by Helen Jones
‘Alma, the signs are all in place.’
Alma shook her head. ‘And what does that mean?’ she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Stepping back from Thorion, arms still folded, she turned to look around the circle. ‘Don’t I get any choice in the matter? Is that how these things work?’ She felt sick, hating the thought of being pushed into something she didn’t understand or want to do. It was all very well, being presented and protected in their fancy hall, but now she felt alone and trapped, the fantasy suddenly very real. Standing nearby, Caleb grimaced in sympathy, his fists clenched at his side as though to hold them there.
‘Since the first piece of the Regalia was lost, we have been watching the stars,’ said Lord Artos, his rich voice ringing in the vaulted space, ‘working towards the moment you stepped into these lands. It can only be you who finds it, if you choose to help us.’
‘Finds what?’ cried Alma, her voice echoing in the chamber. ‘You say I’ve seen your loss, but I still don’t know what’s missing!’
‘Our sacred Regalia,’ replied Lord Artos, his face serious, his eyes never leaving Alma’s face. ‘The physical manifestation of the great life force that sustains us all. A cup, a sword and a crown – all unutterably precious, all lost.’
A sigh went around the circle as he spoke and Alma stared at him, drawn in by his melodious voice and the weight and mystery behind his words. She was near to tears, feeling all eyes upon her, her arms wrapped tight around her body as though to protect herself. She desperately wanted a chair, or to leave, or to scream. This was always how these things went in the stories and now here she was, being asked to undertake a quest. Great. Bet it would involve dragons, or bats, or spiders or something she hated. She hadn’t even wanted to come here in the first place. She had been forced through the Gate by Ellery, had just ended up here without even knowing where she was. It must be a mistake. But then the rational side of her mind took over. She could see what they meant; she just wasn’t able to accept it as yet. But the truth was that there were too many coincidences here – the way Caleb had been there to meet her, the way the prophecy so neatly described her, even the mystery of her bracelet. Unfolding her arms she took a breath. ‘OK’ she said. ‘I’m… not sure about your prophecy, or anything. I just need a minute to think about it. But could you at least please tell me something about this bracelet? I still don’t know why I have it, or what it does. And why is it burning me?’
Prophecy’s Child
Alma looked around the room, her blue eyes challenging someone, anyone to answer. The Elders’ expressions varied from hostile to sympathetic, but no one said anything. They all waited for Thorion.
‘The bracelet you wear is special for several reasons, Alma,’ he said. ‘You already know that it helps your passage through the Gates, as well as allowing you to control the time of your return to the mortal world. If you had come through the Gate without it, you could have been here only an hour but returned to find many years had passed in your own world. Its protection is vital for you, if you are to travel here again.’ Alma gulped, her eyes wide, remembering Caleb telling her about the human village.
‘So it’s sort of… a time travel device?’ she asked. There was laughter from the group but Thorion, also smiling, raised his hand and the amusement died down.
‘In a way, Alma, that is correct,’ he said, ‘as it allows you to manipulate time slightly by choosing the hour of your return to your world. However, the longer you remain here, the less leeway you have to return. Just keep that in mind.’
Alma nodded and Thorion reached out, gently taking her wrist in his strong hands, his thumbs moving over the blue bracelet stone and awakening glints of gold radiance that sparked about the room. Looking at Alma, his face grew stern. ‘The bracelet’s other gift, one perhaps even more important, is that it allows you to distinguish between those of the Light and those of the Dark. For, as you can see-’ he gestured with one hand to the group surrounding them, ‘-you cannot trust your eyes to tell you the truth of the matter.’
Alma scanned the circle of Elders. Every single one of them was completely and utterly captivating, clothed in garments of surpassing richness and elegance of design. She had to admit she would have been hard pressed to pick any one of them as being of the Dark. So much for fairy tales, where evil was usually represented by those who were ugly and twisted. Here, darkness lay beneath the surface, not so easily discerned; perhaps a more realistic way of things. She looked down at her bracelet, her brow furrowed. ‘Is it the burning sensation I feel? When one of… them gets close to me?’
The Elder closest to Alma, a vision in crimson velvet, smirked at this, and Thorion nodded, gently releasing her hand. ‘That is correct, Alma. The stone heats up in the presence of the Dark, which is why you will feel it burning against your wrist. So it is a powerful gift you carry indeed.’
‘Yes,’ said Lord Artos, who stood nearby. ‘May I?’ he asked, before coming forward to lift Alma’s wrist gently and examine the bracelet. He smiled kindly at Alma before releasing her and turning to Thorion, his face twisting with strong emotion. ‘It is as you said, Thorion, and I-’
‘I know,’ said Thorion, cutting him off with a warning glance. Alma looked at both of them, wondering what the exchange was about. Artos stared at Thorion for a moment before bowing his head and stepping back to his place in the circle. Thorion returned his attention to Alma.
‘As you just saw, Alma, both Artos and I were able to handle your bracelet without any adverse effects. But if any of the Dark were to touch the stone, its power would be lost.’
‘My mother told me…’ started Alma, perplexed. ‘She told me my father gave it to her, that he said it would protect her. Is that why she wanted me to wear it?’
‘Your mother is a wise woman, Alma,’ said Adara, smiling. Then, intercepting a glance from Thorion, she added, ‘She just wants you to be safe, as all mothers do.’
Alma wasn’t buying any of this. It was obvious something was going on here. Then another Elder spoke. ‘Alma, perhaps it is time we told you the truth about your bracelet.’
Someone, Alma thought it was Adara, gasped, while Thorion snapped, ‘Gwenene! This is neither the time or the place!’
Ignoring him, the Elder moved towards Alma and the stone on her wrist started to burn, so hot she almost cried out. Yet it was hard to believe Gwenene was of the Dark. Beautiful as moonlight on snow, she had long dark hair and a delicate face accentuated with eyes blue as the sky, or as the stone Alma wore on her wrist. Suddenly scared, Alma put one hand over her bracelet, flinching at the heat. The woman laughed.
‘I do not wish to touch your bracelet, Alma, despite what you may think. I would not dare to do so… here.’ Her voice was lilting, seductive, but the implied threat was clear. Thorion stood rigid, restrained only by Adara’s hand on his arm, while Artos had taken a step forward, his face watchful. Alma stood alone in the centre of the floor, mosaic vines and flowers curling beneath her feet as the Dark Elder circled her gracefully. Her words were as sinuous as her movements and the silk of her gown rustled as she moved like some beautiful, dangerous animal prowling around its prey.
‘So, Alma, you are wondering how it is that your bracelet made its way from the Eternal Realms to your own sorry land, and how it is that your mother would come to hand it to you.’ Her tone was insinuating, inflected with some private humour.
Alma just nodded, her mouth gone dry.
‘Well, these talaith bracelets, these so-called treasures of the Light, make their way out of this land so easily, it seems.’ Gwenene paused to look accusingly at Thorion, who simply stared back, impassive. She moved behind Alma and trailed her cool hand across her red hair. Alma shivered, though she fought to hide it. This seemed to amuse the woman even more. She moved closer to Alma, brushing her hair aside, almost whispering in her ear. ‘You see, when the Light fall in love with one of your humans-’ another sideways glance at Thorion ‘-they wish to protect their loved one and so they give
them one of these bracelets, so that not only can their precious one cross over when they wish, but they are also safe from the Dark.’ Gwenene laughed, a harsh sound, while across the room, Lord Denoris bared his teeth in response, less a smile than a snarl.
Alma struggled to keep her breath from gasping, her shoulders tight. As the Elder moved away from her again she rubbed her sore wrist and glanced at Caleb, whose usually amiable face was hard with anger. Gwenene continued: ‘Not that it would help, not really, if the Dark wanted you.’ She smiled again, showing her teeth, obviously amused by the expression on Alma’s face, which she was unable to control as her fear took over.
‘Enough!’ snapped an enraged Lord Artos, but Gwenene was not to be deterred.
‘So you see,’ she went on in her hissing voice, blue eyes narrowed in her exquisite face. ‘Humans who are given these bracelets treasure them, not just because of the powers they bestow, but also because of the precious memories they represent.’ This last she said with a slight sneer, which pushed Alma over the edge from fear to anger. She thought of her mother, the pain and tears in her eyes as she spoke of Alma’s dead father, and her temper flared. Gritting her teeth, she held up her hand, signalling for Gwenene to pause. This earned a half-smile from Thorion that he quickly concealed. Summoning her courage she faced the Dark Elder, her chin held high.
‘So what you are saying is that someone of the Light loved a member of my father’s family and that’s how they came to have the bracelet?’ she said, challenging Gwenene, unwilling to submit to this woman of the Dark, to her magic and beauty and persuasive tones.
The Elder paused in front of Alma. Lifting one perfect eyebrow, she half smiled then, glancing again at Thorion, nodded her head. ‘Yes,’ she said, still seeming highly amused. ‘Why not? Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.’
Laughing, she moved across the room towards Lord Denoris, stopping momentarily in front of Thorion who looked at her for a moment before nodding his head slightly, his face unreadable. Beside him Adara glared at the other Elder, but said only, ‘Thank you, Gwenene, for that clarification.’
Alma, alone again in the centre of the circle, was shaking, overcome with a mixture of rage and confusion. She‘d had enough. She saw Lord Artos, his face filled with pity and concern, then took in the other Elders, most of whom regarded her expectantly, the combined power of their gaze once again almost too much to bear. Then Artos came closer to her. There was a silence in the room.
‘Will you do it, Alma? Will you help us?’ His voice was gentle, his lined face kind, and Alma just stared at him. She knew that this was the moment she was supposed to speak out, to say, ‘Yes, I will help you,’ but found the words wouldn’t come.
Then Gwenene said quietly, ‘Or you could help me, pretty Alma.’
Alma’s eyes widened. Something about the woman made her feel sick, despite her beauty. She saw Artos glare at Gwenene, his body tensing, and felt caught in the middle, unable to move. Seeing her distress yet another Elder, stepped forward.
‘You don’t have to help us, Alma,’ said this Elder, her voice lilting. She was obviously of the Light, as Alma felt no response from her bracelet. Like all the others, she was beautiful, with long silver hair pulled back from the fine bones of her face, dressed in violet draperies that matched her eyes.
‘No,’ boomed another voice. ‘Nothing is written until it has happened.’ This from a tall man, handsome and strongly built, dressed in magnificent gold that shone against skin so dark it seemed to absorb light.
‘Yes,’ said another voice. ‘Lord Meredan is right. You could leave here, after agreeing to help us, and be hit by a bus tomorrow. Sometimes the worst things happen to the nicest people.’ Lord Denoris came near, close enough to loom over her. Tall and muscular, his blond hair was swept back from his chiselled face, his mouth smooth and sensual. His eyes were dark green and his smile did not reach them. Alma, filled with a strange mix of fear and attraction, met his green gaze for a moment.
‘There is no need to frighten her,’ said Thorion sharply. The blonde Elder glowered at him. ‘What Denoris means is that there are any number of factors that could change things – you could decide not to help us, or you could, as he so regretfully put it, meet with an accident or some other misfortune that stops you achieving your potential. This is the way of things – we can see so far, but no one can tell what decisions may be made that will change things, whether it is to follow another course of action or simply step into a road at the wrong moment.’
Alma frowned. This was all so confusing! And she tried not to look at Gwenene, who was waiting, blue eyes glinting in the light from the great windows. ‘So, you mean I can choose? I’m not, like, locked into this prophecy?’
‘No,’ said the dark-skinned Lord Meredan. ‘You are free to choose, as are all humans. It is your birth right.’
‘But I don’t understand!’ cried Alma, losing her temper. ‘All this talk about fate and destiny and prophecy, then you say I can just choose! Is it one or the other?’
The Elders regarded her gravely, but not without sympathy. Finally Adara spoke. ‘It is given to none of us to see the full picture,’ she said gently. ‘At the most we are offered glimpses of a pattern – all we can say is that you must trust yourself. While events have conspired to bring you here to us, the future is still open. We know what might happen, but it can all change in an instant based on your decision. You must search yourself for the answer. It is all we can tell you, with any certainty.’
Frustrated and near tears, Alma gazed at the floor, taking in the swirling patterns of stone. Next to her she could sense Caleb’s sympathy, his warm energy. Ugh, this was so frustrating! Just her luck, really, that she would find a magical enchanted land of her very own but then discover she was some sort of long-awaited heroine. It would be so easy to walk away but that would mean she couldn’t come here again, at least not in good conscience. Raising her head, she looked at each of the faces around her before her eyes came to rest on Thorion and Caleb. Both regarded her with barely concealed hope. Suddenly, she wanted to do it. When would she ever get the chance to do something like this again, to make such a big difference? The fact that it all felt unreal, as though she was observing from a distance, helped.
Taking a deep breath she spoke, wanting to say it before she changed her mind. ‘Okay. Um, I’ll do it,’ she said, her voice husky. ‘I’ll help, I guess,’ she added. Her hands were shaking and she fought for control, not wanting to let them know how scared she was. Lifting her chin slightly she spoke, louder this time. ‘I will help the Light with their quest to restore the Regalia.’ There. That sounded a bit more formal, a bit more like something you’d hear in a story, even if she had stumbled a little on the last word. The unreality of her situation hit her again and she swayed. But the reaction to her words was instant.
‘Light be praised,’ said Thorion, stepping forward to place both hands on Alma’s shoulders, his face transformed by joy. Around the circle the relief was apparent for most of those assembled. But not for all. Denoris, Gwenene and another Lord, whose high cheekbones, almond eyes and olive skin put Alma in mind of an ancient warrior, stood together, their faces hard as they looked at Alma.
‘My Lords,’ said Thorion, his expression triumphant. ‘Alma has chosen. Let it be written in our records that the Light is moving, to claim the Regalia and restore the Balance. May it be so.’ And, bowing his head for a moment, he closed his eyes, as did the others around the circle. It was a solemn moment, broken only when Caleb grinned at Alma, his pleasure at her decision apparent. Inside, Alma felt a churning fear mixed with excitement. She hadn’t the slightest idea where to look for the missing items, despite the Elders’ insistence that she was the one from the Prophecy.
***
Thorion disbanded the Council circle and bade farewell to the assembled Elders, discreetly signalling for Adara, Artos and the golden-clad Meredan to remain. Once the others had left the hall, Alma let out a breath she hadn’t realised s
he was holding. Adara came over to Alma and hugged her impulsively. ‘I’m so glad you are here,’ she said with a smile. Surprised, Alma returned the hug, not sure what to say.
‘Let us adjourn to one of the council chambers,’ said Thorion. ‘We’ll be much more comfortable there.’ He summoned one of the waiting servants and ordered refreshments to be brought. All started to move except Caleb, who looked around uncertainly. Noticing his hesitation, Thorion beckoned him.
‘Caleb,’ he smiled, ‘without your help we would not have succeeded today. Please, join us.’ Caleb’s face lit up as he joined the group and Alma smiled, pleased for him. ‘Besides,’ laughed Thorion, looking at him affectionately, ‘there is not much point keeping you out of this meeting, as I am sure Alma will tell you everything anyway.’
The other Elders laughed, while Alma blushed. Caleb grinned back at her. Huh. Well, Thorion was probably right, she thought to herself. She realised then how much she had been relying on Caleb, his steady presence helping her to cope with her strange reality. She looked at him gratefully as he took her arm.
They followed the Elders through a stone archway into a small wood-panelled chamber furnished with comfortable armchairs. The others were already seated, so Alma chose the vacant chair closest to her, Caleb taking another nearby. She sat back in relief and surveyed the room, struck once again by the combined beauty of the Elders. She didn’t know what Caleb had been on about earlier – he looked just as good as the others as far as she was concerned. Smiling to herself at the thought, she took a sip of the drink that had been placed next to her by one of the silent servants. Cool and refreshing, it slipped down her throat, making her realise how thirsty she’d been.
‘So, my friends, here we are,’ said Thorion, leaning forward as he looked around the group. Smiles greeted his statement.
