The Final Prophecy

CHAPTER 15

  SALVATION OR DAMNATION

  Marcus sat at the window of the tower staring out across the green expanse of fields that surrounded Jupiter. It would be impossible for an army to approach this city undetected, but their hopes were not founded on the strength of soldiers. Movement caught the Keeper’s eye and he glanced to the left. An arrow hawk was speeding through the air, flying low to the ground and heading straight toward the tower. Marcus watched the bird adjust its trajectory as it neared the tower. It was heading straight toward the window. Arrow hawks were small birds of prey and the fastest birds in all of Faerie. They were used to carry messages that were too lengthy for the tiny wings of honey birds. The Keeper rose from his chair as the bird lit upon the window sill.

  Attached to the leg of the hawk was a small tube made from soft leather and inside this leather container was a tightly rolled piece of parchment. Marcus removed the parchment and carefully unrolled it. It was from Jonah…

  G-l, B-n, and H-b seek the Dragon’s Cradle. G-b and N-b wait with me for their return. A-s, L-e, and C-y-e have just left for the lodge. I will send the others to join them when they return. There is something more you must know. First, B-n has mastered the staff. He can travel anywhere, even as M-n once did. Second, and maybe more importantly, C-y was visited by the O-e. He told her what the sundial charm would do and how to use it. He did not tell her to use it, only that it may be helpful. If you have any insight with regards to the staff or charm, please send instructions. If we do not hear back from you by the time we are all reunited, we will proceed as we are best able.

  J-h.

  “And so, it has begun,” Marcus whispered. Ben was here, but he expected that. Ben was the chosen one, destined to a final showdown with Bellator. But what of Venus visiting Casey and telling her about one of the charms? He had always thought Venus to be the wisest one referred to in the prophecy and that they were to meet him at the Dragon’s Cradle to seek counsel. A meeting here in Faerie would be too risky. Bellator would surely sense his brother’s presence. Marcus’s thoughts turned to the sundial charm. That particular charm slowed time. Maybe that’s what Venus did? Maybe he slowed time for everyone except him and Casey? That would allow him to make a very brief visit undetected. Ever since Bellator had captured him, the immortal had been focused on getting inside of the Keeper’s mind. If Venus slowed time and appeared for only a very brief period, then it would be highly unlikely that Bellator would have ever noticed. However, if that were true, then it could only mean one thing; Venus was not the wisest one referred to in his own final prophecy. Who could it be? The future where immortals were concerned, like dragons, was hidden from him. Now that Venus had entered the picture he could no longer discern the paths that lay before Casey and those around her. He was uncertain and confused. It was a feeling he was not accustomed to and it made his mind a fertile ground for the seeds of fear that were sown there when Bellator captured him. He would have to think long and hard before he acted. He retrieved his ink and quill and then hastily scribbled a quick note on the back of the parchment.

  Let me know when B- returns. What he discovers may determine our next course of action.

  He blew on the ink until it dried and then rolled the parchment up and slid it back into the small container on the falcon’s leg.

  “Fly,” he commanded the bird.

  The small bird hopped to the edge of the window sill and dove out of the tower. With its small wings folded against its sides it plummeted like a stone and then, at the last moment, spread its wings and sped across the ground towards the garrison where Jonah was stationed. In a few seconds it was gone. Jonah would receive the message shortly, but there would be no further communication until Gabriel, Ben, and Hob returned from their quest. Evidently, they knew, or at least they thought they knew, where the Dragon’s Cradle was located. That was one piece of the prophecy that had puzzled everyone down through the ages. What was a Dragon’s Cradle? No one knew, but Ben was on his way there and that thought seemed to comfort him. There was goodness in Ben’s heart and everything he had been a part of had turned out for the greater good for all of those involved. This time would be no different.

  Marcus left the window and pulled the table to the center of the room. He then crawled up on the table and laid down upon his back with his hands folded across his chest. As he stared up into the rafters, his breaths became further and further apart. As his breathing slowed, so did his heart rate and before long, his breaths and his pulse were imperceptible.

  Elves, although they do require rest and nourishment, do not require sleep. When they are resting, they are fully awake and completely aware of their surroundings, yet their vital functions slow down to a level that is almost undetectable. However, during this resting state their brain activity increases and they are able to experience a lucid dream in tandem with their reality. In this dream state they are able to harness creative and mental powers far beyond what is available to them during their waking hours. They are also able to enter this resting state at will and come out of it in an instant. Marcus had gone for many days now without rest and he badly needed the rest to clear his mind and help him organize his thoughts.

  After a brief repose, Marcus rose from the table. He was not completely back to normal, but close enough so that he could maintain the mental wall that he had erected in his mind to keep Bellator from learning his secrets and plans. Louise had once told him about a saying they had from her world. The saying went something like this; keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. It was wise advice and now was the time to make use of it. Bellator, confident in his strength and certain of his invincibility, would sit on the white throne until the sword Excalibur was brought to him. He could sit there for weeks without moving, without even blinking. What was time to an immortal? What was one hundred years in the span of an eternity? Marcus pondered this as he descended the tower stairs. It was less than a single drop of water in a vast ocean, he realized, but as long as he had nourishment, rest, and safety from bodily harm, he was immortal too and could wait just as long as Bellator.

  As he climbed the stairs to the capitol building, he found Bellator exactly as he expected he would; sitting on the white throne and staring straight ahead without the faintest glimmer of emotion on his face. The immortal did not even look down to acknowledge his presence. Marcus studied his chiseled features. The stony expression and the flat black eyes never failed to unnerve him. Here was a being so consumed by hatred that the raw emotion of his anger and malice no longer even registered on his countenance. Either that, or there were no feelings at all behind those soulless eyes; just a dark void that harbored a purpose born of jealousy, nurtured by hatred, and suffocated by eons of neglect from his one true love; the Creator. Marcus was not sure which one frightened him the most.

  “Bellator,” the Keeper called to him.

  The immortal finally glanced down at Marcus. “If you have need for nourishment, I am quite sure you may find it on your own. I gave you permission to go anywhere within the city walls.”

  “I do not require nourishment, but I do require knowledge.”

  This did not elicit a response from Bellator. The immortal simply continued to stare at the elf.

  “I wish to know your plans once you have the sword,” Marcus continued. “You do not need the sword to defeat us. You do not need the sword to defeat anyone. I have thought long on this and the only reason for staying your hand is to use the elves to find Excalibur and bring it to you. If we cannot produce the sword, you will eventually kill us all. If we do produce the sword, you will kill us as soon as you have it in your possession. So then, tell me why you want the sword and let us choose the time that we shall die.”

  “The sword was stolen from me,” Bellator answered. “It is mine and that is reason enough to want it back, but if you must know, I have no plans to destroy the elfin race, or any race for that matt
er. I will only destroy you if the sword is not returned to me and that is exactly why it will be returned. You are revered and greatly loved among your people. They will not fail to bring me the sword in exchange for your safe return.”

  “Then you do not know us as you think you do. Still, you have not answered my question. Why do you want the sword?”

  “I do not have to answer your questions elf, but I will humor you this once. I want the sword because the Creator Himself has blessed it. I want the sword because, with the Creator’s blessing, I will never be defeated. I want the sword because, with it, I will be invincible and the Creator will no longer be able to ignore me. I will stand by His side and He will see my brothers bow before me and all of the elves shall worship me and serve me.”

  “Blasphemy!” Marcus cried. “The Creator will strike you down for such heresy!”

  “The Creator does not speak to me anymore,” Bellator replied. Briefly, a shadow of grief crossed the immortal’s face and then quickly vanished.

  “You cannot and will not prevail.”

  “I can and I shall. Who is there among you to stop me? A chosen one perhaps?”

  Marcus paled. Did he slip up and let his guard down? How could Bellator possibly know that? The immortal smiled down at him. There was no humor or warmth behind that smile, only madness or evil. Or maybe both.

  “Yes,” said Bellator, “I know of my brother’s prophecy. I have been away, but I have not been idle. His rantings mean nothing to me because, by the Creator’s own mouth, with the sword I shall never be defeated. If this chosen one exists, I shall grind his bones beneath the heel of my boot.”

  Marcus turned to leave, and Bellator started laughing.

  “I do not need to see your mind to see your plans, Keeper.”

  Marcus paused on the capitol steps.

  “It is written plainly upon your face,” Bellator continued. “You think the chosen one and the sword will come together to fulfill my brother’s ridiculous prophecy, but the truth is that Excalibur is trying to return to its rightful owner. Go back to your tower and think long on that. The sword chooses its keeper, always selecting the person that will keep it safe for my return or selecting the person that will bring it closer to my grasp.”

  Marcus whirled around to face the immortal. “The sword was given to me and I, in turn, gave it to another. I have not seen the sword for hundreds of years, but know this; Excalibur did not choose its keeper; I chose.”

  “Ha! Did you really choose of your own free will? Do you think the sword had no influence on your choice? Well, I say to you, know this; you chose NOTHING! Excalibur is finding its way home to me and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “Finished? I haven’t even started. Be gone from me, and do not return unless I summon you. I’ve grown weary of your presence and if you linger any longer I may rethink my decision to spare the elves.”

  Marcus returned to the tower. What if Bellator was telling the truth? What if the sword was trying to make its way back to him? If that were the case, then bringing it back would be madness. But what of Venus’s prophecy? The prophecy never directly linked the sword with the chosen one, it was just always assumed by everyone who studied the prophecy that the chosen one would use the infamous sword to defeat Bellator. At any rate, there was no need to worry about it just yet; the sword had not yet surfaced and the wisest one was yet to be revealed. Maybe the wisest one would direct Ben to the location of the sword? If not, surely he or she would be able to provide counsel to help Ben defeat Bellator. The Keeper closed his eyes and quietly recited the last verse of the prophecy.

  “Lowly chosen one revealed, will bring the mighty down.”

  Bring the mighty down. That statement did not actually identify anyone. Once again, it was an assumption made by all who studied the prophecy that the mighty referred to Bellator, when in fact, it could refer to anyone. It could even refer to the elfin race! Marcus thought back to his conversation with Bellator a few minutes ago. Maybe the sword WAS making its way back to its owner, and Ben, the chosen one, would deliver it right into his hands. Once Bellator had the sword, the mighty elfin kingdom of Faerie would be under his dominion and rule. The mighty would indeed be brought down. A horrible thought occurred to Marcus. Maybe the prophecy was not meant to offer hope of a sure salvation, but maybe it was intended as a warning for an eternal damnation!

  Quickly, he took a seat at the table and called to the honey birds. One of little birds flitted over and alit on the Keeper’s outstretched finger. Marcus gently laid the bird on its back and spread its wings. He took the quill and the apple blossom scented ink and hastily scribbled two encoded words, one word upon the underside of each wing. He blew on the ink until it dried and then released the bird into the air. The honey bird hovered in front of him long enough for him to read the message he had just scribbled and then darted through the window, en route to the garrison at the Merlin tree. The message Jonah would receive simply read, “DO NOTHING.”

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