Trapped in Time Read online

  “Hold, hold!” the old man exclaimed. “This is what I am talking about—whenever we get together for a parley, it always turns to talk of war and strife. But it was not always so. The Clans used to get along together—to respect each other and work for thee common good.”

  “Times have changed,” purred one of the cat-eyed warriors. “We have changed, Old One.”

  “No, we have not!” the old man said stoutly. “The peoples of the Four Clans are much the same as they ever were. What has changed is the Peace Crystal. It is sick—cracked. And in order to bring peace back to our peoples, it must be healed.”

  The warrior woman with the long red hair put a hand on her full hip.

  “And how do you propose to do that, Old One?” she demanded. “The Crystal is cracked and has been breaking apart for generations. Have not every one of our Clans tried every sort of magic to heal it? What can you do now that has not been done before?”

  “Something new,” the old man said mysteriously. “I had a visitation last night,” he continued. “A visitation from the Goddess herself.”

  There were gasps from some of the others seated around the table as well as exclamations of wide-eyed surprise.

  “Well?” purred the cat-eyed warrior who seemed to be the leader of his Clan. “What did she say, Old One?”

  The old man’s eyes closed reverently and he lifted his face, as though looking into the Heavens.

  “She gave to me a prophesy,” he said in his hoarse but strong voice. “Listen well.”

  “That which is broken

  Must be made whole

  To heal the Crystal

  You must heal the soul

  Choose he among you

  Who has never been bested

  Send him between worlds

  To find one who is tested

  She is a maiden, pure of heart

  From that which she loves

  She has been forced to part

  You shall know her at once

  For she is the one

  Who can beat any male

  Under the sun

  Bring her back

  To the room of Clans

  On the Crystal of Peace

  She must lay her hands

  Only then will

  Your Peace be made whole

  To heal the Crystal

  You must heal the soul.”

  “That is a deep prophesy indeed,” one of the saber-toothed warriors remarked. “But what does it mean?”

  “I believe it means we must choose a champion,” the cat-eyed warrior purred. “But how we are to send him between worlds, I do not know.”

  “I do,” the old man said. “The Goddess told me that a shard of the Crystal would be given to me and by its magic, he who we choose would be sent where he needed to go.”

  “A shard of the Peace Crystal? But I thought you wished to heal it—not break it apart further?” the warrior woman with the long red hair objected.

  “It and all the other missing pieces shall be restored when the maiden the prophesy speaks of puts her hands upon it and heals it,” the old Shaman said confidently. “Watch.”

  Holding out a hand, he leaned across the table and pressed his fingertips to the side of the cracked Crystal. The Crystal pulsed weakly, turning briefly from the sickly greenish shade to a deep, rich purple. As it did so, a shard about the length and width of a finger flaked quietly off its side and fell into the Shaman’s palm.

  At this, there was a hushed murmur of amazement all around the table. Clearly this wasn’t a usual occurrence and something special had just happened.

  The old man rose to his full height and held out the shard of Crystal, which glowed a faint yellow, for all to see.

  “Now,” he said. “To choose our champion. I would nominate my apprentice, Skahr.” He nodded at the tall, scarred warrior with the enormous sword.

  At once there were complaints.

  “Why should one of the Esk’hara Kindred go?” the saber-tooth leader demanded. “We of the Fang Kindred have just as much right to try and fulfill the prophesy.”

  “And what of the Kittrix Clan?” the cat-eyed leader demanded. “Why was one of our number not chosen?”

  “I say there is no need for a male champion at all,” the red-haired leader of the Women’s Clan declared. “The prophesy speaks of finding a maiden who can beat any male under the sun—I am she! I can best you all!”

  “Not me, you cannot, Maeve.” The warrior called Skahr spoke for the first time and Caroline thought that she had never heard such a deep, velvety voice before. A midnight-colored voice, she thought to herself, if that made any sense.

  The red-haired warrior woman started to protest but Skahr held up a hand to stop her.

  “You cannot best me,” he told her simply. Not as though he was bragging, but just stating a fact. “You tried at the Solstice Festival last summer—I still have the scars to prove it,” he added, pointing to his face. “If any other had fought you so, you would have been scarred for life. Only because it is a trait if my people to wear the scars we inflict upon our opponents are you unmarked and you know it.”

  Maeve looked at him angrily for a moment, then sat back down at the oval table with a scowl on her face. Clearly he was speaking the truth.

  “In fact,” Skahr went on, raising his voice, “None of you can best me, though many have tried. “I have not lost a combat match for these past ten cycles.”

  Again he didn’t sound like he was boasting, Caroline thought, just laying the facts on the table. The rest of the Clans at the table seemed to think so too.

  “All right,” the cat-eyed leader drawled at last, frowning. “We will acknowledge that Skahr is to be our champion. But how is he to open a door between worlds? I have never seen magic that could do that, however strong it was.”

  “I believe that the shard of Crystal which was given to me, will act to open the doorway,” the old Shaman said firmly. “And the Goddess also told me that it will lead Skahr to the maiden we need—the only one who can heal the Peace Crystal.”

  Turning solemnly to the huge warrior, he removed a leather thong from around his neck and looped it securely around the finger-sized yellowish-green shard.

  “Take this and wear it near your heart,” he said, handing it over. “It will lead you to the female our Clans need to heal the Crystal.”

  “But what of the rest of the prophesy?” Maeve stopped sulking long enough to ask. “It speaks about ‘healing the soul’ twice. How is Skahr to do that? Whose soul must he heal? What does it mean?”

  “Alas, I do not understand the entire prophesy myself,” the old Shaman admitted. “But I trust the Goddess to guide Skahr in his quest to bring peace to our Clans once more. That is all I can say.”

  Skahr took the crystal and put it around his neck.

  “I thank you, Old One,” he said formally. “I shall not fail you.”

  “Good. Then go in peace with the love and wisdom of the Goddess to guide you,” the Shaman answered. “Go now.”

  “I will do as you say,” Skahr answered. Wrapping one big hand around the crystal, he murmured something Caroline couldn’t quite catch, though it sounded very like a prayer.

  “What—is he supposed to leave from here—from the Council room under the Sacred Hill?” one of the other warriors protested. “Shouldn’t he at least go outside and look for a doorway to the other worlds there?”

  But just then, a glowing dot flew from the tip of the crystal and hovered in front of Skahr’s face. To Caroline, it looked like a little red spark, just at his eye-level. As she and Sophie and all of the Clansmen and women on the other side of the window watched, the little red spark began to move. It traced a path in the air, leaving a glowing golden line behind it, then it made a sharp corner and began to go down, still trailing the golden line.

  “Oh, what’s it doing?” Sophie murmured as they watched breathlessly.

  “I don’t know—oh look, it changed direction again!” Caroli