James is delighted to have such a man journey with him. But then a thought comes. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with me being the ‘Gardener’ would it? If I remember right, you called me that during that last big battle in the desert.”

Brother Willim gets a crooked grin and nods. “Somewhat, yes,” he replies.

“Just what does it mean that I’m the Gardener?” he asks.

“There’s an old prophecy handed down from old…,” he begins.

“Isn’t there always,” interrupts James with a sigh.

“What?” questions Illan who had been listening in on the conversation.

Not realizing he had spoken aloud, James turns to him and says, “Oh, nothing.” Then to Brother Willim he says, “Sorry for interrupting you, please continue.”

“Centuries ago, a man came to one of our lord Asran’s temples,” he continues. “Which one I’ll not say. The man was wracked with fever and eventually slipped into the sleep of the dead. Not completely dead yet not completely alive either.”

Must have been in a coma, reasons James.

“During the time when he lay in the sleep of the dead, there were times when he spoke. At first the priests attending him thought his words were gibberish until one old scholarly priest realized the man was speaking in a language long dead to the world of men. Only the most learned scholars still understood the language, some of the oldest surviving tomes we have are written in it.”

“Immediately they had the priest begin writing down the words the man spoke. He wouldn’t speak often so they had the priest stay with the man constantly, ever prepared to put to parchment the words of the man.”

“And has anything the man spoke of come to pass?” James asks.

Nodding, Brother Willim says, “Yes, several.” He takes a sip of ale and then continues. “After the first several months, he began speaking of the end of the world. Of fire and shadows consuming all life.”