The Path Of Insight

Chapter 5: Vision

Need begets faith. Faith brings understanding. Understanding grants insight. ~The Chronivan, from the path of insight.

Aran was angry, the seer had played him again, using a youth this time. The boy had pointed towards city gates, perhaps the seer wanted to leave the city again, and he'd sent the boy to tell him. He was going to make sure that Mohr didn't get away, the city gates had to be closed before the man escaped.

This would not the first time that he'd send someone with a message that implied the opposite of what he meant. When he returned, he'd make up some logical argument to weasel out of trouble. He comes? The message was vague, but one thing was clear. Mohr was planning something.

Somewhere in the throne room, someone dropped a cup, startling the youth who had brought the message.

He stood up, and the boy shivered slightly. Perhaps the room was getting colder, or perhaps it was due to the flimsy pieces of clothing that the boy wore. Even in his time, he couldn't change everything.
He planned to issue a lockdown on the entire city, Mohr wasn't going to get away with tricking the King of an empire, not again. The sky boomed in agreement, the sound of thunder was distant. There's a skystorm outside, it's going to be difficult to catch the man. If the gates were to-
A loud sound to his left pulled him out of his thoughts, it was the sound of breaking glass.

He did not quake, did not falter. A king should never seem startled. It was his father's voice, even after all these years his lessons still proved useful.

The youth had dived into a roll, then dashed behind a pillar, hiding in it's shadow. The throne room had suddenly become windy, the nobles at the door were disappearing fast, some stayed around to watch. Some winding fool had decided to blow his window open in the middle of a storm, and he had an idea who. He comes, he thought, the boy had pointed towards the window.

His guards rushed to his aid, fearing assassin's. But he knew it was pointless, and his suspicions were confirmed when a man in a long white shirt, embroidered with blue spirals stepped through the window. As usual, he was wearing that strange mask of his, the one that had to be face of death.

Aran considered the mask beautiful, like the beauty of the lamals that hunted after windstorms in the northern lands. They'd float about in the air, emitting colourful lights, hypnotising their prey-disarming and deadly-just like the mask, a fitting accessory for the man who wore it.

It seemed the skystorm outside had not touched him at all. He was completely dry, and his clothing flapped softly in the wind, too slow for the winds of the storm outside.

Aran had grown used to the strange things that happened around the man. The Seer Mohr had arrived.
"You'll be paying for that window, Mohr." He said.

"What window?" Mohr replied.

Aran could never tell where his voice was coming from. The man turned in a circle, studying the throne room. His gaze fell on the boy he'd sent and he began to fish through his pockets for a coin. Surprisingly, he found one in his left pocket, a gold one. He tossed the square to the boy, "see you soon Dain Olwen."
The boy's lips parted, he was about to say something, but Mohr had already dismissed him, so he kept quiet.
"Greetings my king," the man bowed with a flourish. "I have come in timely response to your summons."

The king smiled, "thank you for coming, seer." Timely? It took you three weeks to respond you burning goat-and fix my window.

"The pleasure is all yours my King," Mohr replied.

Aran noticed that some nobles still stood by the open doors, rain was pouring in through the window, and the room was getting colder by the minute. The youth had already scrambled out of the room, smart kid.