‘It was designed to be so. Only those with a certain gift may trigger it, and I wish to ensure that whatever talents they possess, they are vague about the true location of this hall.’
Miranda nodded in agreement. ‘Understood. How fare you?’
‘Time grows short. The heat tires me and I sleep more each day. Soon I shall enter the birth sleep and then shall I end this phase of existence.’
‘Time grows short indeed. How much longer will we have your guidance?’
‘Already the future grows clouded and dim to me. My daughter will not have the gift for the first twenty years of her life, so soon, for five years of my birth sleep and twenty years of my daughter’s infancy, you will be as you were before I came to this world. There is more.’
‘What?’
‘Much of what I should see I cannot, which means only that my own future is involved; for to all creatures, even me, knowledge of their own future is denied.’
The Oracle of Aal was considered the oldest being in the universe, ancient when the Valheru rose to challenge the gods during the Chaos Wars. Thinking of that, Miranda turned to look at a dais behind the oracle. Willing a shift in her perception, the woman saw the stone flick into existence. A fey green in color, it pulsed with an inner light. She stared at its hypnotic rhythms for a moment, then said, ‘Are they stirring again?’
‘They are always stirring,’ said the oracle. ‘Now they move with more vigor. Somehow they still have influence with those outside who are receptive to their call.’
‘They’ were the Valheru, the ancient beings known as the Dragon Lords to most inhabitants of the world. Trapped by forces even beyond their own ability to understand, they were bound in the stone by a mysterious agent. From the stone rose a golden sword with an ivory pommel. The woman named Miranda knew that a half century before, a great battle had raged in the city above, called Sethanon, and in this chamber a battle of equal proportion took place. The strange half-man, half-Valheru Tomas, inheritor of the mantle and power of Ashen-Shugar, the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches, battled a creature of spirit in the form of his ancient kinsman Draken-Koren, the Lord of Tigers. At that time, Pug of Stardock, magician of two worlds, and Macros the Black, sorcerer nonpareil, battled to hold closed a tear between two universes, aided by two Tsurani Great Ones, magicians from the world of Kelewan. And the dragon, Ryath, battled a Dread Lord, a creature from an alien space-time, whose very touch drained life.
In the end, the Valheru had been trapped within the stone, the Dread Lord vanquished at the cost of Ryath’s life, and all the forces supporting the false prophet Murmandamus vanquished. Not one soldier on either side, in the Kingdom or serving the moredhel chieftain, knew what the war had been about. No one among the highest-ranking chieftains of the Nations of the North – as the dark elves and goblins were called – knew that Murmandamus had been a Pantathian serpent priest magically transformed to resemble their legendary leader. Only the King’s family and a few trusted friends knew of the Lifestone and the presence of the Oracle.
And now the primary defender of the Lifestone, the magic and physical entity of the oracle dragon, was dying.
‘How will this change take place?’ asked Miranda.
The dragon lifted her head and nodded slightly to the right, where six robed figures stood speaking softly to one another. ‘These, my husband servants, they are already making their transformation.’
The figures removed their hoods and Miranda could see faces that were little more than those of boys. The dragon continued, ‘When the heat began to rise, I made the call, and youths from around the area, those with a certain gift, answered. They wandered from their homes and came to Malac’s Cross, to where the statue stands, and then I brought them here. Those that were lacking the true gifts needed were sent away, and thought only that they had been dreaming. Those who chose to stay were allowed to test, and those who failed were also sent away, with little memory of their time here. But these six are the first of the youths who have proven worthy to stand at my daughter’s side.’
Six elderly men came to stand next to the six youths. ‘These, who are their teachers, will join with me to create that which will be my daughter, and when they are done, these bodies will die. Then will the remaining spirit and knowledge enter these six young men.’ To another group on the other side of the hall the dragon motioned, and another six older men came forth. ‘I hope more of the young who have come to us prove worthy, for those who have no successor when it comes time to die … their knowledge is lost forever.’
Miranda said, ‘Only twelve of you?’
‘Had Pug not fetched us from our dying world, there would be none of us. And should a thirteenth worthy child come to us before the birthing, he, too, can become one with us. If a girl child comes, then another daughter, to serve with the first daughter. We may yet grow in number, we of the Aal.’
Miranda hid her impatience. She had other concerns at present. ‘Then you birth your daughter?’
‘Then my spirit joins with the spirits of my husband servants and we meld entirely, all memory and feeling, all pain and joy, to one consciousness, and that is split again, and those boys will be our sons, and my daughter shall be formed.’
‘The new Oracle?’
‘She shall be.’
‘And what body will she inhabit? I see no young girl here.’
‘This dragon’s body is magic; it is strong beyond any that the Oracle has used since our oldest memory. It shall be used again.’
‘So this is why you will not be with us for twenty-five years?’
‘Yes. She will be a child, even though she will have my powers eventually.’
Miranda sighed audibly. ‘At least she’ll be a large enough girl to give anyone pause should they break in.’ For a moment she considered. ‘Do you know where Pug is?’
The Oracle closed her eyes and considered. ‘He is absent from his island. I sense him out there’ – she made a vague gesture with her head – ‘among the worlds.’
‘Damn,’ Miranda swore. ‘I think we will need him here before your daughter is strong enough to defend this hall.’ She considered something in silence a while. ‘How long before you enter the final heat?’
‘We join in less than a year, Miranda. Then I shall be gone, for with the re-forming, something is always lost. This is why we, who were old when the stars were new, why we remember little of our own beginning. But in that rebirth, more strength and knowledge come, and she who follows after me shall be eventually my equal, then at last my better.’
Miranda muttered, ‘If we live that long.’
‘Dark tides are forming. They rise against distant shores but shall reach even here, eventually.’
‘I must be gone. There is little time and much to be done. I fear a great many foolish choices have already been made and that we depend too much on auguries and portents.’
‘You chose a strange audience for that argument,’ answered the Oracle.
‘That you’ve been useful is without question,’ said the young woman. ‘But fate is not immutable, I believe. I think one can seize destiny if one is but willing to make the attempt.’
‘So believe those who oppose you,’ said the Oracle. ‘This is the root of the problem.’
‘Those are deluded fanatics, who live in a mad dream that has no basis in reality. They bring death and pain for no cause whatsoever.’
‘True, but they share your sense of self-determination.’
‘On that note,’ Miranda said dryly, ‘I bid you farewell. Are you sufficiently protected here?’
‘Our arts are sufficient for all but the most powerful.’
‘Then I shall be gone. Will we meet again?’
‘I do not know,’ said the Oracle. ‘Too many possible endings appear to my mind, and none clearly marked as likely.’
‘Then fare you well on your journey to immortality, and pray that we lesser beings live long enough to greet your daughter when she comes into her own.’
‘You have my wishes for success,’ said the dragon.
Then the young woman was gone, vanished from before their eyes with little more than a gust of wind filling the empty place where she had stood.
To the one most senior among her companions the dragon said with a chuckle, ‘She is much like her father, don’t you think? That touch of the cynical in her nature could be the weak spot that undoes her. I hope fate is kind to her.’
The seniormost companion said, ‘Very much like her father.’
Winds swept the figure atop the hill, blowing her cloak and robes in billowing wings behind her. Smoke from distant fires stung her eyes as she beheld the carnage below. Riders were hunting down stragglers, raping and killing for sport. Using her arts, she studied in detail one scene after another. Men made like animals in the fury of battle now visited pain and destruction on helpless men, women, and children. She balled her fists in rage, but stayed her hand. Those who commanded the riders would descend upon her in an instant if she revealed her presence magically. While fear was not her companion, prudence was, and she understood her worth lay in being able to accomplish many things between now and the time of true battle. When that issue was decided, the fate of a world and more would hang in the balance, not the lives of these pitiful wretches.
Even at this distance, the cries of pain carried on the wind, and Miranda turned away from them as she moved down the hillside. For the time being she willed her heart to stone, for while she ached to help these few survivors, she knew that far more critical issues demanded her attention.
As she approached the scene of battle, she crouched low. Ducking behind low rocks, she waited as a company of drunken warriors wearing emerald armbands rode by, a screaming woman held across the neck of one man’s horse. Miranda felt her face flush in rage. She willed herself to calmness; losing her head now would help no one.
