and favorite brother, Kerrik, went off to war to fight against the undead for Elcance, since Ocanse didn’t favor the use of wizards. My father and mother were farmers; we had a medium-sized farm on the edge of Ocanse, but sadly, not far from the evil necromancer’s lands. Just before the end of the war when the Duke was winning, Ocanse fell and our farm was overrun. I don’t remember much about that night except the blood and the flames and my mother bundling me up and passing me off to a shepherd couple who watched our flock of sheep high up on the mountain. Their plan was to escape by following the wild goat trails that wound through the high passes. That was the last I ‘saw’ of any of my family.”
She cast her eyes down self-consciously and continued, “Anyway, it was bitterly cold and we walked for days through the deep snow on the mountains. Eventually, we made it across and ended up in a large camp for refugees from the war. Men, women, and children lived in tents in the snow, but at least the undead left us alone. I was there for six months or so, living in packs with the other orphans. One day we heard the war was over and most of the adults loaded up and went back to wherever they came from. I was lucky and had always been good with horses, so I managed to catch on with a small traveling caravan that sold cloth, pots, tools, and spices.”
“What about the shepherd couple who took you from your home?” I interjected.
She grimaced, remembering that detail. “They felt their duty ended when they delivered me to safety. They were well past child-rearing age and did not want the responsibility of raising a rambunctious young girl. One morning I woke up and they were just gone. So I was on my own…I worked for the caravan leader for several full cycles, mostly for a little food and the right to sleep with the horses at night. Once we even traveled close to my home, and I begged Jedaro, the caravan boss, to let me take a spare horse and ride to go see it.”
Andea shook her head in dismay. “Ryliss, it was completely gone. Goblins, or whatever fell creatures, had burned all the buildings to the ground and nothing was spared. No one was around or working the land. I cried for an hour at the spot where I had last seen my parents, and then rejoined the caravan folk and never looked back. Time passed and life wasn’t so bad. I was eleven years old when the dreams started…”
“Dreams?” I repeated.
“Well, sort of like dreams, but they can happen when I’m awake, too. I see images of places and people doing things that haven’t happened yet. Sometimes I can recognize the players and they’re silent and other times I hear a narrative in my head like someone reading from a book explaining it all. But the words are always hard to understand, like someone really old is speaking. Sometimes I just get glimpses of light and darkness. It wasn’t long before I was riding alongside Jedaro leading the caravan. And every time we came to a fork in the road, he would ask me, ‘Which way, Andi?’ And I would tell him…if I knew…”
She paused and grinned. “Pretty soon, we were the best and the luckiest caravan on the trails! Jedaro’s wagons were hardly ever hit by bandits or encountered bad weather. Oddly, we always seemed to arrive in the port towns just when new trade ships were docking, so we always had our pick of the best goods. Other caravan bosses would always ask Jedaro what his secret was and, for the most part, he would just laugh, point to his head, and smile. But every once in a while after a big score, he would go out drinking, and that’s when he would talk more than he should.
“Late one afternoon, right after I turned fourteen, the caravan was bogged down. It had been a very wet spring and we had spent most of the day pulling our teams out of the mud and fighting our way up a mountainside. Everyone was in a foul mood, and to make matters worse, it started to rain again. We had
She cast her eyes down self-consciously and continued, “Anyway, it was bitterly cold and we walked for days through the deep snow on the mountains. Eventually, we made it across and ended up in a large camp for refugees from the war. Men, women, and children lived in tents in the snow, but at least the undead left us alone. I was there for six months or so, living in packs with the other orphans. One day we heard the war was over and most of the adults loaded up and went back to wherever they came from. I was lucky and had always been good with horses, so I managed to catch on with a small traveling caravan that sold cloth, pots, tools, and spices.”
“What about the shepherd couple who took you from your home?” I interjected.
She grimaced, remembering that detail. “They felt their duty ended when they delivered me to safety. They were well past child-rearing age and did not want the responsibility of raising a rambunctious young girl. One morning I woke up and they were just gone. So I was on my own…I worked for the caravan leader for several full cycles, mostly for a little food and the right to sleep with the horses at night. Once we even traveled close to my home, and I begged Jedaro, the caravan boss, to let me take a spare horse and ride to go see it.”
Andea shook her head in dismay. “Ryliss, it was completely gone. Goblins, or whatever fell creatures, had burned all the buildings to the ground and nothing was spared. No one was around or working the land. I cried for an hour at the spot where I had last seen my parents, and then rejoined the caravan folk and never looked back. Time passed and life wasn’t so bad. I was eleven years old when the dreams started…”
“Dreams?” I repeated.
“Well, sort of like dreams, but they can happen when I’m awake, too. I see images of places and people doing things that haven’t happened yet. Sometimes I can recognize the players and they’re silent and other times I hear a narrative in my head like someone reading from a book explaining it all. But the words are always hard to understand, like someone really old is speaking. Sometimes I just get glimpses of light and darkness. It wasn’t long before I was riding alongside Jedaro leading the caravan. And every time we came to a fork in the road, he would ask me, ‘Which way, Andi?’ And I would tell him…if I knew…”
She paused and grinned. “Pretty soon, we were the best and the luckiest caravan on the trails! Jedaro’s wagons were hardly ever hit by bandits or encountered bad weather. Oddly, we always seemed to arrive in the port towns just when new trade ships were docking, so we always had our pick of the best goods. Other caravan bosses would always ask Jedaro what his secret was and, for the most part, he would just laugh, point to his head, and smile. But every once in a while after a big score, he would go out drinking, and that’s when he would talk more than he should.
“Late one afternoon, right after I turned fourteen, the caravan was bogged down. It had been a very wet spring and we had spent most of the day pulling our teams out of the mud and fighting our way up a mountainside. Everyone was in a foul mood, and to make matters worse, it started to rain again. We had
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