Magic Prophecy: A YA Portal Fantasy (Legends of Llenwald Book 3)

by DM Fike

  Ah, stables. Avalon glanced back at the wooden shed, its wood splintering and the whole thing in bad need of a fresh coat of paint. “You have a horse?”

  “Not for a while now,” Gonait’s voice held a note of regret.

  Round stones created a path toward a dark one-story wooden house. To the left and the right, more houses, most in much better shape, stretched out in a line, with sheds in their backyards and the occasional clucking bird to indicate healthy coops. Behind the row of houses spanned vast fields of a recently harvested crop. Young boys picked through one of the last bountiful plants, trying to gather as much as possible before the coming winter. The whole scene reminded her of a rural farm community on Earth, although the fallen purple and blue leaves scattered around showed they could not be far from the Wazan Forest.

  Avalon followed Gonait into to a surprisingly well-kept, if worn, dining area. The small table and chairs had not a speck of dust on it. Clean dishes lay stacked in neat piles on shelves, only a few cracks on their surfaces visible from this distance. A rocking chair sat not far away, a few spindles missing from the backsides. Sewing projects in baskets huddled about it. A fireplace dominated as the centerpiece of the room, radiating heat. Smoke curled around a pot inside it that emitted an odd minty aroma.

  “I almost forgot!” Gonait trotted over to the pot, grabbing an enormous wooden spoon off the mantle. She grasped both hands on the handle and used it to stir in wide circles. She strained as if stirring molasses, but each twist seemed to loosen the mixture in the pot. She finally stopped and said, “Whew! Saved it in time.”

  “What are you making?”

  “Homemade salve for your friend’s injury.” Gonait wiped the sweat from her brow. “You really have to keep stirring or it will congeal, and I have other things to do. Do you mind taking over?”

  “Sure,” Avalon said. Gonait showed her how to alternately scrape the sides of the bowl, then stir the insides. Then she let Avalon take over as she removed a worn sock from a basket for repair.

  “Where do you hail from, Avalon?” Gonait asked as she bent over her sewing supplies.

  Avalon used to tell people she was from Utah in the desert, but that had backfired on her before. She decided to give a more plausible explanation. “Emerged Falls.”

  “Emerged Falls,” Gonait repeated with approval. “They aided us not that long ago with our elven neighbors.”

  “Oh,” Avalon replied noncommittally, although she knew exactly what had happened. She had been instrumental in resolving the dispute.

  “Aye. The boulder elves diverted our water in retaliation for building on what they considered their territory. Even when we removed those homes, it wasn’t enough for the elves. They drove the river away from us, stealing the water we need to live. If it wasn’t for Emerged Falls convincing the elves to restore the river, who knows what would have happened?”

  “War would have happened,” Avalon answered, remembering the angry human mob facing off against elven guards on the bridge leading into Craeg.

  Gonait nodded. “My husband thinks we should have wiped out the elves, but I am grateful for a peaceful resolution.”

  The more Gonait described her husband, the less Avalon liked him. “What does your husband do for a living?”

  Gonait’s face fell for an instant. If Avalon hadn’t been looking in her direction, she would have missed it. “He’s done lots of jobs around town. He just hasn’t found what he’s good at yet.”

  A knock sounded on the front door. Gonait skirted across the room to answer it. A young man with his arm in a sling answered. “Good day, Gonait! I don’t suppose you have another jar for me, do you?”

  “I do.” Gonait squatted down at a little bookshelf next to the front door. Her fingers brushed over jars not unlike the ones stored in the stables. She retrieved one and handed it to him.

  “Many thanks.” The man smiled. He handed her something wrapped in a large handkerchief. “Fresh from the oven.”

  They exchanged a few other pleasantries, and then Gonait closed the door. Avalon caught a whiff of warm bread as Gonait placed the package on the kitchen counter.

  As Avalon’s arms increasingly ached from stirring the salve, four more people dropped by for jars from Gonait’s bookcase, each exchanging them for food or a handful of coins. As the day wore on a meal complete with a main entrée and several side dishes emerged without Gonait needing to cook.

  The last visitor, an elderly woman with folds so deep around her eyes Avalon wondered how she could see, would not quit chatting at the door no matter how many hints Gonait dropped to leave. “Your ointments are the best thing for my aching bones,” the old woman praised. “What would I do without you?”

  “You will never have to find out, Nessen.”

  “I should hope so. I don’t have much longer in this world as is.” Despite the morbid thought, her tone remained cheerful. “But it won’t be my bones that’ll do me in, not if the dragons get here first.”

  Even exhausted from stirring, Avalon perked up at the mention of dragons.

  Gonait patted the old woman’s shawl, walking with her outside. “I doubt we’ll have to worry about that, Nessen.”

  “The world’s gone crazy!” Avalon heard Nessen proclaim. “Dragons, like from my youth! You don’t know them like I do, dearie. The stories my Papa told me from the war…” her voice faded as Gonait successfully escorted her down the road.

  When Gonait returned with a bottle of ale as payment, Avalon called out, “Why was she talking about dragons?”

  “I guess you don’t know, being as you weren’t here when it happened.” Gonait placed the bottle on the counter with the rest of her earnings. “A few days ago, a flock of dragons flew overhead.”

  Avalon’s jaw dropped. She had met dragons on her last visit, but they all lived on an island far removed from both Aossi and human territory. “Is that common?”

  Gonait broke out in an uneasy chuckle. “Of course not. Are you daft?”

  “What were they doing?”

  “Flying along like geese in a ‘V’ shape, the strangest thing I’d ever seen. They didn’t bother anybody, just made a beeline north as if their life depended on it.”

  “What’s up north that they would want?”

  “That’s the question on everyone’s mind, isn’t it? Directly north of us is Earth Kingdom territory, but they could be heading anywhere past that. Wind, Fire, and Ice Kingdoms all have northern territory. There’s even a few human towns up there, although I can’t imagine the sanity of someone living so far in Aossi lands. It’s a great mystery, to be certain.”

  Avalon’s mind reeled as Gonait focused on arranging plates for supper. The last person who had absorbed the Child of the Statue had been a Primordial Dragon bent on revenge for the extinction of his people. He had created the less intelligent dragons with the Indulia, the power of all five magical elements. It could not be a coincidence that dragons had appeared not long after Scawale accepted that same power.

  The front door swung open. It hit the bookcase so forcibly that it rattled the jars. A bearded man dressed in a long coat and trousers stumbled inside. His pockmarked nose had a deep red tint with cheekbones to match. Even from here, Avalon could smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “Goooonit!” he slurred. “I tot I told you to keep ‘ese in the stable!”

  “Sorry, Cathal.” Gonait ran across the room and began to pull jars from the bookcase into her upturned apron.

  “My coat, woman!” he yelled. “Coat first!”

  Gonait shoved the jars back onto the shelf and helped Cathal out of his coat, revealing a stained long-sleeved shirt and suspenders underneath. Cathal lumbered across the floor, Gonait attempting to keep up with him, coat still in hand. She managed to push a ratted cushioned chair underneath him before he fell on his bottom to the floor.

  As Cathal got comfortable on the chair, Gonait scurried about, putting his coat on a hook by the door, which her husband obviously could ha
ve done himself. She then regathered the jars from the bookcase in her apron and fled outside with them, presumably to the stables.

  Cathal didn’t notice his wife was missing as he faced the fire, rubbing his hands. “Where’s supper?”

  Avalon did not want to cater to this twit’s demands but hoped to relieve Gonait from the trouble of dealing with him. She grabbed a plate of food Gonait had already prepared on the counter and brought it over to Cathal.

  “’Bout time,” Cathal muttered. He lifted his hands to grab the plate away from the proffered hands when he caught Avalon’s disapproving gaze.

  “You ain’t Gonait,” he cried, jerking his hands away from Avalon.

  “You’re right. I’m not.”

  He narrowed his bloodshot eyes at her. “You seem familiar.”

  Avalon didn’t remember meeting Cathal before, but then again, there had been a large human crowd outside of Craeg in retaliation for the water diversion. He might have remembered seeing her there.

  Gonait returned from outside at that moment, puffs of air visible on her breath from the cold. Cathal glanced around Avalon to glare at his wife. “Who’s this? Another one of your strays?”

  “Avalon’s been helping me around the house,” Gonait explained quietly. “In exchange for a roof over her head.”

  Cathal’s face contorted in anger. “Omni knows why you need help. You got very little work to do ’cept tend the house. You can’t even bear children.”

  Avalon’s patience exploded at his misogynistic cruelty. “You should thank, Gonait,” she announced, startling both Cathal and Gonait.

  Cathal scowled at her. “And why’s that?”

  Avalon opened her mouth to tell him without his wife, he wouldn’t be eating a hot meal. Or wearing socks. Or coming home to a warm fire. Given the man’s belligerence, she doubted Cathal would have a roof over his head without Gonait.

  But Gonait’s unshed tears cut Avalon short. She shouldn’t get her into any more trouble than necessary. “I meant, I should thank Gonait,” she said through gritted teeth. “She has been very kind to me today.”

  While not exactly appeasing Cathal, it resonated with him. “You’re right, you should,” he grumbled into his beard. “Gonait takes in way too many strays. She’s gullible to a fault.”

  “Should I get you supper?” Gonait interjected, her voice holding hope that Cathal would continue his trend of calming down.

  “Well I’m not hungry now.” He pointed at Avalon. “She’s spoilt my appetite. Just hand me the bottle of ale.”

  Avalon fumed as Gonait fetched Cathal the bottle from the kitchen. The last thing this guy needed was more alcohol. His breath might start peeling what was left of the paint off the walls.

  But with bottle in hand, Cathal seemed to retreat into himself, dull eyes focused on the fire. Gonait placed her hands on Avalon’s shoulders. “You’d best go out to the stables.”

  Avalon bit her lip, uneasy at leaving Gonait alone with this guy. “Are you sure?”

  “He’s more bark than bite, I promise. Please go. And take the plate of food with you.”

  Avalon did as she was told against her better judgment, retreating out into the darkness. She tried to erase her last image of Gonait, worry lines etched in her forehead as she stood behind her husband, hands folded, waiting for his next command.

  * * *

  Avalon spent a restless night next to Desert Rose in the straw, her mind reeling from one problem to the next. She wanted to throttle Cathal but couldn’t interfere without harming Gonait. She mulled over dragons and what their appearance in the sky might mean. She wished she could travel to Emerged Falls and find Kay, or at least check if Isolde had made it back to Craeg, but she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Desert Rose behind. Her heart ached at the thought of Nobody, dead in the jungle, and she pushed his death somewhere next to her mother’s memory. Then she’d cycle back to rage against Cathal, and the whole process started all over again.

  She must have fallen asleep at one point because the next she knew, Gonait had Desert Rose on her side, reapplying salve to the base of her neck. “Good morning,” she called cheerfully as Avalon yawned, picking straw out of her tangled hair.

  “I’ve got a brush you could use,” Gonait said as she finished and maneuvered Desert Rose back down. “Come inside.”

  Morning had firmly established itself over the quiet row of houses. Avalon entered the threshold of Gonait’s house with some trepidation, but Cathal wasn’t in the main room. She didn’t know if he hid behind the door that led to another part of the house.

  “It’s just us,” Gonait reassured. She took a hairbrush off the table, cleaned it of her own hair, then handed it to Avalon. “Here you go.”

  Avalon quieted any disgust at sharing hairbrushes in strange lands. It felt too good to untangle her hair. As she brushed, Gonait gave her a plate of bread from last night and a few slices of purple apple. Her stomach gurgled in satisfaction as she washed it down with a wooden cup of water.

  “Here.” Gonait offered her a cloak with tattered edges. “I need to go to market for supplies. I’d be happy for the company.”

  Eager to have something to occupy her full mind, Avalon concealed her hoodie underneath the cloak and followed Gonait out onto the residential street. Children playing in the wheel ruts waved to her. A dimpled boy with caramel-colored hair ran up to them. He tugged on Avalon’s wrist, the bandanna on his chin bouncing.

  “Hi?” Avalon said uncertainly to his bright eyes.

  Gonait grinned down at the little imp. “Why, it’s the orphan that found you in the field.”

  Avalon gave him a smile. “Thank you so much for bringing us to Gonait.”

  The boy’s teeth flashed bright in the morning sun as he returned the grin.

  “A man of few words, I see,” Avalon observed.

  “He doesn’t talk, as far as I can tell. Might be his vagrant upbringing.”

  “Vagrant?”

  “He arrived about the same time a traveling sideshow came through. The Jentry leaders aren’t fond of wanderers, say they’re immoral, but they tolerate their tents outside of town when they pass through. I noticed this little one in the streets after they left.”

  “Did they leave you behind?” Avalon demanded.

  The boy’s grin vanished, staring up blankly at her.

  “He may be deaf, as well as mute. Hard to tell.” Gonait shrugged.

  He also couldn’t be much older than six or seven, Avalon thought. “Does he live on the streets?”

  “Probably.” Gonait withdrew some leftover fruit slices wrapped in a rag from her cloak pocket. “I was going to eat this later, but you need it more than me.”

  The boy eagerly snatched the slices, shoving them into his mouth. He then took off running after the other kids collecting rocks at the side of the road.

  “Chew, will you?” Gonait called after him, chuckling to herself.

  Avalon wanted to snatch the little boy and find him a home immediately but swallowed her judgment. This wasn’t modern day America but a medieval town. The same rules did not apply. At least Gonait had given him some food. She hoped others would similarly look after him, as she herself wasn’t in a position to help much.

  They continued on the dirt path, clusters of houses here and there interspersed with fields, most cut down to the soil in preparation for winter. They had to step aside for a horse-drawn wagon bearing the harvest spoils. The pair wove toward the center of town, a ten-minute walk away.

  Shops of all kinds lined the main street, people bustling about with bags and goods. Gonait made a beeline for an apothecary selling dried herbs and oils. “Stocking up on healer supplies?” Avalon asked.

  “Sh.” Gonait glanced around the shop to make sure no one heard the question. The handful of customers paid her no mind. “I’m not a healer,” Gonait insisted in hushed tones.

  Avalon lowered her volume. “Could have fooled me, given the amount of people who stopped by your house ye
sterday.”

  “I could never be a healer.” Gonait nabbed a few strings of dried orange leaves from a rack.

  “And why not?”

  “Because I’m a woman.”

  Avalon placed a hand on her cloak. “You can’t really believe that.”

  Gonait moved out of Avalon’s reach to snatch a few more bottles from a high shelf. “It must seem strange for someone from Emerged Falls, but we’re more traditional here in Jentry. Men provide for the family. Women tend to the house and hearth.”

  Gonait headed to the counter to pay for her things, but Avalon hung back to mutter, “Sounds like Cathal talking.”

  Gonait wanted to buy a few baking necessities next with the remainder of her coins. As they stepped back onto the street, Avalon pulled her cloak closer around her face to ward off the chill. Gonait directed them through a narrow street with a few specialty shops.

  Suddenly, Avalon felt a flutter of wind in her chest. She halted in her tracks, shocked by its familiarity.

  That couldn’t be what she thought it was, could it?

  “Avalon?” Gonait asked. “Is everything all right? You’ve become quite pale.”

  A shadow flickered above them. Avalon jerked her head upwards as people around her shouted and pointed toward the sky. She barely caught a winged outline flitting between a few rooftops before disappearing down the curving street.

  A fairy with translucent wings and a blue and green uniform.

  Her torso sizzled with electric energy.

  Kay.

  CHAPTER 7

  HOPE SURGED AT the sight of the Emerged Falls knight. She took off after him, shouting his name.

  “Kay!”

  “Avalon!” Gonait called in her wake, but she wouldn’t slow down, dodging through the shoppers on the narrow street. “Kay!” she yelled a second time, but he had already gone. The three-story buildings all around her completely shielded him from view.

  Avalon came onto an intersection of two streets. She hesitated, not knowing which way to go, when she heard two girls squealing to her right. Down that street, the people of Jentry surged toward another intersection. Avalon followed the crowd, her pace slowed to a brisk walk given the density of the people gathered there.