The Prophecy of the Gems

by Flavia Bujor

  The lofty hall was still.

  Then the crowd was startled by the hiss of a sword drawn gleaming from its scabbard. Elfohrys advanced towards the Nameless One. Standing at the young man’s side, Amber tried to cry out but could not make a sound. To everyone’s amazement, when he reached the Nameless One, Elfohrys dropped to one knee and laid his sword before him.

  “Elyador, to the one who was my friend, I offer my apologies. To the one who is my king, I offer my homage.”

  “Rise, Elfohrys,” said the Chosen One. “I am not a king. I am only a man. And I forgive you.”

  Elfohrys got slowly to his feet and picked up his sword. Brandishing it, he shouted, “I pledge to do battle against the Darkness! I pledge to serve the Light and its King! I swear it!”

  Then all the men drew their swords and in a single voice promised the same.

  “I’m not fit to be a king,” said the Chosen One in a faint voice.

  No one heard him, except Amber.

  “A few moments ago,” she whispered, “you were a murderer. Now you’re King. All in all, it’s an improvement, right? Stop complaining and accept their homage.”

  Elyador smiled. From now on, he had a name. And his life had a purpose. He looked at Amber, then at the assembled throng. Oonagh had been right: in this castle, he had found the Chosen One. And at the same time, he had found himself.

  “I will lead you to victory,” he promised everyone. “The Army of Darkness and the Knights of the Order are powerful. We can be still more powerful. All we must do is believe this. Gathered together in the Light, we will defeat them!”

  His words were greeted with shouts of enthusiasm.

  Opal, who had hardly ever cried in her whole life, was weeping with happiness.

  Staring at Opal, Jade remarked, “Something very strange is going on this evening. First Amber, and now you! What’s wrong?”

  “I understand,” gulped Opal between sobs. “I understand! How did we break the Seal of Darkness?” she continued, her face bathed in tears. “Do you remember? Because we believed. We were convinced we would succeed. And the birds of prey? We hadn’t a single chance, but I believed we’d make it through — I believed we could. And the lake? It’s the same thing! And the battle — we’ll win it in the same way. It’s obvious!”

  Jade gave Opal a pitying look.

  “Well, you’d better believe me: you’re not your normal self at the moment.”

  “But you don’t understand!”

  “What? That all we have to do is believe? If you say so…”

  “No!” insisted Opal. “That’s it, the Gift.”

  “The what?”

  “It’s what allows us to believe. What can transform absolutely any man. Make a murderer into a king. Don’t you see?”

  “No. What I do see is that you don’t seem well at all!”

  Opal took a deep breath.

  “Our Gift… is Hope.”

  One will discover the Gift.

  One will recognise the King.

  One will convince the two others to die.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The Battle of Thaar

  AMBER AND ELYADOR remained together for the rest of the evening. They talked about everything and nothing, and shared their fears about the future. The Chosen One would be risking his life on the battlefield, while Amber would do the same in Thaar. They promised to meet again when it was all over. Amber resolutely refused to give in to tears.

  The next morning Elfohrys asked Elyador to go with him into the forest. The Ghibduls had said that they wished to join his cause, so the Chosen One was forced to leave Amber. With heavy hearts, they tried to pretend that neither of them was in any danger and that they would soon see each other again.

  That afternoon Jade, Opal and Amber had to leave as well. Thaar was several days’ journey away, and they had to hurry. When they set out this time, however, they knew that the end of their adventure was perilously close. Opal told Amber about her discovery.

  “Our Gift is Hope?” exclaimed Amber. “That’s incredible! How did you ever realise that?”

  “But it was completely obvious! What about you? How did you know who the Chosen One was?”

  Amber simply smiled.

  Jade looked miserably at her two companions. All night long the words of the Prophecy had haunted her dreams: One will convince the two others to die. Amber had recognised the King. Opal had understood the Gift. Jade was the only one left. She felt trapped in a nightmare. Impossible, it was impossible. She would never urge Opal and Amber to die! And yet, until now, the Prophecy had always spoken the truth.

  The three girls rode along in an uneasy silence, for Opal and Amber could guess what was worrying Jade. They didn’t dare talk about it, however, because they had no idea how to help her. Of course they knew that Jade would never lead them into death, but their silence led Jade to suspect precisely the opposite.

  The girls were travelling through Lionëral, crossing plains as monotonous as those of Hornimel but dotted with towns and villages through which they rode without stopping.

  One evening Jade couldn’t stand it any more and blurted out, “I won’t betray you. Believe what you want, but I will nev—”

  “We know,” interrupted Opal.

  “The Prophecy must be mistaken, that’s all,” said Amber soothingly.

  Jade burst out sobbing.

  “You know perfectly well that there’s no mistake. But I can’t even imagine… I mean, I’d never do—” She was crying too hard to continue. After a moment she said abruptly, “Let’s not go to Thaar. I’d rather have everyone hate us than keep hearing those words in my head: One will convince the two others to die…”

  “Elyador is going to risk his life leading the army,” replied Amber gently. “As for me, I have no right to abandon the journey to Thaar. It would be as if I were abandoning him, betraying him. If we fight, we’ll be united in the same battle against the Council of Twelve, against the Darkness.”

  “What?” said Jade. “Say that again?”

  “Let it go,” intervened Opal. “She’s in love, don’t try to understand. But she’s right: after all we’ve gone through, we can’t stop now, so close to our goal! If everyone needs us to conquer evil…”

  “Yes, but Elyador — at least he knows what he’s supposed to do,” objected Jade. “He’s going to fight and lead his army. But what about us? Once we get to Thaar, what do we do?”

  “You’re absolutely right,” agreed Amber. “Even though Death is nice, I’d rather not see her again so soon! I’ve so many things I want to do… Thaar scares me. But I’m going there anyway.”

  “Fine,” said Jade, resigned. “But if the Prophecy is true—”

  “You won’t betray us,” said Opal firmly. “We know it.”

  The three girls felt that if they remained truly united, nothing bad could happen to them. And perhaps they were right.

  All the way through Lionëral, they saw the Army of Light assembling, guided by messengers, and the sight reassured them, giving them courage to continue on their way.

  Once, Amber thought she glimpsed a black-clad horseman and closed her eyes in fright; when she looked again, however, he had vanished. She mentioned this to Jade and Opal, but since the horseman did not reappear, the girls finally forgot about him.

  After riding all night they reached Thaar on the morning of the summer solstice and were dazzled by the grandeur of the City of Origins. Towering ramparts protected blocks of flats which soared even higher into the sky, their countless windows glittering in the pale morning sunshine. The girls had never seen anything like it — indeed, they didn’t even know what a “block of flats” was.

  They dismounted in front of the ramparts, leaving their horses there. The soldiers who had formerly surrounded the city — Adrien among them — had left to join the Army of Light. Noticing that one of the city gates was open, the girls overcame their misgivings and slipped into the dark city of Thaar.

  At that
very moment, the Army of Light was crossing the magnetic field encircling Fairytale. Leading his troops, his shining sword drawn, Elyador opened his casket and was immediately reassured to feel an invisible force envelop him. He thought of Amber. Riding at his side, Gohral Keull and Elfohrys were astonished to see him instantly become more imposing than he had ever been before. Behind the Chosen One, the Army of Light spread out across Hornimel for as far as the eye could see and even beyond. So many were there prepared to do battle: the Ghibduls, their friends the Bumblinks, the healers and magicians of Amnhor’s town, the country folk with long silver hair, Owen of Yrdahl, Adrien… A little to one side stood a few powerful magicians, Oonagh among them, who were ready to cast their spells.

  When Elyador advanced, everyone followed, all equally resolute, and soon the Army of Light had left Fairytale to come face to face with the terrible Army of Darkness, made up of thousands of Knights of the Order and under the command of a dozen shadowy sorcerers. Evil slyly lingered on all their faces. Their numbers were as impressive as those of their adversaries. The two armies stared at one another for a long moment — and then charged into battle.

  “We will win!” shouted Elyador and his troops with one voice.

  An oppressive silence reigned in the City of Origins. The three girls held fast to their Stones and felt a little of the icy anguish in their hearts melt away.

  “Whatever happens, we will win,” declared Jade.

  Amber and Opal nodded in agreement, because they felt buoyed up by Hope — but in that same instant, they sensed something else invading their thoughts, something nasty. They were drawn to a tall building against their will, and then on into a brightly lit hall. Although they could tell that the Council of Twelve was taking control of them, they were helpless, unable to resist. After climbing an endless staircase they found themselves on the top floor of the building, in a vast room where the floor-to-ceiling windows had no glass and were open to the air. A man was sitting in a leather armchair, smiling cruelly at them. He wore a large tunic of purple embroidered with gold. He had a terrifying aura of absolute power.

  “Good morning. I am the Thirteenth Member of the Council of Twelve.”

  Petrified, the three girls clutched their Stones with all their might.

  “I see that you are afraid, and somewhat perplexed… It’s true, I am not a man: I am a spirit. The united spirits of the Council of Twelve.”

  The three girls could not react.

  “How naïve you are! You reached Thaar without any trouble — and yet you still haven’t understood! The Army of Darkness has been watching you since you entered Fairytale; it has even guaranteed your safety… so that you would come here to me. I am the only one capable of annihilating you. Maybe it’s not worth the bother? After all, you have done all my work for me.”

  The two armies clashed savagely. The soldiers of Darkness muttered evil spells, and the magicians of Fairytale strove to repel them. Warriors fell on all sides as heart-rending cries resounded on the Outside. Elyador fought with superhuman strength, with Gohral Keull and Elfohrys still at his side.

  “If only Amber and the other two girls manage to defeat evil at Thaar,” thought Elyador. “Because here, I don’t know if it can be destroyed…”

  Although the Army of Light was battling valiantly, it was largely untrained and was slowly losing ground.

  “Thousands of years ago,” explained the Thirteenth Councillor, “violence and hatred ruled throughout the world. The magic creatures hid themselves in fear, and mankind did not even believe they existed. One day, though, these creatures decided to appear to men and help them resolve their conflicts. For a few centuries, there was peace. I should mention that this was in the time of dear old Néophileus. Human nature eventually reasserted itself, however, and the world was again torn apart by wars. That was when the Council of Twelve was elected for the purpose of making the world into one country, at peace.”

  “That’s not true,” retorted Jade. “Peace already reigned among the magic creatures and mankind before the Council of Twelve imposed its rule!”

  That was in fact what Jean Losserand had told the three girls.

  “No,” the Thirteenth Councillor insisted. “I’m not lying to you. There’s no point any more. When the Council of Twelve came to power, there were too many weapons and too much technology for peace to be possible. In an attempt to avoid wars, the modern world was gradually swept away. Everything regressed, after a fashion. The cities of yesteryear have disappeared. Thaar is the only one that still remembers its glorious past.”

  The three girls listened, quaking with dread.

  “The Council of Twelve has stood strong, passing on its power from father to son. In spite of all these changes, there were still rebels and troublemakers. The Council of Twelve managed little by little to deprive people of their freedom by controlling their minds without their knowledge. It was so much better that way! The result was universal calm and prosperity. But the magic creatures also knew how to practise telepathy. They understood what was happening and they revolted. That’s when Fairytale was created — the only defeat the Council suffered in all those years.”

  The Thirteenth Councillor paused.

  “From generation to generation, the Council of Twelve has maintained its rule and its power has grown steadily stronger. The world of long ago has been forgotten, replaced by a life in which people are controlled by the Council — without revolution, without warfare.”

  Jade, Opal and Amber felt their blood run cold.

  “Only Thaar remains as it was thousands of years ago. Now it is known as the City of Origins. It has had so many names… For centuries, when mankind believed itself alone on this earth, it was also called Paris…”

  The battle was raging. The sight of blood spurred on the Army of Darkness, who were thirsty for evil, while Elyador, surrounded by a halo of love, encouraged the Army of Light to keep fighting. Everyone was growing weaker. Mutilated corpses lay scattered about the bloodstained ground, and hundreds of wounded lay dying in atrocious agony. There was butchery everywhere. Elyador’s sword streamed with blood, yet it still gleamed brightly. The Chosen One thought only of Amber, and her image appeared to him, urging him on.

  All of a sudden, one of Elyador’s adversaries managed to unhorse him, and he dropped his sword. In the chilling certainty that he was about to die, he looked up at the soldier of Darkness who was about to strike him dead — and saw the soldier himself run through by a sword. Retrieving his weapon, Elyador thanked his saviour, who seemed quite young. The brown-haired youth with the determined look in his dark eyes was named Adrien of Rivebel.

  Having lost sight of Elfohrys and Gohral Keull, the Chosen One battled on alongside Adrien, who fought with such surprising agility that none of his adversaries had managed to wound him.

  The Army of Darkness seemed sure to win in the end, however. Trained killers driven by hatred, its soldiers were skilled in brutality, unlike the many peasants and villagers in the Army of Light who did not know how to fight.

  “I must see Opal again,” thought Adrien. “I mustn’t die …”

  As for Elyador, he was exhausted. But he would never give up.

  “And you, the three Stones of the Prophecy,” continued the Thirteenth Councillor, “you dare to threaten the reign of the Council of Twelve! Because of you and that accursed Néophileus, the seed of revolt grew in people’s hearts, and numerous minds have escaped our control. And yet, you are nothing! I could kill you here and now. But first I wish to make the most of your defeat.”

  “You’ll never beat us!” exclaimed Jade. “Our Gift, Hope, is stronger than anything!”

  The Thirteenth Councillor roared with laughter.

  “Is it stronger than that?” he asked with a sneer, waving towards a large window.

  The three girls cried out in dismay. From the top floor of the building, they could see the battlefield strewn with thousands of bodies. The Knights of the Order and the soldiers of Darkness w
ere clad in grey and black, while the Army of Light wore silver armour. There were still thousands of dark soldiers, but only a few hundred sorcerers of Light remained, a pale spot in the centre of a black mass.

  “Now what do you think?” asked the Thirteenth Councillor in an icy voice. “You cannot defeat evil. It is everywhere: in each person’s heart, in the air, in life itself.”

  “So is goodness,” Amber replied firmly.

  But she looked out at the battle and began to shiver as anguish gripped her heart. Was Elyador still alive? She knew that the outcome of the struggle was obvious: at Thaar, as on the battlefield, the Light would be defeated.

  “Thank you, my dears, thank you so much,” gloated the Thirteenth Councillor. “Without you, no one would ever have recognised the Chosen One, and the battle would not have taken place. I would never have had the opportunity to annihilate all my enemies in one fell swoop. What a nice touch that was, to have gathered them all up and sent them off to be killed! They will die, every last one of them. How could they hope to triumph over my Knights of the Order and the Army of Darkness? Tomorrow, and for evermore, the power of the Council of Twelve will be absolute. Nothing will ever threaten our domination again.”

  The three girls stared at the Thirteenth Councillor in despair. What could they do?”

  The sorcerers of Light knew that they had lost. They had almost ceased to resist. The soldiers of Darkness were still chanting their dark incantations, which had no effect, thanks to the persistent efforts of Oonagh and a few magicians. Only about a hundred experienced hovalyns fought on valiantly, along with a handful of common folk. Elyador, Elfohrys, Gohral Keull and Adrien were the champions who caused the most trouble for the Army of Darkness. To everyone’s surprise, the boldest combatants were the Ghibduls. Flying a few yards above the battlefield, they would choose a soldier of Darkness, swarm down on him, slash him to death with their claws, and fly off to attack another victim. The dark army had succeeded in killing only a few of the Ghibduls, but unfortunately there were not enough of these forest warriors to make a dent in the enemy ranks.