Project: Chosen Grannie

Chapter 8

"Amazing," Agatha breathed as she watched the letters change before her very eyes into the language she could actually read. "For too long now my destiny has been put on hold. As the chosen one I must protect and fight for those who have awaited my arrival and acceptance of my destiny." She paraphrased as she read the words, her eyes scanning down the pages slowly watching as letters shifted and continue to morph themselves on the page.

Flipping through the pages slowly she saw that the first chapter of the book detailed what had already happened on their journey in this realm. The second one led up to this moment but as she flipped on Agatha noted that the pages were all blank.

"Why isn't there anything past this point?" Agatha wondered aloud to her companions.

"The book tells you what you need to know at the time you need to," Allie said her tail swishing slowly behind her. "What does it tell you right now?"

"It's instructing us to duck," Agatha read in surprise.

"Why on earth would it," Falcono began to ask until the screeching from above drew their attention. Several large birds swooped down, claws out and their eyes red. Everyone ducked down, shielding their heads as Agatha held tight to the book.

"What are we supposed to do," Wicked called to Agatha pulling what looked like a gun from out of seemingly nowhere. You know, if guns shot off some strange plasma that turned a nearby bird to basically dust.

"I'm looking." Agatha turned the pages quickly as Falcono shielded her. "It says to point my knitting needles?"

"If that's what the book says," Allie yelled as she pounced over to Agatha's bag and leapt her way into it, emerging with the knitting needles in between her teeth. Agatha took them and pointed them at an oncoming bird, ducking low as fire and sparks shot from the ends.

Birds dodged left and right as more sparks shot out from the ends of her needles. Two were hit before the birds came to their senses and fled from the box, the sky above them becoming clear. It was still for a moment, the fire going out, as everyone waited to see if they would return. When none did, there was a collective sigh of relief.

"I could use some tea," Agatha finally said breaking the quiet that had descended onto the group.

"I wasn't expecting that," Hector said right after, completely ignoring her ice breaker.

"I've seen stranger," Wicked rollled her eyes. Agatha had decided the shortened nickname suited her well, only now she found herself humming music from the musical. Not that she really thought that was a problem. Show tunes made everything better after all.

"I don't understand," Allie said looking confused. "We have defenses up so this kind of attack doesn't happen. How could they get through them?"

"There's been rumor," Falcono started, "that some became impatient waiting for the Chosen One and went to the other side."

Agatha paused for a moment. She had taken so long to come and fulfill her destiny that some of those she was supposed to protect had given up on her. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this. No matter how in her element everything felt, maybe they had the wrong old lady. After all, didn't they all start looking the same at around 70? I

"What does that book of yours tell you we should do now?" Falcono asked, placing a hand onto her shoulder. It filled Agatha with a calmness, and her eyes rose to meet everyone's as those in the box watched her expectantly.

Looking down, more words appeared in the sacred language and she watched as they once again morphed themselves.

"There's a mountain. Mount Serapht. It's saying we have to make our way there, and there's a scribe at the bottom awaiting us. He has information that is crucial to our journey."

Agatha felt at her element reading these words as they changed before her eyes, but at the same time she couldn't change the wonder that filled her slightly. It was as though all her favorite childhood stories had become one large tale, something incredible for her to live in her last days. It was either that or something her dementia had concocted to give her bliss in her final days.

"That's about a half days journey from here," Wicked nodded her head. "We must make haste."

***

The group was silent as their journey began. Hector attempted to comfort Allie several times but to no avail. Before leaving they quickly put up more shields, ones only they would be able to take down. The idea of a traitor in their midst had set Allie on edge, while Agatha was beginning to feel more like a failure as she saw Allie slink deeper into her own troubled mind.

"So," Wicked said as she suddenly appeared walking beside Agatha. "Anything new appeared within the book?"

Agatha quickly flipped open the book to the page she had bookmarked, but saw no new words appear onto the pages. She shook her head and Wicked sighed, moving up to walk ahead of the group.

Falcono had attempted to talk to her several times as their journey continued on but Miss Agatha Anglerthorpe was not to be bothered. She walked beside him, her mind wandering as she sipped tea from her thermos. So lost in thoughts of her duties, how some had lost faith in her, how she wasn't sure she was really the Chosen One they sought caused her not to realize the mountain that loomed just up ahead.

Night was right around the corner, and the smoke rising from the base of the mountain alerted them to the presence of another being. Wicked slowed her walk, Hector went on edge and Allie went on alert as Falcono stepped in front of Agatha. The fire was within their view, and they could make out the view of the shadows of another being.

"That must be the scribe," Hector commented.

"I hope so," Wicked mumbled as she walked quickly to the fire, her steps light as to not alert the figure up ahead. Falcono held up his hand to keep Agatha from following behind, shaking his head when she gave him a questioning look.

"Dang it," Wicked cursed as she reached the scribe.

Allie and Hector bounded over to her, both of them letting out their own curses as they inspected the scribe. When Falcono and Agatha finally moved to them, Agatha could see why they were upset. He lay there, dead. Eyes wide open, no breath leaving his body.

"I was afraid of this," Wicked sighed as she leaned down to inspect the scribe. The papers he held within his hands were charred black, no information would be obtained from them. "It's the work of the Dreath."

"Like death with an r thrown in there?" Hector asked, his tail swishing.

"Dreath. A new creature that appeared several months ago with no traceable point of origin. They suck the life from your body, as well as your knowledge. They got here before we did."

"So what do we do now?" Falcono looked exhausted. They all did.

"What does the book say," Allie stepped toward Agatha a look of question on her face.

Agatha, about to turn to the page, froze as she heard the sound of a rock falling. Everyone snapped around to look at the mountain as blood cuddling screams filled the ever darker growing world around them.

"Crap."