Prophecy

by Gregory Cholmondeley

  I’m thinking that a grownup with a medical degree just calmly proposed that we’re being inhabited by mind-controlling monsters. What in the world could sound crazier than that?

  “I believe that your prophecy isn’t about restoring magical balance on Avalon or bringing magic to Earth. Although, it could be correctly interpreted as either. I think that Avalon doesn’t exist in everyone and that convincing member minds to fulfill The Prophecy is its attempt at becoming stronger and spreading to other minds.”

  Oh man, what have we gotten ourselves into? Was I an unwitting servant of a mind-creature intent on enslaving humanity? I felt nauseous.

  “But what about the Agents of Avalon?” asked Malik in a hoarse whisper.

  “Perhaps they aren’t Agents of Avalon at all. Perhaps they are agents of someone or something else who is trying to thwart Avalon’s plan. What if Avalon isn’t alone? What if there are other shared consciousnesses out there, and these agents are their attempt to keep Avalon from expanding? What if we’re in the middle of an unseen, global war, waged since the beginning of human civilization?”

  Oh wow, my mind has been blown. I don’t know what to believe anymore, and I’m not alone. Everyone else in the room looked exactly like me. We were pale, cold, sweating, and shaking. I prefer the time travel, alternate reality, teleportation explanations a lot more than this, but Dr. Price’s version makes sense. I don’t like the thought of being part of a hive mind, but that’s not the worst part. I seem to have a vital role in whatever is going to happen, and I don’t know which side is right!

  We didn’t talk much after that and just sat there staring at each other. A few minutes later, Dr. Price noted that it was time for therapy and led us down the hall. The guys showed Abdo the partially-constructed hand they had built for him so that it could be fitted. It didn’t have servo motors or sensors, but Malik smiled and said they had some ideas on how to trick it out over the next few weeks. Abdo didn’t seem to care, though. His eyes grew wide, and he couldn’t stop grinning.

  Candice strolled in fifteen minutes late, looking as though this was the last place on Earth she wanted to be. She removed her coat, looked at us, and said, “Well? Are you geeks done with your lame science project?”

  I thought Nancy was going to hit Candice when she heard those words. But Dr. Price stepped in and said, “Now Candice, we should all be appreciative of the hard work your friends have put into building this device for you.”

  Yeah, I don’t think any of us would’ve used the word friends.

  Shontelle helped strap the prosthetic hand onto Candice’s forearm and started to explain how to use it, but Candice yanked her arm away. She twisted her arm and studied the prosthetic from every angle before grunting, “This thing looks like a plastic toy, and it doesn’t even work.”

  Abdo said that he thought it looked awesome, like Iron Man or the Terminator, and everyone except Candice agreed.

  Shontelle tersely explained that it would work if it were turned on and that Candice would know that if she had been willing to listen.

  Candice, of course, didn’t care and immediately began searching for the power switch. She clicked it as soon as she saw it and promptly screamed as the hand started uncontrollably flexing and stretching.

  Shontelle tried to explain that this was just the startup procedure that the device went through every time it is powered on to reset all the settings. Candice was too busy freaking out to pay attention, but the process ended after a few seconds, and the hand became still.

  Candice managed to move each finger independently after only ten minutes. She really did have an amazing natural ability to control it. Still, the process would have progressed considerably faster if she would ever listen to anyone’s advice. However, the girl was able to pick up and drop a tennis ball by the end of therapy. She removed the artificial hand, and the other kids inspected it with hungry expressions. Candice grabbed the prosthetic back with her functional hand and dropped it in the carrying bag we brought as she promptly left.

  Man, I despise that girl. I wish our prosthetic would have worked on one of the more appreciative kids.

  Candice’s attitude ruined my mood, and I began to feel my stomach churn like it did back in Dr. Price’s office. I complained to Shontelle as we left that life just isn’t fair sometimes, and she reached over to hold my hand. We held hands for a few steps, but I started to feel uncomfortable and let go.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked with a puzzled expression.

  I said, “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right holding hands with you. I mean, I like you, but I guess I think of you as a guy now.”

  Shontelle grinned a devilish smile, punched me in the arm, and said, “Well, Marius Panagopoulos, I never knew you were a homophobe!”

  I felt unjustly insulted, but Shontelle laughed again and said, “That is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. However, I think that on Earth, at least, I am still considered a girl for now.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I really didn’t know what to say, so I just walked next to Shontelle for a while. She leaned close and whispered, “Thank you for being the only person who understands. You’re my best friend ever.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t understand, but I did like the way her comment made me feel. At least I wasn’t thinking about Candice or mind-controlling monsters anymore.

  The others were far ahead of us now, and I took the chance to suggest an idea I had been mulling in my head. I said, “You know, I’d like to give you a nickname.”

  That was as far as I got before she put both her hands up and said, “No way! I am not letting you label me with any of your names. You are the worst person in the world at naming things!”

  She probably meant it as a joke. I was, however, still sore about losing Mearth to Avalon in the blink of an eye and sensitive to everyone’s constant criticism of my naming abilities. I pushed her away and stomped off, muttering, “Fine, call yourself whatever you like.”

  I wasn’t going to talk to her for the rest of the day, but she raced up, grabbed my hand, and began saying how sorry she was. She claimed she didn’t mean to offend me. She was awkward around most people and often made thoughtless remarks. Shontelle was almost shaking as she begged me to forgive her, and I realized she was terrified that she had damaged our friendship. I shrugged my shoulders and told her that it was no big deal. I was still mad, though, and tried to walk away, but she wouldn’t let go. She wanted to know the nickname I thought up for her.

  I explained that it was probably a stupid nickname and that she was right about me stinking at naming things. I even forced a chuckle and admitted that I’d always been a math/science geek and never claimed to be a writer anyway. She laughed with me but still insisted that I tell her.

  I mumbled, “Well, you see, I was thinking that Shontelle is a very girly name and, well, that it really doesn’t suit you. I mean, it’s like the most feminine name I can think of and, well, you aren’t particularly feminine. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

  She quietly laughed but seriously replied, “No, I don’t think feminine would be the best word to describe me, but stop stalling. What is the name?”

  I whispered, “Well, I was thinking that someday, if you do, you know, um, totally become a guy, well, you’ll need to pick a new name. And, um, I was thinking that, perhaps, I don’t know, you could even start calling yourself a less feminine name now.”

  This was not going the way I had hoped. I wanted to help her, but the longer I spoke, the dumber my whole idea seemed to me. I was regretting I had ever said anything.

  Shontelle grabbed my other hand and turned me so that we were staring at each other’s eyes. She said, “Get a grip, Mark. Just tell me the darn name. I promise I won’t laugh and, I simply won’t use it if I don’t like it.”

  I gulped and said, “Well, I was thinking I could call you Shon. You know, everyone else will think it’s just short for Shont
elle, but you and I would know that it’s really your guy name, like Sean.”

  She stood there expressionlessly staring at me for the longest time and then, without warning, stood on her tiptoes and kissed me. She kissed me right on the lips! It wasn’t one of those sloppy movie kisses, but I’d never been kissed on the lips by a girl before, and I didn’t know what to do. Besides, our whole conversation was about her being a boy and not a girl. I am so confused.

  Shontelle laughed and said, “It’s perfect! I love it! I am going to begin using it immediately. That is the cleverest and most thoughtful comment you’ve ever said, Mark. Thank you. You are the only person who truly understands me.”

  My lips are still tingling, and my brain is confused. Trust me when I say that I don’t understand anything.

  Chapter 15

  The Sword in the Rock

  January 22, Mearth

  Everyone, except Merlin, was back to calling the place Mearth instead of Avalon after hearing Dr. Price’s theory about some sort of combined consciousness. The gang mutually decided to use Avalon to describe her shared dream monster, though. None of us wants to believe that this fantastical world is the creation of a hive-mind determined to consume humanity. Stavius was bursting with pride.

  Dr. Price had convinced the four heroes and two adults that her compelling argument is the most likely scenario. Elisa even burst into tears when they relayed it to her on Mearth. Elisa had still not introduced herself to the group on Earth. Janus, however, adamantly insisted that the this-is-the-future model was right, and the rest secretly hoped so as well. However, Nariana glumly pointed out that there should be plastic garbage everywhere, even if Mearth were thousands of years in the future since plastic doesn’t biodegrade.

  Ops corrected her and provided some hope. She explained that plastic wears down into microplastic, which slowly degrades over time. Thus, all visible traces of plastic might be gone after thousands of years. You would only find it by using a microscope or by digging deep into a garbage mountain. However, she agreed that no one ever finding any of our plastic waste in the future is suspicious.

  The gods’ and dragons’ stories indicate that Mearth was a barren wasteland eight- to ten-thousand years ago, which was in line with the subtle differences in the constellations and shifted rivers. She guessed that, if Janus’ this-is-the-future model is right, then current-day Mearth existed somewhere between the years 10,000 and 40,000.

  The only man-made items which would still exist would be glass, stone carvings, and any objects carefully excavated and preserved. Styrofoam and glass would not degrade, but they would undoubtedly be shattered and ground into dust by now. The I-75 cut through the Kentucky hills Louis Janus found is a strong clue but is not conclusive. Twenty-first-century buildings were typically constructed out of steel, glass, and concrete rather than stone. So, the only stone carvings in this region would be a small number of statues, which would likely be lost to history by now.

  Whichever theory is correct, though, January in this part of Mearth is no better than it is in Cincinnati on Earth. It is not quite as cold and has more snow. But the January sky on Mearth is the same, dreary shade of bleak gray. Everyone except Merlin has cabin fever, and the heroes have even started studying.

  Merlin suggested that the heroes ask the gods to teach them how to teleport. The gods, of course, had no idea how to do this. They were ethereal beings with no need for teleportation. For that matter, they seemed to have no useful magical abilities at all. The heroes would have to ask the Soul Reapers to teach them.

  This was a shock to everyone – including the dragons. Every creature in the world avoided Soul Reapers. They were never known to communicate or do anything other than snatch unsuspecting children or silently stand in the corner. The heroes were slightly less terrified of the Soul Reapers while their bodies were being used by the gods. However, they still found the very idea of working with these monsters revolting.

  Still, there appeared to be no other option. So, the gods agreed to instruct the terrifying creatures to teach their tricks to the four heroes. Then they disappeared to do whatever gods do. They explained that the Soul Reapers communicated via telepathy but that it would be a slightly different experience than usual. They wouldn’t reveal what they meant, and Venus smirked as the gods vanished, leaving four, leathery bodies behind.

  The heroes and Soul Reapers stood staring at each other for several minutes until Nariana prodded Stavius and told him to begin.

  “Why me first?” he asked with surprise.

  “Because you’re the best at telepathy,” Nariana smugly replied.

  “You mean because you guys just don’t want to do it,” Stavius snapped.

  “That and because you didn’t suggest one of us first,” laughed Versera while fist-bumping Nariana. “Now, get on with it.”

  Stavius groaned and tentatively reached out with his mind to the Soul Reaper recently inhabited by Mars. Nothing seemed to happen, and he gave up after a half-hour of failed attempts, commenting that he felt depressed and lonely. Janus was picking at a mealy, mushy apple, and joked that Stavius should feel sad about being such an absolute failure. He smirked and quickly added that there was no need to feel lonely with friends like him around.

  Stavius stared at him in amazement and said, “You’re right. I don’t feel lonely anymore.”

  Elisa laughed and said, “You’re too easy, Stavius. You do realize that Janus was joking, don’t you?”

  Stavius excitedly said, “No. You don’t get it. I only feel depressed and lonely when I’m trying to connect with the Soul Reaper. I think I’m feeling what it’s feeling!”

  Versera looked up and down at Venus’ Soul Reaper’s body and agreed, “Yup, that’s how I’d feel if I looked like that.”

  Everyone giggled, but Stavius tried connecting once again. He hoped that he could more-fully join with Mars’ Soul Reaper now that he had identified a part of its consciousness. He was right, and he instantly regretted it.

  Stavius’ mind plunged into almost empty darkness. The Soul Reaper’s mind was devoid of all sense of a soul. It was empty except for a feeling of obedience, loneliness, and unimaginable boredom. The creature knew The Prophecy. It knew how to sense hero candidates and how to teleport, but that was it.

  Stavius instantly knew how to teleport, as well. He also knew he would never be able to do it. It required the ability to perform magic. He instructed the others how to connect with the Soul Reapers, and they learned the teleport technique within a matter of minutes. However, they would require months, or possibly years, of practice to perform it.

  Performing magic on Mearth did not involve rituals or incantations. People just thought about what they wanted to do and willed it to happen. Stavius had never been able to manage that step of willing things to occur. He would go through the motions and concentrate as hard as possible, but nothing ever happened. People claimed performing magic was like throwing a ball. Distance and accuracy might require strength training and practice, but you just willed your arm and hand to move. Stavius felt like a paraplegic who understands the physics of throwing and wills his arm to move, but nothing ever happens.

  The girls spent hours upon hours telepathically joined with their Soul Reapers but were unable even to cause small objects to wobble and shake either. Stavius had no need to connect with Mars’ reaper, so a few days later, Merlin asked if he could borrow it. Stavius said the decision belonged to Mars and the Soul Reaper but that it should be OK. Mars wasn’t around, and the Soul Reaper would probably enjoy the company if Soul Reapers enjoyed anything at all.

  Merlin immediately popped into the Soul Reaper’s mind and jumped for joy. He loved feeling physical sensations again. He was also thrilled at his friends’ entertainment. They were obviously enjoying his newfound physical presence, as well. However, Merlin discovered the real cause for their merriment when Janus transformed a smooth wall into a full-length mirror. Merlin’s mental image of his appearance did not fit the Sou
l Reaper’s body.

  Merlin was stout while the Soul Reaper was lanky. His reflected image showed Merlin’s feet dangling midway down the reaper’s shins and his fingers extending from its wrists. The most embarrassing attribute was his round potbelly floating like a ghost suspended in front of its midriff. He scolded the boys for laughing at their elder, shooed them away, and spent the remainder of the day preening in front of the mirror and adjusting his self-image. By evening he resembled the tall, slender, wizened old wizard the boys had always imagined.

  ✽✽✽

  Merlin and the others were relaxing after dinner when Stavius asked him to share another story. Stavius was bored and discouraged about being unable to perform magic, and Janus seemed depressed as well. He had spent the day studying Louis Janus’ writings, and Stavius felt they both needed to be cheered up. Merlin readily agreed, claiming to have enough stories about Artie and the gang to fill a book, before grumpily remembering paying Geoff to write one. He thought for a moment before smiling and suggesting the story of how Artie came to lead the Britons.

  “I was a changed man back on Earth after going through the air hole. I don’t know how it worked, but my Earth and Avalon counterparts had somehow switched roles. Now I was conjoined on Earth and was only a dream to my old Avalon host. Unlike the girls, my Avalon host remembered his dreams and continued our work on Avalon. But the conjoined person known as Merlin was now on Earth.

  “I decided to leave town and change my name to Merlin, but somehow the man everyone knew as Myrddin Wilt needed to disappear. The next day I came across an unfortunate victim of highwaymen and discovered a solution. This poor soul had been brutally murdered and robbed the night before and was unrecognizable. I carefully switched clothes and left the body with every non-valuable possession I was carrying. By midday, everyone had heard that crazy, old Myrddin Wilt was dead.

  “I had been living in Gwynedd, which is in northern Wales, so I quietly headed south, and Merlin was born. I began searching for the dragon stones I had stashed in the sack. They were wrapped in magical embellishments, so I was able to trace them to where they had landed. My mind had simply traded places with Myrddin’s, but the rocks had landed all the way down in Dumnonia near the Pendragon castle.”