The Oracle Page 7

  “Yes, sir.” She replied quietly, “I saw that it is not only Samantha that will return.”

  “Yes, we know.” Rian interrupted. “We’re expecting the Deorwines, Lord Mgair, and hopefully a small army of Gardyn.”

  Jemma ignored the strange names, shaking her head slightly. “No, I mean – ah, there are two statues in the temple. When the portal thing opens, they come to life.”

  Jemma heard the mutters and even a laugh from one of Rian’s group. Nobody believed her. After the exertion of the long ride, Jemma felt close to tears, that all of her two-day journey was for nothing. What was the point of having visions if people pick and choose which ones they believe?

  “I appreciate you riding out to tell us this, but...well, we don’t know how accurate your visions are.” Rian finally said in a low voice. “They may just be metaphorical. We’ll see tomorrow. First watch, you’re on. The rest of you, get some sleep.”

  The Captain turned and walked away alone to the ruins, knowing that he would not sleep.

  Jemma slept fitfully, flashes of her visions returning in her dreams, and the ground made no more comfortable by a couple of thin blankets and her aching limbs from riding.

  She woke early, a familiar musky smell disturbed her, and a rasping muttering reaching her ears.

  “These cureta humans, thinking I not be here...”

  Jemma sat up and span round to see what she now recognised as a mallus, sitting on a boulder like a big, grotesque dog.

  “Siabhor?” Jemma mumbled.

  The mallus snapped his head towards the girl, hissing.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here.” Jemma shrunk back, looking for help. He might be an ally, but he was still a monster.

  “Where else would Siabhor be?” The mallus spat, “I only be helping humans because of Samantha, and humans think they leave Siabhor behind when they be bringing her back. Filthy cureta.” Siabhor swore and hissed at the end of his rant, his yellow eyes flitting angrily over the assembled soldiers.

  “Hey, something’s happening!”

  A shout rang out across the hilltop. There was a shocked pause, then everyone moved towards the temple. The mallus loped away to the ruins and Jemma, hesitant at first, got up and followed.

  The temple was just as her visions had shown, a large, airy chamber in which two statues were erected, their swords drawn. Between them, the air seemed to thicken and take on a silver sheen.

  “This is it,” Saxton said excitedly, standing at Jemma’s shoulder, “we get to see some real Enchenian heroes.”

  Everyone fell silent as the portal grew larger and more solid, then the anticipated moment came.

  A tall, proud figure stepped through, a smile on her face as she took in everything about her. She was a few years older than Jemma, and humbly dressed, yet carried herself as if she owned the world. Her plain look could not be called beautiful or striking, but there was something noble about her.

  Lady Samantha led her warhorse, a handsome pale cream stallion. He was currently doubling as a packhorse, carrying her things.

  Rian and his soldiers moved forward to greet and help her, but the Lady held up a hand and ordered them all outside the temple. Everyone obeyed immediately, surrendering to her authority. Her reasoning soon became clear when two more figures appeared. A young lady, extraordinarily beautiful, with dark hair and eyes; and a young man who was subtly handsome and similar in looks to the girl for them to be related.

  They made their way out to stand beside Lady Samantha on the sunny hilltop, but they were not the last to emerge from the portal. Jemma watched with disbelief as two mythical creatures stepped out, their frames akin to the daintiest of horses, but protruding from their foreheads a single pearly horn. Unicorns. A palomino with a golden coat that shone like a second sun; and a silver-grey that was made for the stars.

  The palomino threw up its head and took off, past where the humans gathered, and with flashing speed he galloped across the plains, heading to the Great Forest. The taller grey unicorn snorted and remained.

  Everyone’s attention returned to the temple, as people were coming steadily in twos and threes, some leading packhorses, others carrying their own belongings. Jemma lost count, as several hundred individuals amassed on the hill in ordered lines, both men and women aged from fifteen to over fifty, all armed with a sword, or spear and a quiver of arrows.

  “Rian, your army.” Lady Samantha explained, bowing her head.

  The captain was speechless, looking about the ranks, that were as fit and well-trained as any King’s soldiers.

  “You are full of surprises, Lady Samantha.” Rian eventually said breathlessly. “But, ah, women warriors?”

  “I have fought.” The lady replied sharply. “The women have trained as hard as the men, and are just as deadly.”

  Jemma couldn’t help staring at the famous Lady Samantha. After all the stories that she had heard, it was hard to believe that the young woman was standing in front of her, flesh and bone. It was almost wrong for her to look so normal, with her light brown hair and summer-tanned skin.

  She must have noticed Jemma’s scrutiny because Lady Samantha looked through the crowd, directly at the strange girl. Jemma dropped her gaze, missing the lady’s frown.

  Suddenly there was a rumble and the ground began to shake. People shouted out in fear and pushed away from the temple, as the stonework split and the remaining pillars collapsed.

  All became still again and the Gardyn soldiers glanced about with confusion, praising Minaeri that none were hurt. The dust from the fallen rubble began to settle and two final figures stepped out from what remained of the Temple of Gates.

  “The princes... alive... Lugal, Cristan...”

  Everything happened so fast, Jemma felt exhausted trying to understand. When the two statues had come to life, Lady Samantha seemed unfazed, as though she had been expecting it, but murmuring went through the army.

  When Captain Rian came out of his daze, he quickly organised those assembled, starting the southward march back to the Great Forest. As for Jemma, Saxton and Angrud, he had arranged them a small escort and ordered them speedily back to Treefort with instructions to prepare for their increased numbers.

  It was nearly three full days since the portal had opened and Jemma was working alongside Siarla and the other families of Treefort as they prepared sleeping quarters and food enough for the celebrated return of the Lady and her army.

  Jemma was more than happy to participate in the chores, she hadn’t even been asked to ride on with Saxton, Angrud and the others to the Valley and Woodvale. As curious as she was about the other Gardyn strongholds, Jemma’s aching backside and leg muscles didn’t regret it.

  “It was a long time ago, no one knows how much of the story is true, how much is fabricated.” Siarla talked as she worked, making the time pass quicker and informing Jemma on another part of Gardyn history. “Two hundred years ago, King Gearalt had three sons – his heir, Brandon; and the twins Lugal and Cristan. Back in those days, there was a lot of superstition, and twins were considered an ill-omen.

  “Gearalt couldn’t keep the twins in the capital; but he couldn’t bring himself to kill them. He knew that if his first heir failed him, he would need a second son. So, while they were still babies, King Gearalt sent the twins to his country castle, to be raised away from the many eyes of court.

  “Anyway, when Gearalt died, soon after the birth of Brandon’s son, Brandon became king. The story is that he hated and mistrusted his brothers, knowing they had a strong claim on the throne. It has happened before – a second son, murderously envious of the crown, and unwilling to fade into the shadows of history. Not that Lugal and Cristan would ever feel this way; they had grown up away from the poisonous court, they had all the benefits of a noble upbringing, with the freedom to follow their own moral compass.

  “King Brandon was not going to take any chances, and he sent an assassin, in the guise of a messenger, to tell his brothers that their grea
t father had passed on. But what Brandon didn’t know, was that the Gardyn had replaced the assassin with one of their own men – the famous Bern.

  “Bern went to the Princes Lugal and Cristan, and warned them of their brother’s plan to kill them. He smuggled them out of their own castle, under the noses of Brandon’s spies, and away to the north.

  “For a year, Lugal and Cristan lived with the Gardyn, doing their duty to relieve the suffering that their brother forced on the peasants, and any that opposed him. Then, one not-very-special day an oracle sought them out. She told the princes that they were fated to take the innocents away to a place where the king could not reach them. That only they could find the long-abandoned Temple of Gates, only they could open a gateway. She warned that they would have a choice to make – to open a doorway to another world would not only take their pure hearts and faith in Minaeri; it would take their lives.

  “Soon after this revelation, King Brandon ramped up his persecution of the Gardyn. He had discovered that his brothers had not died, as planned, and he was going to punish any and every person capable of helping them.

  “Knowing that the increased death and pain was directly connected to them, Lugal and Cristan started to search for the Temple of Gates. It was with Bern’s help that it was discovered, and the Gardyn and innocents travelled in mass, in the hope of peace and freedom. The princes stood in the centre of the Temple, and when they drew their swords, a gate between worlds was formed. Their people passed through, to a land named Caelum; but the price had to be paid, and when the last person had stepped through, the princes turned to stone where they stood.” Siarla broke off, and smiled, “I always thought that part was made up, and that the statues had been erected in their honour, or for someone else completely forgotten in history. I always thought that, at least until now...”

  Eight

  That evening Treefort was packed; the soldiers would soon welcome their beds for a few hours of refreshing sleep before they continued marching south to join the camp in the Valley. But for one night, everyone rejoiced, singing and dancing into the early hours. There were wild stories told, of the famous Lady Samantha, but the remarkable young woman herself was nowhere to be seen.

  Jemma had attached herself to the Marsh family at the gathering, and was thoroughly enjoying the evening. She did not even wonder where the lady was until a young man approached her with summons.

  “When you are presented before the Lady Samantha, you must curtsey. And do not speak unless you are spoken to.” The messenger informed Jemma, as they hurried to a newly-erected tent.

  Jemma nodded nervously, taking little jogging steps to keep up.

  A guard outside the door nodded them through, lifting the canvas back. Inside, the wide tent was dim, having only a single flickering oil lamp for light.

  Jemma was left in the tent by the messenger and she clasped her hands behind her back to stop herself fidgeting further. A movement caught her eye and she started slightly as a young woman got up from a bench and walked towards her.

  Jemma remembered her instructions and made a clumsy effort at a curtsey, when she stood up again, she kept her eyes lowered to the ground and failed to see the lady’s faint smile.

  “I have been told that you are the oracle that foretold our return. For that, I thank you.” The lady said quietly, “I was also told that you claimed to be of my homeland. That is impossible. What is your name?”

  “Jemma McKinley,” she replied, then added quickly, “miss. Forgive me, I only repeated the message that I was given.”

  “Jemma. Do you know who I am?” Her calm, almost sad tones continued.

  “Yes, miss. The Lady Samantha, miss.” Jemma’s glance flicked up as she finally dared look into the lady’s face. A jolt of recognition made her gasp. “You’re Sammy Garrett!”

  “Where did you hear that name?” The Lady Samantha asked, with a mix of fear, surprise and even anger.

  Jemma just blinked and continued, “Gran said that I was from your home, but I didn’t understand until now.”

  Lady Samantha seemed to grow faint and sat down on a near bench, her expression fixed. “You know Gran. I never told anyone about her, except the Deorwines. Then you truly are from back there, back home?”

  Jemma looked down at Samantha, and she began to see something other than an untouchable lady; a girl only a few years older than herself, someone she must surely have something in common with. Jemma hesitated, as shocked as Samantha, and unable to completely ignore the hero figure that the lady had already become in her eyes, since meeting the Gardyn and their amazing stories. Slowly, Jemma lowered herself onto the bench next to Samantha.

  “For the past year you’ve been classed as a missing person. There’s been searches, appeals, everything. Everyone assumed that you’d run away with your boyfriend, because David Jones disappeared at the same time.”

  “David?” Samantha grunted, “He was never my boyfriend, and now he’s nothing but a curse to us.”

  “David is here as well?” Jemma asked with sudden surprise.

  Samantha nodded slowly, “King Hrafn, the one we are at war with, went to Earth to bring me back. It would have been physically impossible for him to drag me through the portal, so he made sure that I saw him kidnapping another student and played on the hope that I would be stupidly heroic and follow.” Samantha paused and sighed, “It was just bad luck that David was chosen. So it is my fault what happened to him.”

  Jemma plainly saw the misery that Samantha felt, but her curiosity was brimming. Jemma let the silence linger for a while, then asked in what she hoped were consoling tones, “What happened?”

  Samantha hesitated, she had only spoken of this once before, when she confessed all her woes to Jillis Deorwine, when she was a prisoner in the royal palace. Now she was considering telling a girl she had known five minutes. What right did she have to know, just because she was from home?

  “He died.” Samantha began, suddenly feeling very detached from the words that tumbled out. “We had just found out we couldn’t return home. We were in the forest and didn’t notice the soldiers creeping up on us. David was killed by a single arrow to the chest and I was taken to the King, unconscious. When I awoke, I found out that Hrafn had used his powers to bring David back to life, with the intention of tempting me to willingly help him.” Samantha paused and shook her head. “A person cannot retain their soul after death. David came back as an evil reminder of a once good person. None of that would’ve happened, none of this would’ve happened without me.”

  “Don’t say that.” Jemma said, once Samantha had finished. “Because of you, an oppressed world has hope and courage enough to fight for freedom. David, and many others, have died because of Hrafn; we will fight to avenge that.”

  Samantha looked at Jemma, the thin line of her lips betraying how unimpressed she was with Jemma’s unasked for advice. “How old are you, Jemma?”

  “Fifteen, miss,” Jemma replied, puzzled by the question.

  “Fifteen? You must be very wise to be giving me advice at your age. You’ve only been in Enchena for a few days; do not dare pretend to understand what I’ve been through.” Samantha paused, knowing that she was being unfair, but unable to stop the outburst. She sighed heavily, “Forgive me. No matter how many people tell me those exact words, it never helps. Don’t worry yourself with my problems, I would not wish them on anyone. If I keep them solely for myself, only I can be hurt.”

  Jemma felt uncomfortable, sitting next to this young woman who had obviously been through so much already. The errant thought arose that Samantha was only half-way through her journey, and there was a lot more pain to come.

  “Where are you staying, anyway?” Samantha asked, changing the topic.

  “Here at Treefort, with the Marsh family.”

  The name was unfamiliar to Samantha, so she assumed they must have joined the Gardyn army after she had gone to Caelum. “You had best go back to them, if they will have you. Until we decide what is
to become of you.”

  Jemma frowned at Samantha’s choice of words, “I don’t understand? What’s to be decided?”

  “How we are to get you home; or if the portal is sealed, how to keep you safe. My return will mean war. By Minaeri, why did Gran send you?”

  “B-but...” Jemma stuttered, then spoke again before her confidence drained, “but I don’t want sending away, can you consider that? Sammy, I have been sent to help with this war.”

  Samantha stood up suddenly. “Please refer to me by my title, Miss Jemma. War is not a game, you have no idea what it means to fight, to kill, and by Minaeri I will not let you learn.”

  “I’m sorry, Lady Samantha,” Jemma corrected, impatiently, “What if you need me? I am an oracle.”

  “Yes, so Rian tells me...” Samantha replied, clearly unimpressed with the term. ”The Gardyn do not need you, we have other methods of receiving messages from Minaeri. Danu-”

  “Danu sent me.” Jemma snapped, then looked away, “I’m sorry, I just... if there is something that I can do to help, I would do it. I might not have been in Enchena long, but I would do anything to make sure that Saxton and Siarla don’t have to suffer from King Hrafn anymore; hell, I’d even help Angrud, although that’s a close one. They matter to me.”

  Samantha gazed coolly at the girl for a long moment. “I will take your wishes into consideration. But now I have a council meeting to attend, so forgive me for cutting this meeting short.”

  She walked over to the entrance and pulled back the flap, holding it back for Jemma. Samantha watched the girl walk away, her expression tense. She had noticed the redhead when they gathered around the Temple of Gates, and on the ride home, Rian had filled her in on the part Jemma had played. It had been easier to believe that the girl was getting visions; than it was to believe she was from home.