The Lost Oracle

Prologue

Children weren't able to understand death. Sure they knew what it was. They would fake death during the games they played to pass the time. But, at the end of the day, the dead were always revived and ready for dinner by sun down. However, Ram knew the baby she was holding was dead.

She instinctively minded its head and held it tight against herself anyway. She hoped her body heat would stream into the baby's cold, limp form. Her mind was a frantic blur as she darted through the thicket around her village. Twigs snapped under her weight as she dodged unruly roots that rose from the dirt. Even panicked, she knew the terrain like she knew her own body. It was home, after all.

She found the frail baby while filling water bladders at the river. She was halfway done with the day's work when she noticed something shining just off the bank a few yards away. Her curiosity quickly turned to dread as she approached a small woven basket ebbing on the water. It was caught in an overgrown tangle of bulrushes. The baby was completely wrapped in a black shawl, except for its face. A thick black cord was wrapped around its middle and on the cord was the source of the light. A single pendant. The baby didn't cry. The baby didn't move. The skin that tugged across its eyes was a distressing color of gray. Its lips were crusted over.

Ram's heart hammered so hard that she felt it in her throat. She willed her legs to move as fast as they could. Just ahead she saw the brooding trunk of the Elder tree. Its wooden arms reached for the heavens while its millions of branches clung to the sky itself, demanding reverence. Long cascades of greenery hung all around the tree like a shroud and were speckled with bright flowers. Through the veil she saw him. Her Osaa was in his usual spot, legs folded and in deep meditation. Usually disrupting his vision would result in a thorough scolding, but there was no time to think.

"Gos, please help!" Ram shrieked. The severity of her voice even caught herself off guard.

He must have been in deep concentration, because he didn't jump. His eyes slowly lifted and fluttered before he turned his head to regard her. Ram burst through the veil with tears flooding her vision. She rapidly blinked the blurred image of her Osaa away as she carefully set the cold baby before him.

"I found it on the river!"

Gos was calm as he leaned over the baby and traced his finger across its forehead.

"She is... alive," he said finally, scrunching his brows, "but, barely. Do you have your kriah stone?"

"Yes," Ram answered as she produced her necklace with a shaky hand.

"Okay, good. Place it on her. We're going to channel all the Dhaekya we can through the stones."

The Osaa placed his own kriah stone on the motionless baby next to Ram's. The stones were the color of milky fog, a stark contrast of the black shawl that clung to the infant.

Ram adjusted, curling her legs under herself. Her and Gos hovered their hands above the baby and splayed their fingers. Within several moments, blades of grass and leaves began to dance around the pair, but not because of the wind. They were calling upon the might of Epora's life force. They were calling upon Dhaekya.

Heat bloomed like warm silk upon Ram's skin. It tinged through her head and neck before pouring down her arms and fingertips. Soon the soft silk turned into the hot pricks of thorns, but there was no pain. Ram steadied her breathing against the tingling sensation. She dared a glance at Gos, but his eyes never left the silent baby. He softly uttered a mantra, one he had yet to teach her.

The kriah stones began to glow an opulent hue as they absorbed the Dhaekya. Ram and Gos sat over the child for hours. The sky turned dark. Stars peppered the sky and crickets began singing their songs of yearning. The flowers of the Elder tree began their ethereal glow.

The baby winced before she started to cry. She was alive. Ram drew in a sharp breath as relief flooded her. They lowered their hands.

"She's lucky. That pendant she has is an enhancer," Gos whispered. "We have to get her to the village. She needs to nurse." The Osaa leaned forward to scoop the child into his arms, but Ram snatched her away.

"I found her, so she's my responsibility!" Ram's voice was stern over the baby's howl. She stared sharply at her Osaa. The resolve in her eyes made Gos smile. Perhaps children were able to understand death.

"You know we must ask the elders for guidance. Let's hurry now, Ram."

[wc: 812]