by W. D. Newman
*****
Amos lumbered down the dark tunnels. It would have been pitch black down here, but for the moonbeam lichen growing on the tunnel walls. This lichen was native to the mountain caverns where Dwarvenhall was founded. It thrived in the cool darkness, attaching itself to the stone walls and spreading rapidly. It gave off a faint glow that provided just enough light to make your way around without a torch. The light was a silvery light, much like that of a full winter moon; dim enough so as not to disturb the night, but bright enough to cast shadows upon the ground. Amos walked at a brisk pace, but did not run. Torac needed enough time to send out the arrow hawks to the other cities and he needed to conserve his energy in case he and Marcus had to rapidly flee from Jupiter. From the lodge, the city was a good day’s march over hill and dale, but the tunnels the elves and dwarves had built were straight and made for easy travel. Amos arrived at the city in about four hours.
The tunnel came to a dead-end at a set of stairs. No warehouse was built beneath Jupiter, because the elves knew from the prophecy that Bellator would come here and reclaim the throne. The elves were well prepared; except for Bellator and Marcus, the city above was completely deserted. Amos huffed a sigh of relief. He was worried that he would find a ladder as the only means of leaving the tunnel and would have to briefly transform in order to climb the ladder. His luck held out, because at the top of the stairs, the door was not only unlocked; it was ajar. He nudged the door open with his long snout and entered the room.
This was a storage room, a larder in fact, and there were still many food items stored here. Immortals are able to eat, but do not require food for nourishment, so there was no better hiding place for the entrance to the tunnel than right here, in a food pantry. Amos sat down upon his haunches and hooked his claws in the leather string that was dangling from his teeth. He held the string up in front him and watched as the silver arrow spun around a couple of times and then fixed itself in a specific direction. Amos took the string between his teeth again and made his way out into the streets.
Jupiter was not the capital city of Faerie, but it was the largest. The winds whistled through the deserted alleys and a loose shutter banged noisily against a window somewhere above him. Amos set off down one of the lanes, moving in the general direction the arrow had pointed. Every so often he would check the arrow again and continue on his way. Eventually, a tower came into view, rising high above the rooftops around him. The arrow pointed straight toward the tower and Amos knew instinctively that Marcus was there. Not wanting to draw attention, in case Bellator were somehow watching, he lumbered about like any wild bear might, sniffing around as if searching for food, but gradually making his way toward the tower. Finally, at the base of the tower, he slipped inside the arched entranceway and began the climb up the spiraling staircase. At the top of the stairs, another door, but this one was closed and locked tight. Amos sniffed around the foot of the door. This was it. Marcus was inside. He scratched at the handle and rattled the door in its jamb and then waited. He heard a chair slide across the floor on the other side and then footsteps. There was a slight pause and then the door flew open.
Marcus looked down at the bear with a mixture of shock and surprise on his face. The bear held its paw up to its snout, as if it were telling Marcus to be quiet. Hanging from the bear’s mouth was a leather string with a silver arrow. It was a charm from Casey’s bracelet!
“Amos?” Marcuse whispered.
The bear tossed its head as if nodding yes.
“What are you doing here?”
The bear turned and started down the stairs. It paused once and glanced over its shoulder to see if the elf was going to follow and then continued on its way.
Marcus closed the door behind him and hurried after the bear. It was Amos, he was sure of it. Maybe Bellator would be unable to detect the presence of Amos in the form of a bear? The charm that Amos was carrying indicated that Casey and Ben were here. Things were moving along quickly now, but to what end?
The elf followed the bear through the winding streets, moving furtively from shadow to shadow. When they rounded the last curve, the larder came into view and there, standing in front of the entrance waiting for them, was Bellator. Amos immediately transformed back into human form to stand at Marcus’s side. Bellator ignored Amos and fixed the Keeper with those dead, flat, black eyes.
“Going somewhere?”
“You apparently know the answer to that one,” Marcus replied. “Are you here to stop us?”
“Not at all. I was actually coming to tell you that you are free to go.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Excalibur is back in Faerie. I can sense it now. I am closer to it now than I have been in many ages.”
“What makes you think the sword will be brought to you? Do you think we could not hide it from you once more?”
“Events have been set into motion. Excalibur is returning to its true master and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. Do you think I do not know of my brother’s prophecy? Do you think I am the mighty one that will be brought down by some chosen one? You have it all wrong. I am the chosen one! I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!”
“Then who is the mighty one?” Marcus asked.
Bellator stared at Marcus with those dead, emotionless eyes. “I will be waiting upon my throne,” he whispered. “I am the chosen one.”
Marcus and Amos watched as the immortal turned and disappeared into an alleyway.
“What was that all about?” asked Amos.
“Those are the ranting and ravings of pride, nothing more.”
Amos shook his head. “Pride proceeds the fall.”
“But whose fall? I’m afraid there is more to this prophecy than we thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“I firmly believe that Ben is the chosen one, but what if Bellator is not the mighty one?”
“I don’t understand. Who would be, if not him?”
“What if the mighty one did not refer to a person, but a race of people?”
“I still don’t follow,” said Amos, scratching his head.
“What if the elfin race were the mighty one? Bellator hates the elves and wants us destroyed. What if Ben, the chosen one, delivered the sword to Bellator and as a result of that the elfin race was wiped from Faerie?”
Amos paled. “What are we to do? Is there no hope?”
“No, there is always hope. And if the sword is indeed in Faerie, that means Ben has found it and has probably spoken to the wisest one as well. Perhaps this wisest one will have wisdom enough to give us good counsel.”
“Who do you think it is? Do you think it is Venus?”
“At one time I did, but now I am no longer certain. Lately, I am finding that I am not certain of anything where this final prophecy is concerned, except that we all are in grave danger. Did you come through the tunnels?”
“Yes.”
“Then let us return that way. It is quicker than traveling above ground and there are no horses in the city upon which to ride.”
“Have you ever ridden a bear,” asked Amos, with a grin.
In spite of the circumstances, Amos was able to elicit a smile from the keeper.
“Apparently there is no indignity I will not suffer, but at least in the tunnels no one would be able to see me riding a bear. Let’s be off.”
*****
