The Prophecy of the Gems (12 page)

Lloghin the healer was now applying balms and compresses to Opal’s wound as he chanted strange words over her.

“The last time Death went on strike there were terrible consequences,” continued Owen. “The strike lasted about ten years. People who hurt themselves or became ill during that time got rapidly better, but those who had already been sick or injured continued
to linger in that state with no hope of deliverance through Death. In the end, her advisors managed to make her see reason, but I have the impression that this time, it’s more serious.”

“What a story!” marvelled Amber.

“Now that your worries about your friend — Opal, is that right? — have been put to rest, perhaps we might be introduced to one another?”

“Well,” replied Jade, yawning with fatigue, “we’ve known Adrien for less than a day, but we did liberate a city with him, and we’ve come to meet Oonagh, who reads people’s hearts or something like that. By the way, I’m Jade, but that’s all I can tell you about myself, except that I was driven from my palace by my own father and I have enemies everywhere, which isn’t my idea of a nice life, but what can you do…”

“I’m Amber,” said Amber simply.

“Jade, Opal, Amber,” murmured Owen, as if struck by an obvious thought.

Jade yawned again. She was exhausted, so drowsy she no longer knew what she was saying.

“Sleepy,” she mumbled, feeling her eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

“Ah — yes, of course, I’ll show you girls to a bedroom,” said Owen, adding to Adrien, “Wait here for a few minutes, I’ll be back.”

When he returned, Owen was bursting with excitement.

“The Stones of the Prophecy! You’ve brought the girls all of Fairytale is talking about! You owe me an explanation!”

“They’re unbelievable girls,” said Adrien, “and don’t hold it against Jade if she was asleep on her feet. A little while ago, she fought the Knights of the Order.”

“But it’s so rash of her to reveal her name and her story — doesn’t she realise the risk she’s running?”

“No, I don’t think she does,” replied Adrien. “She doesn’t seem to be very familiar with the Prophecy.”

“Then it’s not for us to enlighten her. Now, tell me what the Outside is like!”

“It’s so different from here,” sighed Adrien. “You just can’t imagine — the two worlds are almost complete opposites. Outside is huge, beautiful, just as you’ve heard on this side, but it’s also hard, violent, and primitive. Life there is rough and archaic. The people don’t know what freedom is, they live in an unjust and class-ridden society.”

“You’re exaggerating, surely.”

“Maybe… no, I don’t think so. How about you, tell me: what has changed over here?”

Owen’s face grew solemn.

“We’ve begun to despair,” he confided in a low voice.

“No… Don’t tell me that… the Chosen One…”

“Yes. He still hasn’t been found.”

“This is getting serious. According to the Prophecy, it won’t be long now until the battle. And if the Chosen One hasn’t turned up, how will we fight? The army will begin to assemble soon, but without him, it won’t help us at all.”

“That’s what everyone is worried about,” said Owen glumly. “They’re losing heart. Oonagh is waiting, but nothing is happening. The Chosen One has not revealed himself.”

“And if he doesn’t come?”

“That will mean that Néophileus was wrong, that the Prophecy is false, and that our hopes are in vain,” concluded Owen with a groan. “But that can’t be possible!”

“If the Chosen One doesn’t exist, then perhaps the Stones don’t have the power they are supposed to possess.”

“And all will be lost,” said Owen grimly.

THE NAMELESS ONE
retraced his steps with great difficulty, but dawn found him back in the clearing, lying asleep next to Elfohrys. The forest was bathed in sunshine, clear and bright in spite of the magnetic field around Fairytale. The rustle of leaves in the warm breeze mingled with the day’s first notes of birdsong as the forest awoke. The young man and Elfohrys opened their eyes. Stiff and aching, and still drowsy, they were nevertheless determined to be on their way

Shrill cries sounded in the distance: the inhabitants
of the forest were waking as well. Two races shared these woods, the Bumblinks and the Ghibduls.

Elfohrys belonged to a group of magic creatures that were few in number, but much respected, the Clohryuns, a race from which Néophileus himself was descended. The Clohryuns did not possess true supernatural powers, but Elfohrys knew how to defend himself and did not shrink from fighting adversaries more agile than he. A trusted friend had told him of a path leading out of the forest, and even though he had never taken it, Elfohrys now proposed it to his companion. They would have to be constantly on their guard, of course, because there was always the risk of encountering some Bumblinks or Ghibduls.

The two travellers set out briskly, Elfohrys confidently striding along winding paths bordered with brambles and stunted shrubs. The Nameless One felt no fear, for he attached so little importance to his life that he was not afraid of losing it. After a few monotonous hours, Elfohrys left the paths to head into the thick of the forest.

“There’s no other way,” he told his companion, who simply nodded.

Now the woods seemed even more threatening. The bare, scraggy trees loomed up against a cloudless sky.

“The closer you get to the heart of the forest,” explained Elfohrys, “the more you can sense the presence of evil beings. I’m surprised that we’ve come this far without any trouble.”

As time passed and the sun rose higher, the atmosphere became muggy, despite the shade beneath the forest canopy. The young man felt strangely tired and would have liked to stretch out under a tree for a nap. He stared blankly into space and began dragging his feet. Sounds became muffled, and images blurred. He was gasping for breath. Finally all grew dark around him and he collapsed. He heard a reedy voice intoning, “Nothing, nothing, nothing, you are nothing, nothing, nothing…”

Then Elfohrys forced him to listen by sending a pleading telepathic message: “Don’t give up, Nameless! It’s a mental attack from the Ghibduls! Wake up, all you need is a little willpower. Don’t let them defeat you!”

But Elfohrys’s voice irritated the young hovalyn, and he wanted to rid himself of it, to stop it from bothering him any more. His mouth was dry, and with
great difficulty he tried to tell Elfohrys to be quiet. But instead, without really wanting to, he said clearly, “The casket, in my leather bag!” It was as if someone had put these meaningless words into his mouth. Then he immediately lost consciousness and would gladly have remained in that state for ever.

A few moments later, though, he felt Elfohrys place the pearl-encrusted casket in his hands. Driven by a powerful instinct, he opened it — and was instandy bathed in a refreshing feeling of well-being. He leapt to his feet.

“You’re back!” exclaimed Elfohrys. “I thought you were lost — the Ghibduls’ powers of mental persuasion are very strong. 1 shook you, I shouted, I even used telepathy to help you, but I couldn’t rouse you.”

“Thank you,” said the young man. “If you hadn’t been here, I would not have survived.”

“Yes, you would have, but the Ghibduls would have captured you and taken you back to their lair to torture you.”

“Thank you again,” repeated the hovalyn, at a loss for words.

“It was a good thing you mentioned that casket! I found it in your bag, but I just couldn’t open it no
matter how hard I tried. Tell me, is it enchanted? Does it obey only you?”

“I’m not too sure, I found it along the way…”

Elfohrys let the matter drop, but wondered why his friend had asked for the casket from the depths of his stupor, and how it had managed to save him.

“Nameless,” said Elfohrys abruptly, “when we get out of the forest, where do you plan to go?”

“We haven’t got out of it yet,” replied the young man evasively.

“True, the Ghibduls won’t give up easily. You’ve eluded them, so they’ll do everything in their power to take revenge.”

“They’re formidable enemies,” agreed the hovalyn, relieved to see that the conversation was taking a different turn.

But Elfohrys was not so easily put off.

“Be that as it may, you still haven’t told me where you’re going next.”

“I — I was planning on heading for the city of Thaar,” came the reluctant reply.

“Thaar?” repeated Elfohrys incredulously. “The City of Origins? How can it possibly interest you, a
hovalyn? It’s a most dangerous city, very hard to get into, and it has no connection with your quest!”

“I don’t know where to go,” confessed his companion, “and Thaar is one of the few places I haven’t visited yet. It’s as simple as that.”

“Have you already been to see Oonagh?” asked Elfohrys, hoping he knew what the answer would be.

“No, never. What do you think that creature could tell me? I know only too well what’s in my heart: questions, worries, but nothing of my past.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. A long time ago, I went to see Oonagh myself. I learnt things I had never suspected, and yet they were written in my heart.”

“I’m almost certain her words won’t help me at all,” insisted the young man. “And anyway, Oonagh lives so far away, in that grotto lost inside a steep mountain… So few people undertake that journey…”

“Trust me. Take my advice: go there. If you don’t learn anything about your identity from Oonagh, we’ll go to Thaar.”

“All right, if it means that much to you, I’ll go and see Oonagh,” the hovalyn agreed.

Far away, in the very centre of the forest, stood the dismal and terrifying lair of the Ghibduls. No one had ever understood them: amongst themselves they behaved in a manner far superior to that of men, for they never waged war among their own kind, they tolerated one another’s faults, and never had family disputes. People mistakenly believed their customs to be backward and their society primitive. The Ghibduls felt love and pity just like any other creatures — perhaps even more so. They lived freely and happily; they made their home in the forest, spent all their time there and never left it. Due to their repulsive appearance many legends had arisen concerning their cruelty, when in fact they were naturally affectionate and loyal, although fierce in battle. They were confident in their own strength, and killed any intruder they found, suspecting them of wanting to take over the forest for themselves.

In their eyes, any intruders were savage beasts, a challenging prey doomed to a violent death. The Ghibduls positively enjoyed the feeling of warm blood
running on to their hands and they delighted in its rich, sweet odour. In Ghibdul society, dying at their hands was a privilege and a blessing for these inferior beasts who were incapable of thinking or loving (which, incidentally, was exactly what the beasts in question thought about slaughtering Ghibduls).

Now, the Ghibduls had just suffered the most stinging insult within living memory: there was a man in the forest, and that man had outwitted them. They had attacked him after he had defeated their friends, the Bumblinks, when he had valiantly defended himself and managed to wound most of his attackers. He wielded an apparently enchanted sword with uncommon skill and, above all, he did not fear death. Until then, the Ghibduls had encountered only men who clung desperately to life. They had been forced to admit that this hovalyn was different, and they had retreated in humiliation. Their pride had been wounded, and they were set on taking revenge, but somehow they could not suppress a grudging feeling of admiration, at odds with the hatred they had now sworn on the hovalyn. They had even tried to overthrow him using the powers of the mind, and they
usually only resorted to this against their most valiant enemies, but the human had triumphed again.

Mortified, the Ghibdul warriors sought counsel with their wise men, the strategists and councillors in charge of matters of the utmost importance. These wise men were themselves taken aback by the warriors’ reports, but one of them came up with a clever solution that astounded everyone. There was violent opposition at first, but the plan eventually won everyone over. That human being who had beaten them had no idea whom he was up against, and the Ghibduls had more surprises in store for him, they could promise him that!