The Prophecy of the Gems (10 page)

There was no more time for talking. Adrien left to join the inhabitants of Nathyrnn. The three girls held their Stones and began to recite the magic formula. Nothing happened. The words didn’t make any sense at all. They read the formula over again and again. Then suddenly they began to feel the weariness Adrien had warned them about. After a few minutes, realising that the spell had been successful, they all stopped at the same time. They weren’t physically tired, but they were no longer able to think or speak; they had become mindless bodies. And yet, as if controlled by an unknown power, they knew what they had to do. They rushed to the entrance to the city, where they found Adrien waiting by the open gates. The people of Nathyrnn were overjoyed at the prospect of having their freedom restored.

“There you are!” exclaimed Adrien when he caught sight of the three girls. “Everything seems to have gone smoothly. Now we have to evacuate everyone; some will come to Fairytale with us, while others will go back to their place of birth.”

Jean Losserand was among that last group. He was finally going to see his old mother again, and his real home. In the throng of people hurrying to leave, he waved to Jade, Opal and Amber with tears of happiness and disbelief in his eyes, but the girls didn’t see him: he was unrecognisable in his newfound joy.

“You’re going to have to press on without me,” Adrien told the girls. “I must let the prisoners out of their cells. I know where the keys are, but I’ll have to move quickly. Go towards Fairytale for about ten minutes, then stop to rest and wait for me.”

Without a word, the girls left the city, following the crowd as they headed for Fairytale. Their minds were still blank, and they showed no surprise at the unbelievable scene: the entire population of Nathyrnn was streaming through the city gates, while the Knights of the Order were spellbound in sleep.

The girls and some of the rejoicing crowd marched together into the darkness. After ten minutes, they stopped, following Adrien’s instructions. A few moments later, the spell was broken, and the three girls fainted. While the spell was working, the girls had been sustained by its power, but now they were
completely drained, and could not be roused from their torpor. The magic had sapped all their strength.

Some ten minutes later, Adrien arrived at the head of more than a hundred and fifty prisoners.

“For the moment, everything’s going fantastically well,” he exulted.

Then someone showed him the three girls laid out unconscious on the bare ground. Adrien knew that their condition wasn’t serious, but when he saw Jade lying senseless and unmoving, he felt a pang.

“We’re going on,” he announced. “I’ll carry one of the girls, and two of you will take the others. They must awaken before we reach the border. These girls cast the spell, and it’s thanks to them that we’ve got this far.”

The crowd murmured in astonishment. Adrien waved for silence.

“They will not be strong enough to cast another spell and put the border guards to sleep. We have no choice: we’ll have to prove that our dreams are worth living for, that our courage is not an illusion. We will have to fight.”

A clamour of fear went up, but Adrien remained calm.

“Each prisoner has taken the sword from a knight in Nathyrnn. Since some prisoners are too young or too weak to fight, their weapons will be given to the most valiant among us. We have not escaped for nothing! We have a goal, and it is close. Let those courageous enough to fight, step forward. Hope is invincible!”

The border of the dukedom of Divulyon was very well guarded, but Adrien’s passion and unshakable will inspired every sturdy, brave man to come forward. Adrien took charge of handing out the weapons.

“Hope is invincible,” he repeated softly, as if trying to convince himself.

The people of Nathyrnn set out for the border again. Two men had picked up Jade and Amber, so Adrien found himself carrying Opal. The young man noticed that there was a kind of nobility about her, and as he held her in his arms, he became aware of the warmth of her body. Looking around him, Adrien noted the fierce determination shining in everyone’s eyes: women, children, old men, all pressing forward bravely. It was a dark night, but the hard and rocky road they were taking was the path of freedom. The
crowd was quiet, savouring the fleeting tranquillity all around them.

Soon the girls regained consciousness. They felt sore, quite feeble, and their heads ached, but their minds were clear. They walked unsteadily and had to be helped along for some time. Realising the gravity of the situation, they tried to cast a new spell; but they were too weak, and their efforts failed.

In about a quarter of an hour, the troop reached the border of the dukedom of Divulyon. The darkness concealed them from their enemies, who stood before them in their hundreds: the Knights of the Order. And behind them lay the magnetic field, forming a dome over Fairytale. Although the field was opaque, it gave off a dazzling light.

“Fight fiercely,” Adrien urged his armed men. “Create a diversion so that the weakest among us may cross first, and don’t fall back until we are the last ones left. Stir up as much trouble as you can.”

With these words, he ran forwards brandishing his sword, followed by every man fit enough to do battle. Some had no weapons and went into combat barehanded, shouting valiantly.

At first they had the advantage of surprise. As mothers and their children ran helter-skelter towards the magnetic field, the Knights of the Order, busy defending themselves against the attack, were able to stop only a few of them. The children entered Fairytale without any difficulty, and their mothers managed to follow them. But on the battlefield the attack quickly turned into a disaster. The Knights of the Order triumphed easily over their adversaries; only about a dozen men, including Adrien, were really able to challenge them. Many of the former inhabitants of Nathyrnn now lay gravely wounded or dying. Hanging back in the darkness there remained only a handful of frail youths, some frightened old men, many middle-aged women, Jade, Opal and Amber.

“If we wait, we won’t get through,” said Jade urgently. “We have to try our luck now and take advantage of the enemy’s confusion. Run! Save yourselves! Don’t stop — dash in between the ranks. There’s still some hope left, so run for it!”

Gathering up what little strength she had regained, Jade rushed fearlessly towards the battlefield, where
she seized the sword of a man lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Her very thorough education had included training in the art of war. Drawing on her knowledge, Jade raised the sword. At that moment, the din of clashing arms died down, then ceased altogether. Both the Knights of the Order and the fugitives could not help but be struck by the sight of the proud fourteen-year-old girl with raven-black hair. Her image seemed completely out of place on that blood-soaked field. Uncertain how to react, the Knights of the Order hesitated. This was a mistake. Jade, swift and agile, sprang to the attack. Amber, Opal and the other unarmed fugitives then hurried towards the magnetic field. Amber passed through it easily, while a few others, after encouraging one another nervously, managed to follow her. But most of them, including Opal, were unable to cross into Fairytale.

Suddenly Adrien, who was fighting passionately, shouted to Jade and the last men who remained, “We must fall back! If we don’t, we won’t survive!”

But Jade wasn’t listening. Such was her prowess that she was triumphing over the most experienced Knights of the Order.

“Jade! Come on! There are too few of us — we cannot win!”

Almost with regret, Jade retreated towards the magnetic field with Adrien and the other men. Hastily grabbing her Stone, she tried to cross the barrier of Fairytale. “I believe in it,” she told herself, “and I must go and see Oonagh. Fairytale exists — and the impossible as well.” She felt a tremendous pain as she hit the magnetic field: her entire body was violently repulsed. An icy wind blew through her. She tried to advance, but could not. Then she clenched her fists and closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she understood that she had passed into Fairytale.

On the other side of the magnetic field, things were going very badly. The few surviving combatants had crossed the barrier after Jade, leaving on the other side only Adrien and those who could not manage to believe in the impossible, with Opal among them. Realising that their opponents were fleeing the battlefield, the Knights of the Order began to pursue
them. Some of the last fugitives were weeping in despair, others shrieking in terror, and Adrien could not bring himself to abandon them.

“All you need to do is believe,” Adrien pleaded. “Just try, remember a childhood dream, it doesn’t matter which one. You’ll get through…” But he knew his words were empty and that it was too late. Then something staggering happened: Opal walked out to meet the approaching enemy.

“Knights!” she called out in a firm, strong voice. “I do not ask you to spare me. But be compassionate enough to judge my companions fairly. Their only crime has been to seek their freedom. Do they really deserve to die?”

Adrien stared at Opal in admiration. She, whose eyes were always modestly downcast, was gazing unflinchingly at the enemy. She held herself with such majesty, and looked, at that moment, invincible. And she was so beautiful… Adrien realised that he’d been blind: he was in love with Opal, not Jade. He ran towards her to protect her, to tell her how he felt, but a Knight of the Order was faster than he was. The knight had sneered at Opal’s words, which had no
meaning for him; he had been taught to take lives, not to save them. He drew his keen sword and with a brutal smile, plunged it pitilessly into Opal’s heart.

Adrien arrived only in time to catch Opal’s lifeless body in his arms. As he held her, his garments stained with her scarlet blood, he thought she had never looked so lovely, serene even in death. With tears in his eyes, he pressed his lips to Opal’s still warm, soft mouth.

“I loved her,” he said simply.

The Knights of the Order looked at one another. They were used to weeping and lamentation, to shouts of accusation — none of that could touch their hearts any more. Enough: it was time to get the job done.

But Adrien continued, in a sad, steady voice that did not seem to belong to him: “It’s not your fault.”

The knights stiffened in surprise.

“You were trained to fight and to kill. It’s your job, and you do it well. You are men who know how to bear arms better than anyone else.”

The knights grew more and more astonished.

Quietly, Adrien took Opal’s Stone from its black velvet purse and held it tightly, as she had done before.

“And yet,” he continued, “you have forgotten the
most important thing. You all have hearts, you can feel love. And that is what makes you real men.”

His audience nodded slowly and, strangely enough, not one of them ventured to raise his sword again.

“You have killed the one I loved,” said Adrien, “but I do not reproach you for it.”

Was it Adrien’s words that moved the knights, or the vision of the young man bearing Opal’s dead body? Or did the Stone release some kind of magic? No one would ever know.

Then Adrien said with great dignity, “If you are men, you know what you must do now.”

And a Knight of the Order, hesitantly, sheathed his sword. The others followed his example. They were not sure they had done the right thing, but something deep inside them had impelled them to make their decision.

Turning his back to them, Adrien walked towards the magnetic field. He held tight to the Stone, choking back tears. He was now one with Opal. She had loved him. He loved her.

He passed easily through the magnetic field of Fairytale. Although hope had failed, love had triumphed over the impossible.

THE WOUND WAS
deep: a bloody gash on his left forearm. The day before, he’d had to fight off the Bumblinks, wicked creatures who were rife in the northern forest of Fairytale. He had tried to travel through the woods instead of spending long, arduous days going around them, a decision he now regretted. The forest was teeming with evil spirits who resented any human presence. In just the last three days he had already fought two battles, and his horse had been killed in one of them. Luckily, night was now closing in, and the inhabitants of the forest were settling down to sleep.

He had come to a stop in one of the few clearings, and he felt completely drained. Suddenly he heard a sound, and with his good hand, swiftly drew his gleaming sword. A form appeared. The young man waited, on his guard. The stranger drew near: short, stocky, he wore an ample dark green tunic and at his waist, a sword. It was impossible to tell his exact age, for although a few lines furrowed his brow, his expression was still youthful. An unruly shock of light blond hair fell over his forehead. His nose was small and flat, his lips pale but full. His eyebrows, like his hair, were fine and almost white, while his large, dark eyes seemed merry, yet at the same time wise with experience. Although he was smiling broadly and seemed friendly, something about him hinted that he could prove a formidable foe if the situation demanded it. Was he human? At first glance, his appearance was very much that of a man. But on closer inspection his skin revealed a slight silvery sheen.

“Sheathe your sword, stranger!” cried the creature. “My intentions are peaceful.”

The young man with the wounded arm hesitated at first, unconvinced, but after a moment’s reflection
he complied with the creature’s request and put away his weapon.

“I’ve travelled a long way to find you,” continued the newcomer. “My name is Elfohrys and I’ve come to you for help, not to fight you.”

Elfohrys stepped closer and studied the young man before him: he was about eighteen years old, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes flecked with emerald green. His face was grave, and his intense gaze was imbued with melancholy.

Elfohrys caught his breath: “At last,” he told himself.

“Tell me,” he said out loud, “are you not a hovalyn, or a knight errant, as the common folk say?”