by Flavia Bujor
Gohral Keull’s face remained impassive. He held out his hand to Orlaith: it was scarred by many wounds. The terrible magic occurred once more. As the flames danced wildly around his finger Gohral Keull made no sound; on the contrary, he stood like a statue, as if the suffering he was enduring were of no importance. Only his dark eyes were shadowed with pain. Soon the ring clattered to the floor. The other knights stared at Gohral Keull in astonishment, however, for the finger on which the fiery ring had burnt was intact.
“The ring has judged that even though you are not the Chosen One, you are nevertheless a worthy man,” explained Tivann.
Gohral Keull showed no reaction to this compliment.
“Does anyone else wish to try on the Ring of Orleys?” asked Tivann, certain that no one else would step forward.
“I will,” announced the Nameless One suddenly, surprising even himself.
“You? But my lad, you are still much too young! What is your name?”
“I have none,” replied the hovalyn, now amused by the question that had formerly tormented him.
A murmur ran through the crowd.
“The Nameless One,” muttered Arthur de Farrières disdainfully. “So you are he! And you claim to be the Chosen One!”
“No,” came the reply. “I simply want to know whether I have good or evil in me.”
Gohral Keull watched the young hovalyn intently.
Tivann looked dismayed. “Nameless One,” he announced, “According to custom I cannot refuse you your chance. But if I were you, I would withdraw your offer.”
“I won’t,” said the hovalyn confidently.
He advanced towards Orlaith. The knights who met his gaze had to admit that it reflected strength and determination. The Nameless One placed his hand in Orlaith’s icy palm. He looked at the ring. It was simple, but beautiful. At first it seemed to be made entirely of white gold, but closer inspection showed that its smooth, shining surface was encrusted with minute diamonds. Orlaith slipped it on to one of the young knight’s long, slender fingers and gave him a look of encouragement.
The Ring of Orleys changed into a silvery liquid flowing faster and faster around the hovalyn’s finger. The pain was terrible, savage, yet he managed not to groan out loud. Soon silvery flames were pitilessly consuming his flesh; he wanted to scream, felt as though he were fainting, but he resisted, standing tall, controlling his weakness in spite of the odour of burning flesh now filling the air.
The hovalyns watched, commiserating with him. His torture lasted even longer than it had for Arthur of Farrières and Gohral Keull together. The Nameless One forced himself to hold his head high, without looking at his wounded finger. What he had refused to admit had been proved: the pain had been so appalling, so unspeakable, that he was certain that the Ring of Orleys had seen the evil in him and punished him accordingly.
He felt the hovalyns’ eyes fixed on him but did not dare to meet their gaze. When one murmur after another rippled through the silence, the Nameless One thought the knights were commenting coldly on his plight.
“You’re right,” he said bitterly. “I’ve failed, and my heart is filled with evil. The Ring of Orleys has confirmed your judgments. So let Orlaith pick up that ring and place it on another’s finger, but forget me, forget the defeat I just endured, forget even my face…”
He no longer knew what he was saying and no one else did either, for he was mumbling softly to himself as he looked for the ring on the floor. It was not there. He looked all around him, searching for the silvery gleam in the far corners of the hall, but he looked in vain. Then he glanced hesitantly at his injured hand.
It was sound and whole.
Orlaith was smiling radiantly at him. The knights were watching him with humility and admiration, even if some looks were mixed with envy.
“Nameless One, there is no doubt,” declared Tivann of Orleys, moved to tears. “You are the Chosen One, he whom we have all dreamt of seeing one day!”
At these words the hall erupted with thunderous applause in honour of the Nameless One, who still stood there in disbelief.
Was he truly the man whose very name, the Chosen One, was keeping hope alive deep in the world’s heart?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Lake of the Past
DISTURBED BY OONAGH’S revelations, the three girls retraced their steps and headed back to where they had left their horses. Amber and Opal were worried and daunted but also fascinated by the importance of the roles they had to play. As for Jade, she was too upset by what Oonagh had told them to even know what she felt. At first she had rebelled against such a grim future. These new responsibilities weighed too heavily on her shoulders. But she had to see this through to the end! If everyone had been waiting for her for centuries — well, she couldn’t just give it all up now. And yet, how could she accept that they were heading knowingly straight into danger? Without admitting it to herself, Jade was paralysed with fear.
“I swear,” she declared, “that I will never betray you. The Prophecy can’t be true. None of us would ever convince or urge the others to die. Never!”
“I swear,” repeated Amber solemnly, “that I will never do such a thing. I’d rather die than kill you!”
“I swear it as well,” said Opal. “That Néophileus was wrong. He’s been dead for centuries. There’s no reason why we have to do everything he says!”
Jade and Amber smiled, but they were still deeply anxious.
“I can’t believe it,” muttered Jade. “What’s happening to us, it’s so—”
“Strange, unbelievable, unimaginable,” chimed in Amber. “And to think that we’re going to see Death!”
“It’s terrifying, but very exciting, too,” admitted Jade.
“Besides, so many people will be watching everything we do,” said Opal pensively. “Oonagh did say that we’ve been expected for hundreds of years!”
“I’m scared,” confessed Amber abruptly. “How can they ask us to decide the fate of the world? It’s crazy. I’d really like to pretend I didn’t know about any of this and go back home to live a normal life.”
“Me too,” sighed Opal heavily. “I don’t want to go to Thaar, I can’t go there… knowing what we’ll find waiting for us. But I realise I have to go.”
“Well, if you’re going there, I’ll go too,” promised Amber.
“So will I,” said Jade. “We have to stick together. How do we know what horrors lie ahead of us? If so many people are counting on us, though, we can’t let them down. Our parents did give their lives for us, and if we’re really able to change something, to weaken the Council of Twelve or the Army of Darkness, we ought to do it.”
Jade had said her piece. She could not abandon Amber, Opal, and all those people who believed in her. Although Amber found herself longing nostalgically for the carefree days she’d known before her fourteenth birthday, she also knew that she would have to live out her incredible destiny.
Although Opal seemed as aloof and unruffled as always, her feelings and memories were in turmoil. Before she had met Jade and Amber, time had passed slowly and uneventfully for her in a routine existence devoid of passion and adventure. Living out the same day over and over again, she had learnt to forget dreams, laughter, emotions, tears. Withdrawing into herself, she had rejected friendship and love. Meeting Jade, Amber and then Adrien had taught her to discover the world as it could be: astonishing, beautiful, gentle and harsh at the same time. And now that this life she was beginning to enjoy was threatened, it became all the more precious in her eyes.
“How does Oonagh expect us to explain to Death that she shouldn’t commit suicide?” grumbled Jade. “What’s so special about us that’s going to make her see sense?”
“And anyway,” added Amber, “going to see Death is seriously strange!”
After discussing their doubts about this eerie mission to the realm of Death, the girls wondered about the mystery of the birds of prey. Why had they spared Opal and Jade? And what was the so
urce of the unknown power from which they had seemed to be fleeing?
The trip down the mountain was easy, almost pleasant. Within two days the travellers had reached their horses, who were waiting patiently for them. Amber stroked her mount for a long time, happy to see him again. He had adopted the white coat she particularly liked and welcomed her benevolently.
Before they set out again, Jade studied the map Oonagh had given them.
“Well, according to this map, I think the countryside we crossed on the way here is part of a wooded region called Hornimel. The mountain range we’re in now isn’t very big; it’s called the Irog, and according to this map it marks the boundary of Hornimel. Beyond this range there are plateaus and older mountains in the area of Ellrog, which doesn’t seem to have any towns or cities.”
“Let me see the map,” said Amber, coming over to sit next to Jade and peer at the parchment. “Just what I was afraid of,” she sighed dramatically. “Fairytale is huge!”
“But we’re fairly close to the territory of Death,” replied Jade. “Look, all we have to do is follow a river, the Déâthod, which crosses Ellrog. It leads to a great plain next to a huge lake, where the river seems to flow. We’ll have to cross either the plain or the lake, and then we’ll be there.” She pointed to an elegant inscription in black ink:
Okdhrûl, the land of Death.
“If we ever want to reach this famous Okdhrûl,” she announced, “then we’d better get going.”
“Okdhrûl,” groaned Amber. “What a disgusting name!”
As the girls were riding back along the path through the hardwood forest, Opal had a disturbing thought.
“Once we get to the bottom of this mountain and are crossing Ellrog,” she said anxiously, “maybe our enemies will come looking for us.”
“Yes, I know,” said Jade with a shudder. “But in any case, they don’t know where we are or what we look like.”
“Except that we’ve already decided the black horseman we’ve seen a few times is an enemy,” observed Opal. “What if he belongs to the Army of Darkness? Couldn’t he be some sort of scout?”
“Let’s not think about that,” said Amber hurriedly.
“But what if I’m right?” insisted Opal.
“It’s quite possible,” admitted Jade. “Anyway, several people we’d never even seen before have recognised us. There must be something distinctive about us that means people know who we are — and that’s dangerous!”
“Three fourteen-year-old girls riding alone across Hornimel are definitely going to stand out,” said Opal flatly.
They were getting too upset to talk much more. If the Army of Darkness found them, what tortures would they have to suffer?
“If only I had a sword,” said Jade softly. “Then I’d feel safer. Luckily, we’ve got our Stones, but will they be enough to defend us?”
“Maybe not,” remarked Opal, “but if we’re so easy to recognise and we have so many enemies, why haven’t they attacked us yet?”
The girls spent the day worrying about the threat from the Army of Darkness, which Amber expected to see bearing down on them at any moment in a charge of black-clad horsemen brandishing gleaming swords.
“If the Army of Darkness does find us,” she thought miserably, “will I be brave enough to fight or will I be just as pathetic as I was with those birds of prey?”
Sensing her anxiety, her horse tried to soothe her with gentle telepathic waves, but Amber could not stop worrying.
Night fell as the girls were leaving the mountain. They looked back at the Irog range they had crossed leaving Hornimel, following the Déâthod’s murky waters through the hardwood forest. From that point on, the hills of Ellrog stretched out to the horizon, and the three travellers felt somehow that the desolate region before them would prove hostile.
Jade, Opal and Amber sat wearily on the ground near the Déâthod to eat a meagre supper, and although the sounds of the river rushing along were crystal clear, the water was so muddy that the girls didn’t dare drink any of it. Afterwards they lay down on the grass. In spite of the calm all around them, they still felt on edge. They began contemplating the magnificent starry heavens. Without speaking out loud, they knew they were all sensing the same thing: all their anxieties were gently being washed away by the enchanting spell of Mother Nature. Savouring the magic of this quiet moment, the girls cradled their Stones in their hands.
The next morning, bursting with energy, they rode off shortly after dawn. As they set off, they observed the austere landscape of Ellrog: hillocks of short, dry, yellowed grass, a scattering of bare trees, and a few eroded peaks hardly higher than the surrounding foothills.
At first everything was peaceful. The cool morning breeze wafted the scent of a few flowers, birds sang of their happiness, and when a startled doe dashed in front of their horses, the girls admired its sleek coat. They were surprised to find Ellrog so pleasant, and they made an effort to put aside all thoughts of their enemies, chatting with studied nonchalance.
Amber contemplated the winding Déâthod, which had grown broad and imposing thanks to numerous tributaries. Its rapid waters, now clear, sparkled so brightly in the sun that they seemed like molten silver. Warned by a mysterious instinct, however, the girls did not drink from the river.
As the sun rose in the sky the heat became more oppressive. The three companions stopped talking, growing increasingly uneasy. Suddenly Amber blurted out what no one had dared to admit.
“There’s something peculiar about this place.”
The countryside had gradually changed. Silence reigned, absolute and disturbing. The three horses had grown tense and skittish. The flowers had disappeared and there were no longer any animals to be seen. As the girls rode along, all forms of life seemed to vanish from Ellrog.
“Maybe this means we’re getting close to Okdhrûl, the land of Death,” suggested Jade.
“Is that meant to be good news?” asked Amber wryly. “I’m scared. I know you two — you’re brave, you’ll never admit you’re afraid. But I am! I don’t want to see Death at all, and this place is already making my skin crawl!”
“Don’t worry,” insisted Opal. “We’re not in any danger.”
“Oh really?” replied Amber in a shaky voice. “Apart from maybe getting sliced to ribbons by the Army of Darkness or some other enemy that’s after our hides, yeah, that’s right — we’re not in danger at all! And then, if we survive, if we do get to see Death, hey — we can always head on to Thaar! Great! There, we’ve got no chance of coming out unscathed!”
Jade and Opal tried half-heartedly to calm Amber down, and the girls talked constantly to keep their fears at bay. Luckily, the black-clad horseman hadn’t shown up again, but everything around them seemed threatening. Even the sun had slipped behind greyish clouds, causing the air to grow damp and chilly.
When night fell at last over Ellrog the three girls stopped near the Déâthod, whose waters had grown cloudy again, black with soil.
Trembling, Amber felt around in the darkness for Opal’s icy hand.
“When I was little my mother always held my hand so I could go to sleep,” she whispered. “As long as she was nearby, I was sure she would chase away the nasty shadows, the nightmares…”
Amber stopped, but Opal gently squeezed her hand in sympathy and did not let go. At last the three girls fell asleep.
They rose the next morning without any enthusiasm for the day’s ride and did not enjoy following the river through the gloomy, unfriendly landscape. Whinnying nervously, the horses proceeded slowly. The girls felt increasingly exhausted and depressed. After a few hours a light mist appeared, then turned into a choking fog all around them. The travellers could no longer see a thing, not even one another. Only the Déâthod, glimmering strangely, was still visible. Jade, Opal and Amber forced themselves to keep speaking calmly together so they would not become separated. They had lost all notion of time. Blinded by the fog, they shivered in a cutting wind.
The f
og gradually lifted at last, revealing a flowered plain at the edge of an immense lake.
“I know where we are!” cried Jade. “All we have to do now is cross that plain to get to Okdhrûl!”
“That didn’t take long!” exclaimed Amber.
“Ellrog is a small place. Which is just fine with me!”
They were about to ride on to the plain when a man’s voice rang out loudly, even though no one was in sight.
“The traveller choosing plain or lake
To Okdhrûl, either path may take.
If ‘cross this plain your way doth lie,
Dreams will haunt you till you die.
If the boat you decide to row,
Then this lake the past will show.”
The voice said no more. Worried, the girls consulted one another briefly, and all agreed to choose the Lake of the Past. They took with them only some provisions, and Amber ordered the horses to wait with the rest of the baggage. When the three companions stepped into the wooden boat they found at the lake’s edge, it rocked precariously, then glided across the limpid blue water, impelled by an unknown power. The girls were dismayed to see the shore vanish behind them into the mist of Ellrog.
All of a sudden, Amber screamed. The clear water had become blood red, and Jade now shrieked in horror as well. Amber was the first to see the dark form that emerged from the troubled depths as the boat stopped dead in the water, but her fright soon turned to joy: the shade took on the appearance of a young woman with gentle, loving eyes, and Amber knew it was her mother. The woman stroked Amber’s hair affectionately.
“Come with me,” she urged in a melodious voice. “I’ve missed you so much… Come back to me, Amber…”
And the young woman held out a white hand. Amber was entranced by the apparition and took her hand, intending to obey her. The figure was invisible to Jade and Opal, who cried out in alarm when they saw Amber stand up in the boat, ready to step over the gunwale and fall into the lake. Desperately, Jade pulled Amber back — and Amber fell on top of her, tipping the boat and pitching all three girls into the lake. Opal and Jade grabbed hold of the boat as Amber, lost in a daze, began to sink. Hesitating for a moment, Jade looked at Opal, who mumbled, “I feel too weak — I can’t help Amber.”
