The Second Prophecy (Part 1 of the Dragdani Prophecies)

by R. Alan Ferguson

  There were doors of rooms stretching the length of the corridor, but they just kept going straight. Finally, they stopped when the end of the hall came, and the young man saw the thick, varnished pine door of his room. Euol tapped his wand against the lock; they heard a click. The Wizard turned the door knob, opened the door and one after the other, they entered.

  The room was plain-looking, with cream-colored walls and a single pine bed. The rest of the furniture consisted of a table and chair, an old wooden stool, a pine chest of drawers, a small clock, and landscape pictures on the walls.

  “This isn’t the nicest room in the place, but it is the biggest,” said the innkeeper.

  “It’s fine,” said Peter happily.

  “We can leave it like this, if you want, or I can make it better,” said Euol, shaking his wand a little.

  “Knock yourself out,” said Peter with an impish smile.

  The Wizard lifted his hand and waved his wand then spoke a few words in the Wizard language.

  A yellow spray radiated from the tip of the wand and spread around the room, wall to wall, ceiling to floor. The room changed almost immediately. The room and everything in it became more luxurious, and it, along with every pace of furniture, grew to three times their original width. Even the images on the walls changed from scenery pictures to portraits of Wizards and Witches. The clock also changed into a giant grandfather clock.

  “It’s great,” said Peter delighted with his new room.

  “So you’re happy with it?” asked Jert.

  “Yes, very.”

  “Good. I had to use two other rooms,” said Euol. “But it was nothing to a Wizard like me,” he said raising his eyebrows and waving his wand comically. “Let’s get back down to the lounge and get something to drink.”

  “Wait,” said the King, “who are these people?” He was pointing to the portraits of the Wizards and Witches.

  “Those are your ancestors,” replied the innkeeper. “The first is of the very first Wizard, Cayer, and the Warlock Huldcend and their families. They were the ones that built the Wiz-Wit cities. They go from there all the way up to Queen Thoucil and her husband and son King Dragdani. And last of all, your father,” said the Wizard, pointing to the picture of John Stark.

  Peter recognized the man immediately and gave the depiction a small nod before turning to leave.

  He looked at the portrait next to his dad’s, and his eyes nearly fell out, as he saw someone who looked exactly like himself, only the man in the picture looked a little older. He looked as if he were in his early twenty’s. Beside him, there was a pretty woman with long brunette hair. It didn’t look as though there was much of an age difference between them.

  “Who the hell is that?” Peter asked, pointing at the man.

  “That was King Dragdani,” said Jert. “I thought you knew that you look alike?”

  “Yeah, that Grand Wizard guy told me that we were alike,” replied the boy, who stood completely flabbergasted by what his bright green eyes were showing him. “But look at him. We could be bloody twins.”

  There were two children also in the picture, a boy around five years of age and a small girl about three. The girl looked the picture of her mother, and the boy looked like his father and Peter, having the same hair, eyes, and pale skin.

  Euol could see Peter staring at the boy.

  “That was Prince Dreguel, and the girl was Princess Qeuren, and the woman beside Dragdani was his Elven Queen, Nevur.

  “DRAGDANI, SAVE US!” screamed Jert.

  The other two whipped round to see what was wrong, and there was the portrait of another man. This man looked fearsome, with his dark, intimidating stare, yellow eyes, short dark hair and black, flowing robes filling the bottom of the picture.

  Sitting on the man’s robes was yet another girl; this one was at least twelve years of age, who, unlike the man, was very pale. In fact, by looks, this girl was nothing like the man except for the stare (that was the only thing they had in common in the looks department). She had the sweetest angelic face with very long beautiful blonde hair and deep alluring blue eyes that could entrance the darkest and coldest of hearts.

  “Who are they?” asked Peter.

  The two Wizards stood there staring at the picture, their hands shaking with fear at the sight of the Lord Salith and his daughter Kilamen.

  “I dare not say their names here,” said Jert.

  The farmer’s words sent a cold chill up Peter’s spine, for he remembered that the Wizard had not been afraid to say the name of Ulicoth. The boy could see the pure fear in his companion’s eyes, which meant whoever these two people were; they were surely not to be taken lightly.

  The innkeeper looked at Peter, though he said nothing for a few moments, as though he was drawing strength from the sight of his King. “That was the Dark Lord Salith,” he said finally. “And that,” he pointed to the girl, “is probably the most wanted and hated women in the whole of this world. Her name is Kilamen, and she was the one that helped Ulicoth kill your father,” the Wizard said resentfully.

  “That girl killed my dad?”

  “She was younger there, though I doubt that would have made any difference, for it was said that ever since she could walk, she could kill,” said Euol. “Oh yes. There is no doubt in my mind that that bitch is the True Spawn of Salith,” the innkeeper ranted.

  “Are you okay?” Peter asked Jert, who was still slightly shaking.

  “I’m fine,” replied the farmer. “I’m fine.”

  Peter looked back at the portrait. The reason for this was not exactly clear to him. He just felt he had to look again. This time he, like Jert, stared blankly at the illustration. His line of sight was directed at the young Kilamen. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t resist. He couldn’t believe that someone who looked so cute and innocent could do what his new friend had said. He felt as though he wanted to find her and help her with her troubles, if he could.

  Peter was suddenly aware of what he was thinking, and it scared him, and when he stared at the portrait again, she no longer looked beautiful. Now she looked angry and vengeful with her yellow Dragon eyes showing.

  The boy felt as if he had just awakened from a dream. Then to his wonder, the young girl’s face changed. Now she looked pretty again, and this time she smiled right at him.

  “Tell me you both saw that, or you better check me into the nearest nut house,” said Peter sarcastically, but at the same time his jest was dark.

  “Her face changed,” said Jert fearfully.

  “Yes, I saw too,” said the innkeeper.

  This new expression was different then before, for the smile seemed warm and caring and completely different than the girl who sat there seconds earlier. In seeing her now, Peter felt relief run through him. And in that short time, he even thought he knew her from somewhere. In fact, he felt he knew very well, but from where?

  “Damn, it’s on the tip of my tongue,” he said to himself.

  “What’s on the tip of your tongue?” asked Euol curiously.

  “Nothing,” said the boy defensively, “nothing important.”

  “I don’t know about the two of you, but I can’t stay in this room a moment longer with them staring at me,” said Jert, who was almost fully recovered from the terrible shock of seeing two of most ruthless people their world had ever known.

  “I’ll get rid of it,” said Euol. He lifted his wand to face the portrait.

  “No,” said Peter, “not yet. You can do it later. I feel the same as Jert. I want to get out for a while, too.” The boy was hoping to get another good look at the girl to try and figure out if he did know her or not, even if the whole thing did completely freak him out.

  “Fine,” said the innkeeper, “I’ll do it tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” said Peter sounding satisfied.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That Bloody Cart!

  The three friends went down again to the main room of the establ
ishment, where the people who had at first given Peter the darkest and most distrustful looks they could muster were playing music, laughing, dancing, and singing their happy hearts out.

  “You see, they’re not that bad. It really is amazing how things change when you get drunk, isn’t it,” laughed Euol.

  The other two laughed as they descended the last steps to reach the floor.

  “Yes. Their bark’s worse than their bite. I only wish I could say their dirty stares were worse than their singing,” Jert whispered. “And I’m afraid I’m not much better, worse maybe.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right,” the innkeeper chuckled.

  Peter laughed.

  Jert said nothing; he just smiled, though Euol knew that Jert was less than happy, for the farmer liked telling jokes but hated being the butt of one.

  They joined in on the party, which is usually a daily thing. The two Wizards even started a few songs, and Peter tried his best to sing along with the rest, and to do that, he had to leave a one-second delay.

  Tired and all sung out, the three friends found the darkest and most secluded booth at the top right-hand corner of the room. They needed privacy. The last thing they wanted was for anyone to overhear them talking about Wizards, although no matter how private it was, it was still a big risk.

  They were sure that no one would be able to hear them over the racket that everyone else was making; in fact, they could barely hear themselves think over the bellowing and hollering of the locals’ merrymaking.

  The smoke that swirled all over the room from the pipes of punters only gave them more cover, and they certainly did not mind. They welcomed it.

  Jert took out a fat rectangle piece of brown paper out of his breast pocket then unfolded it, and there in the middle of the paper was unmistakably weed. Though it was a lighter color than Peter had seen, there was no mistaking the smell.

  “Jert, I don’t have a pipe. It fell out of my pocket and was crushed by a beer barrel two days ago,” said the innkeeper as the farmer rummaged through his pockets for his own pipe.

  “Oh no,” said Jert, “it seems that in the rush to leave the house, I forgot to lift mine.”

  “Never mind,” said Euol. “Rutula usually carries a spare about with him; I’ll ask him if we can have a loan of it. But knowing our luck, this’ll probably be the day he hasn’t got it with him.”

  “No need,” said Peter, taking what looked like a nut and bolt out of his trouser pocket. “You can use mine if you want.”

  The two Wizards looked at each other. “That doesn’t look like any pipe I’ve ever seen,” they said together.

  Peter unscrewed the head of the bolt, and when he pulled it away, there was a mouthpiece attached to it. He unscrewed the mouthpiece and then screwed it into the place where the head once sat. He then turned the nut a little, and in doing so, he revealed a small hole, which he then screwed the head of the bolt into.

  When he held it up, the others saw their doubts laid to rest.

  Jert took the pipe from Peter and set a small amount of weed in it. From a small round vase on the table, he took a small thin strip of wood. Then using the candle beside the container, he lit the strip and then the weed. He took two long draws and passed it to Euol, who in turn passed it back to Peter.

  They sat there for most of the night, the two Wizards reminiscing about the things they used to get up to when they were kids. And they told Peter their accounts of what happened at the battle of Kealhal.

  Halfway through their talking, Euol’s wife and son joined them when the inn had shed at least half of its customers.

  The next week passed quickly and quietly, and Peter knew this was the day he would have to tell his friends whether or not he was going to the Wiz-Wit city. He went from his room and headed down to the bar.

  “Good morning,” said Kireth as she was putting the chairs down from the tables.

  “Morning,” said Peter sleepily.

  “Well, look who fell out of his flea pit,” said the innkeeper.

  “Where’s Braten?” asked the boy.

  “He’s out the front putting salt on the ground,” replied the innkeeper.

  “Snowing again last night?”

  “The snow that was already there froze over. And the last thing we want is for our costumers to fall on their arses and go sliding down the street before they get in the door.”

  “Right.”

  There was a sort pause.

  “You know what day it is, don’t you?” asked Euol.

  “Yeah, it’s Braten’s birthday, and I’ve decided to go,” replied Peter.

  “Good,” said the innkeeper joyfully.

  “That’s great,” said Kireth, a little less enthusiastically.

  “I’ll go and tell Braten if that’s okay?” said Peter.

  “That’s fine,” said Euol.

  Peter went to leave to find his friend.

  “Drago, you’ll need to be ready for one o’clock,” said the innkeeper’s wife.

  Euol shot a stern look at her. “He doesn’t need to see those things.”

  “They said they want everybody out in the town square this month,” said Kireth, “and you know what’ll happen if they find that anyone’s disobeyed.”

  “Please, don’t tell me you believe that crap they’ve spread around,” said the innkeeper.

  “They said they have two hundred friends that’ll tear this town apart and kill everyone in it,” said the woman fearfully.

  The Wizard laughed aloud, which instantly offended his wife.

  “If that’s true, then tell me why those creatures only take enough food and drink to feed only five for a month, which just happens to be the number which comes to collect their bounty.”

  “It’s better to play it safe when it comes to things like this.”

  “Where I come from, they call that spineless,” said Euol.

  Kireth turned on her heel and stormed out of the room in pure fury.

  “What’s going on?” asked Peter.

  The Wizard put out his hand toward a chair at the nearest table. Peter in his curiosity ran over and sat on it, and the Wizard took the one opposite.

  “One day, five creatures came to the town looking more than a little down in the mouth. They demanded food and drink, or they would bring two hundred troops to destroy the town,” said the innkeeper. “But as I said, they don’t take enough to feed ten a month, never mind two hundred.”

  “So you think that these things are using the town’s fear to get what they want?”

  “Exactly, and they’re getting all they ask for.”

  “What are these things, or creatures, or whatever?” asked the boy.

  “They’re known to this world as Ledgites or Lores. The reason for that is because that’s what they used to be part of, folklore and legend. It’s rumored that Salith of Dempmage had purposely opened a gateway and drawn the creatures out into our world with promises of victory, status, titles, and the fresh tender meat of their enemies. However, almost all of the promises were lies, all but the promise of the meat. Their sudden appearance shifted the balance of power, and the first armies of the Dark Lands were spat out of hell, or so some believed.

  “If only the idiots of this town would realize that if they stood up to them, all this would stop.”

  “Why don’t the townsfolk realize what their really doing?” asked the young King.

  “As you said, fear,” said Euol. “But there’s something strange about their visit, this month for they’ve never asked for everyone in the town to be there. I really think something bad is about to happen here, Drago. You know, you don’t have to go out there like the sheep that follow those things.”

  “I know, but don’t you think that we should do something?” said Peter.

  “I was hoping you’d say that. That’s why I asked Jert to come here before going to the town square.”

  “Jert believes it?”

  “Ah, no, but Huri, like Kireth, does. He only pr
etends to believe to please her. Anything for a quite life,” said the Wizard.

  “Okay, I should go and tell Braten that I’ve decided to go to Cayer-Huld. I just want to see the look on his face,” said Peter.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll call him in, cause to tell you the truth, I want to see it myself.”

  Euol called his son in out of the cold. The boy hurried in.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “I hope you have your bags packed,” said Peter.

  “You’ve decided to go?” asked Braten.

  “Yeah, you do still want to go, don’t you?” asked the King.

  “Yes, of course,” said the innkeeper’s son excitedly.

  “We have something to take care of before you leave,” said the boy’s father.

  “When you say we, I suppose you mean the two of you?” said Braten, truly hoping that he was wrong and they could perhaps need his help, especially if it involved the use of magic in any way, shape or form.

  “As a matter of fact, I mean the four of us,” said the innkeeper.

  “The four of us?” said the boy curiously.

  “Yes myself, Drago, you, and Jert.”

  “So I can help you? Is there magic involved?”

  “Yes to both questions,” said Euol. “But know that this is a serious matter, and we’ll all need to be very careful. If the townspeople see us for what we really are, all the others will be exposed with us, and we have no way of knowing how they will respond to the truth. They’ll probably try to sting us up.”

  “THEY’LL HAVE TO CATCH US FIRST!” shouted Braten at the top of his voice.

  “Shush,” said Peter and Euol together.

  “This is serious, Braten. We can’t fight these people; they’re our friends and have been for years. And I, for one, can’t and won’t.”

  “But dad, half the townspeople are Wizards and Witches.”

  “Yes, and they, like us, don’t want to hurt anyone. Besides, they’re all too scared to do anything anyway.”

  “But Drago is the King. They’ll follow him just like us,” said the boy pointing at Peter.