Legacy
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“Abhan!”
	He rushes forward to where his companion lies on the ground,  life seeping 
away along with his blood through the gash in his side.  Ignoring his own wounds, 
he clasps the older man’s hand, afraid of loosing him should he let go.
	
“Go, Praetus,” the dying man urges with his last breath.  “Go to Dehl and find 
my daughter...” Even at the end his eyes are intense... “She is the one...”

Darkness faded into a dim light as Praetus awoke to find a sliver of moonlight 
filtering through the window of Abhan’s homestead.  Herbs hung from the rafters 
of what must have been the kitchen, which was primitive compared to what he was 
used to, but seemed more comfortable that way.  Already the Atlantean native 
could feel why his companion had so longed to return home to this peaceful
country.  He understood, too, why he had been willing to risk everything for 
its sake.
	
The knight sat up on the pallet he lay on and immediately regretted it, a pain 
shooting through his head.  He called on a reserve of power to subdue it, but 
only became more aware of his aching muscles.  The arrow wound in his side, 
however, seemed to be healing rather well considering that he had not found the 
chance to rest properly since the incident.
	
Not one to sit around, Praetus conjured up enough strength to sit up against the 
wall behind him, and discovered that he was not alone.  He was actually not too 
surprised to find the young woman fallen asleep on the edge of the pallet, and 
was rather contented to see that she was obviously Abhan’s eldest daughter, 
Daimah.  Her identity was not easily mistaken; She looked so much like her mother, 
just as her father had anticipated.  If only he could have been there to see her.
	
Careful not to wake her, the knight of the Ame’neres gently reached into her mind, 
curious at to whether Abhan had been correct in his other suspicions as well, that 
she had inherited his talent in the Power.
	
He pulled it back as she suddenly woke with a gasp, though caught a brief image 
of a dream that seemed more like a memory to him.  She starred at him briefly in 
disbelief.  Her eyes were green, like her father’s, and seemed to see straight 
into his soul.
	
“You’re awake!” she exclaimed, excited, then quickly calmed herself and stopped 
him from leaning forward any further.  “No, lay back.  You are not fully healed.”
	
Deciding it best not to argue with her, Praetus lay back onto the pillows while 
she promptly set to unwrapping the blood stained bandages. His eyes wandered 
around the room.  “How long have I been here?” he asked.  The last thing he 
remembered was seeing Abhan’s wife burst into tears after hearing his news.
	
The girl dipped a cloth into a bowl at her side.  “Two nights,” she told him, 
ringing out the cloth.  “You have not wakened until now.”
	
Two nights...  That meant that the family had had a day to digest his news, to 
come to terms with the death of a father and a husband.  “How is your mother?” 
he asked, knowing that this would be Abhan’s first concern.
	
“She is fine,” Daimah replied, trying to seem reserved.  “We had been expecting 
such news for some time now, though we had always hoped...”  She trailed off, 
but did not need to finish.  Abhan had returned only once in the past ten years.
	
And so did he, Praetus thought, not deeming himself worthy of offering such 
comfort just yet.  “You must be Daimah?” he inquired, his composure one expected 
of the Ame’neres.  She nodded, though kept her eyes from his mostly out of 
modesty.  “You’re father often spoke of you.  He wanted so much to see you these 
past years.”
	
She pressed the cloth to the wound, and the knight could not help but flinch at 
the stinging sensation.  “Well, he should have done so before he lost the chance.” 
Her voice was made to sound bitter only to cover up an inner sorrow.  “Or had 
Atlantis become more important to him?”
	
The young man grabbed her arm out of impulse, and she gasped, looking at him in 
shock.  “No,” he told her firmly.  “Daimah, there was not a moment when he did 
not wish to return here.”  He died trying to return here, to take you with him...
	
Realization passed over her face, and she looked away.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  
“You knew him well, didn’t you?”
	
He nodded, drawing his hand back.  “I did. He...” He sighed, passing a hand over 
his dark hair and starring out at the moon.  “He was almost like a father to me.”
	
Abhan’s daughter starred into her own thoughts. “I wish...” She looked back up 
at him, as thought for support.  “I wish he could have been more of a father to 
us.”
	
Praetus took her hand, feeling a connection forming between them.  “So did he, 
more than anything,” the young man told her.  “But he did all he could to protect 
you and this land.  He gave his life for it.”
	
A shadow passed over the moon, and the knight of Atlantis was given a sudden sense 
of forbodding. There is a darkness descending upon us.  War will break, and the 
world shall fall to its knees beneath it, and all shall be lost...
	
He looked into her eyes, and in them Praetus saw a childhood of peace and innocence, 
but also of equal uncertainty, everyday wondering if her father might be coming 
home, constantly looking over the horizon to a land so far away yet closer than 
she realized.  He saw understanding of all that had happened in her life, of why 
he was there then.  He would not have to tell her how her father died, nor why he 
had stayed away so long, for somehow she already knew.  She was the one to inherit 
the power of the Neres, as her father had hoped, and perhaps -just perhaps- she 
could be the one they had been waiting for, she who sees all... 
	
She would return with him to Atlantis with no protest, though it would be hard for 
her, leaving behind all she knew and loved. She was not meant for this peaceful life, 
but as part of a plan known only by the gods. It was all there in her eyes; She need 
only accept it.     
	
Her hand was trembling, as indeed she was frightened by all this, but took it with a 
courage far greater than his own.  “Then I would give mine as well,” she declared, 
not knowing just what she said, though in time would come to understand.  She had 
much to learn, and would endure much more in doing so, but it would be worth it in 
the end.  He could feel it.
	
“Your father would be proud,” he told her, feeling it to be the right thing to say.
	
She starred across the room for a moment, the flicker of a smile on her lips.  “I 
think he is,” She said, as in reference to some unseen presence, and he believed her.
	
Praetus smiled.  Do not worry, my friend, he thought,  not doubting that he was 
heard. Your legacy is in good hands...