Seeing that most of the set up was done, Dochin took her place in the chair closest to the bowl, carefully arranging her limbs and immediately unwrapping her scrying tool. While she was doing that, Chimeg lit a small brazier and brought it to the table, while Ganbold laid out the herbs she would need.

  This was a different type of ceremony than those she usually conducted. Instead of searching for a Vision, she was constructing a calling that would be cast on the River of Time and spread around, looking for a receptive being or beings to take up that burden.

  Looking up at the two younger Seers, Dochin addressed them from an assured stance of speaking to contemporaries. According them the status of a Seer instead of an apprentice, she said, “I am first going to cast my most powerful oil on the water in my bowl. I will be searching for the tokens that will speak to the beings that we seek. Once I find those symbols, we will imbue them with our message and cast them free.”

  Chimeg asked, “How will we direct them?”

  Shaking her head slightly, Dochin answered calmly and simply, “We do not. If there is someone that should and can accept the calling, the token will find them.”

  Ganbold asked somewhat nervously in turn, “What if there is no one to pick that token up?”

  Her eyes sad with the pain of watching thousands of Visions become real only to hurt or kill people that she cared about, Dochin answered quietly, “We trust in the innate balance of the Universe. What should be will be. Any other pathway leads to Darkness.”

  Gathering their eyes with her own gaze, Dochin began the calling ceremony. Taking a small crystalline vial and unstopping it, she dropped three carefully placed beads of the glistening liquid into the bowl. Holding her hands under the strangely-warm curved glass, the old Seer swirled the oil at the bottom, starting with tiny motions.

  Immediately, the level of the liquid began to rise, even though no additional fluid had been poured into the bowl. The old Seer’s motions got broader and faster, and the swirl of the liquid formed almost a maelstrom in the center of the container.

  Staring down intently into the depths of the bowl that appeared to go to an infinite distance, Dochin began to see a shape taking form. Straining her eyes to determine what it was, the old Seer was startled when she realized that it was a Kolovrat built out of some unknown metal. Unsure of what this presaged, the woman almost paused her motions, before quickly continuing.

  Recognizing Svarog’s sign, the old Seer watched in amazement as the bent and angled arms of the symbol appeared to snap off separating from the center wheel-like hub. Each of the outer pieces began to glow in different colors. Glyphs appeared on each one, radiating a powerful golden light.

  Counting them quickly, Dochin realized that there were six of them. Although unusual for most Kolovrats, the Mongolian woman knew that the six-armed version stood for balance and cooperation.

  I can see where this is appropriate, she thought to herself. After all, I am looking for six Magic users. Each of them has a different strength and a different approach to the use of Magic. That would mean that each will be marked with the type, and that is probably what forms the glyphs. Witch, Mage, Wizard, Priest, Sorcerer, Healer. Every one of them will be needed.

  Convinced that she had found her tokens, Dochin poured her energy into the next stage of the ceremony. Pungent smoke filled the air as Ganbold ignited a series of different grasses. Swirling winds of sage and other sweet herbs filled the Seer’s nostrils and energized her.

  Chanting aloud, Dochin let her words fly from her mouth into the bowl, soaking into the surface of the tokens. Speaking of sacrifice and possibilities, the old woman entreated those that would take up the burden to gather Familiars and Hidden Folk, taking critical apprentices and Journeyman with them. She warned them that her Visions showed that only if they joined with Zhanna would they survive and thrive.

  The old woman could feel her body start to fail, and she pushed harder, sending messages of where her Vision had shown the different beings joining together. Black spots floated through her eyes, and she felt her chest ache as breath came with increasing difficulty.

  Knowing that she only had a few more seconds, Dochin flung her hopes and fears into the tokens, trying to give each of the fated bearers as much support as she could.

  As her consciousness trembled, the old Seer saw flashing glimpses of Rovers, travelers that lived a nomadic lifestyle. She also saw swirls of horses, cats, and dogs, all congregating for a great exodus. Last of all, she saw the face of a roughhewn man, and a massive hound leaned against his shoulder. They were seated on a wagon, in transit to someplace. Intuitively, Dochin knew that he was a central actor in the stage of life on which they were cast.

  Desperately trying to hold on, Dochin knew that she was exhausted and drained. Her attention wavering, she could feel the Power of the bowl starting to dissipate when Ganbold cried out, “I see Bolormaa and Zhanna in a garden!”

  Releasing her hold on her Vision and the bowl with relief, Dochin sagged against the table and raised streaming eyes to Ganbold. She could tell that the young Seer was caught in his Sight. His eyes were glowing, and a strange light outlined his figure.

  Dochin struggled to speak but stopped her efforts when Chimeg asked, “What else do you see?”

  “The flowers and the plants in the garden are strange. I have never seen anything like them. The sky is a different shade of blue, and the plants have strange-colored foliage, purple, teal, and pink. Both the women look happy, and Bolormaa has three little ones in her lap. The small ones are all Hidden Folk, and the Seer is smiling as she strokes them gently.”

  Dochin found her voice finally, saying, “At least one of my daughters is safe. Thank you for telling me.”

  The next instant, the old Seer almost slipped from her chair, and both Ganbold and Chimeg leaped to hold her. Before they could call for help, Geriel came into the room with a wild look in her eye and trembling hands.

  Immediately, Chimeg demanded, “Geriel, what is wrong? Why do you look like you are both scared out of your mind and excited?”

  The trembling in her hands increased as the Healer held an object out in front of her. Glowing with intense blue light and decorated with a blinding gold glyph, both young Seers were astonished to see the token they had last seen a few moments before in Dochin’s bowl.

  What Geriel was holding in a grip, both shaking fear, and firm with hope, was the token for the Healer.

  Chapter 16 – Getting Ready

  Dochin’s Camp, Earth

  The next day the Healer and Chimeg were to head out for the destination that Dochin had Seen in her Visions. Geriel was still shaky with uncertainty and fear, unsure of the calling that had come to her, and why the normally reclusive woman had accepted it. Chimeg liked the shy woman, sensing in her a kinship that would sustain both of them on their travels.

  Whatever her reservations, the Healer acted like a competent whirlwind packing her supplies and personal items with an impressive organization. Geriel went as far as organizing her excess tools and supplies into piles, labeling each stack for the Healer or village where she wished the items to go.

  Several times during the harried day, as the two women rushed to prepare for their journey, Chimeg saw the Healer with arms wrapped around herself and tears running silently down her face. I know it is hard for her. She has been more of a hermit than I ever was, and the idea of packing up and leaving must be tearing her apart. Just the courage that it takes her to leave her safe home and travel on a public road is immense. I think she is the bravest woman I have ever met.

  The previous twenty-four hours had been a scramble for the two women as well as Ganbold and Dochin. The male Seer had taken responsibility for gathering as many travel items as they could put together and had gone to two of the surrounding villages to barter for the animals they would need as transport.

  Both Geriel and Chimeg were typical Mongolian women, sturdy and hardy. They saw no need for the luxury of wagons but instead planned on taking two mounts each and three pack animals for gear and travel supplies. Dochin and Ganbold had accepted their plans without quibble, but the young Seer noticed that Dochin had a strange smile on her face when she did not realize that her Journeyman was watching her.

  I would expect she is planning some sort of surprise, the young woman thought to herself. She has always loved to spring things on us. I think part of the reason is that she just likes to stretch our minds out of worn channels. The other motivation is that she is just a loving and giving person.

  Although there had been a flurry of activity during the previous day, by the evening meal Ganbold and the warrior guards that protected the Healer had returned. The male Seer was thrilled that they obtained everything that they had planned, and even had acquired a few other odds and ends. When Chimeg asked him what those unplanned items were, she was not reassured at all by his response of, “Do not worry, you will like them!”

  Chimeg and Geriel had exchanged smiles at his pleasure, with the Healer mouthing, “Men! We had better compliment him, or his ego will be bruised for weeks.” Trying hard not to laugh, the young female Journeyman made sure that she was more than usually effusive in her thanks. She even tried to get some clue on what he had added beyond the lists that she and Geriel had assembled, but Ganbold remained mute.

  Geriel had gone off to have a private conversation with her guards, so Chimeg had taken the opportunity to spend what could be her last private moments with Dochin. Stumbling under the weight of her emotions, the young woman tried to tell the older one how much she appreciated everything that the old Seer had done for her and taught her. Her voice was rough with tears, and a few of them escaped her control to trickle down her cheeks.

  “My dear daughter of the heart,” began the old Seer, “it is I that should be thanking you. The challenge of not one but two apprentices at my age kept me from fading into the fog that eventually claims all of us that travel the River of Time. Without you, I would not have been able to scry clearly in this time of desperate struggle and crucial action.”

  “Dochin, beloved Mistress, I will strive to live my life guided by what you have taught me. If I am so blessed with a child of either heart or body, I will pass your teachings on so that your memory will live.”

  Reaching across the table, Dochin put her frail hands around the younger woman’s callused and suntanned ones. Chimeg could feel a warmth that carried both love and approval seeping into her skin. Bending her head so that her forehead rested on their clasped hands, the young Seer murmured a soft plea to the gods that Dochin would do well. “Please, God, burkhan uu, keep her safe and let her feel loved for the rest of her days.”

  The old Seer let the silence stretch on for a few moments before clearing her throat and saying assertively, “We should talk a little bit about your journey. I am sending you directly to a powerful but unassuming Witch in Paris. His name is Jeremiah Pinteur, and he has been a force to be reckoned with for many decades. My scrying shows that he has dealt with not only the woman that you must join, but that he is the nexus for a successful mass escape from this planet.”

  The young Seer asked, “What type of Witch is he? Will he be able to resist the Blood Mages?”

  “I am not privy to all of his secrets, but he has been providing shelter and resistance against the encroaching Mages for longer than you have been alive. I sense that his tenure in Paris is coming to an end. Still, an alliance with him is literally the only chance we have of saving not only you and some of the other critical Magic users but entire lines of Familiars.”

  The young woman looked overwhelmed, and Dochin felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. Determinedly squashing that soft emotion, the old Seer said bracingly, “You and the Healer can rely on each other. You will make the journey and gather others along the way. I have foreseen you meeting with Jeremiah, but further than that, I cannot see with great clarity.”

  With an embarrassed flush on her face, Chimeg dropped her head and admitted, “I have tried to see if I will ever be able to touch you or talk to you again, and all I get is a clouded Vision. Perhaps I am not yet ready to be a Journeyman.”

  Dochin’s voice was sharp as she reprimanded her former apprentice, “That is enough of this nonsense. Being afraid of something is legitimate, even understandable. Letting that fear stop you from doing what is right is something else. You are better than that! You are a capable Seer and an adult woman. Even more, you are a Mongolian woman of the Steppes! I expect you to act in a manner that honors your ancestors and your training. You may fail, but it should not be for a lack of trying your best! Do I make myself clear, young woman?”

  Straightening up as if she had been swatted on her backside with a switch, Chimeg instantly responded, “Yes, Seer!”

  Dochin waved her hand toward the door and told the young woman, “It is time for you to get some rest. I will see you in the morning and give you my blessing. Until then, daughter, sweet dreams.”

  Chimeg stood up and bowed gracefully and reverently to the old Seer. Bending even closer, she laid a gentle, loving kiss on the old woman’s cheek before turning to leave the room. Dochin had seen the tears starting to fall down the young woman’s face once more, and knew that matching moisture was trickling down her own cheeks. In a soft voice, the old woman prayed, unknowingly repeating what the young woman had offered up earlier, “Please God, burkhan uu, keep her safe and let her feel loved for the rest of her days.”

  Chapter 17 – Departure Day

  Dochin’s Camp, Earth

  The sun was barely over the horizon when the traveling party was ready to go. Chimeg had been both surprised and relieved when she had emerged from her small yurt to find two of the Healer’s guards waiting astride their own horses. Geriel’s voice came from behind, saying, “All my guards were willing to go, but the others have family and elderly parents here. We transferred their service to the two Seers. Those going with us are unmarried and have no other living close family.”

  Chimeg turned in concern at the sound of the Healer’s voice, and she saw that the other woman’s eyes were reddened and slightly swollen as if she had been crying. Immediately reaching out her hand, the young Seer touched the Healer’s forearm in sympathy, murmuring, “It is tough, is it not? I laid awake most of the night and cried myself to the point of sickness with a mixture of fear and anticipation.”

  Geriel gave a weak smile in response but still carried the last of her items over to stow them in the packs on the back of one of the animals. Chimeg did the same, but just then noticed something strange. There are more horses than I thought we were taking, she thought to herself.

  Puzzled, the young Seer mentally cataloged the animals. The mountain remounts for the riders were visible, as were the three pack animals. However, there were also unfamiliar Mongolian horses present, and none of them wore any form of tackle. These horses milled around the outside edges nervously, without anyone obviously directing them.

  Hearing Ganbold walking up beside her, Chimeg turned to him and asked, “Where did these other horses come from? Who do they belong to?”

  Ganbold shrugged, and answered, “I got up this morning and found Dochin talking to a couple of them. There were a lot more of them this morning, although now there are only three or four. They are all strong-looking animals, but something about them makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up in alarm.”

  Geriel stepped over and added her thoughts, “If I did not know better, I would say that they are Familiars. They have that sort of energy, and Healers are very conscious of the presence of Familiars since many of them have healing and other Magical talents.”

  Both Journeymen turned to stare at her in amazement, asking almost simultaneously, “I thought their Magic-user had all of the Power and that they acted as a sort of battery. Do you mean to tell me that some of them are Mages in their own right?”

  Intruding in all three of their thoughts, a deep, assured voice sounded, << I am impressed. All of us thought it would take you quite a while for you to figure out what we were. After all, none of you are Witches or traditional Mages. >>

  Emerging out of the milling herd, a stallion slightly taller than the average Mongolian aduu stepped forward. His gleaming chestnut coat and luxuriant black tail and mane proclaimed his vigor, while his assurance proclaimed his status.

  Raised with horses and from a horse breeding family, Chimeg found herself cataloging his features. A large head carried on a sturdy neck, strong thick bones, and a large barrel. Taller than many horses, a plush thick coat and a Roman nose.

  The young Seer was amazed, realizing that her father would have given every coin he possessed for a stallion like this. Even in her amazement, Chimeg was rapid in her response, << We would have been even quicker, but none of us really thought about Familiars as Mages in their own right. Are you here to see us off? >>

  << We have had some discussions with the Seer of the Steppes, and she has told us of the fate that awaits even those of us Familiars that live away from the crowded places that your kind calls cities. >>

  Patiently waiting for the Familiar to continue, Chimeg and Geriel were further shocked when the Mongolian Familiar added, << The rest of the selected herd will be joining us a bit down the road. Word has been sent out to the rest of the Familiars in this area, and we expect to see breeding populations of the groups that answer the Call to also join us. >>

  Stammering slightly, Geriel asked, << You are going with us? We have no way of knowing if this is going to be successful. How can you just uproot your people and go with us? >>

  An overtone of amusement colored the stallion’s mental voice as he answered, << Little Healer, humans have a tendency to think too much. This is a matter of survival. We will send part of our herd with you, and the others will stay here. If one side dies, the other will continue. Up to now, we had no way of splitting up for better survival. So to answer your question, yes. You will have an accompanying herd of Mongolian horses and Steppe ponies. The other groups I cannot speak for. >