"Now, listen closely," Randor spoke. "After I cast this spell I want all of you to move as quickly as can be until you stand before the mansion's front gate."
"What are you going to do?" Seth asked.
"I will lower the barrier for a brief time." Randor had the attention of all--even Malander, who seemed to be enjoying entirely too much the pain that gripped him. "When I give the word, you now know what to do." He focused and aligned himself with the steps. "Whei lon nara mir nara tugath!"
A flash of green light flickered for a few moments, then faded with a loud buzzing sound. "Forward!" A hundred steps remained as the company hurried upward, pulling their horses behind them. Lorn had difficulty as he tugged on the reins of his balking horse. Panicked, he stumbled backward on a cracked step, but Seth caught him before he could fall, then grabbed the dwarf's horse's reins, pulling on both steeds as they hurried upward. The barrier was gone, and so was the pain. A flat stone floor greeted them at last. As soon as Lorn arrived with Seth, Randor spun sharply around and waved his hand to reseal the magic, igniting the green flash of light once more.
Many white statues of winged angels, dragons, and hooded figures were scattered about the small courtyard, standing tall and magnificent. Their age was unknown, for they showed none of the signs of weathering displayed by the ancient steps. A sea of thick clouds with no break covered the view below. Randor strolled to the front doors of his ally's house and awaited the group. "Leave the horses here," he ordered.
"Should we tie them first?" Muron asked.
"We must not disturb too greatly what is around us," the wizard advised, "lest the Oracle grow angry."
"I will leave most of my belongings behind," Arnanor spoke, grabbing his sword. "But I will not go anywhere without my blade."
"Be forewarned now when I say that some things we may encounter inside might be bizarre and alarming, but do not be frightened. I also ask that you show the greatest reverence to the Oracle and upset him not. His powers far exceed mine, and I will be of no help to you if he retaliates."
"I'd rather stay outside," Lorn mumbled to Seth. "This doesn't sound good at all."
"Have no fear, Lorn," Seth comforted. "You think he would bring us this way if he thought it too dangerous?"
Arnanor overheard the question and answered sharply, "Just as the resting ground last night was safe! I doubt this mansion is secure at all!"
"That was an odd chance, 'tis all," Lorn replied.
"Don't fool yourself, dwarf."
"The supernatural is about," Randor spoke as he grabbed the silver rings of the doors, pulling them gently to open the way ahead.
The stale air within the mansion slithered over them with a bold scent of flowered incense. It was very humid inside, and Seth felt his clothing cling to his damp body. After closing the doors, Randor returned to the lead position. Sweat began to pour down the travelers' backs and arms, and every breath was uncomfortable.
"Do not make any sudden movements," Randor whispered. "We cannot afford to send the Oracle into seclusion."
"Is he scared easily?" Lorn asked.
"Protective is the term I would use."
"Where is he?" Gildan asked, peering behind the many dark columns that extended in a long row.
They found themselves in a large room with a gray ceiling and walls, dulled by the many fixtures of lighted torches. Long, thick banners of blood red lay draped over each narrow window, allowing no outside light to enter this room. At the farthest wall, a curved staircase invited them forth, and at the top was a lone red door. Many closed wooden doors lined the wall beneath the staircase.
Gildan needed answers to his multiple questions. His main focus was the moon, naturally, but the appearance of the Mazazuken also baffled him. Time would reveal all--even, perhaps, some small insight into his future. I can scarcely imagine the amount of gold the Oracle will predict for me in my lifetime,Gildan said to himself.
"The door atop the stairs is where the Oracle awaits," Randor spoke, pointing ahead.
"Well, what holds us here?" Arnanor replied impatiently. "This prophet has much explaining to do!" The barrier angered him, and his anger was augmented by the rage he still felt from the night before. He double-timed his strides, Muron keeping pace with him. Geil naturally fell in behind them, keeping a hand on Muron's shoulder, followed at some distance by Randor and the others.
"No sudden movements, I said," Randor called out.
But Arnanor, heeding nothing that Randor had said, remained stubbornly focused on the door ahead--and it was open. Up the carpeted steps he stomped, when the door began to close. His eyes shot wide in disbelief, and he hurried to catch the fading opportunity.
"What have they done?" Seth yelled. "The Oracle is sealing us out! We must stop them!"
"From what?" Randor asked. "They have already placed a dark cloud upon our invitation."
Reaching the top of the steps, Arnanor dove with all his strength, reaching out as far as he could. His fingers barely graced the slippery metal ring of the door as a loud boom echoed throughout the room. The prince's heart sank as he landed on the stone floor, unsuccessful. He stood and turned to his brother as if nothing had happened.
Muron raised his eyebrows, clearly disappointed. This could be the end of the quest, the young elf-prince thought.
"Don't you ever listen?" Malander said, furious. Slowly he approached the Northern elves with shoulders bowed back and hands tightened into fists. A deep look of exasperation molded his face.
"Mind your own business," Arnanor snapped back.
"Not when it comes to victory!"
"You overreact."
"I am far from that, elf-prince." Malander ran his hand along the marble frame of the door. The metal ring of the door gleamed in his eyes and beckoned his fingers downward. But before he could reach the cold metal, his effort was stopped by Randor's voice.
"That will be enough." Randor parted the crowd of onlookers. Malander stepped aside without confrontation and allowed Randor to grasp the ring that would hopefully allow them forward. Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to Arnanor, he said, "I will have no more acts of idiocy from you, Prince. There will be dire consequences if any should fail to obey my commands again--I do not care who the perpetrator is."
Arnanor stood silent.
"Do I speak clearly enough for you?"
"Yes," he replied softly.
"I do not want to harm you. That is not an intention of mine, but if you continue to cross me I will not hesitate." Satisfied that his stern reprimand had been heard, Randor pulled open the door and allowed everyone through. Very little light shone as the door closed on their new surroundings. All they could see was a lone pool of light, swirling upward from the ground. A robed figure stood alone with its feet at the light's base.
The Oracle's face was lowered as he glared into the floor's luminous rays. All present found themselves in a great space without walls or ceiling. It seemed as if the door led them to another plane of existence, but Randor knew this was not so. "Step closer," the Oracle beckoned warmly. "I have been awaiting your arrival for some time now."
"We had difficulties in your forest, my friend," Randor replied.
"So my troubles are yours as well."
"This explains the barrier," Seth whispered.
Gathering around the pool of light, the company tried to witness what the Oracle was viewing, but not even Randor could see what lay within the swirling light.
Malander quickly tired of this useless concentration and stared at the white-haired Oracle instead. The ancient being was tall and slender, covered in full by a tattered blue cloak that gathered at his feet. From what little could be seen of his face, his eyes appeared dark, and underneath these a shimmering paint of blue, black, and white curled down to his jaw. His snow-colored hair was short, in a style similar to Malander's own.
"Return your concentration to the light…," the Oracle whispered, "…Sir Malander of Muldane."
Amazed that
the stranger knew his name, the knight feared what he might know. Malander tried to clear his mind, wanting to conceal his deep, dark secret--this had to remain safe at all costs. I must hide my misery, he spoke to himself. Closing his weary eyes, he lowered his head to turn the attention away and prayed for secrecy of his mind. Suspicion would rise in the company if Malander should be found out.
"Such a short distance you have come to seek me out, yet the turmoil suffered is great. I can see the separation in your ranks, my wizard friend."
Arnanor looked up at the Oracle, knowing that it was he that the Oracle spoke of. Shaking his head in disagreement, he shut out the wise figure's words.
"I have many questions for you," Gildan spoke.
"In time all of your answers will be had, and the many roads intended for you shall be laid down." The Oracle looked upward at last, welcoming them to his inner circle. "If you truly desire to see your fate, I will do the necessary."
"We seek your guidance," Randor said, removing his hat in respect.
"You seek the moon. None of you have the slightest notion of its fate. Stolen, destroyed, or hexed--none of you know."
"I knew you could aid us in healing this tragedy."
"Indeed," the Oracle answered. "I knew of it long before it arose."
"Why did you not warn Mudalfaen or me?" Randor asked. "This could have been prevented."
"I dare not leave my safe haven. Leaving would throw off other balances of this world--there are worse things than Beldas's disappearance. And withal, Randor, our Master would not grant my freedom."
"Your carelessness has given the entire elven population much suffering!" Arnanor cried, daring anyone to silence him on this matter. "My people die needlessly! Even my great and powerful father has fallen ill from your lack of enlightenment!"
"Much temper in such a strong soul," the Oracle observed. "You must understand that my place is here with the spirits. Without my presence here the entire supernatural world would unravel. This is why I remain."
"Then help my people," Arnanor pleaded. "Help us all, I beg you!" Acting for once like a true leader of his kingdom, the prince showed compassion for his subjects and for all elves across the lands. "Grace this company with your powers."
Randor was pleased with Arnanor's quick turn in attitude, and he could see the anger slip away from the stern, youthful face.
"I will look into my source of light and await a sign that will reveal a guide in your cause." As the Oracle held his hands closer to the floor, his robes shifted from the small gust of wind that rose upward. "For this to truly work, you all must concentrate and clear your minds. Any outside troubles will alter what I see, and the powers granted will fall to ruin." He loosened his posture and stretched his long, pale fingers outward. "Keep your eyes fixed to the ground, and see for yourselves what will come to be." Closing his eyes activated the swirling of the environment, encasing the nine inside a tornado-like cage of cold air. The pure radiance danced in all directions like a raging sea of waves crashing on a rocky shore. Randor kept his sight mobile, peering outward to the very rim of the supernatural, desperately seeking the answer to his direst problem. Still nothing came as long moments passed--grueling moments that seemed an eternity.
The sound of howling winds began to soften as the light's intensity calmed. Randor thought that the Oracle had been unable to grant them passage to the next phase of the journey.
But the Oracle reopened his eyes and dove deeper than ever into his trance, losing all sense of time and space. His entire body ached in agony, and every muscle cried for him to retreat to the normal haunts of humankind. In the midst his pain, he saw a black shape forming in the middle of the whirlpool of light. The image was not yet clear. The dark shape grew immense as it spun slowly toward clarity. Not only the Oracle, but all who peered inward, saw this. The company locked their curiosity onto the black symbol. As the pool of light smoothed to a state of calmness, what seemed like a jagged "S" showed itself to all who watched.
"This is all I can give you," the Oracle admitted. Despite all his divine powers, the gods showed no mercy in assisting him further. "Wondrous magic is at work if this is all my strength can give. Something powerful, indeed, does not want the fate of Beldas known."
"What does this figure mean?" Arnanor asked, puzzled. "Never have I seen such a symbol." The prince turned to Randor for once, seeking whether the wizard might know. "Tell me about this symbol we have just seen."
Randor thought upon the question briefly and searched every corner of his knowledge for a response. Adjusting his glasses, he frowned; no answer presented itself. Randor could see in everyone's eyes that they depended on him to lead them to victory. Neither sword nor magic would bring back the moon--only wisdom. "In all my existence, never have I encountered a sign such as this. It is unclear to me at the present." Randor leaned forward and took a long look at the symbol.
"Indeed it does," the Oracle added. "I have seen this icon in my visions, but I am never able to see its bearer."
"What advice could you give us?" Randor asked, feeling disappointment settle into his spirit. Rare it was that Randor sought the counsel of others. Generally he had advised the likes of kings and councils of many lands throughout every age of Londor. Now came the time when he was the one asking the questions. "Where do you think we should go next?"
"My intuitions tell me southward, Randor, though I cannot say why. Place this symbol in your minds, and journey south to the many cities and peoples you encounter."
"Well spoken," Randor replied. "I thought south as a general direction, but I did not know exactly where, or what to begin with."
"So these dark times have clouded your wisdom as well," the Oracle said softly.
"As soon as Beldas disappeared, I immediately felt a decline in all my powers." Randor paused and tucked the precise image of the jagged "S" into his memory. "I have not seen much of Londor the past seventy-eight years; the last three of which I was alongside the Obinoth elves in midst their struggles with the Rhingar. Before that, I was at Ethindar's side for seventy-five years. This symbol had to have come about during my absence."
"Allow me to draw this down," Lorn offered. It would be no bother to the dwarf, since his charcoal and parchments were with him.
"This may prove worthy," Arnanor added.
Lorn quickly reached into his pouch and withdrew a small nub of charcoal and a single sheet of paper, rushing as if the symbol might disappear before he could copy it, quickly sketching the curved symbol and poking two dots within the jagged form before rolling the paper up and stuffing it back into his bag. "A lead to this mystery at last!" he said, wiping the charcoal dust from his hands.
"Victory draws nearer!" Seth declared with a smile.
"But the road is long," Gildan added.
"At least now we will not wander aimlessly across the continent," Arnanor replied.
The Oracle now began to feel the draining effects of his effort, and his once tall and rigid form slumped. His forehead glistened with sweat. "Please find comfort in my home, for it is now yours as well. Your quarters are shown for you just outside the door you entered. Go and rest."
The company had started toward the door when Arnanor, suddenly remembering his struggle on the stone steps, turned to the exhausted Oracle. "Your barrier almost killed me. I would like an explanation why it is necessary," said the prince, determined to stand fast until he got a satisfactory response. "And do not try to trick me."
The Oracle hesitated before he answered. "My magic bars the way inside for those wishing to do my kind harm. A dire threat lingers in my forest, and now it is unable to penetrate to my safe house. This threat undoubtedly comes to rob me of spiritual essence." Arnanor's first thought fell to the Mazazuken, who had spoken of an unfinished task in this region.
Closer Arnanor approached the weakened Oracle and gave him a serious look. The two locked eyes as the Oracle read the elf's mind and responded with an unclear expression. Arnanor knew that the ancien
t sage could see his thoughts. "You aren't through with us just yet, that much is clear." It was a bold comment that made Randor rejoin the prince. Then all the company was back at the side of their leader.
"These visions you care not to know about." The Oracle turned back to his pool of light and gazed into its brilliance once more.
"What have you seen that threatens our very lives?" the prince asked.
"It is not wise to ask that. I would prefer to keep your minds open to the journey before you, unclouded by any prophecy."
"Then think of me as foolish!" Arnanor blasted. "I will risk this knowledge!"
The Oracle sighed and replied, "As you wish, young elf." He gathered his concentration, taking for granted that these visions would be easier to see, for he had already seen them long before the travelers' arrival. This ceremony did not require the harmony brought about by having the collection meditate on the pool of light. The visions would come to him again easily, without the added clarity of his visitors' focus. Again everyone gathered and looked to the Oracle, awaiting the crucial words he was about to speak.
"Much evil lies along your path." He paused, struck deeply by the horrid images that flitted before him. "I see…many lives lost and very few gains in this journey. Tragedy lies in every corner, and victories are scarce, with many leagues between. Deception is in your company, Randor--even at this very moment." All eyes shot around the circle of companions, each trying to assess who might be untrue to the purpose. "A spy is among you--one whose only goal is to frustrate the very efforts you put forth." Still their minds turned like clocks, overwhelmed by suspicion. "One of you shall fall by the hands of evil, while two more will slip into the shadows, hopeless of returning."
Lorn gulped, certain that it was he who would die before this journey ended.
"This is quite the vision I feared," Randor said quietly. "Is this all you see?"
"The light grows dim," the Oracle replied. "I will give you no more prophecy this day." The radiance dulled to a normal level of light.
The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor Page 14
