Chapter 31
At first there was a stunned
silence. Then Tolian heard both Brythia
and Findelbres stammering. The prince herself, said nothing. What was there to say? She could only stare at the little silver
creature that was the Moonstone. It was
absolute in its simplicity. It bowed to them
politely at Davlin’s bidding. Tolian
felt waves of powerful energy radiating from it, almost as a physical force it tugged at
her.
The force she had mistaken as her destiny drew out of her a deep sense of nihilistic
uselessness. She couldn’t believe she
had been so wrong about the sword, about everything. She cast her gaze upon herself: her cleavage,
the soft curves of her body. She began
to shake with a deep despondency. The
room began to swirl around her, she could hear the others talking, but it
seemed that they were a thousand miles away.
Their words meant nothing.
The renegade druid, Davlin, was
triumphantly explaining the proper translation of the Prophecy, “You see, what
had been translated as `he shall be killed by no man, and by no born female’
refers to the genderless state of the Champion.”
Brythia spoke out, but doubt told in
her wavering voice, “That’s nonsense, Davlin.
And what about, `born of the dead in a day not in the year’?”.
Davlin smiled, “Ah well, you see
`twas on Lybric Day last year that I used my will to bring the Champion forth
from the lifelessness of the Moonstone.
In perfect accordance with the Prophecy.”
Findelbres offered a point. “My Lady,
Queen of Faerie, has studied Brythic’s prophecy since he penned it. No mortals have greater wisdom than she in
such matters. She was certain that the
plan laid out by the Druidic High Council was correct. She has no doubts that Tolian, here, is the Champion. I still tend to agree with her.”
“Friend Findelbres,” replied Davlin
calmly, “is it so hard for you to believe the evidence of your own eyes. This is no Moonsword; it is the
Champion. Your false Champion looks more
like a lost little girl to me at the moment.
Do you believe that your Queen can never be mistaken?”
A lost little girl. That registered in Tolian’s dazed
consciousness. It rang true to her. That’s precisely how she felt. What had they done to her? She had never felt so helpless in her entire
life. She was convinced Davlin was
right.
“But, what about Tolian’s superhuman
strength?” asked Brythia. “The ritual
gave him powers beyond those of any other mortal. Surely, that is proof that he is the
Champion.”
“She is a magickally empowered
being,” answered the former druid, “I’ll grant you that. But that is merely evidence of the power of
Druidic magick. No doubt she will be
quite useful to the Champion in its quest.”
They debated for some amount of
time. Finally Davlin said, “Look, we can
settle this once and for all.”
“How?” asked both Brythia and Findelbres.
“Well, you claim that the moonstone
was meant to be utilized by the Champion as her weapon, correct?”
“Yes,” replied Brythia emphatically.
“Very well,” continued Davlin, “Then,
if Tolian is the Champion then she should be able to change the Moonstone into
her sword, or whatever she likes. If she
can’t, then I am correct that the Moonstone itself is the Champion. Agreed?”
Brythia pensively considered his
challenge. Findelbres seemed doubtful.
Tolian was deeply afraid of the idea.
She knew that it would prove that Davlin was right. The shiny creature that stood calmly regarding them was the Champion, she
had no doubts of that at the moment. Everything
she had undergone had been for naught.
“Well?” asked the self-exiled nature
priest.
“I’m not certain that that would
offer definitive evidence,” argued Brythia, her brow knotted in thought. “But, I suppose it’s worth a try in the short
term, until we can think of something else.”
“I am no expert on mortal magick,”
said Findelbres, “but, I think Davlin’s experiment will settle the matter
correctly. I, for one, have no doubt
that our Tolian is the Champion.”
Davlin addressed Tolian, “What do you
think, Your Highness? Is it worth a
try?”
“Yes,” she responded. “Let’s settle this now.”
“Then,” Davlin said, “We are agreed.
Tolian, why don’t you begin by calling the Champion, I’m sorry, I mean
the Moonstone, over to you.”
“I’ll try,” she said, her voice
trembling with doubt.
“You can do it, my lord,” Brythia
assured her.
“We have complete confidence in you,”
added Findelbres.
Kilfrie licked her hand in support as
well.
Tolian tried to dispel her own
certainty of failure. She looked at the
diminutive metallic being. It looked
back at her and smiled. She attempted to
gather her self-confidence about her.
“Come to me,” she commanded.
It did not move, but stayed there
maintaining its eager smile.
“Come, Moonstone,” she tried again.
Nothing happened.
At length Davlin spoke, “Champion, go
to Tolian, please.”Instantly the thing moved (in a rather eerie, inhuman
fashion, Tolian thought) towards the prince.
It stopped as it stood before her.
“All right, Tolian,” suggested the
renegade druid, “Touch the Moonstone, and exert your will power to transform it
into the sword of your visions.”
Tolian knew that it wasn’t going to
work. She reached out towards the
Moonstone being and tentatively touched its shoulder. She felt a powerful charge of energy flow
between them. She looked into the silver
creatures little eyes. They were filled
with love. The energy passing between
them grew stronger and stronger. Some
confidence fought its way into her heart.
Perhaps, she was the Champion after all.
She began to concentrate on the Moonstone. She closed her eyes and visualized the
creature transforming into the sword of her vision. The Moonsword. She attempted to picture the metamorphosis as
vividly as possible.
Finally she opened her eyes. No change was evident in the Moonstone. No change.
The Moonstone was the Champion—she was not.
“There!” shouted Davlin with victorious
gusto. “I told them. But, no!
I had to be wrong, didn’t I? Well
I wasn’t wrong!”
Depression seized Tolian. A powerful darkness of the soul. She retreated into the deepest recesses of
her mind.
“Tolian,” Brythia said calmly, “this
doesn’t necessarily prove anything.
Don’t be upset.”
She ignored her.
“What do you mean, `this doesn’t
prove anything’?” demanded Davlin. “I
believe we agreed that this would stand as the test. And so it did. The Moonstone is the Champion.”
Brythia corrected him, “No sir, I
agreed that we would accept the result until we could think of something else.”
“Can you?”
“No.
Not at the present.”
“What does the Moonstone say on the
matter?” asked Findelbres.
“The Champion can not speak,”
answered Davlin.
“Well, surely speech should be one of
the qualifications of the Champion,” put forth the faerie.
“What matter if it can talk or not,
Findelbres?” asked Tolian somberly, “If it can kill the Demon that is all that
matters. Enough argument. I am convinced that the Moonstone is the
actual Champion.”
The truth was hard, but there it
was. She said it. It hurt.
Throughout her ordeal, the only thing that had made her transformation
bearable was her status of Champion. She
had at least appreciated the honor of her quest, her purpose. Saving the World. Now she had no purpose, no destiny, only the
loss of her manhood, and the attendant humiliation. There was within her, however, a courage and
a determination.
She finished her announcement, “We
shall do everything we can to aid the true Champion.”
They appeared stunned. Even Davlin seemed surprised by Tolian’s
words. Apparently he had anticipated
more of a fight.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “I had not imagined this turn of events. We shall certainly appreciate every bit of
assistance that we can get.”
“Tolian?” asked Brythia, “are you
sure about this?”
“I’m not sure of anything
anymore. But we still have to do whatever
we can to stop the Demon. That much
hasn’t changed.”
“She’s right,” agreed Davlin. “The three of you shall make powerful allies
in our quest.”
Kilfrie growled.
“Sorry,” the older man said, “The
four of you.”
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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