The Oracle Read online

  Trespassing was not on Jemma’s agenda today, and not even her crazy delusions that the bright-coloured bird was leading her, would make her go inside. She should go home, she could help her mum with dinner; then have a quiet night watching movies and forgetting all about this odd episode. But even as the thoughts ran through Jemma’s mind, she couldn’t turn away. And when her feet moved, they took her closer to the house.

  Jemma had a flash of déjà vu. She had been here before, she was sure of it. She knew this front yard, but it had been raining last time. Goosebumps ran up her arms as her skin remembered the cold, lashing rain that she had been running through, running into this house…

  Jemma blinked and tried to snap out of it. That was weird. As real as it felt, Jemma was positive that it wasn’t one of her actual memories. Perhaps it was from an unremembered dream; it seemed a rather random thing to dream of, but not odd compared to Jemma’s usual dreams.

  Jemma took a deep breath and stepped towards the familiar doorway. She hesitated at the threshold, before a powerful pull at her core made her trip into the hallway.

  Jemma thought her heart was about to burst, her pulse thudded in her ears, the only sound in this silent house. Her eyes took a minute to adapt to the poor light. The sunlight behind her made the small hall look dark and dingy, making shadows of the corners. Heavy curtains had been pulled across every window, with only trickles of light seeping through to illuminate the dust that floated idly about. Ahead of her, Jemma could see a dark staircase leading to an equally dark landing. The brief thought that nothing would make her go up there crossed her mind, as she turned instead to a door that was slightly ajar. She reached out for the handle and pressed firmly on the cool metal, the door slid open slowly across an old, thick carpet.

  Jemma held her breath as she stepped into another dark room, all the curtains were pulled shut with very little light escaping into the house. Her eyes strained and she could make out the shape of an overstuffed armchair and settee. The air was hot and heavy with a stale smell that reminded her of old tea and cigarettes. With the need to see, to stop the feeling of suffocation that threatened her; Jemma flicked open a heavy curtain and bright sunlight streamed through the dirty laces into the living room. Jemma took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. What was she doing here, trespassing? Where was the old woman?

  The room looked like it had been frozen in time, with wallpaper suited for the sixties. There was an old-fashioned gas fire, with a rickety fireguard in front of it. On the mantelpiece above the fireplace, there were old photos. A snapshot of a person’s life, with a black-and-white wedding picture; a grainy colour photo of an old man; and a slightly worn photo of a handsome man in a soldier’s uniform.

  Jemma turned to the sofa, to see a pale and very still old woman. Her first thought was that the old woman must be dead, sending a spike of fear through her heart. Jemma stepped closer, suddenly struggling to remember a single piece of First Aid her mother had trained her in.

  “Hello.” Jemma’s voice came out as in a strangled whisper; she coughed and tried again. “Hello, can you hear me?”

  The old woman gave a snort, her eyes rolled beneath her blue-veined lids, before slowly cracking open to look at Jemma with an accusing gaze.

  Jemma was so relieved that the woman was alive that it took Jemma a few moments to realise that she was trespassing.

  “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” The old woman snapped, shifting her aching bones to sit more upright. Her gnarled fingers grabbed the walking stick propped up against the seat, tilting it up at the stranger.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. The door was open, and… and this is going to sound strange, but I was following…” She broke off, biting her lip. “There was a bird that flew in. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

  The old woman reluctantly lowered her stick, her grey eyes wary and more than a little confused. “You came into this house?”

  Jemma hesitated, a little thrown that her first questions hadn’t been about the bird. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  The old woman broke into a coughing fit, and leant forward, reaching for a glass on the low table. Jemma stepped closer and picked the glass up, quickly handing it over. The old woman patted her hand in thanks, taking a sip of the water.

  “You came into this house…” The old woman repeated, musing over the idea. At Jemma’s confused look, she waved a hand to dismiss it. “Most people avoid it, like the plague. Anyone would think this place is cursed.”

  Jemma didn’t understand the ghost of a smile that crossed the old woman’s lips, but didn’t have time to think about it when a familiar feathered friend flew in and perched on the sofa.

  “Aye, it’s you.” The old woman said, eyeing the bird, hardly surprised that it was there.

  “Is he yours?” Jemma asked, as the bird squawked and tilted its head.

  “Humph, no, though he likes to make himself at home. He’s from… well, another place.” The old woman turned her head and saw the pouch strapped to his leg. “Danu’s got you playing messenger again?”

  Jemma watched as the woman untied the little leather pouch; she didn’t recognise the name – Danu? The mystery owner of the bird?

  The old woman pulled out a piece of paper that was folded numerous times. Her eyes scanned it, then she stopped and looked up to Jemma. “The bird brought you? Did he bring you?”

  Jemma was taken aback by the harshness of her voice. “Yes, I already told you.”

  “And you came into my house.” The old woman repeated. “If you have any sense, girl, you will go home now and forget all that has happened.”

  “I… I don’t understand.” Jemma murmured.

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me.” The old woman turned to the bird. “She can’t be the right one, she hasn’t an inkling of insight.”

  The bird ruffled its feathers, and turned its huge eyes towards Jemma expectantly.

  “I’m sorry, I think I’m missing something.” Jemma replied, starting to feel frustrated by the old woman’s nonsense. Was she not all there?

  The old woman held out the piece of paper, and when Jemma didn’t immediately take it, she shook it impatiently.

  Jemma took the paper reluctantly. It was rough to the touch and discoloured. It had an elegant script on it that was a little worse for wear after the incessant folding.

  Danu, Erudite of Enchena and priest of Minaeri.

  To the honourable portal guard,

  Salutations.

  The war between the Gardyn and the crown will soon start again, the time for the return of the Gardyn Lady is nigh. By my art, I have yet seen this war turn against the Gardyn in disastrous fashion. It is time to bring another of your noble kind to play a part in guiding the future of Enchena.

  Enclosed is a necklace containing the ‘Initiatus’ crystal.

  My trust is with you, Elisabeth.

  Jemma read the letter twice, not being able to make any sense of the thing. Someone – the Gardyn – was in trouble, and they were going to be helped by an old woman and a cute little bird?

  The word Enchena struck a chord with her, though. Jemma was sure that she knew it, a place, but her memory was hazy. Had she gone there as a child? And Minaeri, written on the paper, was surely the same name that had haunted her dreams of late.

  She slowly returned her gaze to the old woman. “Are you Elisabeth? The portal guard? Is that code for something?”

  “You can call me Gran, like the last one.” The old woman said, with a hint of bitterness in her voice. “What is your name, child?”

  “Jemma McKinley. What other one?” Jemma asked. “What does all this actually mean, Gran?”

  “It means that people need help.” Gran answered, taking another sip of water. “Jemma, do you believe in other worlds?”

  Jemma shrugged, “Maybe: in books, and films. But those aren’t real.”

  “Why shouldn’t they be real?” Gran asked, a hard edge to her voice. “St
ories always come from somewhere. Other worlds exist, and they inspire so much around us; but people are too clever, they tell themselves that it is only fiction.”

  Jemma sighed, quickly going back to the idea that Gran wasn’t all there. Should she humour her, until she got the chance to leave this house?

  Gran could see the doubt cross the girl’s face and tutted. People these days seemed to have lost all ability to believe; they all seemed to need proof. Gran pushed herself to her feet, and after a moment correcting her balance, she shuffled past the table and towards the door that led to the dining room and kitchen. “Come with me, girl.”

  Jemma glanced over her shoulder; she could leave right now, she could just about see the front door. She’d leave and… oh, who was she kidding? She was going to follow Gran into the kitchen. Once she had humoured the old woman, she could pacify her with a nice cup of tea and be on her way, feeling very much the Good Samaritan. Jemma stepped through the doorway and stopped in her stride.

  Something very large and unusual caught her eye. Jemma moved forward, sure she must be hallucinating. What other reason could there be for the dense purple and black smoke that took up half the kitchen?

  Gran watched her patiently, waiting for the young girl to tear her eyes away from the anomaly. After a few minutes, her patience began to wear thin, and she spoke to snap her out of it. “Is everything alright, dear?”

  “W-what is that, Gran?”

  “It is the portal I guard.” Gran said matter-of-factly. “But you don’t believe in that, do you? Not even now, with the evidence in front of your very eyes?”

  “It’s…” Jemma licked her dry lips. “How can that be real?”

  Gran felt a wave of fatigue hit her; she shuffled over to the stool and sat, looking up at Jemma with her tired grey eyes. “It is what it is. A door to the land of Enchena, a world governed by the goddess Minaeri.”

  Minaeri was a goddess? The nugget of information slowly sunk in. How could Jemma have been dreaming about a goddess from a land she didn’t know existed?

  Jemma finally looked away from the purple and black portal, and frowned as she noticed the ashen pallor of Gran’s skin. “Are you alright?”

  “It’s just old age; nothing to be done.” Gran replied with a bitter smile. “For hundreds of years my family have guarded this portal, it’s a little sad to think that it will all end with me.”

  “Don’t you have any family?” Jemma asked quietly.

  “I did, once. A husband and a son.” Gran answered, wistfully. “My only son, Johnny, was only twenty-six when he died, which is a much worse thing than old age. He’d just been made a lieutenant, and he’d been sent to Ireland to help with the Troubles... It seems that there is no world without war, no existence without strife. My Johnny was always standing up to defend others, he would have had no regrets. Afterwards, there was such a hole in our life... I always said that my husband died of a broken heart. I’ve had to go on without them for so long now; but I will join them, soon enough.”

  Jemma felt a twist of discomfort, it seemed wrong that Gran was speaking of her death so calmly. Wanting to change the subject, she asked, “So what is the other place like?”

  “Beautiful. Enchena is beautiful, but dangerous. It has been ruled by a long line of tyrants, with the power to raise the dead. Their immortal armies have kept the world in a state of submission.” Gran closed her eyes, visualising the world that she had served for so many years. “Minaeri’s representative stepped up to save the last rebels from being crushed. She took the Gardyn to a safe haven, but as my esteemed colleague Danu writes, it is time for them to return and overthrow the violent kings.”

  Jemma paused, trying to make sense of the strange words littered through her answer, “What is going to happen?”

  “Well, with any hope, Lady Samantha will lead the Gardyn to victory. She is the only one who can defeat King Hrafn.”

  Jemma looked back to the portal; now that the shock had worn off, it was actually quite soothing and hypnotic, as the smoke surface swirled and receded. It all sounded very familiar to Jemma, as though she’d read the story somewhere before. Jemma wondered when she had stopped humouring Gran, and had started believing her. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Lady Samantha cannot do it alone, the Gardyn need all the help they can get.” Gran answered, looking pointedly at Jemma.

  “Me?” Jemma asked, shaking her head. “Um, no, I don’t think so. They must be bloody desperate if they need someone like me; I can’t fight in a war.”

  “Watch your language.” Gran warned.

  “Sorry.”

  “There are more ways to help than to pick up a sword and fight.” Gran countered.

  “They fight with swords? Seriously?” Jemma asked, eyes widening.

  Gran sighed, feeling that they were getting off topic. “Enchena is not as advanced as our world. They have always been quick to enforce their laws – including one that sentences to death anyone who possesses magic. It has halted the development of any technology that could appear magical.”

  “Still, why me?” Jemma asked with a shrug. “I’m not special.”

  “You came into my house.”

  Jemma sighed at the old woman’s repetition. “Great, so you’ve just been waiting for the first person to walk through the door, and you’re going to throw them into some battle? Lucky me.”

  Gran frowned, her lips growing thinner as she observed the girl. “Are you really so dense to truly think that? This has been decided by fate, by the gods themselves. I wasn’t joking when I said the house was cursed, girl. It is spelled to repel people that have no involvement with Enchena; which means you must have felt the call.”

  “I didn’t feel…” Jemma broke off, thinking of the way she had entered against all logic. “I was following your friend’s bird.” She finished lamely.

  “Fine.” Gran replied dismissively. “It’s not as though you’ve been having the dreams…”

  “You know about my dreams?” Jemma piped up, before she could stop herself.

  The old woman smiled, a soft expression that Jemma had not been expecting. “If I may give you some advice, Jemma: trust your dreams. The gods have given them to you for a reason.”

  “But they don’t make sense.”

  “Not yet.” Gran replied, knowingly. “You need to be on Enchenian soil before they will flourish.”

  Jemma turned and stared at the portal again. “This is insane.” She muttered.

  “Not to rush you, my dear, but there’s a whole world waiting for you.” Gran said, tapping her stick on the kitchen floor with a note of impatience.

  Jemma took a deep breath, “What do I do?”

  Gran held up the little leather pouch and pulled out a necklace. At the end of a thick silver cord, a single small jewel hung, glinting with all the colours under the sun. “This is for you.”

  Jemma reached out, her fingers brushing the jewel. She took the chain, the necklace heavy in her hand. “Thank you?” Her voice went higher, betraying her question.

  “It is an initiatus crystal, although I have no idea how Danu came to possess it. It is very rare, so never take it off.” Gran instructed. “It is the only known item that will allow a mortal to pass through the portal unaccompanied by a god.”

  What do you mean?” Jemma asked, looking at the jewel warily.

  “If you were to pass through the portal without the aid of godly powers, your soul would be torn from your body and lost to the void. The initiatus crystal allows the traveller to retain their soul.”

  “It won’t hurt, will it?” Jemma asked nervously.

  Gran’s silence didn’t fill Jemma with confidence. The old woman turned her head and gave a sparse whistle. There was a flash of wings, and the colourful bird flew into the kitchen and landed on the sink drainer.

  “Time to go home, my friend.” Gran said to the bird, who simply looked calmly back at her. “Jemma, you can follow him through.”

  “
He doesn’t need an inis… int… crystal to get through?”

  Gran shook her head. “Birds are the messengers of the gods, and their servants. They travel freely. Now, when you get to Enchena, speak to none but Lord Siabhor. Tell him that you are of Lady Samantha’s homeland, and that the time for her return has come.”

  Jemma lifted the silver chain over her head, as she committed Gran’s words to memory, the jewel hung low enough to tuck into her vest top. “Is that all? I mean, I only have to pass on that message?” Jemma looked suspiciously towards Gran: she was to be a messenger? Surely crossing the barriers between worlds and getting embroiled in a foreign war was pretty extreme, when the message could simply be tied on the bird’s leg just as easily.

  “That is the first step. You will work out what to do when you are there. For now, finding Siabhor will be enough of a task.” Gran gazed at Jemma, her grey eyes softening. “Your path may be difficult, just remember that you were chosen for this. You were born for something more.”

  Jemma fiddled with the necklace, and stepped closer to the portal. There was nothing different in the air around the swirling smoke, it was as warm and stale as the rest of the house. “What have I got to lose? Come on, birdbrain.”

  With a sharp squawk, the bird jumped from its perch and flew into the smoke. Jemma closed her eyes and, taking a deep breath, she stepped…

  Three

  Jemma felt pain beyond anything she had ever known. A strong wind tore and buffeted her, and a fire ripped through every inch of her body. Jemma’s screams were torn from her lips, lost in the void. Her hand tightly grasped the initiatus crystal as though her life depended on it. It could not have lasted more than a few minutes, when Jemma found herself on her hands and knees on rough ground.

  Her head span and she felt violently sick, Jemma screwed her eyes shut and took a few careful breaths, trying to keep from herself retching. Had Gran known that it was going to be such a horrible experience? Jemma thought for a moment that taking part in this foreign war couldn’t be half as bad as trying to repeat that journey home.