The Second Prophecy (Part 1 of the Dragdani Prophecies) (46 page)

“
The
re’s nothing on it,” he said
as he turned it over to the back and again to the
front.

Braten shrugged.

“
If you’ll do
less yapping to your friend and tell me where you would like to go,
you might get there a little sooner,” said a distinguished
voice.

Peter dropped the parchment and spun round,
but there was no one there.

“Down here,” said the voice.

They looked
down at the supposed map. There was now a face that seemed to be
formed from thin lines of blue ink. It was moving around a little,
but it could not leave its pigskin prison.

Peter knelt down to have a closer look.

“
Would
you lift me up please?
This dirt road
isn’t good for me, you know,” said the map.

Using his
index finger and thumb, Peter slowly and carefully lifted it off of
the ground.

“
Now, where
is it you wish to go?” asked the face on the parchment.

“
Cayer-Huld.
It’s the Wiz -”

“
Yes, yes, I
know where the city is.”

The map told
them which road to take and told them that in exactly four miles
they would reach a crossroads, and it was then that they would need
to consult it again. They were soon off again. A mile was all Peter
could bear with his injury before he had to stop. However, there
seemed to be a ray of hope for them yet. A few hundred yards from
where they quitted their hike, there was a small cottage with what
they thought was a light in the windows. They headed straight for
the very small house. As they got closer, they saw that it was very
small, indeed. There was a washing line strung between the left
side of the house and a wooden post that was sticking out of the
ground. The house itself had a thatched roof and one thin chimney.
The walls were merely smooth rounded rocks of the type you would
see on a cobbled street, only larger, and were piled neatly and
bonded with a white substance, which neither boy recognized. There
were two windows at either side of the cottage, small and round,
with what looked like lead running through them, making shapes of
diamonds. And in most of the diamonds, the glass was colored red,
blue, yellow, green and clear. When they reached the entrance, the
door opened before they could knock.

“
Come on in,
dearies,” said an elderly woman’s rough voice from
within.

“
Hi, we’re
sorry to disturb you, but we were out on the road and saw the light
in your window. We were wondering if maybe you might be able to let
us stay for a little while,” said Braten. “You see, my friend’s
wounded and he needs some rest.”

“
That’s fine,
dearie,” said the woman. She was older than she sounded, hunched
over, with light grey hair and wearing a black skirt with a black
shirt, and over her shoulders was draped with a beige shawl. Her
legs could barely support her body as she moved toward
them.

“
You’re
hurt?” she said to Peter.

“
I’ll be
fine. I just need rest, if you don’t mind,” he replied.

“
Not at all,
dearie. Sit and I’ll fix you both a hot cup of theuat. You like
theuat, don’t you?” said the old lady.

“
I don’t
know. I’ve never tried it,” answered Peter.

“
I like it. I
practically grew up on the stuff, but I haven’t had it for years,”
said Braten delightedly.

“
Good, then
if you’ll both take a seat, I’ll get you each a cup.”

“
You don’t
have a couple of cushions by any chance?” Peter asked the
woman.

“
Yes, in
there,” she pointed at a ripped and tattered curtain to their
left.

Braten took two of the flat cushions out and
passed them to his friend.

Peter set
them down on the armchair, which didn’t look very comfortable to
him. It wasn’t, even with the pillows. Peter winced as he tried to
set his butt down, and when he finally did it, he noticed something
quite disturbing. The low candles that once brought light to the
room were gone, along with most of the furniture, which wasn’t much
to begin with. In the fire place there were only ashes where there
was once a modestly warm fire. The boy looked up and was shocked to
see that the roof was also gone, and the old woman had gone as
well. Where she once stood, there was a taller dark figure in black
robes.

The figure
turned to face them, and Peter jumped out of his chair, ignoring
the pain in his rear. It was wearing jet-black robes, and holding
them together was a broach, which was a circle with a skull and
crossbones in the middle, and around it was the color
purple.

“
Is there
something wrong, dearie?” asked the dark body, still using a
woman’s voice, only it was cold and soft.

“
Who
...what are you?” asked Peter,
startled by all he was seeing. Just then, the scenery changed
again, and Peter saw the old woman standing where the figure stood
before. The light and fire had returned, as did the furniture and
the roof.

“
You pure
boy, your wound must be more serious than you thought,” said the
woman in her rough, throaty voice.

“
No,
you were different, and so
was this place. I know what I saw,” said Peter, becoming more
alarmed with every moment that passed.

“
What are you
talking about?” Braten asked him.

“
Didn’t you
see it?” said Peter.

Braten shook his head slowly.

“
I told you
it wouldn’t work,” said the woman smoothly, as though there was a
fourth person in the tiny room.

“Who the hell are you talking to,” Peter
pressed on at her.

Again,
everything around them changed, and this time Braten saw what Peter
had the first time.

“
What
’s going on,” he said, as he
jumped out of his chair.

“
Shall
I kill them now?
” said the hooded figure,
its eyes changing to shining yellow Dragon eyes under its dark
hood.

“
OHMIGODS!
IT’S HER! IT’S KILAMEN!” shouted Braten, horrified by what his
brown eyes were showing him.

“
No, I told
you, I have better plans for him. Contain him only,” said a
sinister voice that seemed to be coming from the shadows. But it
was a voice that Peter had heard before, the voice of that the
assassin who attacked him in the Normal World.

“
And the
other one?” said Kilamen.

“Him you can kill,” said the cold voice.

A dark smile approached her lips as she
contemplated ways of killing young Braten.

“
Ulicoth,
that’s who you are,” said Peter, trying to sound calm but failing
miserably.

“
You
remember. That’s good, Peter,” said the Dark Lord. “You know, I’m
looking forward to turning you to our side.”

“
That’ll
never happen,” said the young King.

“
ENOUGH
OF THIS CRA
P!” shouted Kilamen, growing
impatient by the talk.

“Keen to die young,” said Peter
arrogantly.

Kilamen
laughed. “Ulicoth was right. You are an insolent little brat,” she
spat. “This just might be fun, after all.”

“
I wouldn’t
bet on it,” Peter commented.

Before Peter
knew what was happening, a yellow energy ball came straight at him,
and he reacted with lightening reflexes by jumping in Braten’s
direction, pushing him to the floor and out of harm’s
way.

Peter jumped
back onto his feet and, without giving her time to react, threw the
Cripplize spell at her. She reacted with equal speed and deflected
it.

When he saw
that his first attempt had failed, he threw an energy ball right at
her head, knowing that she would deflect it, too, which might give
him enough time for a surprise attack. He was right. A second after
he threw it, she deflected it, but failed to see his plan, which
meant Peter was able to get behind her. Peter hid behind the ragged
old armchair that sat near the back wall.

Kilamen
turned to find him, but there was a flash of blue light, and Peter
stood in front of her again. He used the Terwalia curse, which was
usually one of the worst curses, for it would burn the skin off of
its victims in seconds unless they know the curing
spell.

Seeing her
mistake, Kilamen used the Deflecta spell. She was too late. The
spell hit her, but to her surprise, and to the surprise of Braten
and even Ulicoth, nothing happened to her. What they didn’t know
was that the one who stood in front of her was only an astral
projection, and the real Peter was still safely hidden behind the
old chair. Just then, the King pounced from behind the chair,
grabbed her by the neck and shoved her into the front wall. He then
proceeded to smack her head off it again and again. He didn’t stop
there; seven times he smashed her head against the wall. In the
end, she fell unconscious to the rotten wooden floor.

“
She
underestimated you. Be proud; she’s not easily fooled,” said
Ulicoth from the shadows.

“
COME ON,
QUICKLY!” Peter shouted to Braten.

“
You can’t
get away. I’m still watching you,” said Ulicoth confidently. “And
now that I can see clearly through the walls of this place. There’s
nowhere you can run or hide from me once I’ve found you. You’re
mine, boy.”

Peter was
trying to figure out a way to escape without Ulicoth seeing
them.

There was a
white light that appeared in the middle of the floor. Peter could
see what he thought was the handle of a sword.

“
Pick it up,”
said a voice coming from the light. Peter recognized this voice,
too, for it belonged to the Grand Wizard, Jaucal. “Pick up the
sword and use it. He can’t see you in its light.”

“
What
do I do with it?
” said Peter, afraid and
confused.

“
You’ll know
what to do.”

Peter took
the sword in his hand and held up to the shadow. The light
intensified, which caused the darkness to roll back.

“
RUN,
BRATEN!
RUN OUT! HE CAN’T SEE US!”
shouted Peter.

As they left
through the door, Ulicoth Phazed into the cottage only to find
Kilamen still lying on the floor.

“Get up,” he said to her.

“
I’M GOING TO
KILL THAT LITTLE GIT!” she screamed as she lifted herself
up.

Ulicoth
left the small house
first and saw them running over the rise in the road. Kilamen soon
joined him, and they took off in lightening speed and were almost
on top of them. The boys were running for dear life as their
enemy’s curses and energy balls flew past them.

“
Look,” said
Braten pointing ahead of them. As he was pointing, he was hit in
the back by a curse.

Peter hadn’t
realized what had happened, for he was in front and looking ahead.
He saw a Wolf running toward them.

“
Braten, come
on,” he said. When the young Wizard did not answer, he skidded to a
halt and turned to see him lying on the dirt road. When he went to
him, the young Wizard wasn’t moving. His eyes were wide open, and
blue veins could be seen on his skin, which had momentarily turned
scarlet. Peter tried to lift him, and the wounded boy cried out.
The young King took his arms and started to drag him, and as Braten
did not stir, he continued to do so.

The Wolf had
zoomed passed them and headed for Ulicoth. It jumped at the
Wizard-Elf, knocking him to the ground.

Kilamen halted immediately.

Just then,
funnels of swirling smoke appeared, and Ulicoth’s followers stood
around him and his attacker. Like Ulicoth, they wore robes of
scarlet with hoods over their faces so no one could see who they
were. They had badges sewn onto the left side of their robes.
Badges which were round with a skill and crossbones in the middle,
and around that was some dark color. The colors represented a
different rank. They drew their wands to attack.

“
NO! GET THE
BOY!” shouted Ulicoth. “I’LL TAKE CARE OF THIS TRAITOR!”

Kilamen lead the crowd of Dark Wizards and
Witches after the two boys.

While
dragging his friend, Peter hadn’t looked to see the mist that had
formed behind him. The very mist that he walked straight
into.

Ulicoth
and the Wolf where still
fighting. The Wolf was somehow wearing a protection talisman, and a
very powerful one, at that. The Dark Lord’s spells bounced off of
him like water off a duck’s back.

“
How did you
get that?” Ulicoth asked the Wolf.

“
It was a
gift from a Wizard greater than you could ever hope to be,” replied
the Wolf.

“
So Demala,
Jaucal has recruited you into his service.”

“
Perhaps.”

“
Don’t be
stupid. You know better than anyone that I always win.”

“
Not today,”
said Demala. He pounced and, using its vice-like mouth, ripped
through the Wizard-Elf’s right arm with his razor sharp teeth.
Ulicoth grabbed the Wolf by the scruff of the neck pulled him off,
which ripped a chunk out of the Wizard-Elf’s arm. Ulicoth didn’t
even flinch in the slightest, and when he had a tight enough grip,
he threw the Wolf fifty yards across the field.