The Oracle Read online

  “The Kings of Enchena do not like change,” Captain Rian stated.

  “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Samantha said, quietly. Her eyes scanned the great wall, and she paused, “the main gate is closed.”

  “Hrafn has gone mad. The Gardyn have disrupted his authority so greatly that he withdrew to his city and closed the gates. They allow food wagons through once a week, no others may pass. The citizens are condemned to starve to death.”

  “There are other ways out of the city,” Prince Cristan argued, “we had tunnels built for us to avoid our brother, Brandon; and so we could move freely about the city. Surely they still exist.”

  Rian grit his teeth, but nodded respectfully. “Forgive me, your highness, but most of your tunnels are now derelict. The only one that we know is open leads straight into the palace grounds.”

  Cristan frowned, not ready to admit defeat, “If the King has shut himself in the palace, let us try to draw him out. Let us attempt to take over the rest of Enchena first; get him away from the city so that we may help those trapped.”

  Rian shot a look to Samantha before speaking, “This has been attempted, your highness, but we found the army too well organised against our reduced numbers. We ended up losing the lives of loyal Gardyn and gaining nothing. The King may be a recluse, but the armies are being controlled most efficiently by his advisor, Captain Losan… and by his heir.”

  Samantha’s attention was caught by this news, “David?”

  “Wait a minute, David? David Jones is the heir to the throne?” Jemma spoke up, trying to comprehend what this meant. “You said he was helping the King.”

  “It’s a long story,” Samantha said dismissively, “but it does make things more difficult. We want to replace the current King with someone more sympathetic to the Gardyn. But if the great army of Enchena is already loyal to the one named as heir to the throne…”

  Samantha sighed, her concentration returning to the city before her. Inside, determination welled up and the spark that made her different grew stronger.

  The rest of the small party sat silently, each nurturing their own thoughts.

  Jemma refused to concentrate too strongly on the city before her, because as she did so she heard phantom cries of woe from thousands and felt the odd, lightening sensation that came before a vision. The girl looked back into the forest, willing the oncoming vision to stop. Lady Samantha was here now, there was no reason for her to have these terrible experiences anymore. The sensation faded and left her completely.

  “So, what do you plan then, Captain?” Cristan spoke up, his hard gaze directed towards Rian. “We cannot leave the civilians to suffer.”

  “I hate leaving them to starve as much as any,” Rian replied, trying very hard to remain polite. “We are still waiting for the rest of the Gardyn.”

  Lugal was about to speak, but Cristan cut in, “Waiting? If I am not mistaken, Captain, your army just swelled by many hundreds that came from Caelum, plus a lady that is Hrafn’s equal.”

  “Hundreds that could die in a day.” Rian snapped. “It is still not enough. The rest of our forces are expected any day now. In your impatience, would you rush in before they arrive and have us slaughtered?”

  Cristan seemed insulted by Rian’s harsh words, as though the prince had never had to suffer such treatment.

  Lugal saw trouble brewing in his brother and interrupted the argument. “Cristan, peace brother. Captain Rian, I apologise, I understand your position. Please accept our skills when the battle is finally fought.”

  Captain Rian inclined his head to Prince Lugal, thankful for his show of grace. Rian turned his attention away from the two princes and instead looked to Samantha. He knew better than anyone else present what would eventually have to happen.

  “Have you one of your plans, Samantha?”

  Samantha shrugged, “I have some thoughts. I’ve seen all I need to see, I want to go back to the Valley.” Without waiting, she turned her horse back to the refuge of the forests.

  Everyone followed her lead and started back to the west, but Rian paused. Samantha stopped and rode back to where the Gardyn captain looked serious.

  “You do know,” Rian said quietly, “that David may have to die.”

  A pained look crossed Samantha’s face and without saying anything, she joined the others on the western path.

  Samantha steeled herself and rode up beside Jemma. “Have you... had any visions about what... what happens next?”

  Jemma was momentarily speechless that the lady would speak to her, but hurried to answer. “No, ma’am. I haven’t.”

  Samantha chewed her lip, she still didn’t believe they needed an oracle, but perhaps the others were right and she should use what was available. “How does it work?” She asked with some scepticism.

  Jemma felt an embarrassed blush creep up her neck. “I don’t actually know. I can’t control them, I go light-headed and then they take over. I never know what they are going to be about.”

  They rode along in silence for so long, Jemma was starting to think that she had confirmed her lack of worth to Lady Samantha. What use was an oracle that couldn’t decide what to see? How could she sit around and wait for a vision that may not come?

  Eventually Samantha turned in her saddle to look directly at her, something more human in her green eyes. “I remember when I first came here, I had no idea what I could do and I couldn’t even tell when I was doing it. You see, I’d convinced myself that David was the one with the powers that everyone sought – I was just the sidekick.

  “It was a very confusing time, and I was more of a danger to the Gardyn than a real advantage. My friends helped me. The first step was to truly accept that the powers were mine, that they were a part of me and nothing to be afraid of. After that, I had to work out what triggered them – mainly strong emotions on my part. Then it was simply practise.”

  Jemma was struck that Samantha was probably the only person that knew what she was going through, and she was making it all sound so simple, “I don’t know if I can...”

  “You owe it to yourself to try, you were sent here for a reason.” Samantha insisted.

  “Hmph, what reason? You’re here as a goddess, and I’m a cut-price Mystic Meg.”

  Jemma was surprised when she heard Samantha snort and laugh, she hadn’t been that funny, had she? Jemma grinned, looking away to preserve some sort of professionalism.

  Samantha sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. When was the last time she had found something funny? When had she last laughed? It was a good feeling.

  “The visions scare me - not the content, that’s fine. But the fact that I am there, with no control over my body, I feel like a puppet.” Jemma sighed, “I should be used to it, I’ve had crazy dreams for as long as I can remember.”

  “Did you ever dream of Enchena?” Samantha asked.

  Jemma shook her head. “Not that I know of, but I did dream a lot about Minaeri recently. Oh, and a couple of crazy dreams about dragons, but I asked Siarla and she said dragons don’t exist here. What a shame, I thought there might be a chance they did after I learnt about unicorns and mallus.”

  “Ah, what... did the dragons look like?” Samantha asked with forced casualness.

  “The night before I came here, there was a red one, that chased me with fire. And my first night here, I had a dream about a blue one that came out of a mountain and flew with me to the Temple of Gates. I can’t even begin to describe how huge they both were.” Jemma rattled off.

  Samantha looked over her shoulder to make sure that no one was riding close enough to overhear her. “Caminus and Leukos.”

  “What?” Jemma frowned at the weird words.

  “Caminus and Leukos,” Samantha repeated. “Their names. Caminus is the red dragon and Leukos the blue.”

  “What?” Jemma echoed.

  “They are the last of their kind, hidden beneath a mountain, but with an uncanny ability to see everything that has happened, and wil
l happen.” Samantha bit her lip, “No one except the Deorwines know they exist, I trust you will not tell anyone else. If they appear to you again, you need to know that they are real, and they are most likely your best allies.”

  Having said her piece, Samantha nudged her pale stallion into a trot to catch up with Captain Rian at the head of the ride.

  Twelve

  With permission from Captain Rian, Jemma and her companions split from the group and rode directly back to Treefort.

  Jemma still held her breath as they passed through a gap in the tree barrier. Clinging to the saddle for dear life, she knew that she looked less than elegant. But as a positive, she managed to land on two feet when she dismounted this time. She was getting used to this riding lark, her legs aching less as she led her horse back to the corrals.

  Saxton and Angrud had to officially report to their commanding officer, leaving Jemma alone. Having nothing better to do, Jemma dropped her bags off at the Marsh family tent and went to find Siarla.

  Siarla was sitting with one of the other mothers, as their younger children played in the fresh air. She looked up and smiled at her return, “Jemma, you’re back. Did you have a nice ride?”

  “It was, er, unusual.” Jemma replied hesitantly, her mind still on the bombshell that Samantha had dropped.

  “I should say so, you were in the presence of royalty! Well, I’m glad you’re back. Just to warn you, Russit has been moping around all day wanting to ask you about every tiny detail. You’ll find in him the tent.”

  “I’ve just come from there, I didn’t see him.”

  Siarla sighed, “Why does Minaeri curse me with such a son? He’ll be off at the corrals again, or pestering the mallus. Don’t worry, he’ll be back when he’s hungry.”

  Jemma felt a pang of unease – she hadn’t seen him at the corrals either, but she trusted that Siarla knew best.

  Evening came and there was still no sign of Russit. Jemma offered to look after Kiya and Betony while their parents searched Treefort and asked every family if they’d seen anything.

  As night set firmly in, Jemma got the two girls to their beds, and after telling them Little Red Riding Hood twice, they finally fell asleep. Jemma moved towards the entrance of the tent, hearing the return of Saxton and Siarla.

  “Did you check with Dylan’s family?” Siarla asked.

  “Yes, twice.” Saxton confirmed, his voice level in an attempt to calm his wife. “I have to go meet Angrud and the others.”

  “I can’t believe he’s outside Treefort. Alone.” Siarla murmured, “My little boy.”

  “There are scout parties out searching for him, and Siabhor’s best trackers will be sent for. Russit is... he’s a smart kid, Siarla, they’ll find him.”

  Back in the Valley, the small party returned through the defences. They had all ridden in a much quieter mood than when they had headed out that morning.

  It was with little effort, that a single figure broke away from the group.

  Prince Cristan had been stewing for the whole ride back. To see the capital city so quiet and oppressed; to hear of the struggles of the civilians and to do nothing; to ride back as though it had been a pleasure jaunt. He had avoided his brother – he knew that Lugal would attack him with logic until Cristan was both bored and his temper doused.

  Cristan nursed his anger, he would need his passion soon. If the heroes of today weren’t willing to stand up and save the innocents; he would have to lead the Gardyn again.

  It took quite a while for Cristan to find the one man he knew was thinking the same. Teron. He had only known the man for a few minutes, but Cristan was convinced he was the ally he needed right now.

  After a few hurried enquiries, Cristan found Teron by the large tent he shared with four other soldiers.

  Teron looked up, startled to see one of the princes striding towards him. He made a clumsy effort at a bow, “Your highness! Please, is there anything I can do for you?”

  Cristan stood silently for a moment. “What you said, the other day, were you telling the truth when you said many men were ready to march against Hrafn?”

  Teron just nodded numbly.

  “As you have probably heard, I have been to the capital today,” Cristan continued, “I was not aware of how bad the situation was. Do you have enough men to move immediately to free those poor souls?”

  Teron struggled to speak, “Y-your highness, I believe that I can get several hundred at a moment’s notice.”

  Cristan nodded grimly, “Well, here is your moment’s notice, Teron. I intend to lead those that would do the right think within the hour towards the capital. The city could be free by dawn.”

  “No!” Teron blurted out suddenly.

  “What, you are not a man of your word?” Cristan asked, his face darkening.

  “Forgive me, sir, perhaps I was speaking too figuratively. To gather the men and calm any last fears and arguments, to get provisions and have everyone kitted. Not to mention secretly enough to avoid Captain Rian’s suspicions – for we do not want him stopping us – your highness, I can have everyone ready at first light tomorrow.”

  Cristan wavered. He wanted to leave now. He could not imagine spending the sleepless hours of the night with the knowledge he now had of civilians suffering, but he saw sense in Teron’s words. “Very well, keep me informed, and make sure the men are willing to follow me.”

  The prince hesitated, taking a deep breath. They were going to do this, they had to do this.

  *****

  Deep within the forest, Torment began to realise how much he had yet to learn. Most of the dark herd came and went without any rules or reason, and many left him alone. But there were many who sought out the young palomino stallion, often attacking without warning.

  It was only natural in unicorn herds that a newcomer had to find their place in the pecking order. Whereas with other herds, most unicorns were satisfied with demonstrations of superiority, the dark herd revelled in the sadistic pleasure of violence. Or perhaps they wanted to test Torment’s resolve.

  A few days, and several sore cuts later, Torment was starting to find his place. Although he was young, he was holding his ground. He never instigated the fights, but Torment quickly found that many of the unicorns were weak, and far from his equal.

  He wasn’t here to make friends, but as time went on, there were definitely some unicorns that were becoming less hostile towards him.

  There was one that he had caught sight of, but had yet to meet. A fine black mare, not much older than himself. Torment had the slightest glimpse of her that first evening, so brief that he thought he had imagined the beautiful creature.

  Another evening, he caught only her scent, as she melted into the surrounding forest.

  Torment was old enough to have mares of his own, and this new need was a dizzying sensation. He only knew that he had to speak with this mystery mare, he had to satisfy his swiftly-growing obsession.

  One night, he was sure he sensed her near the stream that cut through the herdland, and he followed the faint promise that she was there.

  The mare heard his approach and gracefully raised her fine head, her horn reflecting the glittering moonlight. Her beauty was soon marred, when she pinned her ears flat back against her skull and bared her teeth.

  “Run away, spawn of Nmirr.” The cold thoughts emanated out. “We have no use for little light lords here.”

  The insults were nothing compared to what he had suffered recently, but Torment stood uncomfortably, not sure what he was supposed to say.

  The black mare’s countenance softened as she saw that she had a new admirer. “Oh no. By Praede and all that is dark, no. Find another mare to make those big brown eyes at.”

  “I don’t know what you mean...” Torment tried to lie, but couldn’t drum up much enthusiasm. “I just want to know your name.”

  “Odile.” The mare replied with a snort, before turning to walk away.

  “Odile, wait.”

  Torment
sprang forwards to block her, but she moved quicker. The black mare lashed out with her hind feet, connecting painfully with his shoulder. Torment winced in pain, only for Odile to vanish in the distraction.

  Not content with the brief meeting, Torment stalked the stream every evening. Whenever he walked, he tried to hide his limp, his shoulder bruised and aching from their last encounter.

  One very wet and miserable night, Torment stood in the rain, his gold coat and silver mane bedraggled and tarnished.

  There was a derisive snort from behind him, followed by a familiar voice. “You are very...”

  “Persistent?” Torment turned to look for the black mare.

  “Annoying.” Odile corrected, as she stepped out of the shadows, her gaze still aloof, but betraying some curiosity.

  Torment’s ears twitched, it was not the first time he had been called such, but he did not want to be reminded of his previous life.

  Odile ignored the rain that relentlessly fell, as she circled the young stallion. “I’m surprised you’ve survived this long with us. Are you tired of your adolescent rebellion yet? Are you ready to scurry back to the light?”

  Torment followed Odile’s movements, wary that she might vanish again. “Do not belittle my choice to join this herd. It is for life.”

  Odile flicked her tail, the black strands catching Torment’s wet coat. “Don’t talk to me like an entitled little lordling. Otherwise that life you speak of will be pathetically short.” Odile gave a disgusted glance. “If I don’t kill you, my father will.”

  “And who is your father?” Torment asked.

  “You don’t know?” Amusement laced her words. “Oh, this is too good.”

  “The Dark Being?”

  “I am his only daughter. You are courting death itself if you dare think yourself worthy of me.”

  “You don’t scare me.” Torment replied quietly, “And neither does he.”

  Odile stood there, looking at him, the only sound was that of the falling rain.

  “You’re either very brave, or a fool.” Odile finally said. “If you anger him, you will be killed. No unicorn alive can best him. Even the great Nmirr could barely match him. Does that honestly not scare you?”