorway. I had a lot of explaining to do.

To be continued...