“We’re here,” Feng informed the other travellers.

“Where exactly is here?” Maquille enquired, taking a look around him. There didn’t seem to be anything except the rock, sand and heat that had been around them since they had left the camp.

“Over there.”< p>

Maquille, Damian and Gerome followed the orc’s outstretched arm, but couldn’t make out what he was indicating. It was only when Feng moved off that they finally noticed the small hole leading into the rocks. “In here,” Feng said as he reached it.

“We’ll need a light,” Gerome asked, looking on the floor for a stone. Maquille found a suitable one first and ran his fingers over it. The stone immediately began to radiate a soft light. Then the group entered the cave, the two orcs crawling in front and the other three following softly behind.

At length, the tunnel opened into a cavern. It was lit by torches on the wall and the air hung heavily in the room. “Be careful of the hole in the middle,” Durzak advised as he helped Maquille out of the tunnel. “Stay close to the walls.”

“This way,” Feng called and lead the group to another opening. This one brought the them into a small room. Feng and Durzak sat down on their knees and indicated that the others should do the same. Maquille could feel his excitement rising within him. This was it.

Suddenly, a light went on behind a curtain that hung across the room. It produced the silhouette of a strange being on the curtain. Maquille gazed curiously towards it. It was neither human nor orc. This was something beyond his knowledge.

A raspy voice filled the room. “It brings me joy to see your peoples brought together like this, although the circumstances could be better.”

There was a pause. Then Feng asked, in an unusually timid voice, “I have done as you requested, blessed Oracle. Will you give us the prophecy now?”

There was another pause, this one longer than the previous. Then the voice began again, “When a king rises amongst the desert-dwellers... when those who defy unbuckle the belt of a god... then only can an ancient evil be erased from the lands...”

As the voice ended, the light was extinguished, plunging the small room into darkness again. “It is time to leave,” Durzak said, rather unnecessarily.

No one spoke on the way out. They were too awed by what they had just been a part of. It was only once they were outside that Damian broke the silence. “Maquille, what was it?”

Maquille cast a puzzled glance back. “I am no wiser than you are. I have never seen anything like it before, but perhaps we should turn our attention to the prophecy.”

“It makes little sense to me,” Gerome complained.

“When a king rises amongst the desert-dwellers,” Gerome considered the first part of the prophecy. “I believe that refers to the orcs.” Gerome turned to face Feng. “Except that you don’t have a king.”

“You speak true, mage. We have tribal leaders.”

Gerome tried to add something useful. “Well can’t they have a meeting and decide on a king?”

Feng laughed. “They would all want to be king! There is something in our tales about this. A sword who’s bearer will unite the orcs.”

“Then get the sword!” Gerome chimed. He turned to Maquille, “What about the second part of the prophecy?”

“I believe that we are ‘those who defy’, but I don’t understand the rest of the line.” Maquille looked around at the others, but it soon became apparent that he wasn’t going to get any help. “Library,” he finally requested.

“Durzak will take you back to your Fort Wyvern,” Feng instructed. “I believe there is a library there.”

Maquille nodded.

“What are you going to do?” Gerome asked.

“Fetch a sword and a crown.”