Prophecy of Darkness

by Stella Howard

  “You won’t be lonely for long, Binjer,” she said, and hugged him again. “You’ll be with new friends soon.”

  Xena and Gabrielle glanced at each other and then bid their own farewells. Binjer made them promise to come visit him when they came back from their quest.

  “You can try my wine, the best,” he said, and with another big grin, he turned and walked away, singing to himself. A few minutes later, there was only the sound of crickets, warming up to their own twilight music.

  Gabrielle looked over at Alesandra. “Did you ‘see’ something when you touched him?”

  Alesandra nodded. “Yes. He’s going to be moving soon, although I didn’t see where. But the people there will like him, and he’ll be happy.”

  Xena studied Binjer’s map for another moment, fixing the image firmly in her mind, and then joined the other two by the crackling fire. She gave them a brief account of what she knew about Martus Bain.

  “It all makes sense, doesn’t it?” said Gabrielle. “At least we know what we’re up against now. It doesn’t sound like this Bain character means to do anything wrong; that’s something, isn’t it?”

  Xena nodded, but suddenly remembered a phrase that she had heard many times throughout her life. “The road to Hades is paved with good intentions,” she said, and then shrugged. “Meaning well is a fine thing—but it’s the action taken that matters most in the end.”

  All three of them considered that silently, watching the flames dance in the gathering night—where the moon rose cold and high, almost full now.

  Chapter 14

  The journey had taken longer than they’d expected. It was the night before the full moon, which meant they had less than twenty-four hours—and they still hadn’t seen the waters of Avernus. Or much of anything, for that matter.

  The days and nights passed faster than Argo could travel, even if he had been able to carry all three of them. The war-horse, though in her prime, could not have borne the extra weight for such a journey—no horse could have. Xena and Alesandra rode, while Gabrielle hurried alongside; Gabrielle never had gotten the hang of riding easily. The large animal, though nice enough, just made her nervous.

  Not as nervous as this place does, Gabrielle thought worriedly. Or that moon. It looked full as it rose heavy into the night sky, and although Xena said she was sure that they would find the castle at first light the next morning, Gabrielle had seen the concern in her usually unreadable pale eyes. Even looking up at the nearly round orb now made Gabrielle’s heart pound. What if Binjer’s directions were wrong? What if they couldn’t find the castle?

  “Tomorrow night,” said Alesandra. “Tomorrow night it’s going to happen.”

  The girl was also gazing at the moon, looking as scared and exhausted as Gabrielle felt. The surroundings didn’t help their moods much, either—never in all her life had Gabrielle seen such a desolate and ugly place. Xena said that it meant they were very close, and they didn’t dare travel any farther after dark or they would risk the nightmares that were said to haunt the area.

  This place is a nightmare; thought Gabrielle. She and Alesandra sat close to the fire, waiting for Xena to return from her hunt. The gnarled, gray trees seemed to come to life by the dying light of day, creeping toward them as twilight faded. She knew it was just her imagination (well, probably), but the whole area was . . . forbidding, straight-out spooky.

  Gabrielle smiled at Alesandra, hoping that she looked more confident than she actually was. “Hey, we’re almost there! Nothing is going to happen tomorrow night; we’ll find the castle, and Xena will explain things to this Bain person, and that’ll be it. End of story.”

  “Maybe,” said Alesandra. “I hope so.” She didn’t sound particularly hopeful.

  Gabrielle moved closer to the girl, as much for Alesandra’s sake as for her own. This was a place that seemed to suck the hope out of everything, although at least the crows had finally shut up . . .

  Every day for a week the landscape had grown stranger, more ominous—the trees, the air, even the quality of light had become like something out of a bad dream, a dream of a desolate emptiness. With each step they took toward Avernus, Gabrielle had discovered some new bizarre feature that made her skin crawl: brittle yellowed grass covered the rocky soil in fungus-like patches; the few animals they’d seen peered out at them from behind the knotty trees, their eyes wild and red, almost feral; just the absence of any other human beings was bad enough—but those squawking crows! From sunrise to sundown for two whole days the skies had been filled with their horrible shrieks, like a mocking chorus aimed at their very humanity. Leave, those cries seemed to say. Leave or be lost forever . . .

  Xena stepped into the flickering circle of light so suddenly that Gabrielle jumped, her heart thumping loudly.

  “Gods, don’t do that!”

  Xena arched a delicate brow. “It’s not my fault that you wouldn’t hear anything approaching short of a herd of cattle.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t have to be so quiet all the time,” Gabrielle muttered. She noticed that Xena wasn’t carrying anything and felt her spirits drop even lower.

  “No luck?”

  Xena shook her head and reached for their food pack, still on Argo’s saddle. “If there’s anything alive in these woods, I didn’t hear it.”

  Gabrielle sighed. “Then there isn’t anything alive,” she said, and then shuddered slightly at the words. Binjer hadn’t been exaggerating; except for the crows, the woods near Avernus held no life—yet another unsettling thought to add to her already long list of them.

  Xena frowned as she sorted through the last of their supplies. Enough for another full day, if they ate small meals. Beyond that, they’d have to leave the area so that she could hunt.

  If we don’t find Bain’s castle tomorrow; eating well will be the least of our troubles. She winced inwardly at the thought and then portioned out one of the last hunks of jerky. It wasn’t like her to think so negatively, but in truth, it worried her that they hadn’t even reached Avernus yet, let alone the castle. She had underestimated how long it would take them, that was all—but she couldn’t help feeling as if they were moving in slow-motion, that no matter how hard they tried, they wouldn’t arrive in time . . .

  She had considered going out alone while the other two slept, to scout for the lake and the castle—but in spite of the fullness of the moon, the land was treacherously dark, as if the ground were somehow absorbing the light. She didn’t want to risk Argo on a scouting mission in these conditions. And besides, it didn’t feel safe to leave Gabrielle and Alesandra alone, even for a short time.

  She sighed again; it was this place, the air here—hope was an unwelcome thing, she felt it deeply. It was as though they had journeyed into a blasted land, poor in both beauty and spirit—and the lack of essence was like a sponge, draining the life from the people who passed through.

  Xena sat down across from Gabrielle and Alesandra after handing out their meager supper. They both looked worn out and yet anxious, their faces like mirrors of her own concerns.

  “We’ll be there tomorrow,” said Xena. “Try not to worry overmuch. It won’t help matters.”

  Gabrielle sighed. “Binjer didn’t say anything about there being any guards, did he? Will we be stopped?”

  Xena shook her head. “No, he didn’t say. I doubt there are many, if any at all; the castle would be too isolated to support a large number. And I imagine that once we explain the situation, we’ll have no trouble getting in.”

  Alesandra looked up from the fire. “What if we do, though? What if they try to stop us?”

  Xena shrugged. “Stay behind me. I haven’t met a man yet who wouldn’t stand down at the point of a sword.”

  Gabrielle smiled. “Oh, really? What about that time—”

  “Sorry, let me rephrase that; I’ve never met a smart man who wouldn’t stand down at
the point of a sword.” Xena grinned. “And now that you mention it, I’ve met quite a few with poor survival skills. If it comes to that, just try and keep out of the way until they . . . gain some wisdom.”

  Gabrielle nodded. “And once we get inside?”

  Xena thought about it. “We find Martus, and talk to him—or his son. Alesandra said that he’s not a bad young man, and I know that Martus Bain could not have changed so much, even in twenty years. He was renowned for his kindness as well as his intelligence.”

  Gabrielle turned to Alesandra. “You said that both you and I needed to be there . . . ?”

  Alesandra nodded. “Yes, that was a very strong impression. I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do, if anything at all—but I know we have to be with Xena when she meets with the younger Bain.”

  Gabrielle chewed at her lip uneasily. She had hoped that Alesandra would have seen something a bit more specific by now, the roles that they would play in the prophecy, for example—obviously not. That worried her as much as anything else thus far. What if the final outcome somehow depended on what she did, or didn’t do?

  “You’ll do fine,” said Xena, smiling at her with a glint in her eye.

  Gabrielle sighed. How did Xena always know? She wasn’t that obvious, was she? Maybe her expressions needed some work . . .

  Alesandra dropped her gaze back to the fire. “Sometimes when the outcome of a situation can be changed, my feelings about it change—or they go away altogether. It’s happened a couple of times before. Like once, I saw that Otus was going to trip and fall really bad when he was out cutting wood. And when I told him that, he stayed home that day, and the feeling went away. He went the next day instead, and suffered no incident, nothing.”

  She kept her gaze on the moving flames, her small shoulders hunched. “My feelings about what’s going to happen tomorrow have become kind of cloudy, as if things may happen differently—although they may not; I can’t say for sure. But I still . . . What I said, a couple of weeks ago, about one of us not coming back—that feeling hasn’t gone away, or changed. It’s gotten stronger.”

  Xena reached out and gently patted her shoulder. “Hey—we’re not going into this with our eyes closed. Once we explain the situation to Martus and his son, there won’t be any problem . . .”

  Alesandra hugged her knees even tighter. “Yes, there will,” she said, her voice small and pitiful. “There’s going to be trouble. The closer we get, the more I’m sure of it.”

  She looked up then, and met Xena’s eyes, her own despairing and frightfully, painfully young. “I’m the one who won’t be coming back. I feel it as clearly as I see you now.”

  Chapter 15

  Telius had probably slept for a total of twenty minutes all night, but he sat up in bed feeling wide awake, his stomach in nervous knots.

  “Tonight,” he said softly, and instantly it was an endless chant in the back of his mind. Tonight, tonight, tonight—

  The sun had already risen, the pale morning light filtering through his window as the crows warmed up to their daily song. He’d been raised with their cries, heard them every day since before he could recall, and had become accustomed to tuning the sound out. Today, however, he listened for a moment, really hearing them for the first time in perhaps years. How desolate they sounded, almost mournful . . .

  Maybe after tonight, the skies would fill with different songs, the crows no longer the sole inhabitants of the lands near Avernus. Perhaps, in time, flowers would grow. Animals might come to live here, seeking refuge in the virgin forests of a new era—one of compassion and peaceful freedom for all living things.

  Tonight, the birth of it all. Tonight when the moon rises proud and full, casting her light for the last time on the dark world of man! Tomorrow, the sun would awake to find a changed land—and Telius would be responsible for that change. Not for glory or riches, although those things would surely follow—but because he believed, as had his father, that the world could be such a place, that humanity had the capability to do away with the evil it tolerated now. All that had been needed was the way, the key to unlock that door to a brighter reality—and he’d found it.

  Telius got out of bed slowly, savoring the stretch of his tired muscles. Funny—he had been so impatient for weeks now, so eager for this day to come that he’d hardly been able to stand it; and now that it had come, he felt a kind of calm settle over him, in spite of his knotted belly. This was the last day of its kind, maybe forever; why shouldn’t it be enjoyed, bid farewell to with some kind of mercy? He was about to create a new existence—and destroy an old one. The least he could do was luxuriate in its final, dying moments.

  Telius grinned. “Goodbye, cruel world,” he said, and then laughed out loud. The rich, full sound of his pleasure surprised him, and he laughed again; it had been too long since he’d felt so good, so happy with his life, and the proof was that his laughter seemed strange to him, out of place.

  Not anymore. Tonight . . . Everything changes tonight.

  He walked to his small window, still grinning, and looked out over the courtyard, taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. There was nothing that could dampen his spirits today, no doubts to face—

  —the girl will explain—

  Telius frowned. Where had that come from? He thought about it uncertainly for a moment. The girl . . . and a warrior, that was it! He’d had some kind of dream—maybe a week or so ago? It was hard to remember, he’d been sleeping so erratically; the last few days had kind of blended together . . .

  Telius shrugged it off. What was a dream, when the reality of the full moon was tonight?

  Nothing. A dream was a shadow of nothing.

  And yet . . . He frowned again, irritated with this vague dark spot on what would surely prove to be the greatest day of his life. Did he have any doubts that he’d buried in his excitement? Could there be some hidden concern, perhaps?

  Telius thought about it, hard, for another moment. And then shook his head.

  “No,” he said softly. “I’m doing the right thing; I know it.”

  In spite of his confidence, he somehow didn’t feel as happy as he had been only a moment before. Well, he was tired; when the ritual was complete, he’d sleep for a full day, get his mind rested and back to normal. After tonight, he’d have the time to relax.

  For now, though, a final breakfast in the old world. He put on a smile, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d forgotten something, something that might prove to be important . . .

  Scowling slightly, Telius dressed and headed for the kitchen, wondering why he wasn’t as happy as he should be. And wishing very, very much that his father were there.

  They were up and moving as the first rays of cold dawn broke across the bleak landscape. Both Gabrielle and Alesandra had suffered bad dreams—not as horrific as any of them had feared, but bad enough that no one got much rest. Xena had dozed only lightly, her ears trained to any sound, and the tossings of the other two had kept her from deeper sleep.

  As if they didn’t have enough to worry over, Alesandra’s frightening talk from the night before had cast a pall over everything. Xena hoped that the vision could still change, but it was hard to hope when she looked into the child’s mild eyes. Alesandra seemed certain of her own destiny—that when their quest was over, whatever the outcome, she would not be leaving with them. Although she hadn’t said anything else about it, Xena could see the sadness in her gaze, the belief there.

  Gabrielle was anxious and worried, but Xena acted as though there were still hope—and if Xena could do it, so could she. There was no man or woman alive that she trusted the way she trusted Xena, the warrior had proven herself again and again, and if anyone could change things, she was the one.

  They ate quickly and set out, each determined to be brave for the others and each plagued with her own private fears.

  Tonight, the proph
ecy of darkness would come to pass, or pass by. And although the three of them had roles to play in the final unfolding of this fate, in the end only time would tell which path the future would choose.

  Xena cursed softly to herself, wishing that she had scouted for the lake the night before. Not going had been a mistake, and one that might cost them more than they could afford. Where was it? They’d been moving since dawn, the sun was directly overhead now, and where was it? This was no puddle they were searching for, but a decent sized lake, the size of a small town—and without finding it to get their bearings, there was no hope of finding Bain’s castle.

  Although it hardly seemed possible, the lands were even more dismal and grim than before; Xena held that in her mind, the only clue that they hadn’t somehow missed Avernus. The ground had set into a series of rolling hills, the only gentle feature of an otherwise desolate landscape—and also frustrating, since at the crest of each mound she searched for Avernus, and found nothing.

  The castle is still a few hours past the lake. If we don’t find it soon . . . Xena gritted her teeth, leaving the thought unfinished.

  The very air about them was a sickly yellow, the only sounds in its stillness those of hundreds upon hundreds of the scavenger black birds; Xena didn’t even want to guess at what they survived on in this barren place . . .

  She could read the growing apprehension in both of the others, the rising alarm as they topped each hill and saw no lake. They reached the top of a hill now and saw only more of the same.

  Argo didn’t care much for the atmosphere either, and had become a struggle to control with each step forward. The pale mare snorted in unease, maybe sensing the lifelessness around them—or maybe just sick to death of the crows’ relentless cries, as she was. Gods, if she never saw another crow, she’d die a happy woman.