“Raven,” Niko’s husky drawl snapped her out of her reverie. “We should start.”
Raven stepped out onto the ledge that overlooked the Agora. She squared her shoulders and braced her feet, teetering dangerously on the edge – the invisible pull of gravity enticing her.
“Raven!”
Shaking her head, she swivelled. “Begin,” she instructed Niko.
Niko clapped his hands once and a muscular warrior sprung beneath the City’s bells. Grabbing the rope, the warrior strained under the weight of the three brass bells, but he successfully rang them, although the sound was unmelodious.
Slowly the city dwellers trickled onto the streets below, braving the icy weather since they didn’t have a choice when it came to an announcement. The streets were slippery, as earlier in the day they had cleared mounds of snow and all that remained was an icy sheet covering the cobblestones.
Raven rubbed her gloved hands together, her hungry eyes feeding off the obedient crowd below. As she exhaled, her cold breath formed a vapour around her mouth. Raven had only ever told two people – Agares and Niko – her secret desire to be the commander of the Dark Legion. Niko hadn’t seemed shocked and had admitted that he’d already guessed this. If he knew, he said Erebus would know too. Niko had warned her that Erebus might try to eliminate her and that she’d have to watch her back. She knew that Niko would protect her and that he would probably sacrifice himself for her, if it ever came to that.
Unexpectedly, Raven’s face twisted and she clutched at her chest. Niko froze, watching helplessly as she tried to catch her breathe. Gasping for air, the white, vapour puffs disappeared but seconds later their puffs reappeared again. What a time to have that weird feeling again. And it was happening more frequently.
Raven righted herself and removed her hand from her chest.
The bells stopped.
“There’s a witch among us…”
Low murmurings filtered through the crowd.
She held her hand up. “We must root the witch out. She has deceived us with lies and demons invade her body. She walks among us as a cripple. Those who surrender her will be rewarded with food and clothing – enough to last the winter,” Raven announced.
“That’s what you say,” a brave Seraphian yelled from below. “You want us to believe your word against a witch’s.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“I’d rather believe a witch,” mocked another, “than you.”
Raven’s cold cheeks blossomed red as anger flared up inside her. She clenched her fists but managed to remain controlled. Niko slid in behind her and his very presence calmed her.
“If you are found harbouring this witch, be warned. The City will be searched should no one come forward by sunset today.” Raven stepped away from the ledge, her back brushing against Niko’s broad chest. Goosebumps ran riot up her neck.
The crowd below murmured in hushed tones. The Dark Legion formed a semi-circle around the low wall surrounding the Agora and they herded the city dwellers back to their Regions.
Out of the corner of her eye, Raven caught a fleeting glimpse of Rachel dashing toward the Region of Aer. That girl was trouble and an uneasy feeling crept into her cold bones. They should never have bargained with her.
A few hours after Raven had announced the manhunt for the witch, two teenage boys appeared, hauling a woman up the stairway. Erebus shuffled away with a defeated expression on his face, which thrilled Raven. Raven’s eyes lit up even further when the deliverance of her prize became a reality. The withered old woman dragged her twisted foot lamely behind her but managed to keep her balance by using her wooden staff. The two boys gripped her firmly by each arm.
Raven raised an arched eyebrow at them, waiting for their explanation.
“We found her hiding in the library—” declared the gangly teenager and then he quickly added, “—but no one was helping her.”
Raven indicated to a nearby guard. “Give them their reward. They’ve earned it.”
The guard and the teenagers disappeared into the tunnels.
The woman wobbled precariously on her staff and collapsed in a heap on the floor, her staff clattering to the side. Her bony shoulders poked through her threadbare cloak which she tugged further over her body, even though it did nothing to protect her from the cold. Beneath her, her crippled foot bent in an awkward position.
Raven shuddered repulsively at the sight of the decrepit woman. “You claim you’re a Prophet?” Raven sniggered, mocking the old woman.
The woman straightened her upper body and reached for her staff.
But Raven moved like liquid as she vaulted over the bent woman, kicking her staff out of reach. “Remove it,” she instructed Niko.
Niko scooped up the crooked wooden staff but at the same time the woman bounded nimbly to her feet – her crippled foot miraculously healed. She mumbled incoherently and her staff vibrated in Niko’s hand. A confused look flashed across Niko’s face. He released the staff, which magically soared away from him and landed straight in the old woman’s outstretched hand.
“What are you?” Raven shouted as she backed away.
“Not what…” the woman cackled, “… but who.”
Niko was rooted to the spot. Raven clapped her hands, breaking his trance. He suddenly sprang into action and launched himself in front of her.
“A bit late now,” Raven snapped. “I could be dead!”
Speechless, Niko waved his sword in front of him even though they both knew that his weapon wouldn’t be any match for the old woman’s magic.
“You deceived us,” Raven hissed. “You’re not a cripple.” She felt a fool for not heeding Drakon’s warning that it could be a trap.
“I wish to speak with Lord Drakon.”
Raven steadied her quivering hand before brushing aside a stray strand of hair that had stuck to her perspiring forehead.
“Did you not hear me?” the old woman said, as her staff vibrated violently.
“Get Lord Drakon,” Raven commanded, “but warn him that we have a witch in our presence.”
A guard rushed off, relieved to be the one who would summon Drakon, and a few minutes later the Dark Guardian entered the amphitheatre. He glided in, his black cloak swishing around him and came to a halt beside Raven. Drakon’s dark eyes locked onto the old woman – his face devoid of any sort of emotion. He waved the guards away, dismissing them.
“So you’re posing as a crippled woman now?” Drakon questioned. “I was wondering where you had disappeared to.”
Raven glanced between the two. Drakon knew the witch.
“The temple’s no longer safe – your warriors pillaged a sacred place.”
Drakon shook his head disapprovingly and tutted his tongue. “I’ll punish them for that. Our oracle needs to be respected by all.”
“No need for punishment, the incantation I used worked…” The old woman emphasised the word ‘worked’ on her tongue – conveying the message of their demise.
“Now tell us, what brings you forth?” Drakon asked.
“Firstly, I heard that you’re seeking the book. You’re out of luck there because Ash has it. And secondly, I’ve come to deliver a warning.”
Drakon inclined his head. “As you know, I don’t believe or want to hear your predictions. But… maybe just this once I’ll listen to your hocus-pocus.”
The old oracle shuffled closer, her staff wobbling in her hands. Niko moved between her and Raven.
“At ease,” Drakon ordered and Niko fell back.
“The Guardians – Thanos and Galene – you have them imprisoned in the dungeons,” the oracle said. “Release them before it’s too late. The natural cycle of the Third Realm is unbalanced and—”
“Unbalanced?” Drakon walked over to the podium and swivelled around. He seated himself comfortably in the Fifth Guardian’s bronze chair.
“You’ve destroyed part of the Groves of Dodona… the Hamadryads. The other Dryads suffer at the hand
s of your reckless warriors too,” the oracle stated.
“You see… as much as I want to believe in your warning, I find it hard to. Don’t get me wrong old woman – you’ve always had my utmost respect – but your foretelling is not set in stone. All fate can change if someone alters one tiny aspect. I’ve already proven this.” Drakon folded his arms and leaned casually back in the chair.
Taken aback, the oracle’s face morphed into anger. Her grip tightened on the staff and her wrinkled knuckles whitened from bloodlessness. It wasn’t good to make an oracle mad by challenging her.
“What Lord Drakon is trying to say,” Raven intervened, “is that your predictions aren’t wrong, but that the decisions we make can alter their outcome… such as if you tell someone to turn left… but they decide at the last minute to turn right.”
The oracle howled at Raven’s analogy and Raven scowled at her.
“Stupid girl, that would be in my prediction… but I doubt that Lord Drakon could predict this…”
The oracle tapped her staff three times and pressed it against her bony chest. Embedded in the top of her staff was an emerald. The stone twinkled. The oracle swirled around throwing her tattered cloak over her head and when she emerged, she had transformed into a striking woman.
Raven gasped aloud.
Niko murmured, “Wow!”
Drakon soared out of the chair and bowed before her. “Dione…” he said, his voice raspy with disbelief.
Auburn-streaked hair tumbled over the woman’s shoulders and large green eyes stared out from her round, angelic face. She was dressed magnificently. Her threadbare clothes had vanished – it was as if a Guardian had waved a magic spell over her.
“It’s been too long… far too long, darling,” she replied.
From both sides of her temple, a delicate chain draped itself across her forehead. Raven focused on the centre of her forehead where a miniscule emerald dangled, emulating the green of Dione’s eyes, a replica of the stone in her staff. Raven’s attention switched back to Drakon as he instinctively pressed his fingertips to his locket, but he quickly dropped his hand to his side. A thunderstruck expression creased his brow where a slight sheen of sweat appeared.
“How… how’s this even possible?” Drakon asked as he straightened up.
Dione tapped her staff once more and swooshing sound filled the air. The silver-flecked feathered owl swooped in through the cavern’s opening and landed on the marble podium.
Raven had no idea what was going on. The appearance of this woman named Dione had Drakon in a sweat. Was she real or was she merely a trick of the old witch? She shook her head trying to erase the image of the mysterious woman and picture the oracle once more. But Dione remained unchanged and an unsettling feeling engulfed Raven. What was about to transpire could obstruct her mission of finding the book. Fate certainly wasn’t set in stone.
Chapter 7
Rekindled Love
After Dione had revealed herself, dispensing with the guise of the oracle, Drakon had ushered Raven and Niko out of the amphitheatre. They were the only ones who had witnessed Dione’s transformation. Drakon wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this – it could prove difficult to trick them into believing something else had transpired. Raven, a perceptive and cunning individual, would make it difficult for Drakon to pull the wool over her eyes.
Dione hadn’t aged in over two centuries – that was the last time Drakon had laid eyes on her. She was as beautiful as she’d been on the spring day when they’d first met. Drakon’s heart fluttered wildly in his chest like a cocooned butterfly trying to escape. He wasn’t surprised that his feelings for her had never died – even though a long time had elapsed since they had last met.
“How did you get those barbarians to obey you, darling?” Dione crooned.
“Easy… I’m the one with the Dark Magic–” Drakon smiled smugly, “–and even though my powers weakened in the Under Realm, I managed to keep my followers in check.”
Dione sashayed around Drakon, trailing her long fingernails across his chest. “Fill me in on where we left off.”
Drakon breathed in deeply, keeping his longing for Dione’s touch at bay. “You’ve been here in this Realm all along. You should know what’s going on.”
“I’ve been keeping a low profile, as you can see,” Dione said, “until the time came when you returned.”
“Did you predict my return?” Drakon asked curiously.
“Now now, darling… that would be letting out all my secrets. And, as you say, nothing is set in stone.”
“I didn’t even know what had happened to you. You died mysteriously right before the coup.”
“My death… I see my death has affected you, darling.” Dione pursed her lips as she glided closer to Drakon, his presence drawing her in.
Drakon placed his strong hands around her waist and their lips touched in a passionate kiss. The owl hooted tetchily and Drakon’s concentration broke.
Dione pushed him away. “No distractions – not until our mission is complete.”
“Spoiling my fun so soon… you’ve only been back for a few hours and you’re already laying down the rules,” Drakon joked, as he eyed the owl suspiciously. “Including your pet!”
“You were never too keen on animals.” Dione laughed.
“Or predications…” Drakon added.
Dione’s tone changed to a more serious note. “How will we get the Guardians back? We need them for our plan to work.”
Drakon smiled. “Oh don’t worry about them, they’ll return in good time.”
“Hopefully it won’t be too late.” Dione shook her head worriedly, her auburn locks bouncing around her shoulders. “I’ve waited two centuries for this…”
The owl puffed out her feathers, turning into a huge silver ball. Dione ambled over to her and caressed the back of her feathered neck.
“Any idea as to what I should tell Raven and Niko. Word could spread that you’re not who you really are.”
“Tell them it was magic. And that the clever old oracle tricked a foolish old Guardian into believing that his long, lost love had returned, just as she tricked Raven into believing that she was a cripple.”
“Your death – how did you cover it up?”
“I consumed a potion, faking my illness. After that, it was easy to create the illusion of my demise. You all believed I was dying due to a disease. I disappeared and returned to the woodlands, resuming my life as the oracle. But I had to leave ashes behind… so that you and the others would believe that Dione had died.” Dione swished around, throwing her arms out in revelation.
“I won’t ask whose ashes you used.”
A look of remorse crossed Dione’s face. “I had to do it – there were… reasons. You do understand?”
“I’m not sure yet if I do.” Drakon grasped her hand between his. “But all I know is I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Me neither.”
“But… eventually you’ll have to tell me your reasons, for us to have a fresh—”
Dione cut him short, not wanting to venture down that path. “I better go, before I raise any further suspicions.” She tapped her staff three times and drew the luxurious cloak over her head. She spun in a circle and, when she had completed one full turn, she had transformed into the old oracle.
“Guards arrest this witch. Take her and her owl back to the temple,” Drakon shouted and his lip curled in distain when he said the word owl. “She’s not to leave the groves. The Watchers are to make sure of this.”
On his command, four guards swarmed in, surrounding the oracle. One lobbed a net over the screeching owl and tossed the captured creature into a rickety, wooden cage. Both the oracle and her owl were promptly escorted to the stairway.
Winking secretly at Drakon, Dione left Aether in silence under the guise of the old oracle.
Chapter 8
The Western Tunnel
Rachel was grateful that no harm had come to her mother durin
g her imprisonment. When she arrived home, her first instinct – after embracing her mother – was to check on her sword in its secret hiding place beneath her bedroom floorboards. When she lifted it out, she breathed a sigh of relief. After the Dark War, the Dark Legion had confiscated their weapons and the ones that remained were illegal. Execution was a stiff price to pay if caught with a banned weapon.
She recalled the moment during the war when she had shadowed Elektra, protecting her from behind while they’d edged closer to the Dark Guardian. Goosebumps prickled on her arms. If only Elektra’s arrow had found its mark in Drakon’s heart everything would be different now. They would have won the war.
But, they hadn’t, and now Rachel took it upon herself to formulate a plan and prepare the Seraphians so that if Ash and Kyros returned, the Guardians would have extra back-up. She was unsure exactly how to go about this, as most of the city dwellers were in dire need of training and they wouldn’t be able to undertake this in broad daylight. Raising the suspicions of the Dark Legion was risky and they’d have to face the consequences if discovered.
After a satisfying night’s sleep, Rachel bounded down the stairs two at a time. Life wasn’t perfect but now that she had regained her freedom, she could implement her plan.
When Rachel entered the kitchen, her mother, Elethea, turned around at the sound of her daughter’s footsteps. A smile appeared on her face when she noticed Rachel’s high spirits.
“What’re you contemplating?” Elethea asked quizzically.
Rachel glanced past her mother toward the porridge bubbling on the stone hearth. “I can’t… I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”
“Rachel… there’s nothing more that we can do – until Ash and Kyros return.”
“Oh there is. We can be prepared,” Rachel replied resolutely. “I’m going to speak to Alexis. She’ll be able to help.”
Elethea frowned. “We’re slaves now. The guards are everywhere day and night. There’s no way around them.”
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