Ancient Prophecy

by Richard S. Tuttle

  Alex looked over at Shanor who had climbed down off Oscar’s back. “Shanor, see if Jenneva needs any help with the baby.”

  Alex led Oscar over to a bench by Kaz and Yorra. “I know more than you think, Oscar,” sighed Alex. “Somehow Egam knew of events here and warned us of Sarac’s moves. What is more important than Targa’s troubles right now is getting Callie and your baby to safety.”

  “Targa’s troubles and mine are the same,” declared Prince Oscar. “What do Callie and the baby have to do with anything?”

  Alex told Oscar about the ancient prophecy and Alutar. “So you can see why it is important to make sure that your family is safe.”

  Oscar looked drawn and nodded. “I will send her and the baby to Grakus. We just bought a nice villa there and I don’t think anyone knows about it yet. I’ll make sure that no one does.”

  “You should go with them, Oscar,” clarified Alex. “There is nothing you can do in Targa to stop the prophecy.”

  “I may not be able to change the prophecy,” explained Prince Oscar, “but I can still minimize the unnecessary loss of Targan lives. If Sordoa and Cordonia are willing to be puppets for Sarac, it will be their blood that is left on the battlefield, not ours.”

  “You’re right, of course,” accepted Colonel Tork. “I have been waiting for Jenneva and the baby to feel better before starting out myself, but I guess I have no time left. I have to go to Trekum and make sure Aurora’s child is kept safe. I don’t know how I can accomplish that. I know she will recognize me the moment she sees me, but Jenneva is not yet ready for travel.”

  “Trekum is a long way off, Alex,” ventured Prince Oscar. “Why don’t you let the Spiders handle it?”

  “I can be in Trekum before you get a message to the Spiders,” offered Alex. “Time is very important now. Things are progressing faster than I thought. Still, I should have time for my manners. Let me introduce you to Kaz and Yorra.”

  Alex stood and pulled Prince Oscar over to the unicorns. “They can mind speak, Oscar. The black one is Shamta Kaz and the white is Yorra. Shamta is their title for Prince, so you too have something in common.”

  Kaz, Yorra, this is my friend, Prince Oscar of Targa.

  Prince Oscar, it is a pleasure to meet a friend of Alex and Jenneva.

  Oscar bowed to the unicorns and felt slightly silly, not knowing what the proper protocol was for addressing a unicorn Prince. Shamta Kaz, Yorra, your greeting warms my heart. Indeed, it is my pleasure to meet you.

  We do not stand on ceremonies, Prince Oscar. Yorra and I greet you as a friend. Perhaps one day we will have time to become better acquainted.

  Prince Oscar smiled as Alex pulled him back towards the building. “You really have no time left, Oscar. Go and get your family to safety. We can talk later.”

  “Amazing creatures,” commented Oscar, “but how do they help you get to Trekum quickly? Are they that much faster than horses?”

  Alex chuckled. “They can fly, Oscar, but yes, even on the ground they are considerably faster than horses. Now, get moving.”

  Prince Oscar stared at the unicorns and waved goodbye even as Alex was pulling him back towards the study.

  “We have a Door to Trekum now,” remembered Oscar. “I can get word to the Spiders through it, or rather, Larc can. He has access to the Royal Palace now through a contract for supplies.”

  Alex skidded to a halt. “That’s great!” he exclaimed. “I really didn’t feel very good about leaving Jenneva, anyway. Shanor is a great help, but I just feel better being here myself.”

  “Okay,” smiled Oscar, “but I still have to be moving. I will call on you after I get Callie and the baby off to Grakus.”

  Oscar disappeared through the Door and proceeded to Dalek. There he hastily packed traveling bags and bundled his family through the Doors to Tagaret. Callie and the baby rested while Oscar arranged passage on the Princess Lidia, the Targan Royal Yacht. He also ordered a Door placed on board the ship. On the way to the ship, Prince Oscar explained the prophecy to Princess Callie. Callie’s eyes welled up with tears as she clutched her baby closer to her.

  “Nobody is going to use my child as a tool for their own ends,” she declared.

  “Nobody knows of our villa in Grakus,” soothed the Crown Prince. “You will be safe there. I will join you when I can, but first I must do all that I can to provide for our people.”

  Oscar kissed his child and embraced his wife, holding her for a long time until the Captain coaxed Callie on board. Oscar stood and watched the ship sail out of the harbor, hoping that it would not be too long before he was reunited with his family. With his thoughts as dark as the western sky, Prince Oscar of Targa shuffled his way back to the Royal Palace to begin preparations for the coming war, wondering which neighboring country would be the first to attack.

  Once through the gates of the Palace, Oscar hurried to the King’s Study and ordered a meeting with General Gregor, Lord Habas, and Larc. It took nearly an hour for the group to assemble and Prince Oscar spent the time studying the wall map. When everyone was present he told of his conversation with Alex and the details of the prophecy. While he trusted every person in the room, he told them only that he had sent his family away and did not mention their destination. The fewer people who knew where to look for his child, the better he felt. Only Alex and the Captain of the Princess Lidia would know where they were and even they would not know of the exact location. Grakus was a very large island.

  After the situation was laid out for the members of the group, Prince Oscar instructed Larc to get someone to protect Aurora’s child. King Byron ordered the recall of General Clark to help map out battle strategies and General Gregor canceled all military leaves and ordered the army to standby for deployment.

  John Secor entered the Office of Military Intelligence and asked for General Fernandez. Within moments he was shown into a lavish wood paneled office that was lined with bookshelves and told to take a seat. Instead of sitting, John walked around the room browsing the many volumes of books. The General appeared to have practically every book ever written on military strategy and tactics.

  The door opened and the General marched in and greeted John. “John Secor, the painter. Welcome. Please have a seat.”

  The General positioned a chair for John and then set himself behind the desk. “Are you interested in military strategy, John?”

  “Not really,” admitted John. “I am amazed at your book collection, though. I was not aware that military strategy was such a lengthy topic.”

  “Ah,” smiled the General, “but the man who refused the Throne of Targa has not come to my office to discuss military strategy, have you? I also doubt that you desire to paint a portrait of me at my President’s request, so perhaps you can enlighten me?”

  John detected the innuendo regarding the President and could tell that the General was not entirely happy with the peoples’ vote. “No, General, I am not a painter today, but a patriot of Cordonia. As you are aware of my refusal to wear the Crown of Targa, you should also be aware of the reason. I am a painter and my home is here in Kantor. I am Cordonian and while I may have close ties to Targa, my concerns today are centered on the welfare of Cordonia’s citizens.”

  “As are mine,” interrupted the General.

  “I am sure that they are, General. That is what brings me to your office. I hope that I may speak confidentially.”

  The General nodded and John Secor continued. “As I stated, I have close ties to Targa, the Crown Prince being my son-in-law. I have received disturbing information from Targa regarding our new President.”

  General Fernandez straightened in his chair and struggled to hide his interest. “And what does Targa think about our elections?”

  “A number of things,” John offered. “They believe that President Mitchel will force Cordonia to declare war against Targa. A war that will be devastating to both countries.” John watched for a reaction from the General, but the Intelligence Officer did not flin
ch. “They also believe that President Mitchel stole the election.”

  General Fernandez’s eyes grew wide. “And what makes them think that?” he asked calmly.

  “A number of reasons,” John stated, “For one, Mitchel is a known Black Devil, a member of Sarac’s Inner Circle.”

  “I was led to believe that the magician’s chosen few were banished along with him?” queried the General.

  “Indeed they were,” remarked Secor. “It would appear that Sarac has found a way back. His plans include the takeover of both Cordonia and Sordoa. It would seem that he has accomplished both.”

  General Fernandez could no longer hide his interest. He had heard reports of Ali Kasim getting married and declaring himself the Emperor, but he also knew Ali Kasim was no magician. “So Ali Kasim is a Black Devil, too?”

  “Not at all,” answered John Secor, “but Ali Kasim does not rule Sordoa. He died quite recently and the nation is ruled by the Empress, a woman who was one of Mordac’s closest associates. She calls herself Miriam Rakech, but we know her as Aurora.”

  General Fernandez stared at John Secor for a few long moments. He had not received any word of the Emperor’s death, but he had known of Miriam Rakech and could find no records of anyone with that name. He was aware that Aurora had not been killed in the raid on Mordac’s castle, but that proved nothing. “How can they be sure that Sarac is free?”

  John reached into his pouch and extracted the vial of acid and a piece of gold that he had already tested and placed them on the General’s desk. “This is a piece of gold from my shop. The vial contains a strong acid, but it will not harm the gold, not this gold. Sarac financed his campaigns using gold from his Universe. The gold appears to be identical to our gold, but it is not. One drop of this acid and his gold will dissolve.”

  The General rose and strode over to a cabinet and grabbed a tray and placed it on his desk. He picked up John’s gold and fondled it. He placed the gold on the tray and picked up the vial. He dropped a small amount of acid on the gold and watched it drip onto the tray. Next, he opened a desk drawer and removed a small pouch. He withdrew several small pieces of gold from the pouch and lined them up on the tray. Moving from piece to piece, he placed a small drop of acid on each gold piece. Out of the six gold pieces, two disintegrated.

  The General pushed the vial of acid back to John Secor. “This is not really proof of your claims,” he said. “Even if President Mitchel bought things with fake gold, it is not really a matter for Military Intelligence.”

  “How about the murders of Alvira and Rivera then,” suggested the painter? “Do you really believe that those two candidates would back Mitchel? Where are they now that the election is over? Please, General Fernandez, do not forget the ability of a Black Devil to assume another person’s identity after their death.”

  The General cleaned up the tray in the sink and returned the gold pieces to his pouch. He laid John’s gold piece on the desk and pushed it towards the painter. These actions bought him a little time to digest what Secor was telling him. He had tried to locate the two missing candidates and they could not be found, but he had no indication that they had been murdered. Still, Fernandez had never bought the idea of them willingly backing Mitchel.

  “John,” the General probed, “even if I believe everything that you have said. What do you expect me to do?”

  “I don’t know,” John sighed. “I have every trust in Suarez, but no one would believe this information if it came from him. I don’t know who I would even trust other than yourself. My main fear is the starting of another war. I don’t want to witness the deaths of thousands of soldiers on both sides. Perhaps I thought you could avoid that somehow. Either ignore the orders or delay the deployment of forces or something.”

  General Fernandez stared at John Secor. “Do you know that what you are suggesting is treason?”

  “It is not a treason against the country or the people,” declared Secor. “You’ve been very good with your emotions, General. You haven’t in any way indicated that you are readying for war, but I know you are. Targa knows you are. Can you really sit there and allow thousands of good men to die because you fail to see the truth when it is staring you in the face?”

  General Fernandez smiled sadly at the painter as he rose from behind the desk. “John, do not speak of this to anyone else. I promise you nothing, but I know that you care for the Cordonian people. If you care equally for the Targans, I cannot fault you for that. Know that I care for the people, too. Go now, get back to your shop and keep quiet.”

  The General showed John Secor to the door of his office and returned to his desk to dwell on matters of treason.

  John was frustrated. He knew General Fernandez was a good man, but he also knew that he was a loyal military officer. John could not figure out which way he would go. Before John reached the Palace gates, two soldiers intercepted him. They told him that the President wished to see him. John had no choice but to follow. He couldn’t believe that Fernandez had betrayed him. He didn’t know if the General eventually would, but John could have been seized in the General’s office if that was the case.

  John had been in the Presidential Palace many times and knew the layout fairly well. The soldiers were not taking him to any of the rooms where the President could normally be found. Indeed, the soldiers escorted John Secor to a cell in the dungeon and locked him in bracelets and anklets.

  John did not have long to wait before President Mitchel showed up. What made John shiver, though, was the President’s companion. Dalgar produced a set of keys and entered the cell before the President.

  “You seem to work for a great number of rulers these days,” spat John.

  “I’m a popular man,” snickered Dalgar. “You avoided the Black Devils fairly well the last time, but now it is different. We have come to ask you a few basic questions. Answer them and maybe you’ll go free. Refuse and you will wish the Black Devils had killed you long ago.”

  “You might as well kill me now,” braved John. “I will tell you nothing.”

  Mitchel pulled a stool out of the corner and made himself comfortable. Dalgar flashed a knife off of his belt and laughed.

  “I want the Book of the Beginning,” began Mitchel. “Tell me where I can find it and you can go free when we have retrieved it.”

  John clamped his mouth shut and refused to talk. Dalgar took his knife and, starting at John’s neck, sliced the length of John’s arm, slicing clean through the fabric of the painter’s tunic and slightly into his arm.

  John gritted his teeth to ease the pain. Mitchel repeated the question and Dalgar repeated the cutting on John’s other side. John’s tunic slid to the floor as blood dripped down both arms. John clamped his mouth shut so tight he felt his teeth would shatter, but he refused to utter a syllable.

  “John, John,” whispered Mitchel, “it’s only a book. We know Jenneva has it. Just tell us where we can find Jenneva and we can stop all of this pain.”

  John remained silent and Dalgar cut a deep slash across the captive’s bare chest. Mitchel was amusing himself by going through the contents of John’s pouch and picked up the vial. He held the vial up to the torch and gazed at it. He removed the stopper and cautiously sniffed the contents. He almost dropped the vial as the acid fumes seared his nostrils. “Well, well,” he chuckled, “what have we here?”

  He handed the vial to Dalgar and the Black Devil torturer smiled. He took the vial and stooped to John’s feet. Slowly, he allowed a drop to fall on one of the painter’s toes and John screamed as the acid ate through his flesh. The second toe started John babbling and the third caused him to faint.

  When John came to, Mitchel and Dalgar were waiting. The pain was still incredibly intense and Dalgar stooped at John’s other foot.

  “When Dalgar is done with your feet,” whispered Mitchel, “he will begin on your hands. After that, who knows. Where does Jenneva live?”

  Several hours later, the trembling mass of flesh that used to be
John Secor, babbled answers to any question that was asked of him. Mitchel smiled as he rose from the stool.

  “Take three men and go,” ordered Mitchel. “I want that book back here by tomorrow. And, Dalgar, don’t come back without it.”

  Chapter 14

  Trouble

  “We still haven’t heard back from John Secor,” Prince Oscar said. “We don’t know if the Cordonians are going to coordinate their attack with Sordoa.”

  “Do you really think the enemy will tell Secor what they are planning?” quipped General Clark.

  “I don’t look at General Fernandez as the enemy,” interrupted Prince Oscar. “He is truly Cordonian and wouldn’t hesitate to attack Targa if he thought we meant harm to his country, but I think he is fair and open-minded enough to listen to John. John certainly will present enough information to cause the General to rethink his orders.”

  “Even if he does,” added General Gregor, “he can not arbitrarily ignore his President’s orders. He is a military officer and has been trained to execute his orders, even if he disagrees with them.”

  “General Gregor,” asked King Byron, “if you were in his exact position, what would you do?”

  General Gregor pondered the Cordonian’s position. He had, in fact, been in a similar position when he learned of the fake King Austin. “If I was sure that the ruler was not entitled to his position, I would do what I thought best for the country, what I think the real ruler would want. I should add, though, that I would have to be convinced of the facts before I would ever even contemplate such a move.”

  General Clark looked at General Gregor and his face flushed. “I have to apologize for my statements. General Gregor is correct. We both faced that decision not long ago. The real question is whether or not Secor managed to convince General Fernandez.”

  “Well, it bothers me that John hasn’t gotten back to us,” said Prince Oscar. “John is a very capable man, but his words could be taken as treason if the wrong person heard them. I think I need to return to Kantor and check up on him.”