No Foresight

No Foresight

                The seer sat amidst his 'focus'; a series of rocks positioned in just the right way to boost his powers. It had taken him years to find the right rocks, and more to set them in the correct positions. But it was worth it - he had once only ever seen the next day's weather, at most. But now he could see weeks, or months, in advance. He had foreseen the arrival of the vile Monster-King that had conquered the land, and he had foreseen the grotesque lieutenant that would be sent to rule over the village he called home.

                It saddened him that he had been able to do nothing. His prophecy had been ignored (although he had not tried too hard - he had just sent a couple of letters to the Royal Court) and the Kingdom had fallen. He suspected that even had his prophecy been taken as truth it would not help; the Monster-King was a great and powerful beast.

                There was hope, however. The seer had been seeing a kingdom freed from the tyranny of the Monster-King in some of his visions. It was years away, and it was far from certain (not all his visions showed the Monster-King defeated), but it was enough for hope. He had told several of his fellow villagers, and news was spreading.

                He hoped tonight he would be able to see how the Monster-King would fall. Each night for months, since he had first seen the Monster-King defeated, he had tried to foresee how and who. Where they would come from, and the path they would have to walk to succeed. The more he knew, the more he could tell to ensure the correct path was walked. As with any seer, he did fear that what he said could negatively affect the outcome - but he knew that the Monster-King had greater seers than he. More than likely it was their visions, their actions, that were causing the future to change.

                The seer focused himself, and then surrendered his consciousness to the web of fate. It filled his mind, and quickly it was all he saw - possibilities, certainties, impossibilities broken shards falling from the web. He looked for and quickly found the now familiar future; the Monster-King slain by the hand of an unknown hero. The path backwards was daunting, filled with dead ends and nigh impossible coincidences. But then, with sudden incredible luck, he saw a way back almost to the beginning.

                A feast - no, the feast; the grand feast of midsummer. Only a few days from 'now'. A lieutenant creature gorging itself on the feast alone, before any of the villagers could take a bite, despoiling it. Then - so suddenly - the monster screaming in pain. The monster attacked again, now dying! Writhing in a pool of its own blood, then dead. The killer, the hero, triumphantly standing tall above it!

                But who were they? The seer pushed forward in time, following the hero. Hoping to gain a glimpse of who they were. Flashes - a woman, no, a girl who grew into a woman on the journey. Powerful magic, great deeds against the Monster-Kings servants. Starting an army, and then a speech - a flash of her face!

                The seer was shocked by the hero's face - he recognised her. She lived in his village! The lieutenant was one of many the same, but twisting back he found he recognised grounds of the feast as those of his village. A pair of trees, a particular rock. The girl was from his village, and her name was Melanie.

                He was thrown from the web following that realisation - controlling his path weakened the link, and to think was to further damage it. But he had, finally, found what he was looking for. Months spent unravelling the web, finding his way back further and further, had finally paid off. The next step was to find Melanie, and tell her what he knew. With luck, she would have already discovered her powers - with great luck, she would be well on the way to mastering them.

                The seer found Melanie early in the evening. He had only spent a few hours in the web (many less than usual), which had left him with the afternoon to search for her. Like many of the young women around the village she worked on one of the village farms, but the seer did not know which. He found her just as she was locking up the pigs for the night - a duty that she rarely had. At just the moment he found her, he realised that instead of wandering and trusting fate, he should have asked someone where she worked. Seers can be quite strange like that.

                "Melanie!" he said, causing the girl to stop tromping away from the pig sty. She was covered in mud, and looked incredibly tired.

                "Huh?" said Melanie, looking around in the darkness. She had just doused the torch outside the pig sty, and her eyes had yet to adjust.

                "It is I, Porle. The seer! I have seen something important while wandering the web of fate!" said the seer.

                "And what would that be?" asked Melanie, starting to remove the large chunks of mud from her clothes and hair. There were a great many - some obviously sent flying at her by angry swine. It was hard to see the colour of her shoulder-length blonde hair beneath the mess.

                "A hero will rise to slay the Monster-King, and that hero may well be you. Most of all, I know for sure that you will kill his lieutenant this midsummer!" said Porle.

                "Right. How am I supposed to do that?" asked Melanie. Her blue eyes were as piercing as ever when irked. It was a trait that ran in her family, and Porle had always felt it was never used for the great things it was capable of. It was why he was sure that he had made no mistake in identifying her.

                "Within you is a gift, I think. Or someone, something, will grant you great power soon. All I know is that I saw the lieutenant-beast struck, then slain, by magic. Like an invisible blade had cut into them, slicing through flesh and bone with ease. And after it I saw you triumphant - celebrated. And before... I know not why, but you were roused to action by something the creature did," explained Porle.

                Melanie looked at Porle with disbelief clear on her face. "You're sure that it was me?" she asked, "I can't do anything special, Porle."

                "I'm sure," insisted Porle, "I saw your face clearly - clearly enough. Try it - maybe the ability is awake in you already, and you just do not know."

                Melanie sighed. The villagers respected Porle, but he couldn't be right (actually he often wasn't right)... She'd have to humour him, at least. "How, Porle?" she asked, exasperated.

                Porle paused. "I'm not sure," he said, "Perhaps... Perhaps just try to cut something? I heard... Snapping, slashing sounds. Think about those, and try to cut that old bucket there?" Porle indicated an old, destroyed bucket with his hand.

                Melanie shook her head and rolled her eyes, but she turned to the bucket. She focused on it, then thought about slicing right through it...

                With a loud thunk, the bucket was cut right through. Most of the top half slid off cleanly, making a dull clang when it hit the ground. "Oh," said Melanie softly, staring at her handiwork.

                "You can do it!" said Porle, ecstatic, "You must train, learn how to use this power to fight, in time for midsummer. I will aid you in any way I can."

                Melanie frowned, and looked at the seer. She guessed she'd have to do what Porle suggested - be a hero. Save everyone from the Monster-King. It would be more exciting than looking after the pigs, at least.

                "Alright," she said, "But I'll start training tomorrow. I've had a long day."

                Porle easily convinced the rest of the village to allow Melanie to train, rather than work (a small demonstration, on top of Porle's visions, was more than enough). Porle took her to the old abandoned quarry near the village, where she trained on the rocks left there - slicing them apart. He kept an eye on her for the first day, but afterwards left her to her own devices.

                She rapidly gained in skill and finesse, learning how to carve in very particular ways, even how to 'stab' with her power. The strength of her power did not increase - but it was great. She could cut through a metre of rock in under a second, slash after slash tearing through with great speed. Softer materials - wood, or (hopefully) flesh - took almost no time at all to rend asunder.

                When the day of the feast came, Porle felt she was ready. Melanie... felt she could defeat the lieutenant. But after that - it would be a long time before she was home, before she was safe, again. It would be hard, and she would probably die, and she didn't know how to feel about that. But getting rid of the lieutenant was something she had to do, for the village.

                The feast was to be held in a field just outside the village. It was well-kept, and served as a park in the daytime. Or it had, before the lieutenant came. The creature was angered whenever the villagers did anything besides work, and absolutely despised them having picnics. It only suffered the feast because, well - it was usually the only one feasting. It would devour its fill, and often spoil all the food with its slobbering jaws.

                It had not arrived yet, of course. Its arrival signalled the start of the feast, but at present the field was a hive of activity, villagers setting up tables, placing meals that would keep or cooking those that would not. Porle and Melanie were both present, Melanie helping lay out the feast (as she would have anyway), and Porle doing nothing (as a guest of honour, such as he, would).

                They had a plan - after the beast's speech, when it headed for the food, Melanie would (while remaining respectfully standing around the tables, as the creature demanded) launch her attack. Even if the creature proved somehow immune - or one of the Monster-King's seers had foreseen the attack, and a trap lay in wait - Melanie would hopefully escape capture. The villagers were prepared to lay down their lives, if need be. Well, those few who knew about the plan were.

                It seemed like mere moments to Porle before the feast was ready. His heart was beating at what felt like a thousand times per minute. Great events such as this one were - well, even as a seer he had never been present for one. It would be a great day. He - and Melanie - would be remembered, even if only as bit players in a great war.

                He, Melanie, and the other villagers formed a half ring around the tables. They were laden heavily with food, but none more so than the largest of all, horizontally across the open end of the ring. No chairs were set against it, and the villagers were hopeful that (for once) the beast would satiate itself on the food there and be done, rather than spoil it all.

                As expected, right as the sun set, the beast's announcer (a traitorous man from the capital) strode up before the table. The villagers went quiet. "Good evening, good people! Your lord and master, Garmanax, approaches. Please bow for his arrival!" called out the announcer, before making his way to one side.

                The villagers all bowed, and the slithering noise that signalled the lieutenant’s approach came from nearby. Moments later, the beast arrived. It was almost, but not quite, a snake. Long and scaled, its head was like that of a lizard (though none any in the village had ever seen), and six arms like snakes slithered alongside it as it moved. Its mouth was large enough to swallow a man whole, and in full length it was more than eight metres. Seeing it struck Melanie with uncertainty, but for Porle, each small nuance of the beast's scales was another confirmation of what he had seen in his vision.

                It slithered up to the front of the feast, and stared out at the villagers. "Raise your heads!" it roared. Once the villagers had done so, it looked out at their faces.

                "Good," it said. Its voice was clear, bold, and mighty - a great contrast to its greedy nature. "I see you have prepared a great feast for me once again. Perhaps I shall not need to eat any of you this year!" The creature laughed; a deep, echoing noise, filled with malice.

                "But before I eat, I have many things to tell you," it said, "You see-"

                "My lord!" came a voice from behind the villagers. Hearing a voice behind them, they parted. It was a messenger of the 'realm', a servant of the Monster-King. Her horse looked beleaguered, as if it had been ridden for days without rest. The messenger rode through the villagers, and came to a stop before the lieutenant.

                They held a quiet, whispered conversation. Whatever news the messenger had brought, the lieutenant was shocked - and afraid. Must be good news, thought Porle, unless it is news of Melanie!

                Having delivered the message, the messenger hopped back on her horse and rode off. Porle guessed she was headed for the next village, to bring the message to whatever lieutenant ruled there. Hopefully that meant the news was not specific enough to identify Melanie.

                After the messenger had disappeared in the distance, the lieutenant beast roared to silence the whispers that had begun to spread amongst the crowd. "I'm sure you'll find out what happened soon enough. Some... Hero has killed the Monster-King," said the beast spitefully, "And they are now roaming around killing the rest of us."

                Wha - what?! thought Porle. Whatever had happened was - it had never been a possibility in his visions. A cheer almost rose up from the villagers, but the beast hissed again to silence it.

                "Be thankful I don't kill you all for that!" it said, turning away. Before anyone could say anything - even the shocked announcer - the beast was gone, slithering off.

                That night, the villagers feasted for the first time in many years.

                It was early the next day that Porle heard more of what had happened. Brave souls were travelling from village to village, spreading the full tale. A woman called Dytja had arrived in the kingdom, and had immediately travelled to the capital and slain the Monster-King in a great battle. Immediately afterwards she had bested his strongest lieutenants, and was now heading about the land slaying the rest one by one. Some fought her, but all those that dared were slain.

                By all accounts, she was a truly great hero. But why had Porle not foreseen her? One who would so easily defeat the Monster-King, and so soon. He didn't know what to tell Melanie, either - what would become of her now? With her great power she could... Do anything, really.      

                He told Melanie that she was free to do as she wished, in the end, although he did ask her to become a hero, and fight the lieutenants. She told him she'd probably reopen the quarry and carve statues, rather than fight. Porle was kind of disappointed at that. He hoped he could change her mind, someday.

                Before that day, he had a journey to make. He would find Dytja, and speak with her. Find out why she had not appeared in his visions. Perhaps see what was yet to come, for her. Maybe even insert himself into her tale, as a minor part. She would not be hard to find - word was that she was only a few villages distant, and the path she would take through them was obvious - even without Porle using his abilities.

                He found Dytja walking down a dusty road two days later. She was not hard for him to recognise - armour unlike anything he had ever seen, and standing at least two and a half metres tall (if not more!). Her light brown hair was done up in a bun, and (to Porle at least) her bright green eyes screamed 'hero'.

                She had travelled fast - word had come that she was six or so villages distant, not barely two. On foot, and killing lieutenants as she went... Porle wondered how she did it. Perhaps she walked all day and all night? That would be suitably amazing.

                But there were more important things to ask. "Hail Dytja!" he said, waving to her.

                Dytja waved back, and said, "Who are you then?"

                Porle dismounted in front of her, and said, "I am the seer, Porle. I've come to speak with you about-"

                "Let me guess - I don't show up in your visions?" asked Dytja. The way she said it let Porle know it was a fairly common question for her - to the extent she was tired of answering. There were a lot of seers in the kingdom, and considering what she had done... It wasn't surprising that she was a bit tired of being asked about it.

                "Yes, if you don't mind," replied Porle.

                Dytja sighed. "It's fairly simply, actually," she began, "although it took a long time to figure it out. Magic of foresight in this world mostly works from two types of information: the intentions and potential actions or reactions of souls, and the position and nature of objects (and forces). It can get these wrong, or be imprecise, and rarely fully figures out the future; it can represent itself in vague words or images, or something more complex like the 'web' those in this region see, but it all utilises this information.

                "In my case the magic - for whatever reason - identifies me as an object, rather than as a being with a soul. It is likely because of my nature as a being from another world, or the magic that I carry within me from there. As unusual as it sounds, it's actually fairly common. There are other things that can throw off prediction, too - they rarely include much of the world as a whole, and many attempt to include the effects of seers upon their own visions...

                "But yeah. I don't show up because your magic identifies me as an object, and does not expect me to self-animate. For example, if you were to view our immediate future here, your vision would insist that I collapse and cease responding - even though I won't. The effect can be uncertain, since word of my coming can have effects, and then word of my 'mysterious death' can in turn have more effects. It's quite a mess a lot of the time."

                "I... Think I understand it. I had hoped that it was something to do with the unpredictable nature of your soul, and all the possibilities," said Porle.

                "Poetic, but no," said Dytja with a slight smile. "If there's nothing else you have to ask, I've got a lot of lieutenants left to kill."

                "Oh, well," said Porle, "No, but the lieutenant in my village - the one after this next - has already fled. I believe the one in the next village intends to fight you, though I went around to avoid running in to trouble."

                "Thanks," said Dytja, "Good luck on your way home."

                Porle nodded and then, with a smile and a wave, started the ride back home.