by Flavia Bujor
“But wh—” stammered the dumbfounded hovalyn “—exactly what is expected of me?”
“Oonagh will reveal that to you. The Prophecy says that you must not find out until then. You know, Néophileus, the author of that famous book, was a Clohryun, like me, and I believe in his words.”
“He’s been dead for centuries! You’re not going to take everything he says literally!”
Again Elfohrys smiled, but said nothing.
After a few hours, a small town appeared on the horizon, veiled in a blackish fog.
“A town sealed by the Army of Darkness,” said Elfohrys softly.
“We have to go there and save the people!”
“No,” replied Elfohrys. “We can’t do anything for them. It’s too late. The Seal is unbreakable. I know that place, it’s a town of merchants: good, simple, honest folk. The Army of Darkness only attacks those too weak to defend themselves.”
Elfohrys restrained his companion, who wanted to rush to the town, but the hovalyn soon realised that he could not help its inhabitants. The young man felt guilty and useless, and Elfohrys was unable to comfort him.
They rode on for another hour. Then the hovalyn spotted clouds of smoke rising from a distant castle, and this time he and Elfohrys instantly whipped on their horses to dash to the rescue.
It was only when they arrived that they realised their mistake: the smoke was not from flames but from the Seal of Darkness settling around the town.
Lined up before them were hundreds of black-clad warriors on dark horses. They surrounded the casde and seemed united by a single force, a single thought. Their lips barely moved as they recited the spell of the Seal.
The Chosen One now faced part of the Army of Darkness. He acted without thinking and, as Elfohrys uttered a piercing cry, the hovalyn drew his sword. He swiftly attacked a soldier of Darkness and cut off his head, which rolled along the ground, its bulging eyes staring reproachfully at the young man.
A few soldiers of Darkness turned their attention away from the Seal, which began to fade almost imperceptibly.
“How dare you attack one of us!” roared a deformed-looking creature.
“And how dare you destroy innocent lives!” shouted the hovalyn.
“Who are you?”
“The Chosen One.”
With that, a dozen soldiers of Darkness advanced on the knight, and Elfohrys joined in the fray. Seriously outnumbered, the Chosen One turned to the casket in desperation, hoping that its mysterious power would aid him in this unequal battle. He instantly felt imbued with an unheard-of strength: he had always been an accomplished fighter, but this time he wielded his sword with unparalleled skill. He moved gracefully and with flawless precision as he rapidly and efficiently cut his way through enemy flesh, while his opponents barely wounded him.
Nevertheless, the soldiers of Darkness were powerful, well-trained, and vastly superior in number. The tide of battle was about to turn in their favour when a tall, imposing man called a halt to their attack. The soldiers surrounding the Chosen One and Elfohrys immediately sheathed their swords and stood to attention.
Although he was astride an enchanted black stallion that breathed flames from its nostrils, the tall authoritative man was human. His splendid uniform was jet black and the scabbard of his sword encrusted with sapphires. His craggy face was riddled with gashes and two pitiless eyes glittered like steel-blue jewels beneath his bushy brows. It was an unsettling, arrogant face, thin-lipped, with a straight nose and strong chin. His hair was black.
“Step forward, man,” he ordered in a deep voice.
The Nameless One did not move. The tall man seemed not to notice.
“You know how to fight better than only the weakest among us, but that is already quite an exploit.”
Silence.
“I am a soldier of Darkness, in command of this regiment of incompetents.”
Elfohrys glanced nervously at his companion, who remained stubbornly mute.
“You are clearly a hovalyn,” continued the soldier. “Where did you learn how to fight?”
The Chosen One said nothing. Still seated on his horse, he stared into his enemy’s cruel eyes.
“Why did you oppose our army? No one dares to do that. Which means you are brave.”
A soldier of Darkness spoke up: “He says he’s the Chosen One.”
“The Chosen One?” repeated the soldier icily.
“I am he,” affirmed the knight quietly.
“You’re no more the Chosen One than I am.”
With a wave of his hand, the soldier lifted the young man from his horse and suspended him a few yards above the ground, but his captive still did not flinch.
“Do you recognise the sign of the Army of Darkness?” asked the soldier.
Without waiting for a reply, he uncovered his left ankle: several numbers were inscribed on the skin, and beneath them, a black moon. The soldier waved his hand again, bringing his captive floating towards him, and with a snap of his fingers, he laid bare the skin of the young man’s left ankle. There was no sign of Darkness.
“Oh!” exclaimed the soldier sarcastically. “So, what you are is a deserter.”
Unsheathing his sword, he drew the tip of the blade across the hovalyn’s left ankle, and to everyone’s amazement, a trickle of black blood formed the image of a moon and several numbers.
“I was right. A deserter,” he sneered.
It was difficult to say who was more appalled: Elfohrys or the Nameless One.
“According to the numbers, it’s been two years since you fled our army.”
The Nameless One could not believe his ears.
“Ah! Now I remember,” crowed the soldier of Darkness. “At one time everyone knew about you. Your parents had died a few years earlier, you were living with your grandparents, but one night you decided to leave your humdrum little existence behind. You wandered from village to village until we took you in, even though you were only sixteen. Within just a couple of months, you deserted. But you didn’t get far. Deserters from our army are punished by death. Since you were so young, however, we simply erased your memory. All of it. The rest of you, we spared.”
At a sign from the soldier, the Nameless One fell to the ground. He got to his feet, bruised and blinking back tears of pain and dismay.
The soldier began to laugh mockingly.
“Ordinarily, I would have you killed. But Death is so inconveniently on strike. Therefore I will let you continue your loathsome and insignificant existence.”
Alive, the Nameless One was condemned to bear his shame. Hope would vanish and all eyes turn away at the sight of him. Meaningless, dishonoured, his life would be one of endless wandering.
The soldier of Darkness knew that such a life was worse than death.
“And you wanted to make me believe you were the Chosen One?” he exclaimed, bellowing with laughter.
Then, with a disdainful gesture, he dismissed Elfohrys and the Nameless One.
They had no choice but to obey.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Raptors
THE THREE GIRLS rode through the countryside without encountering any obstacles or any sign of the sinister horseman. During the day they kept heading for the snowy mountains in the distance, asking for directions from the people with the long, silvery hair. At night the girls rested out on the pleasant meadows. They had seen no more sealed towns and had found only peace and prosperity along their way.
As the days went by the girls saw fewer villages and fields of crops, and after travelling for a week they arrived one morning at the foot of the mountains capped with everlasting snow. Now that they were so close to their goal, they needed to find out exactly where Oonagh lived. Fortunately, they met an old man riding along on a donkey.
“Hello!” said Amber. “Could you please tell us where to find Oonagh?”
“I’ve just come from there,” replied the man, with a toothless smile. “I had a lot of trouble avoiding those accursed
birds, but I made it!”
“How do we get to her?” asked Amber eagerly.
The old man pointed to a mountain whose peak was lost in the clouds.
“Oonagh lives over there, but don’t worry, not on top of the mountain. All you need to do is follow this path. You’ll see, the birds are the only problem. Luckily, if you manage to get by them on the way there, they don’t bother you when you leave.”
The girls thanked the man, then set off for Oonagh’s mountain. The winding path was not too steep and led them at first through a hardwood forest. The birds were nowhere to be seen, but when the slope grew steeper and the lovely forest gave way to lofty evergreens, the horses became skittish, balking and neighing in panic. Trying to read her horse’s thoughts, Amber sensed fear but could not discover its cause. Finally, she made contact with the animal’s mind.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
It was some minutes before her frightened horse was able to reply, but when he could, he ignored his custom of not speaking to his riders and said distinctly, “I will go no further. If I do, the birds of prey will kill me. Leave. I will wait for you here.”
Realising that any argument was useless, Amber explained the situation to Jade and Opal, who resigned themselves to proceeding on foot.
“Let’s just take essential things with us, like food,” suggested Jade. “We’ll pick up the rest when we return.”
Each girl packed a small bag of provisions, and they continued on their way.
Now that they were no longer on horseback they quickly felt tired, but they hurried on, resting only when necessary. They did not talk, so as not to waste their breath. Their excitement grew as they drew closer to Oonagh, and their burning curiosity drove them on faster and faster. They no longer thought of anything but that magic creature and what she might reveal. Remembering the symbol the Stones had transmitted to them, Amber first recalled Jean Losserand, who had interpreted it and advised them to consult Oonagh, and then she thought back over everything she had experienced in the short time since meeting Jade and Opal.
Night fell at last over the evergreen forest. Jade felt they would get lost if they tried to go any further, so the girls made camp in a large clearing and began to eat supper. Their nerves were on edge, for the darkened forest had become spooky and hostile. Amber thought she heard chilling cries in the distance. Wolves. She started to shake. Shadows were creeping all around them. Amber imagined shining yellow eyes behind the trees that ringed the clearing; evil eyes that stared at her, glinting ferociously.
When an apple fell from Jade’s bag and rolled along the ground, Amber was so tense she screamed.
“Calm down!” cried Jade, with a slight quaver in her voice. “You scared me!”
“Don’t worry, Amber, everything’s fine,” Opal assured her.
“What if- if those birds come tonight, while we’re asleep?” stammered Amber.
Jade’s blood froze at the thought. Even Opal shivered.
“We can’t go without sleep,” said Jade flatly.
“Nothing will happen!” insisted Opal, but more hesitantly than before.
By now the girls had lost their appetite. They stretched out, breathed deeply, and tried to rest, but it was no use. Their anxiety was overwhelming, and the silence was unbearable. When Jade at last suggested that they talk, to try and relax, her companions readily agreed.
The enveloping darkness hid their faces, making it easier for them to confide in one another. Jade began to describe her life in the palace of Divulyon and, like the other two girls, she forgot about her fear as she spoke of the homesickness she sometimes felt. For the first time, Amber told her two companions at length about the death of the woman who had been a mother to her, and she admitted how upsetting Béah Jardun’s revelations had been. Then she went into great detail about the story of Janëlle’s betrayal.
Although Jade and Amber had expected Opal to keep quiet when it was her turn to speak, she did tell them — hesitantly at first, almost shyly — about the ordinary life she had known and, growing bolder, she explained how much she was enjoying her new life, in spite of her distant air. Pausing, she wet her lips nervously and ended by saying how much she had “appreciated” Adrien’s company.
Jade and Amber kindly pretended to be surprised.
By the time the girls dropped off to sleep, their anxiety had vanished. They didn’t realise it, but that night, something changed. After talking openly about their deepest feelings, there was no chance they could ever be enemies. The Stones and their shared adventures had already drawn them close to one another, but it was this conversation that bound them together for good.
They spent all of the next day in the vast coniferous forest, breaking the silence with frequent peals of laughter, for the girls were in a good mood and amused each other by telling stories. However it was a difficult climb up the mountain, and the three of them soon ached all over.
For the moment, they did not seem to be in any danger. Amber even convinced herself that she had imagined the howling of the wolves the previous night. As for the birds of prey, the girls began to wonder if they actually existed.
And so the whole day passed uneventfully.
Night found them in a clearing where they promptly fell asleep, exhausted.
Opal awoke at dawn the next day knowing only that she’d had a ghastly nightmare, and although she was unable to recall it clearly, she was still terrified and her face was bathed in tears. She could feel her heart pounding wildly, and it was a little while before she could pull herself together.
Jade and Amber woke up not long afterwards and they were frightened, too.
“I don’t feel well,” murmured Amber. “My stomach’s in a knot, I’m quaking — and I don’t know why!”
After a moment’s reflection, Jade said grimly, “We must be getting close to the birds. Amnhor said they sent out some kind of waves that make you frightened. But we must still be quite far away, because we aren’t completely panicking yet!”
When she heard that, Amber’s heart sank. She had thought she would be able to confront the birds, but now that she was about to do so, her determination was falling apart.
The girls got up, looking at one another in dismay and apprehension.
“Let’s go back,” suggested Amber abruptly.
Jade and Opal considered the tempting proposition for a moment and almost wavered, but finally Jade sighed.
“We’ve made a huge effort to get this far. Ever since the liberation of Nathyrnn, we’ve risked our lives several times trying to reach Oonagh. We’re so close to our goal now, we can’t just give up.”
Amber and Opal had to admit she was right.
“Anyway,” piped up Amber, “we’ve got the potion.”
“But we’re not supposed to use it except as a last resort,” Jade reminded her.
They resumed their journey. This time, though, they felt so shaky that they couldn’t carry on a coherent conversation, and they made slow progress, haunted by their visions of the birds of prey. In her bag Opal carried the potion that Amnhor had given them; she took it out to look at it and felt reassured by the smooth glass vial.
Each minute seemed to drag by as if time were somehow solidifying, as if every instant were heavier with anguish than the one before. Even though they expected the birds to appear at any moment and swoop down on them, the girls didn’t spy a single one.
When the sun was at its zenith, they emerged at last from the forest. Now the climb was even steeper. A few shrubs replaced the conifers, and then even the bushes were few and far between, finally giving way to grass sparsely dotted with spindly flowers. Looking anxiously up at the sky and dazzled by the sun, a fiery sphere in an ocean of azure, Amber could see no trace of the dreaded predators.
Nevertheless, the girls could feel fear growing inside them and knew that soon they would no longer be able to bear this rising terror. They continued on for another hour, but their steps began to drag slower and slower.
<
br /> Suddenly, Amber spotted menacing shapes up in the bright sky, gliding on long wings. Even though the birds were flying at a great height, there was no doubt what they were. The girls felt engulfed in a whirlwind of fear as soon as they caught sight of the birds, which did not yet seem to have noticed them, for they continued to soar overhead.
The raptors soon made their power felt.
Although she was shivering, through some miracle Opal still managed to stay reasonably calm by convincing herself that she shouldn’t panic.
Jade clenched her fists, proudly tossed back her hair, and stood up staunchly to the terror. She was trembling and her pulse was racing, but she refused to lose her head.
Amber, however, was petrified. She could not help imagining the birds diving down to devour her, and she was shaking so hard that her knees were knocking. She just couldn’t tear her eyes away from the birds.
“The vial-” she could hardly stammer out the words “-Opal, I need it!”
But Opal would not give in. The birds had not come down yet, and Amnhor had warned them to use the potion only at the last possible minute.
Slowly the birds descended towards their prey. There were more than fifty of them, darkening the sky. Now the girls could make out their grey plumage and above all, their horrifying size. They seemed to be two — or even three — times bigger than a man.
Amber cried out, certain that she was living out her worst nightmare. Even Opal felt herself falter.
The birds flocked together, uniting their strength. To live, they fed on fear, so it was important that their victims’ terror reached its full height. In order to achieve this, the raptors used a method that was almost infallible.
The three girls soon discovered it. The birds glided down, hovering about ten metres above their heads. The girls were already rooted to the spot after sighting them, and were now almost driven out of their minds by those long curved beaks and razor-sharp talons.
The worst was yet to come. The birds reawakened the girls’ most terrifying fears, the ones they dreaded above all others. Now many of the birds were no more than five metres away. Their piercing eyes burnt with concentration, greed, and the expectation of victory.
