The Oracle Read online

  Jemma sat up, finally taking in her surroundings. She was in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by large trees that limited her view. The sun pierced the leaves, dappling the grassy ground with pools of warmth. Jemma took a deep breath of fresh woodland scent the most refreshing thing she had ever experienced.

  “It’s all real, I can’t believe it!” Jemma said to herself, part of her had been expecting the portal to be an elaborate prank; or that her psychosis would break as she stepped face-first into a wall, instead of a magical doorway.

  Jemma pushed herself to her feet, and looked behind her – there was nothing but trees. A wave of panic swept over her; her way home had vanished! A sharp crack sounded across the clearing, claiming Jemma’s attention. She turned, her eyes trying to catch any movement.

  “Hello?” Her voice came out, barely above a whisper. Jemma cleared her throat and tried again. “Hello, is somebody there?”

  “State your name and whether you are Gardyn, or no.” A man’s voice demanded.

  Jemma took a step towards the voice. “My name is Jemma, a friend of the Gardyn. I’m looking for a Lord Siabhor.”

  There was a rustle as branches parted and two men stepped into the clearing, with arrows on strings, bows taut and ready to let fly. One man looked to be in his mid-thirties, whilst the other was barely twenty years old. They both wore grey-green tunics and trousers that blended well with the wooded area.

  The older man lowered the tip of his arrow, pointing it away from the girl. He looked surprised by her presence, slowly taking in her appearance with wide eyes.

  “Saxton,” the younger man hissed, not lowering his weapon, “she could be lying. She could be a spy.”

  “She’s too young.”

  “They could be copying the Lady Jillis.” The young man argued, not taking his eyes off Jemma. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious, that we should find a young girl, alone in the middle of the Great Forest?”

  The older man sighed, and turned to Jemma. “Where did you come from, Miss? Who sent you?”

  “Yeah, because she’ll tell the truth.” The younger man snorted.

  “Angrud, hold your tongue.” Saxton snapped.

  “You can’t believe-”

  “I said be quiet.” Saxton repeated, holding a hand up and listening intently. “I hear horses. Get to cover, now.”

  Jemma looked in the same direction as Saxton, but couldn’t hear anything above the rich birdsong. She felt someone grab her arm and drag her towards the trees. Jemma fought back, trying to twist her arm free, glaring up at the younger man that dared to manhandle her. There was pressure behind her knee and Jemma lost her balance, falling behind a thick bush.

  He lifted a very sharp knife to her face. “Get down now.”

  “Both of you be quiet.” The older man hissed, crouching down next to Jemma and Angrud.

  Jemma held her breath, she could hear the thud thud of trotting hooves on the dirt track; and when the riders drew closer she could hear the creak of leather tack.

  The horses were drawn to a halt, and some of them snorted and stamped with impatience. Jemma, keeping an eye on Angrud and his knife, leant to one side where a small gap in the foliage allowed her a glimpse of the newcomers. There must have been twenty horses crowding into the clearing; their riders wore black and red uniforms, each wearing a sword at their hip, and many with bows strapped to their saddles.

  Some of the riders dismounted, and quickly scouted the area on foot.

  “No sign of the Gardyn, Captain Losan.” One soldier reported to the man that was in charge.

  “Very well, lieutenant. I want men guarding this gate at all times, until I come to relieve you.”

  Jemma tried in vain to see the Captain, but the shrub blocked him from view. His voice was deep and direct, and it sent a shiver of caution up her spine.

  “This is the first time the gate has been active since the Lost Soul’s arrival.” The Captain continued, and Jemma couldn’t miss the stark warning in his voice, aimed at his men. “The Gardyn will probably be drawn to it in their desperation. They must not get control of the gate. Kill anyone who come near, I have no need for prisoners.”

  Having said his piece, and having no doubt that his men would obey him, the stern Captain moved his horse forward. He circled the gathered men and, with two soldiers for company, he rode back down the forest track at speed.

  Jemma eyed the remaining soldiers, who all dismounted and quietly proceeded to set up camp in the clearing. She didn’t want to find out if they really would kill her on sight.

  Jemma felt someone pinch her elbow, and she turned to see Saxton’s gentle brown eyes silently pleading for her to come. At a loss to what else she could possibly do, Jemma nodded, then followed on her hands and knees, crawling after Saxton.

  He led away from the soldiers for quite a distance, stopping regularly to check for danger. Eventually he felt that they were far enough away to get back to their feet. He pressed his fingers to his lips and motioned for Jemma to follow him.

  When she glanced behind her, Angrud scowled and waved her on, his knife still firmly fixed to his hand.

  Jemma hurried after Saxton, finding the older guy the safer companion. Soon, amidst the woodland sounds, running water could be heard. Jemma realised how thirsty she was, as a stream came into view. She knelt down at the waters’ edge and scooped up the cool, fresh water. Her hands were stinging, and Jemma looked at the red scratches on her palms. Her knees were a similar mess, covered with beads of blood.

  “Here, let me look at that.” Saxton said, holding his hand out to hers, “I am sorry I made you crawl, Miss Jemma.”

  Jemma was hesitant to give her injured hand over to a stranger, so she curled it back up, trying not to wince. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.”

  Saxton tutted, finding her reaction amusing. “You remind me of my son. He never admits when he’s hurt. Come on, drink up, then we must go.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere with a knife pointed at my back.” Jemma stated, looking purposefully at the sullen Angrud. “Who are you guys?”

  “None of y’business.” Angrud growled.

  “It is my business if you want me to walk into the forest with you.” Jemma snapped back.

  “Fine, if you’d rather tackle the Great Forest and all its dangers alone, we won’t waste our time helping.”

  “Help-”

  “Enough.” Saxton interrupted, as loudly as he dared. “By Minaeri, we have enough things to worry about without this. Jemma, my name is Saxton Marsh, this is Angrud Iveston. We are a scouting team for the Gardyn.”

  “Do you want to tell her anything else while you’re at it, Saxton? Perhaps a few Gardyn secrets and passcodes? I know, let’s draw her a map to the hidden safe places.” Angrud offered drily.

  “How do I know that you’re really Gardyn?” Jemma asked hesitantly. Despite her briefing from Gran, she didn’t know what she was doing, or who she was looking for, beyond a name. Jemma highly doubted that the Gardyn would have it tattooed onto their foreheads.

  “You just have to trust us, Miss Jemma.” Saxton replied, meeting her eye calmly.

  “How do we know that you’re not a spy for the King?” Angrud blurted out.

  “King Raven?” Jemma asked, trying to recall the odd name Gran had used.

  “Hrafn.” Saxton corrected, somewhat confused that Jemma could get it wrong. “King of Enchena, and High Lord over all lands? The most infamous tyrant of our times?”

  “That’s what I meant. Hrafn.” Jemma repeated, trying to get her tongue around the strange name. “I’m not a spy, so I guess you have to trust me, too. Which means no more waving around sharp knives, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “Define necessary?” Angrud countered, but he returned his knife to the leather sheath on his belt. “Are you contented?”

  “For now.” Jemma replied, forcing a smile towards the unlikeable man.

  Saxton sighed at their bickering and
stood up. “We need to leave now, and put as much distance as we can between ourselves and the King’s soldiers. I imagine Captain Rian will be very interested to hear they’re guarding Saviour’s Gate again. Angrud, can you scout ahead?”

  The younger man nodded, “Treefort?”

  With Saxton’s agreement, the younger man moved in front and quickly disappeared from sight.

  “Miss Jemma, we had better start walking.” Saxton said, offering to help her up.

  Jemma hesitantly took the man’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Is it far?”

  “It is... a reasonable distance.” Saxton replied vaguely. “I’m sorry we can’t provide horses.”

  “Um, that’s alright, I don’t ride.” Jemma said quickly.

  She looked up, movement catching her eye. Angrud had returned, and with an impatient gesture, he motioned for them to follow.

  Saxton gave Jemma an apologetic smile. “He’s not the easiest person to get along with, but he’s an excellent scout and tracker. He’s one of the best in the Gardyn – just don’t tell him I said that. He’s just young, ambitious; wants to be the next Rian.”

  Jemma had no idea who Rian was, so she just concentrated on walking. A tricky enough challenge with the rough terrain, the ground’s inclination changing sharply and without warning. Jemma was glad that she had opted for trainers, rather than her flip-flops when leaving the house today.

  “So where do you come from?” Saxton asked, walking beside her with ease. He glanced at her bright hair and clothes. “You’re definitely not local.”

  Jemma trudged along, acutely aware of the effort it took. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say, until I’ve spoken to Lord Siabhor.”

  Saxton looked at her curiously. “Not many people want to speak to him, even amongst the Gardyn. you’re braver than I am.”

  “Why?” Jemma asked, suddenly nervous that Gran’s task was harder than she had initially hoped. “What is he like?”

  “Well, you know what he is.” Saxton replied, with a shrug. “It intimidates most people; and scares the hell out of the rest.”

  Jemma bit her lip. What had this Lord done to inspire such fear? Was he just some awkward noble bastard, or was the man violent? Jemma couldn’t imagine how to deal with either option. There was no point getting worked up about it now, she told herself, she had this trek to think about how she would introduce herself; how she would make the Lord Siabhor take her seriously.

  “So, where are you from?” Jemma asked, turning Saxton’s question back on himself, in an attempt to distract herself from worrying.

  “One of the small, outlying villages just south of Reisguard. I have a small farm.” Saxton grimaced. “Had. It was burnt down after the Riots.”

  “The riots?” Jemma echoed.

  Saxton glanced at Jemma with suspicion that she didn’t know of them. “The Winter Riots? That spread across Enchena only six months ago? Left hundreds dead and wounded?”

  Jemma shook her head, “No, I’m sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Saxton shook his head in disbelief, but humoured the girl, “After the last battle with the Gardyn, the King was incapable of properly bringing his soldiers back from the dead. This greatly depleted his numbers. There was a decree that it was now compulsory for all young men to enlist in the King’s army; and they have dropped the age limit. It used to be that, at the age of thirteen, you could choose to train in the arts of war; or stay and train in the family business. My son, Russit, is only eleven years old. They wanted to take him away, put a sword in his hand, and make him a pawn in a King’s war.”

  Jemma stared at Saxton, trying to take in what he had said. She couldn’t imagine being forced to fight at only eleven; she couldn’t imagine fighting now, at fifteen, but that was a different matter.

  “It was only a matter of time before things erupted. For countless years, they had overtaxed the villages. Yet, they were no longer content by taking the food from our mouths to feed their army; they wanted the blood of our children, too.

  “I was not a Gardyn, back then, but the rebels’ victories helped embolden us all; to awaken a pride that has not existed in the people of Enchena for generations. They proved that the King was not invincible; and servants of the King had false authority over our lives. For a brief and beautiful moment, the common people stood up to defend their families, and to demand more for their lives. Until the army came. Pride and hope can only go so far, when you have farmers with pitchforks, fighting against cavalry and swords. Not to mention their leader, Captain Losan. I’ll wager that you’ve heard of him…”

  Jemma shook her head again, blushing at her own ignorance. Couldn’t Gran have given her more than a few sketchy details and names to go on? Jemma doubted her smart phone could hop onto the local internet for a Google search.

  “Really?” Saxton asked, with a defeated sigh. “The King’s closest ally and advisor; the leader of the once-invincible army; and undefeated warrior?”

  Jemma gave an apologetic smile and ducked beneath a low branch, trying to half-pay attention to where Angrud was leading.

  “Captain Losan is a terrifying power in his own right. He does not need the King to intimidate. No man, no force has ever gone up against him and lived. He is a master of death and no amount of begging or bribery will help. He only had to show up to the riots, and whole villages laid down their arms. He came to our village; I saw Captain Losan with my own eyes. The fighting stopped immediately, but it wasn’t enough. The soldiers hadn’t had their violent release – they came back later and set fire to the houses and barns. They killed anyone within reach, men, women and children alike; then ran back to their master. Those of us that survived the fire and the slaughter were left with nothing. Our homes and our hard-earned stores for winter were gone. Burnt to the ground. If we stayed, we were sentenced to a slow and cold starvation. After we had buried our dead, we travelled north to the Great Forest, for we had heard many tales of the Gardyn and the forest.

  “They took us in, gave us food and shelter. We were not the only people to seek the help of the Gardyn – other survivors of the Riots came over the following months, and none were turned away. We have quite the thriving community, hidden in the forest, away from the King’s reach. I had not realised that I was so unhappy with life, until I came here and learnt what could happen, what should happen.”

  Jemma mulled over it all. “Would you really send thirteen year olds into war?”

  Saxton shook his head. “No, they started training. They might go on a few patrols, but they weren’t expected to fight until they were sixteen. But now... King Hrafn is impatient to fill his ranks, especially with the Gardyn threat hanging over his head. After the death of his own son and heir last year, he thinks nothing of sacrificing the sons of his country.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Jemma said quietly. “It all sounds awful.”

  “You know, I can hear you two chattering half a mile away.” Angrud stomped back towards them, pushing branches out of his way. “You need to take care.”

  Saxton frowned at his fellow Gardyn, “Any problems?”

  Angrud nodded, “Listen.”

  As they fell silent, Jemma tried to work out what she was supposed to be listening to. She couldn’t hear anything out of place – no more horses; no more soldiers. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything.

  “It’s so quiet.” She murmured, afraid to break the silence, now she had realised it was there.

  Where was the birdsong? The rustling of animals? Everything was suddenly eerily still. Jemma could only hear her own thudding heartbeat after the unplanned hike; or at least she thought that was what she could hear.

  Something distantly tapped in time, becoming louder with every passing second. The rhythmic clacking of nails on wood set a shiver down Jemma’s spine.

  Her growing sense of panic wasn’t helped by Saxton and Angrud suddenly jumping to attention.

  “Mallus.” Angrud confirmed, the word making no sense to young Jemma.


  “I didn’t think Siabhor’s pack was due in this area today.” Saxton replied, his voice low.

  Angrud gave him a long look. “They’re not.” The young man fitted an arrow to his bow, in readiness.

  Saxton copied him, looking up into the trees. “Miss Jemma, whatever happens, keep behind us. Hopefully they’ll pass us by.”

  “What is...?” Jemma’s voice trailed off as she saw a dark shadow moving through the boughs of the trees. The shadow was joined by another, and another. The sound of clicking and clacking came from them, as they moved through the canopy. As they drew closer, Jemma could make out the dirty-brown fur that offered the creatures camouflage.

  “Hold until we know they’re not ours.” Saxton said quietly to Angrud, the younger man shooting a look that conveyed his lack of optimism.

  Jemma shrieked when one of the shadows leapt from the trees and landed on the grassy ground in front of them. The creature was a mass of spindly limbs, crouching on all fours, as it padded towards the humans, its long and lethal-looking claws digging into the turf. Its bulky chest and strong shoulders were as high as Jemma’s waist. The creature turned its head, yellow teeth and yellower eyes gave it a grotesque appearance.

  It paused, a mere ten feet from where the humans huddled, and sniffed the air. A hiss of disgust escaping through its foul teeth.

  “You smell of traitors.”

  Jemma was startled at the gruff, rumbling voice. The creature could talk? There was an almost human element in its frame, but Jemma was still surprised that it had the ability to speak. Yet it was pure animal, as it crouched and looked ready to pounce.

  “Not on our side, then.” Angrud remarked, letting his arrow loose.

  It zipped through the air and hit the oncoming monster dead in the eye. Jemma watched in horror as the creature fell limply to the ground, without a sound.

  A moment later, chaos broke loose, as three others jumped down from the trees and attacked in a mass of stinking hide, teeth and claws.