The Prophecy of the Gems (28 page)

“I was hoping you would show this to me,” said the magic creature. “A long, long time ago, when you were just a child, your parents sensed that your destiny would be threatened by shadows and danger. Guided by their instinct, they knew that evil was lying in wait for you and they feared for your life, so they came to see me to tell me of their plans. I tried to dissuade them, but they did not listen to me. They sought out the deepest part of the forest and found the Lake of Torments.”

The Nameless One shuddered and caught his breath.

“There your parents asked the mermaids, who are powerful enchantresses, to cast a spell they alone may perform. ‘As you wish,’ they answered cruelly, ‘but you will have to pay with your lives.’ Your parents accepted the bargain.”

The young man thought he was going to suffocate.

“What was the spell?” he asked, his voice quivering with emotion.

“The mermaids swore to give you this casket when you appeared at the edge of the lake. Inside the casket they placed your parents’ love for you.”

The Nameless One felt tears spring to his eyes. His parents had sacrificed themselves for him… He took the casket from Oonagh’s hands and caressed it, trembling.

“Whenever you open this casket,” explained Oonagh, “you will be protected by the undying love of your parents.”

“Unbelievable,” murmured Gohral Keull.

“Nameless,” said Oonagh sympathetically, “do not regret the choice your parents made. They are not dead, not really. Every time you open that casket their love will live in you, and they will be there, always.”

The hovalyn smiled sadly.

“Now,” declared Oonagh, “you must go. Cross Ellrog, go around the land of Death. Not even the Army of Darkness dares go there. Go to Yrianz of Myrnehl. If you encounter the three Stones of the
Prophecy, convince them to go to Thaar. The battle they will wage there will be decisive for us all.”

“But–” began the young man.

“Good luck!” said Oonagh abruptly. “Perhaps we will see one another at the battle!”

“What?” exclaimed Gohral Keull, staring at the frail creature. “You are going to fight as well, on the summer solstice?”

“Do not judge by appearances,” replied Oonagh curtly. “Magic is a powerful weapon…” Breaking off, she took leave of them. “Don’t waste any more time.”

The Nameless One and Gohral Keull turned back towards the light.

FOR SEVERAL DAYS
Rokcdär led the girls towards the far boundaries of Okdhrûl. When the castle of Yrianz of Myrnehl loomed up before them, Rokcdär bade farewell to his charges. After his departure, the travellers washed their hands and faces in a stream, and Amber told their horses to wait for them.

The girls took turns hiding behind a tree to change into the lovely gowns given to them by the women of Amnhor’s town. The gowns suited the girls perfectly, and although they did not know it, the seamstresses had stitched a bit of enchantment into their work
so that the dresses made their wearers even more attractive.

Delighted with their elegant appearance, Jade, Opal and Amber walked through the gilded entrance gate on to the grounds of the castle and followed a path of white pebbles across a vast, carefully tended garden. The girls were enchanted by delicately coloured flowers, which gave forth intoxicating perfumes. A few trees laden with ripe fruit stood at a bend in the path.

Forgetting their past perils, the three girls laughed gleefully. Jade looked like her old self again: the daughter of the Duke of Divulyon. She was wearing a long dress of finest Prussian blue silk that rippled and fluttered as she walked. Her black hair tumbled fetchingly about her shoulders, and her jade-green eyes gleamed proudly. And yet, many in her father’s palace would never have recognised her now, for her adventures had changed her: she had lost her haughty air, her pretentious manners. Her features reflected a new seriousness and maturity, although there was still a rebellious twinkle in her eye.

The three visitors knocked on the palace door. The servant girl who hurried to open it was momentarily
speechless at the sight of these creatures bathed in glowing light.

“You’re here at last,” she said, smiling in admiration. “The three Stones… Enter!”

She led them to an immense room lit by imposing crystal chandeliers, where hundreds of guests were talking animatedly. They were mostly men, wearing swords at their sides, but there were also magic creatures and even some women who had come to join the Army of Light. Not all the future combatants were there; messengers had been sent to the four corners of Fairytale to assemble the army and lead it, on the day of the summer solstice, to the battlefield designated in
The Prophecy.
Néophileus had written that the Chosen One as well as the three Stones were sorcerers of Light. The boldest and most renowned hovalyns had gathered in the castle of Yrianz of Myrnehl to pledge to fight the Darkness, and everyone in the castle was hoping that the Chosen One would arrive and that the three Stones of the Prophecy, sent to the palace by Oonagh, would be able to identify him. Jade, Opal and Amber would then proceed to Thaar, leaving only the Chosen One to
fight the soldiers of Darkness. No one could take his place. Without him, the battle would not begin…

When the three girls made their entrance, the great hall became quiet. All stood motionless in amazement. Some were dazzled by Jade, whose eyes shone like stars; others admired Amber, dressed in flaming red muslin; still others saw Opal, splendid in white tulle, as the very incarnation of purity. Opal’s once cold and distant air had given way to an expression of regal self-confidence, and the girl who had once kept her eyes downcast now held her head high.

Soon cries resounded through the great hall: “Long live the three Stones of the Prophecy! Long live liberty, and the Army of Light!”

Jade, Opal and Amber smiled. It was then that two figures appeared in the doorway. The first was a knight who looked rugged and valiant; the second, a young man with an aura of mysterious power. The youth gazed solemnly around the assembled throng, and yet he seemed not to see them. His brown hair was dishevelled, his clothing untidy. There were deep scratches on his careworn face, which seemed ravaged by some hidden pain, and there was an infinite sadness in his eyes.

A hovalyn who had come from the manor of Tivann of Orleys recognised him and shouted, “It’s the Chosen One! That young man is the Chosen One!”

Another knight who had also witnessed the ritual of the Ring of Orleys called out, “Long Live the Chosen One! I will fight beside you!”

In the ensuing tumult, cries of joy rang out, but one voice was raised in dissent.

“That man is not the Chosen One! He’s a soldier of Darkness!”

In the sudden pall of silence, all eyes were on a magic creature with pale blond hair, black eyes and silvery skin. It was Elfohrys who had spoken, and now he addressed the Nameless One.

“Tell them who you are! A murderer…”

Everyone expected the young man to deny these accusations.

“It’s true,” he admitted. “I belonged to the Army of Darkness. I was a murderer. But I no longer am. I have changed. And I would like to become a sorcerer of Light.”

“And you think we’re going to trust you?” cried a hovalyn, his voice full of hatred. “How can we tell if
you’ve really changed? You can’t go from the Darkness to the Light! You have shed innocent blood!”

“And now it’s your blood that ought to be shed!” someone else yelled.

The crowd began to shout at the young man, heaping abuse on him. Jade joined in, yelling insults, and Opal felt the same way, although she remained silent.

As for Amber, she pitied the young man. Pale and dignified, he said nothing, made no effort to defend himself, and simply stared wretchedly at the angry throng. Then his eyes met Amber’s: they looked at each other, and immediately understood. They felt as if they had always known one another, as if they had lived only in the expectation of finding each other again someday. The Nameless One no longer saw Amber in her fiery red dress, he saw further — he saw her heart. And he realised that she would possess his own. There was only one word to describe what he was experiencing. In fear and trembling, he considered that word. Impalpable, stronger and more maddening than any other emotion, the word lay in his golden casket as from now on it would lie in his heart, and in Amber’s eyes: love.

Amber lowered her eyes and reflected: this young man — if he really had shed blood… Of course, he had changed — he must certainly want to forget his past, atone for his misdeeds. But, still … Was he truly a murderer?

One will recognise the King.

She heard Oonagh’s voice…

“From the shadows will come the Chosen One,” murmured Amber, almost without thinking. Then suddenly she understood, and shouted, “From the shadows will come the Chosen One!”

Her cry silenced the astonished crowd.

“Are you feeling all right?” asked Jade.

Amber ignored her, and went to the Nameless One. Then she addressed the crowd.

“The one who was chosen, Elyador, the King, whatever you wish to call him — this is he. This murderer, this deserter whom you so despise. It is precisely because he comes from the shadows that he is the Chosen One.”

Jade and Opal stared at her open-mouthed. Amber was transformed, with passion in her voice and fire in her eye.

“It’s impossible,” called out Elfohrys. “A soldier of Darkness can’t be a sorcerer of Light!”

The crowd muttered in agreement.

“It’s written in
The Prophecy.
‘From the shadows will come the Chosen One’,” repeated Amber. “This man belonged to the Army of Darkness, but he had the strength to leave it. Who among you would have been able to leave the shadows to go towards the Light?”

The assembled throng remained doubtful.

“This man deserves your admiration, not your insults. He has dared to come here to join the Army of Light. He did not try to lie to you: he admitted that he once served the Darkness. He knew that no one would trust him, that you would hate him. But he came anyway. Who here would have done as much?” After a pause, Amber continued gravely, “Those who have always been on the side of the Light are good. But those who have known the shadows, who have suffered, who have endured the contempt of others
yet have continued to walk towards the Light … they are truly great.”

The lofty hall was still.

Then the crowd was startled by the hiss of a sword drawn gleaming from its scabbard. Elfohrys advanced towards the Nameless One. Standing at the young man’s side, Amber tried to cry out but could not make a sound. To everyone’s amazement, when he reached the Nameless One, Elfohrys dropped to one knee and laid his sword before him.

“Elyador, to the one who was my friend, I offer my apologies. To the one who is my king, I offer my homage.”

“Rise, Elfohrys,” said the Chosen One. “I am not a king. I am only a man. And I forgive you.”

Elfohrys got slowly to his feet and picked up his sword. Brandishing it, he shouted, “I pledge to do battle against the Darkness! I pledge to serve the Light and its King! I swear it!”

Then all the men drew their swords and in a single voice promised the same.

“I’m not fit to be a king,” said the Chosen One in a faint voice.

No one heard him, except Amber.

“A few moments ago,” she whispered, “you were a murderer. Now you’re King. All in all, it’s an improvement, right? Stop complaining and accept their homage.”

Elyador smiled. From now on, he had a name. And his life had a purpose. He looked at Amber, then at the assembled throng. Oonagh had been right: in this castle, he had found the Chosen One. And at the same time, he had found himself.

“I will lead you to victory,” he promised everyone. “The Army of Darkness and the Knights of the Order are powerful. We can be still more powerful. All we must do is believe this. Gathered together in the Light, we will defeat them!”

His words were greeted with shouts of enthusiasm.

Opal, who had hardly ever cried in her whole life, was weeping with happiness.

Staring at Opal, Jade remarked, “Something very strange is going on this evening. First Amber, and now you! What’s wrong?”

“I understand,” gulped Opal between sobs. “I understand! How did we break the Seal of Darkness?” she continued, her face bathed in tears. “Do you remember? Because we believed. We were convinced
we would succeed. And the birds of prey? We hadn’t a single chance, but I
believed
we’d make it through — I
believed
we could. And the lake? It’s the same thing! And the battle — we’ll win it in the same way. It’s obvious!”

Jade gave Opal a pitying look.

“Well, you’d better
believe
me: you’re not your normal self at the moment.”

“But you don’t understand!”

“What? That all we have to do is believe? If you say so…”

“No!” insisted Opal. “That’s it, the Gift.”

“The what?”

“It’s what allows us to believe. What can transform absolutely any man. Make a murderer into a king. Don’t you see?”

“No. What I do see is that you don’t seem well at all!”

Opal took a deep breath.

“Our Gift… is Hope.”

AMBER AND ELYADOR
remained together for the rest of the evening. They talked about everything and nothing, and shared their fears about the future. The Chosen One would be risking his life on the battlefield, while Amber would do the same in Thaar. They promised to meet again when it was all over. Amber resolutely refused to give in to tears.

The next morning Elfohrys asked Elyador to go with him into the forest. The Ghibduls had said that they wished to join his cause, so the Chosen One was forced to leave Amber. With heavy hearts, they tried to pretend that neither of them was in any danger and
that they would soon see each other again.