Chapter Four
A Leap of Fate

Eliza jumped in her sleep as she awoke from that terrible nightmare. Her head throbbed as she clasped her hands to her temples. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her wet palms in amazement. A hand quickly flew up as she covered her face from the blaring sunlight infiltrating through the window. Eliza looked around the room feeling a bit disoriented, trying to regain her balance, still shocked at the lifelike feeling of the dream. She felt as if she had not slept in weeks, months perhaps. She sat at the edge of the bed, trying to recover her sense-of-place as a knocking came at her door.
Eliza took a deep breath to steady herself. "Who is it?" she called out, desperately hoping it was Liam or even Odie. Where were they? And where was she, exactly?
The door opened to admit a female elf wearing healers' robes. She was silver-haired like most of the fair folk, beautiful and exotic. Eliza suddenly realized how disheveled she must look, and for a moment she inwardly laughed at herself for worrying about such a trivial matter.
The elf came to her side and stared down at her with eyes that seemed alien and even a bit cold. "You have slept for two days," she said, running a hand over Eliza's forehead. "How do you feel?"
Eliza tried to sit up, but the elf shook her head disapprovingly, and the girl was too weary to disobey. "I have to go," she muttered. "I have to find Charles..."
The healer continued to shake her head. "The boy? Do not concern yourself. Your friends have gone to look for him, aided by one of our scouts. If he is alive, Parethiel will find him."
"I should be with them!" Eliza growled, throwing off her blankets. "Why wasn't I woken earlier?"
The startled elf allowed Eliza to slip out of bed, but as she was going to the door, the healer uttered a word under her breath. Eliza heard the bolt slide shut and she turned around, incredulous. "I don't think you'll be going anywhere," said the elf.
"Will I be trapped here like a helpless babe?"
"What choice have you got?" The elf asked, with a bit of authority.
"I believe I have the choice to do as freedom demands, or am I being held captive?"
The elf tilted her head in a quizzical manner, deep, ice blue eyes penetrating Eliza's stare, to a point where Eliza was visibly trembling. She moved forward, coming closer to Eliza, every step making her seem a foot taller and if possible, even more graceful and beautiful. "Why do you fear me, child? Have I not given you shelter and healed your wounds? I am only preventing you from further discomfort. You must understand that you remain a bit...weak. You're strength will and shall replenish soon with my aid." She showed what appeared to be a faint smile. "You *must* extend your rest."
Eliza relaxed, only enough to calm her shivering knees. "Where am I...?"
"This place is of no importance. You need not worry, you are safe here. I will be sending my cleric to assist you by sundown. It is imperative that you rest. We shall meet again soon." She walked past Eliza, graceful movements emulating the wind.
"May I at least know your name?" Eliza asked, stunned by the beauty and the powerful presence of this elusive elf.
The elf turned to regard her for a moment, and with words that sounded melodic, answered. "Estaria..."

Eliza watched the elf go and waited a few moments, then quietly went to the door. It was unlocked. Surprised, she stepped out into a hallway broken on both sides by arches made of twisting tree trunks. A leafy bower formed the ceiling, but the apartment did not seem exposed in any way. Light filtered in from overhead, skittering over the bright mosaic tiles that lined the floor, and songbirds serenaded her as she walked breathlessly down the passageway.
The hall opened up into a spacious room the seemed more like a forest glade with marble walls and tiled floors. Trees and terraced gardens sprouted up around a small pool with a waterfall that trickled softly down to the surface like fingers of sparkling light.
"Perhaps it is wise for the elves to keep me here," Eliza said to herself, sitting down by the pool and breathing in a mist of natural perfumes. "What can I really do to help Liam and Odie, anyway? I'd just get in the way and be a liability if Erik caught us. Besides, it will be good to rest." She looked up into the trees and closed her eyes, at peace. "It's so beautiful..."
"Yes, so beautiful..." The voice, high-pitched and androgynous, startled Eliza from her reverie. She jumped to her feet and looked around, feeling foolish. "Who's there?" she demanded.
"I, milady. Behind you," came the mocking call. Eliza whirled around to see a small creature wearing a monocle and a bright ensemble checkered with pockets of various sizes and shapes. "Sinister Dexter Skree, at your service," said the creature with a low bow.
"I'm...Eliza," Eliza stuttered. "What sort of being are you?"
"One of the last of a dying race. A gnome, imprisoned here as you are."
Sinister Dexter adjusted his monocle and eyed her curiously. "What are you in here for, anyway? You get caught in the pants of some handsome elven warrior? The Queen doesn't like half-breeds, you know."
"No, of course not!" Eliza said sharply. "What did you mean, imprisoned? Is there no way out of the garden?" She had seen other passages spilling off from the main hallway, and thought that one might lead to an exit.
"There is a way," the gnome said slyly. "But do you not want to hear my tale first? This is such a lovely place for repose."
Eliza crossed her arms. "I don't believe you do know the way out. Otherwise, you would have already left."
Dexter chuckled. "As I said, this is a lovely place for repose. There's even a library where I can attend my studies. Who would want to leave it? Things are so dreary and troublesome on the outside. I've been in here for more than fifty years, though I've known the secret of escape for nearly forty."
Eliza wished she were alone again. This gnome was making her vaguely uncomfortable, though she wasn't sure why. She took a long drink from the pool. The water was soothing. She felt better immediately. "So why _are_ you here?" Eliza asked.
"I poisoned the Queen's consort and impersonated him." Eliza spit the water out and nearly choked. "Oh, it's not as if he _died_," the gnome went on, chuckling at her reaction until he began to wheeze. "He was just...out of commission for a time."
"But how did you..."
"With magic, naturally," replied Sinister Dexter. "I am an illusionist, among other, less reputable things."
Eliza couldn't think of much that was less reputable than illusionism, but she decided not to ask about it. She also doubted that the creature before her would be able to help her with her current dilemma, but there was no one else to talk to other than the birds (whose sole company she would have preferred). "I don't even know if I should try to escape," she found herself saying. "I want to be with my friends. I know they're walking into terrible danger, and they shouldn't even be involved. I almost think I should just give myself up for their sakes. But...I wish I understood this Prophecy better!"
"Prophecy?" The gnome looked at her speculatively. He shook his head. "You're not...You are. I heard the elves speaking of you before you even arrived. Of course."
"What do you mean, `of course'?" Eliza snapped. "What does everyone know about this?"
"Your daughter is fated to reshape the world in her image. She has no mortal father, does she? Is it any wonder all of the riff-raff have come out of the woodwork to claim her? They all want to mold her after _their_ respective images. Not a well-known prophecy among my people, but then, I am quite learned." Sinister Dexter gave her a smug smile. "You thought it was a boy, didn't you?"
Eliza stood up. "That's it," she said angrily. "I'm sick of people not telling me things. I'm going to find Liam and Odie, rescue Charles, and then I'm going to raise my daughter as _I_ see fit!"
She stalked off a few paces, then stopped and turned around. "You never told me the way out of here," she said, eyeing the gnome dangerously.
"I'll tell you if you take me with you," he said.
Eliza huffed. "You're a dirty little man."
"Thank you, milady." Sinister Dexter bowed again. "The prospect of traveling with you is the only thing that would impel me to leave such a beautiful place."
She almost dismissed the flattering comment when the true meaning of his words suddenly hit her. All she had to do was _want_ to leave! But how? Suddenly she knew it intuitively. The pool...The pool must be a conduit.
Eliza peered into the water and now saw an endless depth, cold and unyielding. No longer so sure about diving in, she stood at the edge and began to walk back and forth. It's safe here, she thought. Why should I leave? Because you can't bear to be held prisoner, of the elves or anyone else. Eliza plunged into the dark water. A second splash followed behind her.
She could see nothing. The blackness felt heavy around her as she descended further and further. Just above her she could feel the movement in the water as the gnome struggled as well. Finally, she saw light. The veil of darkness parted, and she felt herself being dragged along faster and faster. She reached out and caught the hand of the gnome. Together they rushed forward impelled by the force of the water, until at once it fell away from them and they were free of it.
Tumbling out of a chute, they smacked against something hard and lay still. Coughing and rubbing the sting from their eyes, the two finally got a look at their surroundings. They were sitting on a flat rock in the middle of a pool fed by one circular waterfall that completely enclosed them. A thick overhang of branches concealed the sun.
"It was...actually the mirror," Sinister Dexter sputtered finally.
"What do you mean?" Eliza coughed. "What mirror?"
"There's a mirror that takes you out."
Eliza stared at him, eyes wide with dread. "Then where does this take us?"
Dexter shrugged. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Charles wriggled and writhed upon the cold stone floor, trying to free his hands from the thin, silken cord binding him hand and foot. He paused for a moment, listening intently. The scuffling of bare feet upon the floor of an adjoining chamber only heightened the sense of foreboding which had settled in the pit of his stomach since regaining consciousness. The boy froze as the echoes of loud cackling resounded from the next chamber. He craned his head around in an attempt to view its source, but couldn't quite manage it; the raucous laughter continued, spattered intermittently with high-pitched, ear-scratching humming. The lad resumed his futile struggling.

Erik vin Drako sat upon his stolen throne, which in turn rested upon the black stone dias set in the far corner of his spacious summoning chamber, methodically drumming his long, pointed fingernails together, creating a light clacking sound as he did so.
The sorcerer was lost in wicked thoughts of revenge concerning a certain elf lady. Abruptly, he turned to face the struggling lad bound in the opposite corner of the room. Cold, scornful eyes regarded the skinny boy, who froze in place the moment those cruel orbs found his own.
It couldn't be. This pathetic stripling? Was it actually possible this sad creature was the Lady Carmen's offspring? Even worse, that it was... no, he refused to even consider such a thing, yet it was. The sorcerer's eyes narrowed to mere slits as the rage boiled within him. Erik was truly saddened at the moment by the lady's untimely demise nearly a score of years since; he would have relished enacting the torture and murder this outrage demanded of him. Lady Carmen had hidden the truth from him... and Erik had soon tired of her. In a moment of anger at her willfulness, he had cast her to a fate worse than death.
For years, Erik had thought that was the end of it, then the sorcerer learned how wrong he had been. That was why he'd wanted the boy as well. The frightened lad just stared up at him expectantly, his eyes a liquid-brown in the brazier's light.
"GRUBSUCKLE!" vin Drako called out in a commanding voice. A short and pot-bellied, spindly-limbed goblin came skittering out of the adjoining chamber, feet slapping upon the stone floor. He fell to his knees before the sorcerer and bowed his head in deference to him.
"Yes, oh dark prince of dread?" Grubsuckle addressed his master. "How may I serve you, fell lord?"
Charles' eyes nearly bulged from their sockets in surprise; he'd never even heard of a well-spoken duckfoot before.
"Ware your tongue, fool, or I shall feed it to the inhabitants of my menagerie," Erik vin Drako replied to the slave. Grubsuckle seemed to wither in fear at the human's words. The goblin bowed his head once more, all courage fled, waiting for his master to continue. "Escort this prisoner to the dungeons... and lock him within our finest cell," Erik replied with an amused, predatory grin spreading across his features.
"As you command, oh hideous master," the unusual goblin replied, before grabbing Charles up by his bindings, and dragging him off to the dungeons.

Eliza tried not to laugh as Sinister Dexter Skree bobbed up-and-down in the cold water like a paddling dog, but it was beyond her means. Finally, the strange, twitching creature reached his goal and grabbed hold of the scroll case which had once been slung over his back. He began paddling back to the rock and tried to pull himself up onto it again. A booted foot pushed him away and he was paddling once more.
"What is the meaning of this?!" the outraged gnome spouted out at her angrily from the water.
"My thoughts, precisely," Eliza replied. "I'll hear more of this prophecy now, or your race is like to become a bit rarer," she said with a determined chuckle.
"You wouldn't dare..." Skree began.
"Just try me," Eliza cut him off. Dexter shrugged then, causing little ripples of water to spread out from him.
"Alright, but I suggest we find a way to get out of here first. Any suggestions?" The gnome lifted a hand to the woman from the depths of the pool, but Eliza was already shaking her head stubbornly in a negative. "Very well, then," Dexter conceded, at last. "Pull me up."
Back on the flattened rock, scroll case in hand, Dexter cut the wax ring which sealed his case against the elements. "I happen to have in my possession... " he began tentatively, before continuing, "a copy of the original text concerning 'The Soothsayer's Song,' as the Prophecy was formally titled in the Elder Days by the poorly esteemed, and oft-maligned, 'Simpronius the Simple,' First of the Scribes of Andallon."
"Dare I ask how you came by such a work?" Eliza inquired, brusquely.
"I stole it from the Archives in Andalast, of course, and don't ask such foolish questions. I'll be happy to let you see it... for a price, of cour..."
Eliza's clenched fist dropped Sinister Dexter to the cold, damp stone, where he lay dreaming the blissful dreams of unconsciousness. The young woman retrieved the small scroll case and began rummaging through its contents. At last she came upon a particularly old, yellowed, and cracked parchment; she unrolled it carefully and inspected it cautiously, having heard a few horror stories concerning the misreading of scrolls.
It was written in a bold, flowing script, in the Old Tongue of Andallon. The haze of her "vision" flitted briefly back to her as she began to read.

These are the words of "Rhadamanthus the Mad" ... renowned and reviled of all the races as -- The Soothsayer, hear them... this is his song:
***The Soothsayer's Song***
A child shall come born not of sin
no simulacrum nor a "true soul" within...
and yet it shall be for good or for ill
in time we shall see by the gods' grace and will...
a harbinger come to herald rebirth
a beacon to some of infinite worth...
when HER soul once forsaken is claimed once again
all the world shall be shaken and harken to HIM...
The Krysolis shall unhide The "Chosen One"
The fates shall decide... in a world come undone.

Sinister Dexter Skree slowly regained consciousness. He pushed up from the dampness of the stone to find Eliza staring off into nothingness... a glazed look pasted upon her stony, expressionless face. He pulled out his enchanted monocle and plopped it over his eye out of habit, constantly adjusting and fiddling with it as he considered the entranced woman.