The Oracle

by K. S. Marsden

  “I thought Hrafn’s powers weren’t working properly!” Samantha shouted.

  “They’re not!” Losan shouted back, gesturing at the stumbling, inept bodies. What they lacked in skill, they made up for in numbers, and perseverance. Even with the dragon’s help, they could only hold them back. “Hrafn needs stopping. Go, I’ll deal with Prince David.”

  Samantha allowed herself one brief glance towards David, then nodded. The young woman sprinted away to the palace entrance.

  Captain Losan, adjusted his grip on his sword, and after a quick prayer to Minaeri, he headed straight for David.

  The young man looked wild, his armour spattered with the blood of his enemies; his blond hair flying, and his blue eyes bright with battle. When he spotted Captain Losan, he paused, taking in the telling appearance of the King’s closest advisor.

  “Traitor!” He yelled.

  One of David’s loyal followers jumped forward to attack Losan, but David grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and threw him aside, the soldier landing with a sickening thud.

  “Losan is mine!” David commanded, his blue eyes fixed on his old mentor.

  The surrounding battle seemed to hush, as Losan focussed solely on the young man that had destroyed everything.

  “I rejoiced when I heard you had been killed by the enemy,” David said, stepping towards Losan. “But this... seeing you alive and well, and one of them. This is an even better end to your story; the legend becomes the traitor.”

  “Minaeri works in strange ways.” Losan replied, stalling for time, to gather his strength.

  David snorted, “There is no Minaeri. No gods, only us mere mortals.”

  The young man circled Losan, trying to find some weakness in the Gardyn-made armour. With little warning, he swung his sword towards Losan’s torso, and aimed for his neck on the back-swing.

  Losan deflected the first with his shield, and barely dodged the latter. The Captain struck back, following blow after blow, to try and create a weak spot; but David was defended with the quickness of youth.

  “Not up to your usual standard, old man.”

  Losan didn’t rise to the prince’s goading, and years of experience allowed him to keep level-headed amidst the chaos. He held back until he was ready, then attacked.

  The two warriors fought on, Losan steadily gaining ground with his greater skill. It was suddenly over, when his sword got through David’s defences and struck true.

  Prince David slumped to the ground, silent and undignified, as the battle carried on around them.

  Losan couldn’t feel any joy in the victory over the poisonous young man, and he turned and re-joined the fight, aware that he had to defend the Gardyn until Samantha removed Hrafn’s ability to raise the dead...

  A thought struck him, just as a dagger was driven in his back.

  Losan turned, the pain spreading, and his vision already starting to blur. He could still see Prince David, hovering behind him.

  As Losan dropped to his knees, David grinned, “You didn’t think Hrafn would let his heir die? Goodbye, old man.”

  *****

  Samantha hesitated as she glanced up at the pale building that was once her gilded prison, then ran up the steps and burst in. The halls were deserted, the soldiers having been sent to fight, the servants cowering in hiding places. Lady Samantha was unhindered as she ran through the vaguely remembered corridors, her heart thudding with the enormity that... it was all about to end.

  The first place she hunted for the King was his quarters. It was empty, except for the lifeless form of Queen Arianne, who lay as though asleep on her bed, even paler in death, yet retaining the icy beauty that had made her queen. Samantha stopped just long enough to say a quiet prayer for the deceased, before moving on again.

  Her running feet took her to the throne room, a grand hall where the King took visitors and commanded his court. Samantha threw open the huge double doors and stopped in her tracks, King Hrafn sat on his high-backed throne, a rich cloak wrapped about him and his sword drawn and placed on his knee.

  “I knew you would come, Samantha, but not this soon.” The King spoke with self-confidence, though there was a shake in his hand that betrayed how frayed his nerves were.

  “I have my reasons.” Samantha retorted, stepping warily closer. She held her shield defensively before her body, feeling so frail in front of this man, despite her training. The round shield of hide and wood seeming so useless, her sword arm hanging by her side, hand sweating on the leather bound hilt.

  Hrafn took a deep breath, but Samantha cut him off, “Don’t call your guards, they can’t kill me, you won’t let them. We both know that you need to do that.”

  “You speak as though you come to surrender or barter,” Hrafn sneered, “But that is so unlike the famous Lady Samantha.”

  “Why would I surrender? Your troops have fallen; your city flooded with rebels and mallus and unicorns; hell there are even dragons in the sky. You have lost.” Samantha shouted.

  “Death of men is nothing, it is reversed in a blink.” Hrafn answered, “And once I have the powers intended for me, not even your assembly of monsters will stop me. So stop wasting time girl, and do what you came to do. Fight; die; and know that the last hope of the Gardyn dies with you.”

  The King rose from his throne, casting off his cloak. The shake in his hand had vanished, and he fought with a manic fervour. Another enemy he might have humoured and drawn out the humiliation of defeat and death; but Hrafn wanted Samantha gone, unable to cause him any more problems.

  Samantha parried the first few strikes, and moved away to give herself time to breathe. He was good, very good. Samantha may have been trained by a great Gardyn warrior, and she had grown stronger and swifter after a year of intensive training; but Hrafn had been taught by history’s best fighter, the famous Captain Orion Losan, and his age gave him greater strength and skill.

  They would fight, parry, lunge and break, each testing the other and trying to break through to no avail, like some grotesque dance. Samantha began to feel the fatigue of battle course through her veins. How long had she been fighting now? Hours? Days?

  Hrafn must have noticed her weariness, because he began to rain down blows so heavy and constant that Samantha felt that her arm must break from blocking them as her shield gave way, the thick wood shattering as though it were made of glass.

  Samantha felt herself stagger back, but seemed strangely detached from her body, everything seemed to slow, everything seemed to grow chilly and she was afraid of dying here, alone and far from her allies.

  Not alone, never alone.

  Jillis interrupted her thoughts suddenly, her life hanging on this wild gamble. So many others depended on her, her journey as the Lost Soul wasn’t going to end here.

  Samantha gave a sharp scream as she felt her tired limbs rejuvenated, the sweat that soaked into her clothes no longer testament to her weariness. Her legs found strength and pushed forward, forcing the King to retreat as she continued blow after blow against his shield, both hands gripping her sword, the remnants of her own shield hanging forgotten from her left arm.

  Fear crept into Hrafn’s eyes, feeding Samantha’s own strength, but increasing the King’s desperation as he now fought to survive. He began to fight back, but his shield arm seemed weakened so that some of Samantha’s strikes cut across his arms or rang across his armoured torso, cuts that were mirrored on Samantha’s young flesh.

  Samantha followed through the movements almost automatically, feeling increasingly distanced from the fight. Then she stopped, her breath catching. Glancing down she did not understand, did not understand the pain coursing through her body, nor the sword thrust through her gut. She could hear screaming, her own? Someone else’s?

  Hrafn let his sword slip from his grasp as he felt her blood run warm over his hands, felt her own weight drag Samantha down to her knees. The King was breathing heavily, a wretched smile crossing his lips, interrupted by gasping breaths.


  But this was wrong, all wrong. What had been the point of her adventures if this was how it ended, the point of all those lost lives. The dismal thoughts filled her confused mind as her hands, slicked in her own blood, fumbled at the hilt, desperate to pull out the blade with her waning strength.

  So she was to die, all alone. Warmth enveloped her, and Samantha felt herself to be drifting, away from pain. But no, never alone. A strong, female presence came to her, ’it is time to give in to me,’ words whispered in her mind and Samantha readily fell into that warmth.

  Hrafn had staggered back a step from Samantha, watching her as a small, helpless girl, her life slowly draining away. Finally, finally, he was going to receive all that he had craved for nearly forty years.

  He did not understand the stabbing pain as the four mallus spikes were driven into his thigh, and as his leg gave way, the sudden thrust of his own sword up, under his armour, driving through his gut and up. Samantha knelt before him, her hands pushing the sword up to the hilt, an inhuman snarl on her lips and a distant light flaring in her eyes.

  “Only our own weapons can kill us.” Samantha said in a deep resounding voice that was not hers.

  The King collapsed to the blood-stained palace floor, his own breathing laboured.

  “An ancient wrong is finally righted.” Samantha whispered as she sensed the life leave Hrafn’s body.

  The strength that had been granted her was swiftly taken away and the pain of her injuries lanced through her again and Samantha fell to the floor, her own blood pooling about her, mingling with that of the dead King’s, ‘How bright the colour’, came her hazy thoughts. A light seemed to hover, then descended and sank to her flesh. Samantha took a deep, gasping breath as her vision sharpened and the pain of her injuries faded to an ache.

  Samantha struggled to roll herself over and scramble up. Her hand reached out to grasp Minaeri’s sword - her sword - and her other bloodied hand reached up to pull off her helmet.

  She stayed on her knees, trying to understand what had just happened. Her clothes were torn and soaked with still warm, still wet blood, but the wound by her waist had become nothing more than a fresh pink scar, painful to the touch. Her senses were going wild and she was utterly aware of everything about her and even further afield.

  Samantha didn’t waste a moment, she raced back through the corridors of the palace. When she burst out of the doors, a cheer erupted from the Gardyn. The battle was over, and they all worked to relieve the surrendered enemy of their weapons.

  “The King is dead!” She shouted, as many expectant faces turned her way. “Hrafn is dead! Let there be no more killing!”

  Samantha saw a familiar figure push through the crowd towards her, the grey unicorn’s beauty and majesty a harsh comparison to the battle scene.

  As she drew close, Samantha leapt onto her friend’s broad back, begging her to carry her swiftly back to Jillis. They paused momentarily, to pull Tobias up behind her; then they set off with all the speed Alina could muster.

  *****

  The Valley was deadly quiet, all were subdued with the thoughts of battle and whether their loved ones survived.

  The tent where Jillis lay was small and dark, Samantha and Tobias ducked inside, leaving the tent flap open for Alina’s sake. Jillis lay pale and unmoving, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Jemma sat with her back against the bed, her knees brought up and arms wrapped around them as though holding herself together.

  “Is she...?” Tobias’ voice shook and he dare not finish his question.

  “I could resuscitate her the first time, bu...” Jemma choked.

  Samantha felt hot tears begin to fall. She could not believe that the beautiful and kind Jillis, who had always been there, was truly gone. Samantha tentatively reached out and touched her hand.

  “She’s so warm.” She murmured.

  “Lady Jillis left us just before you arrived.” Jemma informed them, with a sob. Jemma faced Samantha, a bold look in her eye. “You can do something, Samantha. It if wasn’t for her – for me – you might be dead. You owe her. Besides, the whole point of the fight was to get Hrafn’s power to bring life.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Samantha snapped, ignoring the guilt that bloomed, “The point of the war was to defeat Hrafn and to free Enchena, that’s done. Jillis gave us heart, and now she’s gone... And don’t you dare lecture me girl, you don’t know Jillis, you have no idea what she means to me.”

  Tobias glanced to Jemma with a silent apology for Samantha’s harshness, but was yet to come to terms with it himself. “Samantha, you have the power now to bring back the dead, to give life again.”

  Samantha looked at him with disgust, “I have the power to make the body live, but I cannot bring back the Jillis we love. I can’t believe you’d be willing to settle for a shell without a soul.”

  Jemma lifted her head slightly, a thought striking her. “Perhaps... there might just be a chance...”

  Jemma fumbled at her neck, pulling out the chain that she had been wearing so constantly she almost forgot its importance. The initiatus crystal allowed a person travelling through a portal to retain their soul. It had been Gran, the one who started her journey, who now provided the answer.

  “Samantha, trust me, Jillis is not lost yet.” Jemma said calmly. She placed the necklace over Jillis’ head, so that the crystal lay above her breast. “Trust me. I refuse to believe this is the end of her story, Jillis is too important to the Gardyn.”

  When Samantha didn’t reply, Tobias put his arm around her.

  “Please,” he murmured, “I don’t want to lose my sister, and our new world will be a better place with her in it.”

  Samantha shrugged away from his touch, “What about the hundreds that have died? I have no right to decide to give one life and deny it to the rest.”

  “For Minaeri’s sake!” Jemma shouted, suddenly flipping. The younger girl grabbed Samantha’s arms. “This is not your decision. So get over yourself and do your duty!”

  Samantha’s eyes narrowed at the insult, and she pulled back from the girl. “I will do this, but only on the account that if this goes wrong, you, Miss Jemma, will put the soulless person out of their misery.”

  Jemma nodded slowly, before stepping back to give Samantha any room she needed.

  Samantha closed her eyes and delved into the darkness, not sure what she was looking for, but there was a faint silver thread laid before her, straining to hold the essence of the soul to the fading hope of life.

  Tobias and Jemma moved back as a silver light descended and encompassed the two ladies...

  Twenty-Two

  Almost all fighting had stopped in the city, leaderless without their King, many more had lain down their arms.

  The crowd parted to let a single unicorn through, as she carried Samantha and Jillis swiftly back to the scene of their victory. The Gardyn cheered as they passed, two mere mortals and their unicorn ally that had been elevated and held with love over the past two years, and now controlled the future of an empire.

  They rode to the very centre of the city, and there was a glorious reunion between the heroes and Lady Jillis. No one had been unscathed by the fight, but it was a welcome relief to see the faces of their friends.

  “No!”

  A cry above all others made them turn to the palace where Prince David stood at the top of the stone steps, his furious gaze focussed on Samantha.

  “It is not over yet. All loyal soldiers to me!” The heir cried, “You have my gifts Sammy, they belong to me and I will take them back.”

  He lifted a bow and arrow, pulling the string taut.

  Soldiers were suddenly pushing towards David, to join him or to kill him. Out of the masses, one man leapt up. David’s deadly aim was knocked askew, as Captain Rian took the feet from under him.

  “Stay back!” Rian’s firm voice warned the soldiers, “He does not deserve your loyalty.”

  Samantha pushed through, her eyes widening at the sight of David. He
was ghastly pale, and gasped for breath, not even making the effort to rise, as he glared up defiantly.

  “I’ll finish him for you, Lady Samantha.” Rian stated quietly.

  Samantha shook her head, lost for words, forcing herself to look upon the fallen version of the one she had risked her life for, had loved, and had fought against.

  “Give me what is mine, Sammy, I am Hrafn’s successor.” David demanded. “Give it to me, and I will live, isn’t that what you want?”

  She sighed, choking back tears, and knelt beside him. “I’m sorry. But I promise it will be painless this time.”

  Samantha reached within and sent forth the wings of death, the first power revealed to her on her long journey, but one she had refused to use. Up ‘til now.

  David froze, feeling fear for the first time since he had been shot down in the forest. But he could fight this death no more than the first, and slipped into eternal sleep.

  He looked peaceful, as though he really were just asleep. The black, twisted version of David dissipated and Samantha was left kneeling over the body of a lad she knew, the popular boy from school. She wiped away a sorrowful tear and looked up into the pale face of Captain Rian.

  “I have long known that I would be the one to kill him.”

  “He would have died anyway, without Hrafn’s powers sustaining him, as will many soldiers here, brought back from death to bring hell into the living world.” He spoke with a hint of bitterness. Rian looked away to the crowd, who waited in anticipation. “It is time to lead your people.”

  Samantha stood up obediently and walked back to the masses, aware that all eyes were on her. As she passed those she was close to, she reached out and briefly held them, drawing on their courage and belief.

  She climbed onto an overturned cart that was still reasonably stable, then hesitated.

  “The tyranny is over.” She shouted out. “Accept the Gardyn and we will not hold ourselves above you. We have fought long to bring freedom to all, and to overcome the blindness held to the suffering about you. It is done now.”