The Second Prophecy (Part 1 of the Dragdani Prophecies)

by R. Alan Ferguson

  It was not long before those left in the house were asking Helen what had happened with the assassin, and then Weavger.

  Helen told them of the assassin first. She could tell that they really wanted to know about that before anything else. Then she told them of the happenings at the school with the principal and teacher.

  Laughter could be heard out of the kitchen window and down the street as Peter and Jaucal reached the end of the road where the boy had grown-up. As they reached the gates, it died away. They silently entered the house with Peter’s door key and proceeded to the kitchen, which was usually the most popular place for discussions.

  As they entered the room, silence fell. Peter was the first in, closely followed by the Grand Wizard.

  “Peter, are you all right?” Helen asked him, though as she came forward to greet him, he quickly stepped back. Helen seemed a little confused by his reaction.

  “Peter, don’t you mean King Drago of Cayer-Huld?” said Peter trembling with anger.

  “I had to tell him,” said Jaucal. “He had already seen too much; how could I not?”

  Berlanin nodded in agreement, as did Delsani.

  “I know that you’re upset, but you have to look at it from our point of view,” said Helen.

  “UPSET! UPSET! IS THAT HOW YOU’D FEEL IF ON YOUR SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY YOU FOUND OUT YOUR WHOLE LIFE WAS NOTHING BUT A LIE! IS THAT HOW YOU’D FEEL? IF YOU FOUND OUT THAT YOUR FAMILY HAD LIED TO YOU ABOUT WHO YOU WERE MEANT TO BE? WELL, IS IT?” Peter shouted at them all as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “DON’T YOU DARE SHOUT AT ME LIKE THAT!” Helen replied with even more volume.

  “I DON’T CARE ANY MORE!” Peter yelled back.

  “That’s enough! No one can take back what his happened,” said the Grand Wizard calmly. “Drago, answer me one thing. Would you have wanted that creature to have attacked you before you had the power to fight back properly?”

  Peter remained silent.

  “What I’m saying is, that if you had have lived in our world, you’d most likely be dead. Do you understand?”

  Still Peter said nothing.

  “If someone said to you that you could either live with the risk of dying or live a lie for the most of your life, what would you chose?” said Peter.

  “I can’t say,” said the old Wizard with a wry smile.

  “Can’t or won’t?” said the boy.

  “I don’t know.” The old Wizard’s smile grew a little as he said this.

  Peter eyed him suspiciously as he tried to figure out whether the Wizard was having a laugh. “Then think about this. If our places were reversed, how would you be feeling right now?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  Peter was suddenly convinced that the Grand Wizard was indeed making him look stupid, and that only fed his anger “ANGRY, BETRAYED, ALONE, CONFUSED, DOES THAT RING ANY BELLS?” he yelled.

  “You tell me,” said Jaucal.

  Peter turned his gaze away from the Wizard and changed the subject. “How did you know where to find me?” he asked.

  “The copper shield you wear around your neck isn’t a copper shield; it’s a small crystal that lets us know your location at all times,” said the Grand Wizard.

  “WHAT?” Peter shouted. “YOU’RE KEEPING TABS ON ME TOO?”

  “We had to be sure that we could find you in case the worst happened,” said the Wizard.

  Peter cast yet another angry look around the room then he grabbed the fake copper shield and broke the sting holding it in place and lightly threw the shield that now looked like a small crystal to Jaucal, who caught it and put it in his pocket.

  The doorbell unexpectedly rang.

  “I’ll get it,” said Saren, and she left swiftly.

  She was not gone long before the kitchen door opened again. “Peter, it’s for you,” the Wicca said. “It’s Charity.”

  “Just what I need,” said Peter, obviously annoyed by the disturbance. When he reached the door, he waited, trying to think of what he could possibly say to her. She stood with her back to the door, facing the trees and flowers in the garden, but she was looking up at the clear blue sky.

  “What do you what?” asked Peter.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know why I did what I did.”

  “I do,” Peter said.

  “Can we start again?”

  Peter thought about this, but he really knew that it could not be. How could he even begin to explain everything? He didn’t even understand it yet.

  “No, can’t we just be friends?”

  “Sure,” she sounded disappointed. “What happened at school? Is it true that you’re not coming back?”

  “Yeah, listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll see around okay.”

  “Well, I’ll see you later then.”

  Peter shut the door gently then he returned to the kitchen.

  Helen was ready for him. “Peter, I’m sorry you had to go through this now -”

  “I can’t be here,” Peter interrupted. “I can’t look at any of you. I want to be somewhere I can think. I want to be anywhere but here. I want to be somewhere I feel I belong.” He was looking completely disgusted with everyone there. He turned on his heel and walked to the door leading to the front hall.

  Helen went to stop him, but Jaucal put out his hand. “Helen, you won’t always be there to fight for him. We all must make our own journeys in life; this one must be his first. In time, he’ll see the truth. Time well help him grow and bring him back to us. Let him go.”

  “I just want to let him know that I didn’t mean to take his real life away from him,” said Helen.

  “Helen, you didn’t take anything away from him. You did what any good parent would do, and you did what you had to in order to keep him alive.”

  Peter had put his hand on the handle of the front door when he heard a voice calling to him from the top of the stairs. However, when he looked, there was no one there. Again he heard it and started toward the stairs. As he made his way up, he went to Helen and Berlanin’s bedroom and began pulling the drawers of their cabinet out and emptying them on the floor. When he hadn’t found what he was looking for, he proceeded to do the same to the wardrobe that stood against the right-hand wall. He found a small cardboard box, and in it was some of his mother’s old jewelry. Near the bottom, he found it, his real copper shield, the one that he had made when the bullying first started in school. He thought it might protect him from those cruel children. It seemed it had worked. The day after he had worn it for the first time was the day that it all stopped. That was the day that he and Wily became friends. Peter had always worn it from that day on, or so he thought. He took it and slipped the thin black rope over his head. It felt good to be wearing the real one again. He waved his hand, and all of the clothes and jewelry flew back to the wardrobe and draws, and the drawers back in the cabinet.

  Then he heard the voice again. It became more distant, leading Peter on until he reached a dead end. Then he realized that the voice was coming from above.

  Peter pulled the cord that hung from the door to the attic. The hatch opened and the ladders slid down. Peter climbed them and stood listening for the voice. There was only silence. “Is there someone up here,” he said loudly.

  There was a sound of sliding.

  Peter turned only to see a large square object covered by a dusty white sheet just before it hit him square in the face. He was only on the floor for three or four seconds before picking himself up, and the voice returned, only now it was closer. Now it was behind him. When he looked, he was surprised to see the man he had heard about for most of his life.

  “What’s the matter son? Don’t you want to see your old man?” said John Stark.

  “I thought you were dead?”

  “For the most part, I am.”

  “For the most part,” repeated the boy, who was clearly still amazed by the appearance of his dead father.

  “I remember Jaucal telling me that Wizard-Elves are bo
rn with a few of the memories of the ones that came before them, and on top of that, they have the memory of some of their personalities. I don’t exactly understand it all myself. I’m here, so it must be true.”

  “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

  “You have seen me when you were younger. The reason that you haven’t seen me or the others for ten years is mainly because your mind was blocked from most of your powers. That means your mind was blocked from us as well.”

  “Who are us exactly?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  “Why can’t I see now?” asked Peter enthusiastically.

  “Well, you can only see the memory personalities in a dream state, and only one at a time,” said John.

  “But I’m not dreaming,” Peter stated.

  John pointed to where Peter landed after the chest hit him.

  When the boy looked, he was hit this time by yet more surprise. He saw himself lying flat out on the floor.

  “No,” he said, denying what his own emerald green eyes were showing him, “I’m here. I’m awake. This is a trick. You’re not my dad. You’re that thing Ulicoth. You’re trying to trick me.”

  “If you don’t believe your own eyes, then touch the chest,” said John.

  Peter went to the chest, reached down and tried to touch the wooden box. His hand went through it.

  “There, see?” said his father. “You’re not really standing here.”

  “Fine, I’m dreaming. What now?”

  “Now comes what I want to tell you. Peter, you have to understand that what they did was for the best for you.”

  Peter instantly knew that he was talking about his mother and their friends.

  “I know, but I can’t think straight,” he said. “There’s so much going on in my head right now.”

  “So you don’t blame them for what they did?”

  “Are you kidding? They lied to me my whole life. After all the times they lectured me on how wrong it was to lie, it was all a load of crap.”

  “It didn’t stop you lying though,” said John.

  “That’s not the point. I was just a kid, and it was nothing compared to what they all did.”

  “Fine, they lied. Get over it.”

  “That’s your great advice? That’s what you came back from the dead to tell me, to get over it?”

  “I never said that my advice would be great. And there’s more I want to say to you.”

  Peter looked over at his unconscious body. “You better make it quick, I think I’m starting to come round.”

  “Okay, here goes. Now keep in mind this mightn’t make any sense,” said John.

  “Yeah, just like everything else that’s happened to me today.”

  “Here it is. When I found out that I was the heir to the throne, I changed. It didn’t happen straight away; it happened over two years. You see, before the truth came out, your mother and I were like big kids. But as I said, the news of who I really was had changed me for the worst. I say that because of all that happened throughout the two years of being King. I grew up, and that was the worst thing, because I forgot some of the things that made me. What I’m trying to say is, no matter what happens, no matter how bleak things look or how things are, Peter, never ever grow up.”

  “Everyone grows up.”

  “Tell that to Kilamen and Ulicoth. They are like children waiting for their father, Salith, to return. And the only way that you can defeat them is to think like them. You see, it’s okay to grow up in body and mind, but never grow up in heart or soul. So go out with your friends, have as much fun as you can, and live, son. Remember those words, for in the end, they may be the difference between winning and losing the war, or even the difference between your life and his.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “I don’t know. I believe that because I forgot who I was, I lost and paid the price. Do yourself a favor and remember my words to remain young at heart and soul. That is how to be forever young. Oh, it looks like time’s nearly up.” said John.

  To Peter’s eyes, John was fading, away and when he looked at his own hand, he saw that he too had started to vanish.

  “Peter, the chest and everything in it is all yours. You’ll find that there’s a magical lock on it. All you have to do is say the words:

  “Wern fasu hutat som truu oprit hiwt comtro helj lilet sanit porap haet

  uen I haj jeon gad tor lio lawf. Uen legin som tju vaka haet hute tru ront

  et thi fotjad droult haet agen uen ker yega bena jalcor comtro.”

  In English John’s verse meant,

  Be it known to thee that thy master has long since passed,

  and now I, his son, am here at last.

  Listen to this voice and know the truth of my father’s disaster.

  Open now for your new found master.

  “My rhyming is a little weak,” he added, “but it should do the job nicely.”

  “What makes you think I’ll remember that?” laughed the teenager. “I’ve got a head like a sieve. You know, kind of the worst memory in history.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll remember. Your memory will get better, trust me.”

  Peter nodded.

  “Now remember all that I’ve said, Peter,” said John in the most serious tone. “See you soon.”

  The boy looked on as the outline of his dead father finally disappeared.

  The next Peter knew, he was looking up through the square hole and at the beams that were holding the roof over his head. He lay there at first wondering whether it had really happened or whether it was all just a dream. When he did get up, he climbed the ladder to the attic and went straight to the chest. It was still covered with the dusty white sheet. Peter pulled the sheet off and laid it on the floor. It was quite large and spread out far. It overlapped as it ran out of room. He saw an old mattress sitting in a corner and dragged it over and set it on top of the sheet. He knelt onto the mattress and recited John’s verse. There was a click and the lid opened.

  “It was real,” he thought. Peter looked in. There was a sandy-colored cloth with Dragdani’s Dragon sewn into it. He lifted it away, and there was John’s old wand and the sword he had used to use to play Ves-guards and Dark Wizards with his friends when they were young.

  There was also a short sword and his old spell book. On the book was an inscription in the Wizard language, which Peter read, even though he had never seen this type of writing before. To his surprise, he knew exactly what it meant.

  Plias thi Dorminya.

  In English it roughly means:

  Take me to my Dorminya.

  A blue light started to surround him. With one hand he grabbed part of the mattress, and with the other he took hold of the sheet, as though hoping that would stop whatever was happening to him. But that only caused the light to surround them as well.

  When the light completely engulfed him, he felt as if he were sinking forever in a deep beautiful blue ocean.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Huffy Hog

  A blast of light and an explosion of sound is the only real way of explaining Peter’s entrance into Dorminya.

  After the sinking feeling he had during the Phaze, he was yet to feel another only this time it would be real. The young King didn’t know that in order to Phaze successfully, you have to think of either your destination or, if you have never been there, its name. Though concentrating on only the name of the place is still very risky, as you could end up merging with something. For example, if you were Phazing into the outdoors, you could merge with a rock or bolder, perhaps a passing cart or even, heaven forbid, another person.

  Peter, on the other hand, was lucky. Some might call it bad luck, for he ended up in midair; however, the old mattress and the dusty sheet had Phazed with him, so others might say he was lucky. The white sheet would stop the mattress from tipping over and throwing him off, provided the wind kept in his favor. Regardless, the mattress would most certainly take some of the fall. Pet
er’s quick healing powers would take the rest.

  As he fell, he found himself praying to God, something that he had not done since he was a child. Halfway through his pleading, he landed with a splat. He had landed in a very muddy field.

  His healing powers were quick to kick in, and he was soon throwing the now muddy sheet aside and taking his first look at the world he had longed to see without even knowing it. He certainly felt a little lucky, for when he checked, only the soles of his shoes were muddy as he stepped into the field.

  “It could’ve been worse,” he said aloud.

  Just then, the wooden chest from the attic fell with another splat. Mud flew in every direction, covering him from head to toe.

  “Me and my big fat mouth. Great, just great.” Peter then tried to wipe the mud away from the picture of the red Dragon that was on his hoodie. Afterward, he took his first real look at this new world. The sky was cloudy and grey, but apart from the weather, there was no difference from the world he had just left. Normally he would be curious, but now he just wanted to find somewhere to get out of the cold and wipe the rest of the muck off of his clothes.

  He looked in all directions. After staring around for a considerable amount of time, he again turned his attention back to finding somewhere he would be able to stay, and there on the horizon, he could see a thin steady stream of smoke rising in the distance.

  His Dragon eyes showed themselves, and Peter zoomed in on the location of the smoke. It was a small farmhouse. The young Draga-Wizard-Elf felt a little serge of excitement at the sight and started walking in the direction of the smoke. Though as he did, he heard a creak of wood. When he turned round, he saw the old muddy chest floating in midair. Peter stepped back and it moved to follow. The boy continued to retreat, and the chest continued to follow.