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  ORACLE

  Prophecy Of The Cataclysm Book Two

  Kyra Dune

  Oracle

  Copyright © 2015 Kyra Dune

  All rights reserved under International Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Shadow Portal Books, a division of Shadow Portal Productions, USA.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or taping, or by any information storing or retrieval system, without written permission from Kyra Dune.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Even resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Night in the Land of Midnight was not night as it was in the realm where Anastasia was born. No gradual waning of the light into darkness. No moon. No stars. No hope for the coming of dawn. No passage of time as she understood it. Only a perpetual silver luminescence visible even beneath the thick boughs of the trees.

  To walk in those woods was to walk in a silence so heavy the air itself seemed to have gained substance to press against her. This was a foreign place. A truth she could feel in her bones. And now, having entered it, she had no way of leaving except to press forward.

  Anastasia’s only comfort was in knowing she wasn’t alone. To have Simon and Lorn, two men who would gladly lay down their lives for her sake, at her side was a comfort. Though she prayed it would not come to that. She had no desire for others to die so she might live.

  Simon and Lorn’s motives in being there were as clear to her as were her own. But of their other companions she was less certain. Especially Reaper. He strode ahead of them, leading the way though the path had neither forks nor branches down which they might become lost.

  He was a solid presence now, unlike when they met. Back in the Death Dealer temple Reaper had only been a shadow vaguely formed as a man but had solidified his shape shortly after they entered this realm.

  He claimed to have pledged himself to the exiled god, Shirelyn, but whether that was for ill or for good he’d not bothered to say. Perhaps this god was set on preventing the Cataclysm, perhaps not. None of them save for Reaper really knew.

  It seemed to her if they could have reached the Land of Midnight without his help they would have been better off. Near as she could tell none of the others trusted him any further than she did, and yet there they all were, following him deeper into uncertainty.

  “How long until we reach Oracle?” Selene asked.

  “Hard to say,” Reaper replied. “Time is difficult to gauge in this realm. I can tell you this much, we must pass through these woods and cross an empty plain to reach the mountain where her temple sits.”

  “So in other words,” Brandon chimed in from his spot at the rear of the group, “you don’t have a clue. You could have simply said, ‘we’ll get there when we get there’ since that’s what you meant anyway.”

  Reaper ignored him, which didn’t seem to bother the wiry little assassin any. He walked along, whistling and grinning as if they were out to a picnic instead of on a quest to prevent the destruction of life as they knew it.

  A chill wind whispered through the trees. Anastasia shivered as much from the foreboding aura of the woods as from the cold. How strange it was to find herself in this place, desperately seeking some means of salvation besides the sacrifice of her own life.

  Brandon’s whistle died away. “Did anybody else hear that?”

  “I did.” Nephima touched her hand to the blue crystal which hung around her neck. “My talisman does not warn of danger.”

  “Your talisman doesn’t work here.” Reaper glanced over his shoulder at her. “No outside eyes may gaze into this realm.”

  Nephima slowly lowered her hand. “So we are alone.”

  A skittering noise, as if many feet scuttled through the underbrush, sounded off to their left. Anastasia instinctively moved closer to Lorn, who had dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. “What manner of beast haunts this place?”

  “Nothing pleasant,” Reaper said. “Keep moving.”

  A few moments passed. Anastasia stared into the trees, searching for any strange shapes. The shifting of tree limbs caused odd shadows, making it impossible for her to tell if anything living was moving about.

  The noise repeated, closer this time. “Oh look,” Brandon said, his tone inappropriately cheery, “they have yellow eyes. Glowing yellow eyes.”

  Anastasia turned and there in the bushes about a foot off the ground were several pairs of glowing yellow eyes staring at them. “What do we do?” she whispered.

  “Don’t panic.” Simon laid his hand lightly on her arm. “Everyone here is more than capable of handling themselves in a fight. You’ll be fine.”

  Anastasia nodded, not the least upset by the suggestion she would need protection. She was well aware of her own limitations which was another reason she was so glad to have Simon and Lorn. And yet, she wished Charles were there as well, instead of off trying to wrest the crown away from their cousin.

  The group continued on as if nothing were amiss while the eyes continued to follow alongside them. The form of the creatures to whom they belonged were lost in the shifting shadows.

  “Might I suggest you do something before we’re attacked.” Selene’s words were clearly directed at Reaper. “I for one am not interested in engaging in a fight with wild animals.”

  “I’m not the only higher power here,” Reaper replied.

  “You’re the only one familiar with this realm,” she retorted.

  “But a fight might be fun,” Brandon said. “This adventure is getting boring. It could do with some spicing up.”

  “This is not an adventure,” Selene snapped. “And some of us do not deal in death as easily as others.”

  Brandon appeared neither abashed nor angered by her words. He simply smiled that strange little smile of his. A smile he tended to wear more often than not. Whether this was a mark of low intelligence or insanity was unclear, but either way he was the least welcome of Anastasia’s newly acquired companions.

  “Reaper.” Selene spoke his name in a tone sharp as the crack of a whip.

  He spun around, his black cloak billowing out behind him. “I trust you did not intend to speak to me in such a tone. I am an elder, after all, and you are not.”

  Selene faced him without a hint of fear. “Elder or no, you have taken on a certain responsibility as our leader. Now can you rid us of these... whatever they are, or not?”

  “I suppose.” He marched back down the path a ways and stood regarding the woods around them. “I would rethink your current course of action were I you.”

  A few seconds passed, then the eyes began to blink out. All save for one set a little higher up than the others. These eyes stared back at Reaper for two heartbeats after all the others had gone before they too blinked out.

  “Satisfied?” Reaper glanced at Selene.

  “Extremely.” Selene’s voice dripped with disdain.

  Reaper stared at her much as the yellow eyes had stared at him. Then he returned to his position at the head of the group.

  “Why must you antagoni
ze him?” Simon whispered.

  “I don’t trust him,” she said. “I cannot believe the patron power of assassins is doing this for anything less than some sort of personal gain. Humans don’t think of him as the embodiment of death for no reason.”

  “You can’t know that for certain,” Anastasia said. Despite her own misgivings, she felt the need to defend the man. If for no other reason than she desperately wanted him to be what he appeared to be. Her last chance at salvation.

  “Perhaps Reaper is here,” she continued, “because, like us, he doesn’t want to see the realms destroyed. He is part of them, after all. The same as anyone else.”

  Selene cast a cool look at her. “Do not presume to speak of things you cannot possibly understand. The thoughts and motives of higher powers is beyond a mere human.”

  “There’s no need to condescend to her,” Simon said, moving between them. “She’s right to object to your questioning of Reaper’s motives. The man has given us no good reason to distrust him. If not for him, we would not even be here on the road to Oracle. I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “This is a fascinating conversation,” Brandon said, “but I do believe our guide is getting away from us.”

  It was true, Reaper had gone around the corner ahead and was lost to their sight. Anastasia doubted he would pause to wait for them. “I say any question of Reaper’s trustworthiness should have been addressed before we left the temple. It’s a little late for such concerns now, when we have set our feet on a path from which we cannot turn back.”

  Selene scowled. “Unfortunately, you are right. This time. Because of you we are in a place we cannot escape without following a man we have no reason to trust. When this all ends badly remember I was the one who said it first.”

  Anastasia watched Simon watching Selene walk stiffly away and her heart ached for the pain she saw in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset her,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, it’s not you,” he said. “She’s angry, for more reasons than one, and you’re simply the handiest person to take it out on. She’ll come around.” He draped his arm across her shoulders and gave her a little hug. “Everything will work out in the end.”

  She had the feeling he was talking about something other than Selene’s treatment of her. Maybe even something other than the Cataclysm. Something more personal. Anastasia didn’t know what might have once been between Simon and Selene, but whatever it was it had clearly ended badly. And though she couldn’t imagine Simon doing anything to make someone so angry, it was obvious the bad ending was on his head.

  Under different circumstances she would have asked, but considering all they had to deal with at the moment relationship troubles were certainly the least of their concerns. Perhaps when all this was over, providing she was still alive and the world hadn’t come to an end, she would try to help them if she could. Until then they simply had to press forward. They had no other choice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Daniella relaxed into a bath of warm milk. While one maidservant washed her hair, another set out her perfumes along the edge of the vanity table. The High Priest would soon arrive to begin preparations for Richard’s crowning and Daniella wanted to be at her best to greet him.

  The small formality of assuring there were no other contenders for the throne would have to be dealt with first, but this gave Daniella no cause for concern. Their father was not the sort to have royal bastards running about and thus her brother was certain to have no competition for the crown.

  Soon everything she had worked for would come to pass and the vision of death the crystal had for so long shown her would be changed to one of victory. Anastasia had escaped the nightmare, but no matter. She was in hiding now and could not possibly cause any trouble. Once Richard was king he would take care of the threat their cousin posed. Everything was bound to go smoothly from there on.

  A tug on her hair caused Daniella to twist around in the tub to glare at the maidservant. “Mind your clumsy fingers, girl, or else I’ll send you to serve my brother in his chambers tonight.”

  The young woman’s already pale complexion drained of what little color it possessed. “I beg your pardon, your Highness.”

  Daniella smiled smugly, confident the threat would be enough to make the girl more mindful of her actions. As it was, her personal maidservants were off limits to Richard and they would certainly prefer to stay that way.

  The second maidservant finished with the perfumes as a third girl came into the room carrying an arm full of dresses. She hung them from hooks on the wall facing the bath so Daniella could take her pick.

  “The dark blue will do nicely,” she said. The neckline was deep enough to be suggestive while still maintaining a certain propriety. She doubted she would need any feminine charm to influence the High Priest when she could think of no one who might contest Richard’s title of Crowned Prince, but it never hurt to play to the side of caution.

  After her bath, Daniella was lotioned and powdered and perfumed, then squeezed into a dress with a bodice so tight it was a wonder she could breathe. She admired her reflection in the floor length mirror.

  “How do I look?” she asked, running a hand through her long, black locks.

  “Beautiful.” “Stunning.” “Simply lovely, you Highness.” Came the reply from three sets of lips.

  Daniella smirked. She could have been the most hideous woman to ever walk the earth and they still would have claimed her beautiful. Not that it mattered. She knew her own worth and hardly needed servants to boost her ego. Having them tell her so was simply another way to remind them of their place. It was necessary to do so with servants from time to time. Kept them from getting ideas.

  “You’re dismissed.” She waited until the girls were gone before crossing the room to open the window shutters. Staring out into the blue sky, she wondered what had become of Gibli. She’d expected him to return by now.

  Had the archangel perhaps discovered her little spy? The thought was troubling. If the imp were caught and questioned, he would likely spill her name. And she could not afford to be associated with a demon. Her interest in witchcraft was well known, but none had proof she actually practiced the craft. So long as this held true she had no need to fear the Order. Princess or no, it didn’t bear thinking on what they might do if they knew she possessed the ability to summon a demon. Even one so low class as an imp. Of course, she’d also summoned a nightmare, which was certainly a demon of a higher order, but no one could possibly know about that.

  “Where are you?” She slapped a hand down on the windowsill. How inconvenient it was to have no means of communicating with her servant while he was away from her. Daniella turned from the window and left her chambers. She had no time now to worry about where the imp might be. Other business was at hand.

  Richard was waiting for her in the main hall when she arrived downstairs. “I expected you an hour ago,” he snapped. “The High Priest is nearly here and where were you?” He looked her up and down with a sneer. “Off primping yourself? As if throwing yourself at the High Priest would do me any good.”

  “Temper, temper, little brother.” Daniella only smiled though she would have liked to slap his face. “Do try and remember to whom you owe your upcoming rise in stature. You might try and show a bit of gratitude.”

  “Gratitude?” He glared at her. “I’ve not turned you over to the Magi for illegally practicing witchcraft nor had your baseborn lover strung from the nearest rafter. Is that not gratitude enough for you?”

  “My, my, has the thought of being ruler of Hyacinth caused you to grow a backbone?” She trailed one red tipped finger down the sleeve of his shirt. “Let’s not forget I’ve rid this castle of one king already. I could as easily dispose of another.”

  Richard took a step back. “You are as vile and poisonous as a snake hidden in the grass.”

  “True,” she said. “Something you should consider when you open your mou
th to me. You will show me some respect. I’m not one of your playthings.”

  “Mores the pity,” he muttered.

  A blast of fanfare cut the conversation short as the double doors swung open and the High Priest of the Grand Temple entered the castle. Dressed in blood red robes trimmed in white rabbit’s fur, the aging, balding, rotund leader of the kingdom’s predominate religion strutted toward Richard and Daniella as if he were a peacock in full plum. A young acolyte, dressed in grey and bearing a brazier of flowered incense, strode alongside him.

  Candlelight twinkled off gem encrusted rings as the priest offered his hand to Richard. The prince bowed to kiss the purple signet ring on the man’s center finger. He wore no expression on his face, but Daniella knew her brother well enough to catch the flash of fury in his eyes. She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep herself from laughing right out loud.

  Daniella had no more love for the man than Richard did, but it was a sad fact he was the one who would decide the next king. Therefore deference was essential, though she had no doubt it would strain her brother greatly to rein in his temper.

  “I am honored to have you here as our guest, your Grace,” Richard said. And he didn’t even choke on the words.

  “It is a holy and sacred duty we must perform,” the High Priest said. His attempt to look down his nose at them was a miserable failure, seeing as how they were both rather taller than he was. “The God Above would see only the most worthy sit the throne of Hyacinth. We are most humbled to be his lowly servant in this world and to be allowed to see his will be done.”

  The corner of Richard’s right eye twitched, prompting Daniella to step in before the strain proved too much. “Would you care for something with which to refresh yourself after your long journey, Your Grace?”