“Drakis-ki,” the gnome bowed once more. “I have a story to tell you!”
“Ah,” Drakis nodded, closing his eyes as he continued to trudge up the ramp. “Thank you, Chief of the Day. I would love to hear your story and I am certain that it is a really great story but. .”
“It is! It is a great story,” The Chief of the Day responded, enthusiastically following along next to the human. “It is the story of a human like yourself, a great warrior woman who journeys from the coastal forests, who moves in silence and shadow. She comes from a human tribe that is lost to the knowledge of the world and remains hidden from the knowledge of all except the Hak’kaarin! And most remarkable of all, in her story she is searching for you, Drakis!”
Drakis stopped and rubbed his eyes, not entirely certain of what he had just heard. “A human woman-and she’s looking for me? Where did you hear such a tale?”
“Oh, of course,” the Chief of the Day nodded with sage understanding. “My poor skills in the telling of the story would diminish it, and I will not do such a fine tale this injustice. Would it not be better if Drakis-ki heard it from its source?”
Drakis look at the gnome with a frown, his awareness sharpening as the words sank into his tired mind. “It would. Is this storyteller near? I may have some questions. .”
“Not near,” The Chief of the Day shook his head. “Here. The woman herself is here.”
“What? Here?” Drakis blurted out.
“What is it?” Mala asked, concerned at the look on Drakis’ face. She and the Lyric were walking up the ramp toward Drakis with Belag, RuuKag, Jugar and Ethis behind them.
Drakis did not answer her but continued speaking to the orange-clad gnome. “She’s here? Where?”
The gnome grinned with all his wide-spaced teeth. “Why, Drakis-ki! She is there behind you!”
Drakis turned at once, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword.
Above him, at the top of the ramp, stood a tall, slender woman the likes of whom Drakis had never seen before. Her skin was a deep black-as deep a black as the middle of the night and as smooth and unblemished as pure silk. Her thick, black hair was pulled back from the high forehead of her oval face and gathered into an explosion of curls at the back of her head. Her large, brown eyes gazed at him above her pronounced cheekbones, their eyelids shuttered languidly in disdain. Her lips were thick and plump around her smallish mouth-drawn slightly up at one corner as though being amused by some secret thought. She stood with casual confidence, the long fingers of her right hand resting on her hip as her head tipped upward slightly atop her long, slender neck.
“So,” the woman spoke in a deep, husky voice, “this is what a prophecy looks like.”
“Who are you?” Drakis asked, his eyes narrowing.
The Chief of the Day, still standing behind Drakis, thought that was his cue for a formal introduction. “Oh, I sorrow over my lack of honor! Drakis-ki. . I present to you Urulani-ku, Warrior of the Sondau!”
“Urulani will do,” she replied with an amused smile. “I suppose Drakis will do for you. . or do you have some rather more exalted title you prefer as the living fulfillment of a legend.”
“How do you know who he is?” Mala demanded, moving smoothly to Drakis’ right side and wrapping her arm around his. Drakis muttered a curse; she was holding his sword arm.
“How do I know who he is?” Urulani said through a hearty chuckle. She stepped toward them down the ramp, her athletic figure moving with ease. She wore an outer vest of cured leather over a loose, sleeveless shirt of homespun cloth. Drakis noted that she wore soft buckskin breeches laced tightly up both legs as well as matching boots that made no sound as she stepped. “How is it possible not to know of Drakis-the bolter from House Timuran-who is the professed harbinger of doom and salvation now sprung to life? It’s a story that’s being told and retold all across the Vestasian Savanna by every Hak’kaarin gnome with a tongue and, it now seems, by every Dje’kaarin opportunist looking to find you and turn you in for more Rhonas coin than they can possibly carry.”
Urulani stopped just in front of Drakis, her eyes fixed coolly on him though her words were aimed at Mala. “No, I tell you, little slave princess, I’d be surprised if there were a blade of grass or a stone under all the sky from the Southern Mountains to the Nordesian Coast that doesn’t know who this Drakis is by now.”
Drakis could hear Belag’s low growl rising behind him.
Urulani looked up at the manticorian warrior. “I’m not your problem, big cat. In fact, I’m here to help you all, so you might think again before you decide you’d like to try and eat me.”