A Dream of Mortals

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Ragon stood at the far end of the Isle of Light, holding Guwayne, and staring into the tall crystal spike that rose from the ground. It rose ten feet, its jagged points reaching up to the sky like something prehistoric, and as Ragon stared into it, it glowed different colors.

The shaft of Asus. It was the one place that Ragon could always come for clarity in times of confusion. Whenever his vision failed him, which was rare, he could come here and peer into what would be. It was a privilege he did not wish to abuse, since he knew his opportunities to peer into the crystal were limited. But now, in this current crisis, he felt obliged to.

Ragon searched the crystal, desperately needing clarity, needing to know why his vision had failed him, to understand what was happening. A foreboding was rising deep inside him, and he did not like how it felt.

Ragon closed his eyes and chanted softly, waiting for the spirit to come to him.

Ookythroota, Ookythroota, Ookythroota…

Guwayne cried softly as he chanted, and Ragon rocked him, chanting over and over, louder and louder, until he finally felt the familiar sensation between his eyes.

Ragon opened his eyes and stared into the crystal shaft, and as he did, he saw it glowing yellow and orange and white—until finally, the vision came to him.

Ragon saw, unfolding before him, a prophecy he did not understand. He saw a world covered in black, the gates of hell open, and a million evil creatures ransacking the world. He saw his very own island, the Isle of Light, this island which had always been impregnable, which had sat here for centuries, consumed in flames. He saw himself being attacked by an army of undead creatures.

Ragon wanted to look away but forced himself not to. He wished he hadn’t, as a cold dread overcame him. He saw Guwayne surrounded by darkness, snatched from his arms. He clutched him tight as he watched him become lost in the grips of a power greater than any he’d ever seen.

Ragon could stand it no more. He forced himself to look away, breathing hard, his heart pounding, and he looked down at Guwayne, who lay in his arms, now silent. Ragon was covered in a cold sweat, and he did not understand any of it; it had been the most terrifying vision of his life.

Ragon hurried from the shaft and crossed his isle, running, taking long, sorcerer strides, each stride bigger than the next, ten feet, then a hundred feet, then two hundred, leaping like a gazelle across this isle he knew so well—until finally he reached the other side.

He stood there, at the opposite end, at this place he saw in his visions and he watched the skies, staring into the horizon. It was from here, the crystal had shown him, that he would be attacked.

Ragon stared and stared into the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, and yet he saw nothing. He wondered if it had all been an illusion. After all, how could he, Ragon, be attacked? How could Guwayne, the most powerful child on earth, be taken away from him? And yet, he had to admit, he felt some darkness coming himself.

He stood there, watching the skies, pondering his fate, and he did not know how much time had passed when slowly, his worst fears were confirmed. On the horizon there began to emerge a plague of blackness, an army of demons and other creatures flying through the air, heading right for his island. He knew at once whose handiwork this was, and which dark demon lord was behind it.

They were descending lower and lower, and he could sense right away that it was all true. The prophecies he had seen were true. His isle would be destroyed. Guwayne would be taken from him. He would be killed. The world would descend into blackness. And there was not a thing he could do.

He clutched Guwayne, holding onto him with all he had, wanting to hold him just a few seconds longer before he was lost to him forever. But destiny was knocking. And he knew that nothing he, or anyone else could do, would change it.

He would die here today, he felt certain of that—but he would not go down without a fight. He took a deep breath, held Guwayne close, held out his staff—and prepared for war.