Dragons' Onyx

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I am glad that it is all so clear to you,” sighed Alex. “It has never been clear to me. Many a night I berated myself for my course of action. It was as if I was being forced to choose between two goals that were incompatible.”

  “Your life has been one of self-sacrifice,” Tanya smiled compassionately. “Your devotion to finding the Children of the Ancient Prophecy over the search for your own child is very consistent with who you are. Had you acted differently, you would have cursed yourself for doing so. Besides, we now know that you would never have found me anyway. Surely, that vindicates your decision?”

  “I don’t like to dwell upon it,” shrugged Alex. “Although what you are saying is perfectly logical, I will never be happy with that decision. It is something that I must learn to live with.”

  “Then my task is to make it livable for you,” smiled Tanya. “I am the injured party, if you can call me that, and I want you to know that your decision was right. While you could have taught me the warrior skills that I learned in my youth, and Jenneva could have mentored me in the other skills that I possess, our present situation would be much worse than it is.”

  “How do you mean?” quizzed Alex.

  “The Children of the Ancient Prophecy would have been left for Sarac to find,” explained Tanya. “That means that the whole world would be without hope right now. You and Jenneva have made that hope possible for everyone, including me.”

  “That is one way to look at it,” shrugged Alex.

  “It is the only way to look at it,” Tanya continued. “Plus I would never have come to know the Mage personally. I can’t help but think that that knowledge is going to be extremely important.”

  “Why?” questioned Alex. “What does the Mage have to do with this?”

  “That is the golden question,” frowned Tanya. “The news that Fredrik brought has lain heavy on my mind since leaving Tagaret. If the Mage is turning against the Ancient Prophecy, we will have a mightier foe than Sarac opposing us.”

  “Opposing us?” echoed Alex. “You sound as if you have already chosen sides in this?”

  A puzzled frown fell over Tanya’s face. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it?” she sighed. “Yet in my mind, I do not feel as if I had made any such decision. In fact, I cannot even fathom which side Jenneva would take in any confrontation with the Mage. He was very much like a father to her, as he was to me. That thought scares me.”

  “Scares you?” frowned Alex. “I think you are not letting me know what is really troubling you.”

  “It is the recurring dream that I had when I lived with Master Khatama,” explained Tanya. “I always saw myself falling in magical combat with some unseen foe. The places changed in each dream, but the scenario was always the same. The one constant was that Jenneva was always by my side. That is why I knew that I had to save her life when we were restoring the Unicorns’ Opal.”

  “I remember that well,” smiled Alex. “Without you there, I would have lost Jenneva forever. There would have been nothing that I could have done for her. I fail to see why such a thing would scare you, though. With you and Jenneva by my side, I feel as if I could do anything.”

  “Yes,” Tanya murmured as she was lost in thought, “but suppose for a minute that my dream is a type of foretelling, which I have always believed it was. Suppose that Jenneva was not really by my side, but actually the one that I was fighting. Suppose she is the one who is killing me.”

  “How can you possibly think such a thing?” protested Alex. “She loves you as much as I do, and I could never oppose you, or imagine you opposing me.”

  “The thought never entered my mind until Fredrik spoke in Tagaret,” Tanya said defensively, “but I can now envision such a scenario. I believe that there are two people in the world who could cause Jenneva to turn against me. You, and the Mage. If the Mage is at odds with the Ancient Prophecy, what then happens to those of us who are dedicated to fulfilling it? You asked before if I had chosen a side in this hypothetical split. Have you asked Jenneva the same question? What if our answers are different?”

  “I do not like where this discussion is heading,” worried Alex. “Our family is finally united after too many years of being broken up. I can not think about it being destroyed again.”

  “Yet you will,” sighed Tanya, “as will I. You have taught me to consider all angles of every problem. I doubt you can stop yourself from doing so.”

  “I think we are dwelling too much on the words of Fredrik,” Alex shook his head. “It is not as if the lad is beyond deceit. Why would the Mage suddenly turn against the Ancient Prophecy? It makes no sense.”

  “It makes even less sense to me than it does to you,” countered Tanya. “Master Khatama shows an uncanny knowledge of the Ancient Prophecy. He knows things about it that nobody else could fathom.”

  “Like what?” inquired Alex.

  “It was Master Khatama that directed Arik to the Island of Storms,” Tanya pointed out. “As we now know, recovering the statue of Abuud was not necessary to fulfill the Ancient Prophecy. In fact, Boris had the Diamond of Edona with him while Arik was heading for the island. Remember that Niki had stolen it? He could have stopped Arik from taking that dangerous journey. Why didn’t he? Why did he send him to the Island of Storms in the first place?”

  “At the time, he must have thought that the statue of Abuud was required to fulfill the prophecy,” mused Alex.

  “Or did he know that Arik had to find the Breastplate of Alcea?” countered Tanya. “Was that the real reason that Arik had to go to the Island of Storms? Because without that breastplate, Arik would have died several times already, and the Ancient Prophecy would have failed.”

  “But that would mean the Master Khatama knows more about the Ancient Prophecy than he is telling us,” argued Alex. “Why would he hold such information back?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Tanya, “but do any of us truly know the Mage? We know of him from stories and words of others, but there is so much about him that we do not know. We have never heard about him from people who consider him an enemy. Does he have a darker side that we are not aware of? It gets even scarier,” she continued. “The Mage is a timeless being. Given that thought, that means that he was around when the Ancient Prophecy was written. Never is it mentioned where the Ancient Prophecy originated.”

  “But you think that the Mage might know who wrote it, and therefore has more knowledge of what it entails?” posed Alex.

  “Worse,” frowned Tanya. “What if the Mage is the creator of the Ancient Prophecy? That would explain his intimate knowledge of it.”

  “Why then would he ever go against it?” questioned Alex.

  “An excellent question,” nodded Tanya. “We know that the Mage and Alutar are perpetual enemies. They have fought each other before, and I am sure that they will again in the future. You learned from Egam that sometimes they involve others in these battles, like when the elves were called to help the Mage imprison the Demon. Assume that the Ancient Prophecy is the Mage’s way of countering some attempt by Alutar to gain the upper hand in this continual battle. What if Alutar found a way to alter the Ancient Prophecy to his advantage? What would Egam do?”

  “You are making my head spin,” Alex replied. “You are proposing that Egam made the Ancient Prophecy to best Alutar in some way, and that the Demon figured out a way to turn the tables around. I can see where that would cause the Mage to alter his plans for fulfilling the Ancient Prophecy. It makes it sound like we are all pawns in some huge game where we don’t know the rules.”

  “Exactly,” Tanya nodded vigorously, “and I don’t like being anyone’s pawn, especially if pits me against my family.”

  Jenneva came back from the stream and saw Alex and Tanya sitting by the fire and approached them with a broad smile on her lips.

  “It is so wonderful to see the two of you having a good father-daughter talk,” smiled Jenneva as she walked up to the campfire.

  Alex and Tanya looked at
each other and nodded. “Sit down, Jenneva,” they said in unison.

  Chapter 8

  Trapped Like Rats

  The elven magician nodded satisfactorily to herself as her finger ran across the ancient scroll. She smiled inwardly with the satisfaction of having solved another riddle. Podil stood and stretched. She was stiff from sitting for hours on the library floor. While her flawless skin belied her age, the elf magician felt her advanced years at times such as this. Remaining in one position for extended periods of time always seemed to bother her. As she had done so many times in the past, Podil promised to get out more in the future and limber up her body. She bent down and slid the ancient scroll back into its place on the shelf.

  Podil turned and looked at the window. She shook her head when she saw that it was dark outside. Once again she had let the day slip by while researching a question. She chuckled to herself and shook her head mirthfully. How many times had she been surprised to observe the same thing? She picked up her papers and prepared to close the library and return to her room. Suddenly, she halted abruptly, a mask of concern falling over her face.

  Podil slowly rotated, examining the dark corners of the empty library. Her eyes crinkled as she peered into the darker voids. She did not know what she was searching for, but she knew the feeling of her internal alarm going off. Something was amiss.

  “There is no need to prepare to defend yourself,” a voice said from the shadows near the door on the other side of the room. “I am glad to see that you are still capable of being aware of another’s presence.”

  “Age is only in one’s mind,” Podil replied. “I should have realized that it was you. Nobody else has ever been able to sneak up on me. What name are you using these days?”

  “Names mean nothing,” the voice answered. “What one is called does not change his very nature, unless it is meant to. Lately, I have been called Boris Khatama.”

  “Well then,” responded the elven magician, “come into the light, Boris Khatama. I still prefer to see who I am talking to.”

  “Do you think anyone would dare to impersonate me?” chuckled the Mage as he walked towards Podil.

  “That would be foolish of them,” replied Podil. “Is it worth my effort to ask how you got into this library? The guards should not have even let you onto this level without someone alerting me.”

  “The guards are not aware that I am here,” shrugged Boris. “Queen Alysa does not even know that I am here. I came to speak only with you.”

  “Impressive,” Podil said as her eyes widened. “That is a trick that you must teach me, or does one need to be immortal to perfect it?”

  “It comes in handy at times,” Master Khatama replied. “Let us not waste time on trivialities, though. I need your help.”

  “You need my help?” the elf magician repeated with surprise evident in her voice. “I cannot imagine anything that I could do that you are not capable of yourself. What is it that you require of me?”

  “It is something that I am not prepared to discuss at this time,” the Mage evaded the question. “You must trust me that your skills are required. It is a matter of great importance.”

  “Obviously,” Podil nodded slowly, “or your would not waste your time with such a clandestine visit. Why have you come to Sorelderal like a burglar? You must know that you are always welcome here.”

  “I do indeed,” the Mage smiled. “This time is different, though. I do not wish others to know where you have gone.”

  “Gone?” echoed Podil. “Do you mean that you wish me to leave Sorelderal? For how long?”

  “I am not sure how long,” sighed Boris. “Maybe forever.”

  “You know that I will obey the Mage,” frowned Podil, “but I think that you owe me some explanation for tearing my life apart. My heart has never sought to leave Sorelderal.”

  “Fair enough,” conceded Master Khatama after a long delay. “I have to deal with Alutar once again. Your services are required to ensure success. Now that you know the severity of the problem, you can understand why I am unable to speak of your return to Sorelderal.”

  “Indeed,” Podil nodded solemnly. “The fact is that I may never return at all because there is a strong chance that I will not survive the mission that you have chosen for me. Very well then, may I have time to gather a few possessions? I suspect that this task will require a journey of some duration?”

  “Yes to both,” smiled the Mage. “In fact, I want you to secure two horses when you leave.”

  “When I leave?” questioned the elf. “I am not leaving with you?”

  “No,” answered Boris. “It is better for you to leave alone. I will be camped several leagues north of here. Follow the river north. I will keep watch for you.”

  “I do not have your ability to move without being seen,” frowned Podil. “Questions will be asked. Are you sure that this is wise?”

  “You are an old and wise elf,” smiled the Mage. “Simple questions will not deter you from what must be done. I think you underestimate yourself in any event. I will keep watch for you by the river.”

  The elf magician heard a noise behind her. She spun to see what it was, but nothing was there. When she turned back towards the door to the library, the Mage was gone. Podil’s mind spun with questions. Her first instinct was to put her logical mind to work at finding answers to the riddles posed by the Mage, but she soon realized the futility of that exercise. She sighed to herself and smiled when she recalled her earlier promise to herself that she would get out more. She snuffed out the candle and closed the library door as she headed to her room to pack a few belongings.

  With her pack on her back, Podil stole down several levels of the tree city. She hesitated in the shadows while other elves passed by. When it was safe to move again, she continued down the levels until she almost reached the lowest level. Podil knew there would be two guards at the rope ladder just below her. She had to avoid them to effect her unnoticed departure.

  Podil frowned as she pictured the two guards in her mind. She knew that there were few things that would distract both guards at the same time, plus there were roving guards on the ground below. While the guards were meant to stop enemies from entering the city, they were also well placed to notice people leaving. While Podil was wracking her brain to figure out a diversion that would not harm anyone, she heard the guards lowering the rope ladder. She stole down a few steps until she could see what was going on.

  Her acute hearing picked up the voices of the elf guards and she smiled inwardly. It was the time of night when the roving guards below were replaced. She waited anxiously until the men below climbed up, and the replacements gathered before going down. When she felt the timing was right, she flicked her wrist towards the far end of the platform. A loud crack resounded through the still night air. The commotion below was instantaneous. Loud cracks, when you live in a tree, are the sounds of danger. The six elves scrambled to find the source of the noise. Feeling like a thief, Podil silently scrambled down the remaining steps and onto the rope ladder. She swiftly descended the ladder, her earlier stiffness completely forgotten in her desire to escape unseen.

  When she reached the ground, she wasted no time in heading for the paddock. Knowing that it would be one of the first places that the replacement guards would check, Podil worked feverishly to secure two horses. Within just a few moments, the elf magician was riding through the woods with a spare horse in tow. Her mind was briefly distracted by the fear of goblins roaming the woods, but her thoughts were mostly centered on solving the question of what the Mage was up to.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Montbalm stood squarely in the center of the large open doorway at the base of the Castle of Man. Behind him were scores of archers awaiting his command to open fire. The lieutenant felt defenseless as he thought about the tens of thousands of goblins and ogres that were just on the other side of the huge castle. His left eye twitched nervously as he peered into the city of Tor for sight of the approaching ride
rs.

  “Where are they?” he muttered nervously to himself under his breath. “They should have appeared by now.”

  “The Dark Riders are getting closer, Sir,” a voice shouted down from a crenel five levels above his head.

  Finally, the lieutenant detected motion in the streets of the abandoned city. He closed his left eye briefly in an attempt to stop its twitching. It didn’t help.

  “Riders approaching, Sir,” a nervous voice behind him announced.

  Lieutenant Montbalm squinted into the sun and saw the seven riders approaching. He frowned when he saw the slow pace they were traveling at. He waved his arms to tell them to hurry. The lead rider saw the signal and picked up the pace. The lieutenant waited impatiently.

  “Inside quickly,” Lieutenant Montbalm said when the riders had crossed the bridge. “There are Dark Riders not far behind you.”

  “They will not be riding up to the gate,” Alex replied. “They realize that would be akin to suicide. The ogres on the other side of the castle might just do that, though.”

  The riders entered the Castle of Man and dismounted. Lieutenant Montbalm ordered the gates closed.

  “Are you always so casual?” he asked brusquely. “Do you not feel the sense of danger that pervades this place?”

  “It does little good to let your emotions get the better of you,” replied Alex. “As for the aura of danger surrounding the Castle of Man, that is why we have come.”

  “Just the seven of you?” inquired the lieutenant. “I expected more. I am sure that King Devon expected more as well.”