Prophecy of Darkness (9 page)

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 prophecy 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.

Alesandra rode quietly in front of her, as she had all morning, the animation seemingly drained from her small body. When Xena pulled Argo to a halt, the child didn't even bother to ask why; it was as if her hope had fled, leaving her even smaller.

Gabrielle didn't say a word as Xena dismounted and handed her the reins; she had been thinking all morning about Alesandra's vision of her own fate. Could it be possible? Gabrielle didn't even want to consider it, and searched her own instincts again and again for some sign that everything would be all right. Unfortunately, her gut feelings seemed to be on the fritz. In truth, the only thing she
knew
was that Xena would do everything in her power to make things turn out okay; and with that thought, nothing seemed quite as awful.
She
wouldn't want to get in Xena's way—and Bain, if he had the sense that the gods gave a stick of wood, would surely feel the same way.

Xena walked to the edge of the hill and scanned again for Avernus, using all of her training and experience to pick apart what she saw. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on nothing, and then opened them, seeing everything as if for the first time.

There were more crows flocked toward the east. The sickly grasses grew thicker directly in front of them. The trees to the west were mostly smaller, drier than the ones scattered around them now—

She ground her teeth together, wanting to scream. Everything contradicted everything else! According to her own eyes, the lake was in every direction but the one they chose. She was exhausted, frustrated, almost overwhelmed with the pressure of their need to find Avernus, and find it quickly—

A gentle touch on her arm, and Xena looked down to see Alesandra standing beside her, one small, pale hand lightly resting against the warrior's tanned skin. Xena opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped; where Alesandra touched her, her arm tingled.

Xena closed her eyes again, searching for the lake, replaying what her expert senses had given her to work with.

When she opened them again, Alesandra was smiling. And pointing.

“It's that way,” she said, motioning roughly southeast.

Xena smiled back, suddenly knowing that it
was
that way. Alesandra had found what Xena had known but had been unable to get to in her frustration.

And perhaps more importantly, Alesandra had found hope again, for all of them.

It was another two hours before they reached the lake, but Alesandra had seen with Xena's thoughts correctly; it had been to the southeast. They easily could have lost hours searching for it without Alesandra's help.

Xena knew that they didn't have time to linger, but they paused for a moment anyway, in spite of their hurry—or perhaps because of it. It was surprisingly lovely, an oasis of beauty in a blighted land. The shores were bare, but the waters were calm, reflecting the afternoon light in shades of brilliance, a deep blue-green tint at the surface. Just looking at it helped Xena to feel grounded again, her center back in place.

Gabrielle sighed. “It's a relief to see something around here that isn't ugly.”

Alesandra nodded, as did Xena, she had kept Argo back from the edge, worried that despite its loveliness, the lake might be poisoned. As she watched, however, she noted several crows dip into the water at various spots around the shore, bathing and drinking. Xena led the thirsty horse down to the lake and let him take his fill before they moved on.

Binjer had said three hours to reach the castle from Avernus, maybe more. Which meant that they should arrive at sunset or just before, assuming his directions were right.

And less than an hour after the sun goes down, the moon will rise
, thought Xena. She didn't like it; they were going to be cutting it much closer than she would have chosen; of course,
she
would have chosen for Alesandra never to have had the damned vision in the first place, given her
choice. If wishes were horses
. . .

There was nothing to be done for it; they had done their best so far, and that was all they could do now.

That, and pray that Bain's son wasn't an impatient man.

Telius paced the lower chamber, occasionally stopping to ponder the wall that Hades hid behind. It was the third time he'd come down today, his earlier thoughts of lingering Goodbyes to the old world long forgotten. He wanted this day to draw to a close, for the sun to set, for the moon to be high and full at once, sooner—

He gazed at the high wall, his eyes moving over the rune patterns and the strange words engraved in the stones. Concepts of evil and good, of the spaces between . . . What things would he see behind these symbols? The entrance to Hades was supposed to be like a corridor, guarded by the three-headed dog; would it be cold and dark, echoing with the cries of the tortured? Or as silent and lonely as a crypt, with only a lingering scent of ancient perfume, the smell of pomegranate? Would Cerebrus die painfully, or simply fade into nothingness? And once he was destroyed, would the souls of saints in transit be a visible wave, coursing out through the gate to redeem the world? Or only a presence of goodness . . . ?

“Perhaps once destroyed, this place will be at peace,” he whispered aloud. He longed to speak the words that would alter this gate, to feel the powers of the higher universe channeling through him . . .

“As soon as the moon comes into view,” he added, clenching his jaw. Only a few more hours, and it seemed like a lifetime. He started to pace again, already amending his spoken statement—the
second
the moon came into view, he would begin the ritual.

His father's memory deserved no less.

They were making very good time, Xena was pleased with their progress, and thought that they would arrive well before the sun set. The stones and trees that they passed were already casting longer shadows, a constant reminder of the need to keep up their steady pace.

Xena held Argo in an easy trot, and Gabrielle, though winded, insisted that there was no need to slow down.

“I'm
fine
,” she panted, jogging alongside Xena and Alesandra. “Really.”

Xena nodded, grinning at her. “Right. As soon as you tire, we'll switch places. I don't want you to collapse before we get there—” Argo suddenly stumbled, and then stopped, favoring his left foreleg.

Xena took a deep breath.
It's nothing, a long shadow; he didn't see another rock.

She dismounted quickly, clucking her tongue against her teeth to soothe the uneasy horse. She helped Alesandra off and then crouched down, still hoping fervently that he had simply mis-stepped—

He'd thrown a shoe. Their ride from Avernus had been a rocky one, and he must have kicked it off against a stone.

Alesandra and Gabrielle turned worried gazes to her, and Xena silently cursed herself for not visiting a blacksmith when she last had the chance—it would take too long if she started cursing aloud, and they didn't have the time to spare. She knew how to shod him herself, but without a shoe and the proper tools, the situation was hopeless.

“We can't ride him,” said Xena, shaking her head slowly. “He might split the hoof, and without a salve to stave off an infection, it could kill him.”

All three of them surveyed the dismal lands around them, the shadows seeming to grow with each blink of the eye.

“What do we do?” Gabrielle turned her wide-eyed, anxious gaze back to Xena. Alesandra chewed at her lip nervously.

Xena sighed. She looked in the direction where the castle lay and then back at the alarmed girls.

“We hurry,” she said quietly. “And hope that the moon takes her time tonight.”

Telius was in his room again, watching through his window as the sun dipped slowly to the west, the crows still barking out their sorrowful cries. He sat on the edge of his bed, the book resting in his lap, open to the ritual that his father had surely sought for so long.

Again, his mood had changed. Strange, how in all this eternal day he'd gone from reflective to excited to anxious, again and again. It was as if his brain couldn't sit still either—and he was surprised to find himself feeling something else now, something that he couldn't quite put a name to . . .

His hands shook slightly, rattling the brittle pages of the ancient book, musty with secrets. His body had run on adrenaline for too long; he needed to sleep, but knew that there was no way his mind would let him, not now—and he didn't want to, anyway. It was all too close now.

He felt on edge, nervous with anticipation, and he was so exhausted that he didn't know what to make of the thoughts running through his head. What if something went wrong? What if the spell didn't work the way it was supposed to, or he mispronounced something and damaged the effectiveness?

Telius couldn't place the feeling, because in all of the weeks of planning and dreaming, it was the one thing he had never expected to feel—and he couldn't acknowledge it now, because to do so might change his actions, and there was no way that he was going to betray his father in such a way. Not his father, and not himself.

Telius was worried. And somewhere down deep, he was also afraid.

The sun dropped lower into the sky as he read the spell yet again. It wouldn't be long now.

“There it is! That's the castle!”

Gabrielle pointed eagerly toward the pile of stones, half-hidden by a cluster of trees, only a few hundred paces ahead of them. The sun was gone, the sky thick with twilight, but they still had time, maybe an hour. Maybe.

Xena set Alesandra down and quickly checked Argo's unshod hoof for any damage; it was intact. They looked at the castle, remembering that Binjer had said it looked like a ruin; he hadn't exaggerated even a bit. With the tumbled piles of stones all around and the shadows of the trees against it, it barely seemed whole.

They'd made it. Gabrielle could hardly believe it, after all of the trials of their long journey—the last few hours in particular. They had half-run, half-walked for a seemingly endless amount of time, Xena carrying Alesandra when she couldn't keep up, Argo stumbling along with them as the sun had slowly gone down.

They hurried toward the castle now, the seconds ticking painfully by, each of them feeling the pressure of time lost. Stones, bigger and more solidly hewn, the loosely spaced forest of twisted trees—and then the gate, finally, they were at the gate; their destination reached after so many days of travel, so many hard days: the castle near Avernus, of Alesandra's prophecy, seemingly from so long ago.

There were no guards, or at least none that they could see. They found a low-limbed tree near the entrance and hitched Argo there, moving quickly and quietly.

Xena motioned at them to be silent as she listened for a moment to the shaded twilight, cocking her head to catch any sounds of movement. From somewhere beyond the gate, she heard a shuffling of multiple feet—from the sound, too small to be human. The Bains obviously kept livestock in their courtyard, but apparently no guards—no
human
guards at all.

Which means there's a keystone
, she thought, and turned to Alesandra and Gabrielle. “No one,” she said quietly. “I want you to check all along this wall and around the gate for a keystone; it will probably be a small rock, big as the tip of my thumb—either sticking out from the rest or sunken in a little. Look carefully, and don't push on it if you find it, just tell me.”

Within a minute, Alesandra called .out to them in a loud and excited whisper, from right next to the gate. She was kneeling near the base of the heavy door. “Here! There's—Wait, there are . . .
four
of them?”

“Don't touch them,” said Xena, hurrying over. Alesandra stepped back as Xena crouched down to inspect the stones. One was set high, the others in a triangle pattern beneath it.

The top one was probably the key to the gate, but the others? Xena scowled, wishing that she only had human guards to deal with after all. She'd seen something like this once before, at a small keep that she and her army had wanted to get into, ages past; the stones were set up to trigger off mechanical weapons or traps. A very efficient way to keep intruders from getting very far once past the gate. Four of her best men had been seriously injured before she'd been able to call off that attack . . .

Before, however, she hadn't known. She remembered learning afterward that the stones had to be pushed in a particular order to deactivate whatever traps were set.

She pressed the top stone, and the gate creaked open, just enough to get a hand through. At least she was right about
that.
Alesandra and Gabrielle grinned at each other as Xena continued to study the arrangement.

“Alesandra, come look at these and tell me if you get any feelings from them. Look for some kind of pattern.”

The child bent down to look, gently resting one hand against the rocks. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, shaking her head. “No, nothing.”

Gabrielle looked at them, too, but had no idea what they even meant. The gate was
open
already, what did it matter?

Xena sighed, then stood up. “I'm going to go in first, and I want you both to wait here. Those stones are hooked up to traps, probably just inside the courtyard. If we knew the right pattern, we could disarm the traps—but we don't, and I don't want to mess with them randomly; it could set them all off at once.”

Gabrielle frowned. “Maybe we should try and reason it out, you know—if we could figure out something about the design of the castle . . .”

She trailed off, realizing that this would take time that they didn't have to spare. The sun was fully gone now, the last of its light quickly fading from the dusky air. The moon would be peeking over the horizon in a matter of moments, although it wouldn't be completely in view for a bit longer . . .

But maybe not long enough. Maybe we don't even have the moments anymore.

Gabrielle nodded, and put her arm around Alesandra's shoulders, the girl looking at Xena with frightened eyes.

“Be careful,” said Gabrielle softly, and Xena smiled, drawing her sword.

“I will. I'll come back for you as soon as it's clear.”

Without another word, Xena edged past the heavy door and stepped cautiously into the dim courtyard, all of her senses on full alert, her sword at the ready.

She waited a few seconds, then warily put one foot forward, looking to each shadow, checking anywhere that might conceal a danger. Nothing, yet . . .

Another step. Another. Between each, she had to wait, uncertain as to what the darkness held. It was getting
too
dark; they didn't have the time for this—but there was no other way. Xena took another step—

—and something hurtled toward her out of the shadows at incredible speed.