its glowing eyes, red as the fires of Hell, stayed fixed on the hedge
witch and the heart. For an awful moment Wiz thought the monster would
reach out and grind Moira into a red smear, as he had done with a legion
of wizards from the Dark League. Instead the demon approached her across
its heart and sank down on its haunches to stare motionless at the woman
and the sphere.
Moira continued her chant as if nothing had changed. She lowered her staff
and pointed at the heart. Bale-Zur stayed motionless, great taloned hands
resting on his misshapen horned knees. The hedge witch extended her staff
and tapped the crystal sphere once, twice, three times. The demon leaned
forward as if in special interest. Moira repeated the three taps and
Bale-Zur cocked its head. Again the three taps and this time the demon
seemed to shrink in on itself like a deflating balloon. Suddenly,
noiselessly, it shrank and vanished without a trace. The glow faded and
all that was left was a woman and a head-sized ball of some shiny black
material.
Moira grounded her staff and sighed deeply. Then she sagged against it.
That broke the spell. Wiz rushed to her and put his arms about her
shoulders. She leaned against him and he could feel her heart pounding
even through the thick cloak she wore.
“Fine,” she muttered. “M’fine. Just hold me, will you?”
Danny, Jerry and June all gathered around them in the deepening gloom of
evening. Moira took a deep breath and straightened in Wiz’s arms.
“It is done,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice.
Wiz looked at the globe, now cold and dark. “That’s it then,” he said.
“Bale-Zur is gone.”
“May we never see its like again,” Moira said fervently.
“Oh, you will not, mortals,” said a sweetly mocking voice behind them. “I
see that in your future.”
All four of them whirled. There, standing poised on the ruined wall, was
an elf.
Like all her kind, she was tall and slender. The delicate points of her
ears peeked through the long dark hair that curved around her face and
fell loose down her back. Her oddly slanted eyes were as blue as Moira’s
were green. In spite of the cold she wore a shoulderless gown of fine pale
pink stuff that rippled in the chill wind and set off her pale skin and
dark hair. She was as alien as she was beautiful, utterly relaxed and as
menacing as a tiger poised to spring.
June screamed and sank back against Danny. Moira stepped to the side and
held her staff aloft as if to strike. Danny clutched June to him and Wiz
and Jerry simply goggled.
“Uh, hi,” Wiz said, completely nonplussed. “Lisella, isn’t it?”
The elf maiden arched her beautifully formed brows and pursed her red lips
in a mock pout.
“You have forgotten me already. I am disappointed, Sparrow.”
“Ah, not exactly.” I never forget someone who’s tried to kill me. The elf
looked amused at his discomfort.
“So,” he said at last, “what brings you here?”
Lisella smiled, bright and cold as the moon at midwinter. “Why, I came to
renew our acquaintance, Sparrow, and to offer you a gift of prophecy.
Shall I tell you your future?”
“Uh, no thanks.”
“Ruin and loss,” Lisella went on as if he had not spoken. “Your company
shall meet your greatest enemy, one like you with powers as great as yours
and allies greater than you can imagine.” Her voice rang off the stones
and the wind pulled at her skirt and hair. “At the crossroads of the
worlds you and your companions shall meet him in a great battle. The
mightiest among you shall die, each of your number shall suffer great loss
and your enemy shall achieve his heart’s desire.”
She raised her arm and made a sweeping gesture that encompassed all of
them. “That is your future, mortals. That is what lies ahead.”
And then she was gone. The only sound was June’s harsh sobbing echoing off
the cold stone.
They looked at each other.
“Bitch!” Danny said fiercely as he clung to his wife. “Goddamn bitch.”