The Curse of Deadman's Forest - Couverture rigide

City of Phoenicia 1331 BC

The great Phoenician Oracle Laodamia stood, pensive and troubled, on the terrace overlooking her garden. It was a warm summer night, but a shiver snaked its way down her spine.

She’d had another nightmare, the same nightmare, in fact, that had haunted her for weeks. And try as she might, she could not escape the terrible jumble of images that always began with four beautiful maidens being lured belowground by the underworld god Demogorgon, then ended with a massive conflict involving machinery and weaponry too fantastic to believe.

One thing was certain: if these visions of war and destruction were a portrait of the future—as Laodamia suspected they were—mankind was most assuredly doomed.

But what her role in all this was, Laodamia could not fathom. Even though she’d spent many a night worrying and wondering how she could possibly prevent what she knew was to come, the answers always eluded her. And that night was no different. The soft breeze and soothing flower scents wafting up from her garden brought her no new clarity. With a heavy sigh, she turned to go back to her bed, but as she was about to walk away from her terrace, a movement in the shadows caused her to jump.

“Do not be alarmed,” called a voice from her garden.

“Who’s there?” demanded the Oracle.

A shadowy hooded figure hobbled forward to stand in the faint light of the moon just below her balcony. “I mean you no harm,” said the stranger. “I’m just an old crone begging the great Oracle for a brief audience.”

Suspicious at first, Laodamia squinted at the intruder, but when the figure pulled back her hood and lifted her face for inspection, the Oracle could see she really was just an old woman. “Come back in the morning,” Laodamia said gently. “I will have some bread and wine to share with you, old one, and then I will look into your future.”

She had spoken with kindness, so Laodamia was shocked when the crone began to laugh softly. “It is not my future that concerns me, Oracle,” she said. “It is yours.”

A cold prickle curled along Laodamia’s skin and for a moment she did not respond. Instead, she used her intuitive powers to assess the woman below. She knew immediately that the old woman meant her no harm, but she also had the sense that even given this late hour, she should grant the woman an audience. “Very well,” she said at last. “I will come to you on that bench.” The Oracle pointed to a beautifully carved stone chaise placed in the center of her magnificent garden.

Laodamia lit a lantern and carried it with her to meet the crone, who was patiently waiting on the bench when she arrived. The light cast eerie shadows in the wrinkles of the stranger’s face. She appeared ancient and Laodamia couldn’t help staring at her. The crone chuckled again, as if reading the Oracle’s thoughts. Laodamia quickly dropped her eyes to her lap and apologized. “Forgive me, old one, but your face suggests a very long life.”

This seemed to delight the crone. “Yes,” she said, her voice raspy and dry with age. “I have lived far longer than I should have. And I shall not soon die, Oracle, which is even sadder still.”

Laodamia regarded the woman again, puzzled by such a statement, but as it was the middle of the night and she was weary, she thought it best to get to the heart of the matter. “How may I assist you?” she asked.

The crone studied the Oracle for a long moment before speaking, and when she did, her voice was soft as a whisper. “I know of what you dream,” she said.

Laodamia was startled by the statement and quickly dismissed it. She’d told no one what she’d been dreaming for the past month. Even though many of her attendants had sensed her fatigue and unease, she’d always covered it by suggesting that she was worn out from all the festivities surrounding her upcoming wedding. She attempted to cover yet again in front of the old crone. “I’ve been dreaming of my beloved,” she said coyly. “Surely you’ve heard the talk of our impending marriage?”

The crone’s face registered disappointment. “Do you take me for a fool, Oracle?” she asked pointedly. Laodamia’s eyes widened. She was shocked by the impoliteness of the question, but before she could answer, the crone added, “I know where your dreams begin, in a cave with four maidens. I also know that your dreams end in a war that will decide the fate of man.”

Laodamia gasped and her hand fluttered to her chest. “How could you know that?” she demanded. “I’ve told no one!”

The crone’s smile returned. “I know what I know. But your role has not yet been revealed to you, has it, Oracle?”

Laodamia sat speechless next to the crone. It was as if the old woman were again reading her mind.

The crone took her silence for confirmation and chuckled. “I am here to reveal your part. It begins with a gift.”

Laodamia recovered her voice. “A gift?”

Instead of answering her directly, the crone reached into the folds of her cloak and withdrew a small crystal. The lantern’s light caught the stone, and small rainbows of color shimmered and bounced off it as the old woman cupped it in her gnarled hand and held it out to the Oracle. “Take this,” she said without further explanation.

Laodamia looked closely at the beautiful object the woman was offering her. “Oh, but I couldn’t, old one,” she protested. “The gem appears far too precious for you to part with so easily. Surely you could trade it for food and lodging for yourself?” she suggested, noting the poor woman’s ragged clothing and thin appearance.

The crone ignored the suggestion and placed the crystal into Laodamia’s palm. “It is yours for the time being,” she said. “And I’ve a feeling this gem will come back to me one day. An orphaned child of immense importance will return it to me when the hour of need is great. But for now, it is yours to use, then give away as you see fit.”

Laodamia stared with wonder at the beautiful gem in her palm. “Exactly how am I to use this?”

Again the crone ignored the Oracle’s question and instead got to her feet and began to shuffle away. “I must be off to see about my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” asked Laodamia, and in that moment her intuitive powers detected a great sadness from the crone and she had a vision of a burial. “I’m so sorry for your loss, old one,” she said gently.

The crone stopped moving and regarded Laodamia over her shoulder. The glint in her eyes held a mixture of emotions, from guilt to sadness to resignation, but the old woman did not comment further. Instead, she merely nodded and began to shuffle away again.

“Wait!” called Laodamia, getting up and moving toward the crone. “May I at least offer you a soft bed and a meal in the morning?”

But the crone waved her hand dismissively and continued on her mission.

Laodamia tried one last time to engage the old woman. “May I at least know the name of the one who has offered me such kindness?” she asked.

At this the crone paused and turned to look back at the Oracle. “It is of no consequence,” she said. “And I shall not bother you again. Use the crystal, Oracle. It will help direct you in your purpose.” And with that, the crone disappeared into the shadows of the night.

Laodamia blinked in surprise. She’d been watching the crone one moment, and in the next the old woman had completely vanished.

Mystified by the encounter, the Oracle returned to the bench and sat down to study the crystal the old woman had given her. The gem was warm, and as she held it close to the lantern, she could see the smallest sliver of pink at its core. Laodamia could identify nearly every mineral known to man but she’d never come across one quite like this.

She was, however, adept at pulling out the energy of a crystal and discovering its secrets, so with little hesitation, she eased her awareness into the stone, seeking the treasures it might hold.

The next thing she knew, she was being roughly shaken. Laodamia blinked as sunlight sparkled through her half-closed lids. “Mia?” said a familiar voice, filled with concern. “Mia, please talk to me.”

With effort Laodamia tried to wake herself from an unconscious state that felt much deeper than sleep. After a moment she stared up at her beloved in confusion. “Iyoclease?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“By Zeus!” whispered Iyoclease, hugging her close. “I came the moment your servant told me you were found in the garden and they could not rouse you. I’ve been calling to you for many minutes, trying to bring you out of your trance.”

Laodamia pushed away from him a bit and looked up in astonishment. “What’s happened?” she asked as he lifted her carefully to carry her inside.

“You tell me,” he said, his face gentle and kind.

“We found you lying by the bench,” explained someone walking next to Iyoclease. Laodamia looked over and was relieved to see one of her most faithful apprentices, Adria.

And suddenly, it all came back to her in a flood. When she saw the position of the sun, Laodamia realized she’d been in some sort of trance since the night before, and remembered the things she’d seen during that time.

As Iyoclease laid her gently on her bed and smoothed back her hair, she knew with an absolute certainty what she must do. The crone had bee...

The Curse of Deadman's Forest is the second book in the Oracles of Delphi Keep—a series with all the timeless charm of classics like the Chronicles of Narnia and all the action-packed adventure of a modern middle-grade blockbuster.

Since Ian Wigby and his sister, Theodosia, found the silver treasure box and the prophecy within it, their world has changed. There's no denying what they discovered in Morocco: a powerful evil is budding, and to defeat it, and save the world from darkness, six uniquely gifted children must be gathered.

According to prophecy, a trip through the magical portal near the castle will bring them to the third Oracle--a child with extraordinary powers to heal. But the very same prophecy foretells Ian's death should he venture through the portal again.

Everyone agrees: to risk Ian's life is too great a gamble. But when a terrible curse enters the keep, it becomes clear that there is no other choice.

If Ian and Theo stay in Dover, all will surely be lost, but to follow the prophecy, they will risk their lives and everything they have ever held dear.

According to prophecy, a trip through the magical portal near the castle will bring them to the third Oracle—a child with extraordinary powers to heal. But the very same prophecy foretells Ian's death should he venture through the portal again.
 
Everyone agrees: to risk Ian's life is too great a gamble. But when a terrible curse enters the keep, it becomes clear that there is no other choice.
 
If Ian and Theo stay in Dover, all will surely be lost, but to follow the prophecy, they will risk their lives and everything they have ever held dear.
 
 
Since Ian Wigby and his sister, Theodosia, found the silver treasure box and the prophecy within it, their world has changed. There's no denying what they discovered in Morocco: a powerful evil is building, and to defeat it, and save the world from darkness, six uniquely gifted children must be gathered.

According to prophecy, a trip through the magical portal near the castle will bring them to the third Oracle—a child with extraordinary powers to heal. But the very same prophecy foretells Ian's death should he venture through the portal again.

Everyone agrees: to risk Ian's life is too great a gamble. But when a terrible curse enters the keep, it becomes clear that there is no other choice.

If Ian and Theo stay in Dover, all will surely be lost, but to follow the prophecy, they will risk their lives and everything they have ever held dear.
 
Since Ian Wigby and his sister, Theodosia, found the silver treasure box and the prophecy within it, their world has changed. There's no denying what they discovered in Morocco: a powerful evil is building, and to defeat it, and save the world from darkness, six uniquely gifted children must be gathered.
According to prophecy, a trip through the magical portal near the castle will bring them to the third Oracle—a child with extraordinary powers to heal. But the very same prophecy foretells Ian's death should he venture through the portal again.
Everyone agrees: to risk Ian's life is too great a gamble. But when a terrible curse enters the keep, it becomes clear that there is no other choice.
If Ian and Theo stay in Dover, all will surely be lost, but to follow the prophecy, they will risk their lives and everything they have ever held dear.