Typical dog. Give her a little food and she’d be a friend for life.
“Well, sit,” he said, ladling the food into several bowls and bringing the steaming stew to the table.
I was the first to break away from our group and find a seat at one of the chairs.
“Good,” Lucretian said, sitting across from me.
I tried the stew. It tasted odd, with too much salt and fatty meat, but it was food, so I wouldn’t turn it down. I also didn’t want to know what sort of meat was in it.
“You like it?” the man asked.
“It’s… pretty good.” I smiled and took another bite, not wanting to offend him. In in a place like this, any food was better than nothing.
The others finally came and sat at the table. As we ate, I watched the man. His appearance definitely wasn’t something I was accustomed to seeing, with his gnarled fingers ending in long claws, and his eyes tinted with a red hue, reminding me of the Regaymor. He must have seen me staring as his gaze met mine.
“Looking at my eyes, yes?” he asked.
“Sorry, they’re just not what we’re used to.”
“Of course not. Your reaction is understandable, of course. No one from your world has eyes like this, but here, it’s very common. When your world evolves with a damaged atmosphere, life finds a way to adapt. Our eyes developed a red tint, which helps us filter the dangerous invisible rays that would otherwise damage our eyesight.”
“Will our eyes look like that if we stay here too long?”
“No, you’d have to be born here, and even then, not everyone in our society inherits the trait.” He gave me a gentle smile. Even with those fangs, he still managed to look harmless in a grandfatherly sort of way. Something told me that this man was not harmless—but perhaps he didn’t want to kill us, either. Not yet, anyway.
We continued eating in silence. Finally, Kull spoke up.
“You claim to be Lucretian. Can you prove it?”
One of the man’s eyebrows rose. “How am I to prove such a thing?”
No one answered.
“That staff,” the man said finally, “belonged to one called Zaladin. He was the second eldest of the Madralorde, but really, he was their leader. He’d always bested Xacvain—the eldest. Those two never stopped quarreling until one day, they got into an all-out brawl. Zaladin won, of course, scared Xacvain so badly that he never picked on his younger brother again.” Lucretian leaned back and closed his eyes, as if caught up in his memories. “But those days happened too long ago for anyone to remember.”
“You were their advisor,” I said. “Like Merlin to King Arthur?”
He nodded.
“What else can you tell us?” Heidel asked.
“Many things. More than I would ever have time to tell. But you don’t want to hear my proof, do you? You’d rather see it.”
“You can show us proof?” Rolf asked.
“Yes.” He threaded his fingers together. His voice grew soft, but urgent. “I lived in your world for many years. I met people while I was there. Some were very special. There were some who were like me and became druids, and there was one person in particular who was very special. You see, he could be reborn and live forever.”
Heidel dropped her spoon. When I glanced at her, I noticed her face had gone white. She stared at something just beyond Lucretian. I followed her line of sight and saw a silhouette under the doorway.
My heart stopped. It couldn’t be. He was dead.
Heidel stood and crossed the room, but stopped when she got halfway to the man.
“Is it you?” she asked, her voice breathy and almost too quiet to hear.
He entered the room, coming into full view.
It was him. Maveryck. The man who had been killed by the elves. His body had been sacrificed to recall Theht to the world. He looked almost exactly how I remembered. He had the features of an elf, with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and dark hair that he wore loosely down his back. Although, unlike the last time I’d seen him, when he’d dressed in expensive elven clothing, he now wore simple beige robes. Something was different about his eyes, too. He was more subdued and less antagonistic. Maybe more humble.
“It’s me,” he answered.
Heidel rushed to him, and they embraced. Tears ran down her face. At any other time, I was sure Heidel would have been embarrassed to show her emotions, especially with her brother in the room, but she didn’t seem to care if anyone—even Kull—saw her cry.
Grace also trotted to her master’s side, but waited patiently for her turn as Heidel hugged Maveryck.
Kull leaned toward me. “Did you know about this?”
“No. I’m pretty shocked, to be honest.”
When the couple finally pulled apart, the rest of us gathered around Maveryck and welcomed him back. He shook hands with the Wults and Kull clapped the man on the shoulder, but to me, it all felt too surreal. Could this really be happening? We’d all mourned his death, but here he was alive again.
Maveryck shook my hand.
“Maveryck,” I said. “How?”
He turned and nodded at Lucretian, who stood watching us. “He can explain.”
We turned toward the man. I was now finally starting to believe he was actually the man he claimed to be. He was Lucretian, the first druid, the man who had spoken the Deathbringer prophecy.
“I went back for him,” he said. “Once Dracon—the man you call Maveryck—returned to Tremulac and remembered his past, I knew it was time for me to return to Faythander. I’ve seen many visions. In one, I saw the elves sacrifice the last remaining Madralorde brother in order to bring the dark goddess to their world. So, I returned, and I waited.
“As you can see, Dracon cannot die, at least, not a form of death you would be familiar with. After the sacrifice, I hid, and when my chance came, I created a portal and brought his body back here to my home where he regained life.”
“Does that explain it?” Maveryck asked me.
“A little. But it still seems so impossible. You were dead!”
“Not exactly,” he said. “Do you remember how I told you my brother gave me a potion?”
“I remember, but you said the potion gave you perfect recollection. That couldn’t have been the truth, though.”
“You’re right. In addition to giving me perfect memory, the potion also altered my memories, but it did more than that. The potion gave me the ability to rise again after death.”
“Okay, I guess that makes sense. Sort of. But I’ve never heard of any magic or potion capable of doing such a thing.”
“I doubt you’ll ever hear of it again. My brother created it from an ancient magic that’s gone extinct. In fact, it was a magic that came from this world.” He stood with his arm wrapped around Heidel’s waist.
She glanced up at him. “I knew it all along,” she said. “Deep inside, I knew you hadn’t died, not after I saw your life restored in the cave in Earth Kingdom.”
Maveryck nodded. “I hope you’re not angry that I didn’t return for you. I tried, but Lucretian forbade it. He said it was too dangerous and that you would come to me. I’ve been waiting for you ever since I arrived here.”
“No, I’m not angry,” Heidel said. “Let the newness wear off, though, and then I’m sure I’ll find something to be mad about.”
“Then let’s enjoy this moment, shall we?” Kull said. “This is the first time in several months Heidel has not been angry about something. I say we celebrate.”
Heidel shot her brother a dark look. “Don’t get too comfortable, Brother.”
Brodnik spoke up. “Well, if this is indeed the man you once knew, and we’ve actually found the druid, then tell us, Lucretian, where is the lost sword?”
We turned to Lucretian. He folded his hands into his robes. Behind him, the fire in the hearth crackled and sputtered. His gaze turned dark.
“The sword is gone,” he said. “It has been stolen, and it is in a place where I cannot go.”
&nbs
p; “Stolen?” Kull asked.
Lucretian nodded.
“Who stole it?” Rolf asked.
Lucretian paused before answering. “Dracon’s sword was stolen by a warlock named Jeven. He is the high ruler of Slavom—our planet’s last remaining city, and he is a man who controls magic more powerful than my own. The sword is guarded by a web of spells so strong I cannot break through them; not on my own, at least.”
I eyed the druid. We’d crossed worlds and nearly been killed by Regaymor just to get that sword. It was my luck that it wasn’t here.
“Is there any way to get it back?” I asked.
“Yes,” Maveryck answered. “We will retrieve it.”
He sounded awfully confident. “We will? How could you know that?”
“Lucretian saw it in a vision. We will reclaim the sword.”
I eyed the druid. “You’re sure about that?”
He nodded. “Yes. You will reclaim the sword. But be warned, the vision was clouded and filled with darkness. I suspect not all will go as we anticipate.”
“But you know we’ll get it back?”
He only nodded.
“Those are good enough odds for me,” I said.
“Me too,” Rolf answered.
“When do we leave?” Brodnik asked.
Maveryck cocked his head. “Night approaches, and no one dares travel at night with the Regaymor preying upon these lands. We will leave in the morning, if that suits you all?”
“Morning sounds good,” Kull answered. “We’ll need the rest before setting off on another quest.”
Another quest. Just when I thought this one would be done and over with very soon, now we were headed to a city with a dark warlock who couldn’t die. Great. This was just what I needed. Nothing like a dark warlock to keep things interesting.
“Before you leave, I should like to have a word with you,” Lucretian said, glancing at me. “I have waited a very long time to meet you, Deathbringer.”
The name sent shivers down my spine as he spoke it, realizing that he’d been the first person to use that name. I had questions for this man. Some of them wouldn’t be pleasant.
“If you’ll follow me,” he said, leading me into another room, which could have been some sort of lab. Pots bubbled and beakers of different-colored liquids cluttered the workspaces, but we didn’t stay in the room. Instead, he led me to a staircase and we took the steps leading up. At the top, he opened a door and led me into a room that could best be described as an observatory. Overhead soared a dome that was made of panels of silver metal, though some of them were missing. There were no walls. Only pillars supported the dome.
At the room’s center, there was what could have been a telescope—a large round ball with a piece on top that jutted out, pointing to an area of the sky where the panels were missing. Gears whirred inside the device, clicking with a rhythmic cadence, slowly turning the piece on top.
Wind gusted from the open spaces between the floor and ceiling. The evening air smelled of the desert. A few stars twinkled in the sky as the sun sank beyond the mountains. The moon shards glowed pale white, growing brighter as the sunlight disappeared.
“Is this a telescope?” I asked, circling the machine.
“Yes, it is a telescope of sorts, though not the kind you’ll find in your world. I use it to track the movement of the cosmos. One object you may be familiar with—the asteroid that you set in motion.”
My stomach squirmed. Why did he have to remind me? I ran my hands over the telescope’s metal casing. Magic whispered from the machine.
“Do you know of the prophecy?” he asked.
“Yes, but I wish I didn’t.”
“Why is that? You’re destined to be a great person.”
“Great? I disagree. Killing is not great—in fact, it’s evil and I want nothing to do with it.”
“I wasn’t referring to that part of the prophecy. I was referring to something else.”
“Something like what?”
“I was referring to your magic.”
My magic? “What about it?”
He took a guarded step closer to me. I still hadn’t become completely okay with those eyes, but he had a sort of gentle way about him, so I let him approach me.
He opened his hand, and a flame ignited over his palm. “What do you see?” he asked.
I eyed him. Was this some kind of test? “I see fire.”
“Yes, but what colors?”
“Mostly amber. A little blue at the bottom.”
“Yes, blue and amber. Does it remind you of anything?”
“I guess it reminds me of magic.”
“It should remind you of your magic—the blue of Faythander and the amber of Earth—a unique magic unlike anyone else’s.”
“All right. It reminds me of my magic.”
The flame flickered, grew dimmer, and then extinguished. Lucretian led me across the room where a small wood stove sat against the wall. “I keep this here in the wintertime when the chill gets to be too much. Come, look inside.”
The small cast iron door squeaked as he opened it. Inside was a pile of unburned split logs that were white and pristine. In a place like this, wood of that quality must’ve been hard to come by.
“Is this another demonstration?” I asked.
He nodded, then smiled. “You’re catching on quickly. Do you know how to light the logs?”
“Yes.” I hesitated. “But are you sure you want me to? It can’t be too easy to find more.”
“I appreciate your concern, but for the purposes of the demonstration, I’ll give up my heat for one night. Can you light them?”
Fire spells were fairly simple—especially for me as I was great at destroying things. Not so great at fixing them, although I was getting better. But since he wanted to see my fire spell, I indulged him.
“Ignite,” I whispered, sending my power into the pile of wood. Blue and amber swirled around the logs until a single flame flickered from the bark. As the fire gained strength, it spread, growing larger and faster than I had expected, which was odd.
Since Theht had intruded on my mind, my powers had been growing weaker, but since we’d arrived here, they seemed to be getting stronger.
I stood and took a step away from the stove. Lucretian shut the door and stood beside me.
Eying him, I wondered why he’d made me create fire. Shouldn’t he have wanted to see something more advanced? Something that showed my skills as a practitioner? Plus, I still had a million questions for this guy. Like how could I reverse a prophecy?
Kull and I had both seen visions. I’d seen him lying dead at my feet after I’d destroyed the world, and I couldn’t deny how real the vision had felt, almost as if I’d already experienced it. He’d been shown a vision of himself stabbing me through the heart with Dracon’s sword. We knew one or the other was supposed to happen. Currently, I wasn’t very fond of either ending.
“You must be wondering why I’ve made you create fire,” Lucretian said, “which is understandable, but all will be revealed soon. First, you must understand the prophecy if you wish to overcome it.”
Overcome it? “So there is a way to beat the prophecy?”
“No, you will never be able to erase the prophecy altogether, but it can be manipulated.”
My heart leapt in my chest. He was the first person who’d ever given me hope that I could overcome the prophecy. Everyone else had told me that they couldn’t be beaten at all. Ever. But now the very man who had spoken the prophecy was telling me the opposite. This was the best news I’d heard in forever—if it actually worked out.
“So how do I manipulate the prophecy?” I asked.
We walked around the telescope once again, leaving the heater behind. Gears clicked as we walked past the machine pointed toward the stars. Somewhere up there, I knew an asteroid drew closer to our worlds.
“Recite the prophecy,” Lucretian said.
“Don’t you know it already?”
He ga
ve me a dark look, and I decided not to argue. I cleared my throat. “‘Marked by death from the beginning—she will come in flame and ash, wielding the fire gifted to her of her fathers. She will cross worlds and mend the rift. She will bring death to the unbelievers, life to those marked by the ancient one. Her life will bring death, for she is the Deathbringer.’”
“Good,” he said. “Now tell me what it means.”
What? Why did he want me to tell him what it meant? Shouldn’t this conversation have been the other way around? Shouldn’t he have been telling me the meaning? But I would play along, hoping to eventually get some answers.
“Fine,” I relented, “the first part, ‘Marked by death from the beginning’ probably refers to when I was almost sacrificed as a baby. Since I was almost killed by the Caxon in order to bring Theht back, it makes sense. I was marked by death.”
He nodded. “Keep going,” he said.
“Okay, the next part, ‘…she will come in flame and ash’ I imagine refers to my ability to use fire. It’s always been an easy spell for me to use—it comes naturally.” Which, now that I thought about it, made me the perfect Deathbringer. Wasn’t I supposed to destroy the world with fire? “Then the next part, ‘fire gifted from my fathers’ must mean that I get my powers from my ancestors. Then there’s the bit about mending a rift. I’m still not sure what that means. ‘Bring death to the unbelievers, life to those marked by the ancient one,’ I suppose refers to all the people who will die because of me. The second part about life is something I still don’t understand, either.
“And then there’s the last part, ‘her life will bring death.’ That’s the part that bothers me the most, but I can only assume my actions will somehow lead to a lot of people dying. Did I come pretty close?”
He gave me his grandfatherly smile. “Yes, you’ve thought about it quite a bit, I see.”
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it too much, actually.”
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