“The it is a hero!” Alena replied. “A great warrior from a place called Earth. For generations our people have awaited the it! And he is what you should have been!”
“Well I am from Earth,” Paul said, shaking his head and raising his hands.
“You see?” Sarrac smiled. “He is the child of prophecy whether or not he knows it.”
“The prophecy said his title would be it,” Alena replied. “It's not. He is not the it.”
“What prophecy?” the young man asked.
“The first great prophecy of deliverance,” she answered. “Sarrac, tell him.”
“Certainly,” he replied before clearing his throat. “The prophecy states:
The child of the deaf shall hear clarion call,
And the son of the blind see our dread plight.
The daughter of darkness will then finally fall,
When the heart of the coward shall take up the fight,
And the rays of the dawn shall at last shatter night.
The place he will find, where she’s hidden her soul,
And her heart he will pierce, which long has been cold.
Fire will consume her, like a smith’s blazing coal,
Then vengeance she’ll taste, deserved from of old,
Dealt by lips of the righteous, and hands of the bold.
You shall summon this son from the land of his birth,
At the ruins of Daelcast, now called the tower.
When the moons are alight you must call him from Earth,
While the stars are aligned to mark the true hour,
To bring us this son in strength and in power.
What starts as a whisper will end as a roar,
Chains will be broken, our people set free,
The side of the light will win battle and war,
When eyes of the blind at last learn to see,
And the title he bears from his home is it.”
“It was pretty good up 'til the end,” Paul observed. “The rhyme and meter were right on, but they choked on that last line.”
“It's not about poetry, you idiot!” Alena snapped. “It's about light and life and hope! That's what you were supposed to be to our people! But you're not!”
“Okay,” the young man said, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Let's say that this isn't all just some wild dream brought on by a bad microwave dinner...”
“It's not,” Sarrac replied. “This is no dream. And it certainly hasn't been brought on by eating microwaves. Whatever those are...”
“Right...” Paul said slowly. “So, assuming that's true: where am I and how did I get here?”
“You're in the land of Mal'Creal,” Sarrac replied. “In the world of Zanoth.”
“And we summoned you here,” Alena explained. “Well, we summoned the it, but you're what showed up...”
“If you say so...” the young man replied shaking his head in disbelief. “And why would you want to summon this it anyway?”
“Sarrac just explained that!” she asserted.
“Let's just say I'm slow witted and you guys explain it again.”
“It's all in the prophecy,” Sarrac replied. “You... Well, that is to say, the it, comes from Earth, born of the deaf and blind. Or, in more direct terms, born of people who can't see or understand magic.”
“Or even believe in it,” Paul added.
“Certainly,” Sarrac agreed. “Either way, the it was to be summoned here because he's capable of destroying Myra Kel Marran. At least, that's our interpretation.”
“Who is that? And how did you come to interpret it that way?”
“She's the lich who rules this province, and has for more than a hundred years,” Sarrac replied. “Being a lich, her soul is hidden in a phylactery and she doesn't need a living heart to survive.”
“Man,” the young man said shaking his head, “Gary Gygax must have seriously been a seer.”
“Who?”
“One of the guys that invented D&D.”
“What?”
“Forget it,” Paul replied. “So the it kills this lich, then what happens?”
“Hope will finally dawn for our people.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
“Hope, you fool!” Alena snapped. “You do know what hope is? It's hard for our people to remember, but surely you can!”
“I get the idea that you feel this is somehow my fault,” the young man replied.
“Isn't it?!?!” she asked excitedly, glaring at him as she spoke. “We summoned the it and we get you instead! How are we supposed to feel?!?!”
“Well I'll tell you this, sweetheart,” he replied, raising his voice as he spoke, “I sure didn't ask to be here. I ain't the guy you're looking for? Well I'm real sorry about that sister, but you ain't exactly the girl of my dreams either! If I was calling the shots you'd be about twenty years younger and at least two points hotter!”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her voice edged.
“I mean I got news for you,” he said, glaring at her in turn, “you ain't no child of the prophecy either. So that makes us just about even, except for the fact that I ain't no kidnapper. You drag me into this nightmare without so much as a do ya mind? and then get all huffy with me 'cause I ain't the hero you're looking for?!?! Wow lady, if you weren't a lady I'd tell you what I really think!”
“He makes a fair point,” Sarrac said softly.
“No,” Alena sighed. “He makes an excellent point... Paul, I apologize.”
“No worries,” he replied with a slight smile. “I know all about disappointment.”
“Not on this scale,” she almost whispered.
“You see, Paul,” Sarrac said, before taking a deep breath, “centuries ago Zanoth completely fell to the undead. Our world is ruled by vampires and liches who command legions of other undead. The living are merely livestock to them, possessions to feed on. However, with the aid of the it we will break their shackles and destroy their eternal night in the light of day.”
“So it's never day here?” the young man asked.
“It's a figure of speech,” Sarrac explained. “Although some of the most powerful vampires do wrap their homes in spells of darkness for protection. In any event, the point is that the it is our savior and we desperately need him.”
“Well I'm sorry you got the wrong guy.”
“I don't think we did,” Sarrac said, shaking his head.
“Sarrac, you cannot think Paul is the it,” Alena asserted.
“But I do,” he replied.
“What in all of Zanoth would make you think that?” she laughed.
“I agree with her,” Paul interjected.
“Well there's one undeniable fact,” Sarrac replied. “We summoned Paul here when both moons were full and the stars were aligned in the House of Sol. Alena, the circle has been drawn nine times over the past hundred years. Nine times. Never before has it summoned anyone.”
“The time had not yet come,” she replied.
“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “And now the time has come. That's why Paul is here.”
“No,” she replied shaking her head. “We accidentally summoned Paul because the time has not come.”
“What's the House of Sol?” the young man asked.
“An area of the sky,” Sarrac said dismissively. “It has to do with astrology. Either way, he has got to be the it.”
“He can't be!”
“Sorry to interrupt again,” Paul said, “but I honestly agree with Alena. And that being the case, if it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate it if you'd just send me home now. I've got to be at work in a few hours anyway. And no way Joey is going to believe any of this, ghosts or no ghosts...”
In reply Sarrac and Alena simply gazed at one another in silence.
“So...” the young man said slowly. “You won't send me home?”
“Can't would be a more accurate word,” Sarrac replied.
“Why not?”
> “Mainly because we don't know how,” Alena admitted.
“You've gotta be kidding me!”
“Sadly, no,” Sarrac replied. “From the tone of the prophecy we felt that the it would be happy to live amongst us as our hero. Or that he would be able to return home when his task was complete.”
“I see...” Paul replied, gazing above into the star filled sky. “So, I'm trapped here then. Trapped in the world of the living dead just filling up the time until something catches and eats me.”
“Not if you are the it,” Sarrac asserted, trying to offer the young man some encouragement. “If you are then you might return home after the prophecy is fulfilled.”
“Hmmm,” Paul said. “I'm going to say a series of words. I want you to stop me if you know what any of them mean.”
“Okay...” Alena replied.
“Good,” Paul nodded. “Internet... Penicillin... Dentist... Electricity... Plumbing... No? Nothing? Yeah... That just kind of figures don't it...”
“I'm sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “What are they?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “Nothing at all. Just the things that separate man from the apes. That's all.”
“And what are the apes?” Sarrac asked.
“Forget I mentioned it,” the young man said rubbing his forehead. “Okay. So, to get out of here I would have to kill this hundred year old lich chick? Is that about the shape of it?”
“We can't be sure doing that would actually send you home,” Alena pointed out. “However, it would make the world a better place to live in if you end up stuck here.”
“Of course,” he replied rolling his eyes. “And being a lich I guess she has all kinds of evil powers and what have you?”
“Certainly,” Sarrac nodded. “She's a mistress of death. Her powers are many, including the ability to create and control undead, and slay the living instantly using dark magic.”
“And killing her will be rather difficult,” Alena added.
“Sure, sure,” Paul replied. “What with her phylactery and all that. If we were to kill her then her soul would just bring her body back from the dead a few days later and we'd have to do it all over again. Pretty standard D&D stuff there.”
“Yes,” Alena agreed. “However, it would greatly weaken her for some time.”
“Yeah. I can see how getting killed would do that to you. Of course, here's another idea: we could just run away instead.”
“What?!?!” Alena exclaimed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he replied turning his face to hers, “that we could just head to some tropical island somewhere and do our best to live out the rest of our days on some undead-free beach.”
“Are you a coward?!?!”
“No,” the young man replied. “I'm a computer programmer.”
“And what does that mean?” she asked.
“It means that my killing lich skills are rather limited,” he explained. “You should have summoned some martial artist or a cop or something. Or maybe even a really dedicated cos-player.”
“We should have summoned the it!” she replied with a tone of annoyance in her voice.
“I couldn't agree more,” he smiled. “But you didn't. And Paul Stevens has no desire to get black magicked to death. And you'll thank me once we're breathing in that salty sea air. So, what do you say we kick this getting ourselves killed thing in the head and try to make a run for it?”
“I see you're point,” Sarrac admitted.
“You do?!?!” Alena exclaimed.
“I do,” he nodded. “Paul doesn't feel ready to face this. In his mind he's not a warrior and there's no point in throwing his life away for nothing.”
“Exactly!” the young man agreed.
“However,” Sarrac continued, “there's no point in running, Paul. There's nowhere to go. And you really don't want to try to cross the ocean as things stand now. The seas have suffered as much as the rest of Zanoth from the undead. If you don't like zombies you don't even want to try to imagine what's out there beneath the surface of the water.”
“Yeah,” the young man sighed. “I should have guessed that.”
“So, the only way back is forward if you see what I mean,” Sarrac continued. “The only way for you to escape this nightmare is to help us destroy it.”
“So, for real, there's absolutely no other possible way out?”
“You could offer yourself up as food to one of the Vampire lords,” Alena suggested. “They usually kill you quickly if you do that.”
“Pass,” Paul replied. “What's option two?”
“Well, I would consider it option one,” Sarrac pointed out. “And it's to try to fulfill the prophecy.”
“And how do we do that?” the young man asked. “We just go stab Miss Marran in the head?”
“Hardly,” Sarrac chuckled. “As far as we can tell the it is supposed to collect a number of items to help him overcome the darkness.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Other prophecies.”
“Okay,” Paul replied. “Such as?”
“We can go into that in the morning,” Sarrac said. “For the moment we need to get some rest. We don't want the undead coming up on us when we're too tired to flee or fight.”
“I can see that,” Paul replied. “But I have one more question before we go to sleep.”
“And what's that?” Alena asked.
“Why is it you guys speak English?”
“What's English?”
“The language we're speaking.”
“No,” she replied shaking her head. “We're speaking common. And we decided to do that because we hoped you would speak it.”
“So... You're telling me that common and English are exactly the same?”
“I couldn't say. I've never heard English spoken.”
“I'm speaking it now.”
“Then, yes, I guess they're exactly the same. Except for words like apes and Internet anyway. And what do those mean?”
“Don't worry about that,” he replied. “What would you have been speaking if you hadn't thought I might speak common?”
“Ogre.”
“Why ogre?”
“Well,” she laughed, “because we're ogres.”
“No you're not.”
“Yes we are,” Sarrac chuckled.
“No,” Paul replied. “Ogres are... well... ugly and not nearly so human.”
“According to who?” Alena asked, a touch of injured pride in her voice.
“Oh,” the young man replied, “Gary Gygax, I guess. Either way, you guys are ogres, then?”
“Yes,” Alena said, “is that a problem?”
“Not at all,” Paul smiled. “It's just surprising, that's all.”
“Didn't you wonder why we're so much bigger than you?” Sarrac asked.
“Not really. I mean, you're about six-foot six, but that's not unhuman, if you see what I mean. And Alena's a little tall for a woman, and very muscular, but she's still an inch or two shorter than me.”
“Well we're not big for our people,” Sarrac said. “We're right about average, really.”
“Sarrac's even a little on the short side,” Alena added with a smile.
“Not by much,” he chuckled. “And none of that matters right now. We need sleep. We're likely to have a long day tomorrow.”
Mere moments after this conversation Alena and Paul were sleeping soundly. For his part Sarrac kept watch. If time allowed he would sleep sometime the following day. If not, he would simply go without.
Chapter 2: A Time To Haggle
“Well that was probably the best two hours sleep I ever had,” Paul said, squinting up at the pale rays of the rising sun.
“It was only about an hour and a half,” Sarrac corrected.
“Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Then it was even better than I thought!”
“We'll be able to rest later this afternoon,” Alena assured him with a stretch. “We won't make it far enou
gh to head into the swamp today and we're certainly not going to spend the night there.”
“Obviously not,” the young man nodded. “Oh, and why in the name of everything good are we heading for a swamp?”
“It was part of our original plan,” she explained. “If we had summoned the it...”
“Which we did,” Sarrac interrupted with a smile.
“Either way,” she continued, “we believe one of the items of prophecy is in the swamp of Fralmoor.”
“Actually we know that,” Sarrac corrected. “That part of the prophecy is perfectly clear.”
“Alright,” Paul sighed, slowly climbing to his feet. “Hit me with it?”
“What?”
“Tell me the prophecy,” he replied. “I might as well hear it.”
“Certainly,” Sarrac smiled. “The prophecy of The Blade says:
From the hands of the hag will he draw forth the blade,
Which she stole from the fallen, while searching for bread,
Then will serve the true purpose for which it was made,
Sending servants of darkness to halls of the dead,
They will fall at his hands; pierced heart, severed head.
In the swamps Fralmoor will you find her frail shack,
When the child of the blind has made his way here.
He must boldly march forth without turning back,
And approach the dire mistress without sign of fear.
Then sword shall be found that was sought by the seer.”
“Alright,” the young man nodded. “You want to explain that one to me?”
“Roughly three centuries ago,” Sarrac began, “there was a fierce battle on the outskirts of the swamp between an army of the living and another of the dead. The paladin Cal Morrin was killed and his body lay undiscovered for days. His sword, Telseir, was stolen during that time and was never recovered. The seer explains that it was found by a hag while she was collecting food from the battlefield...”
“Food?” Paul interrupted. “From the battlefield? As in food?”
“As in food,” Sarrac nodded with a bit of a grimace. “But the end of the prophecy explains that she'll offer the sword to you.”
“To the it,” Alena corrected.
“So...” Paul said slowly. “You expect me go ask this hag, the one that was grocery shopping on the battlefield, to just give me the sword.”
The Tower of Daelfaun (The Tales of Zanoth Book 1) Page 2
