Beyond the Wicked Willow: Chronicles of a Teenage Witchslayer

CAVE OF THE ORACLE

"Perhaps he'd be of better use pulling your oxcart."

Frankie, Sam, and Bookworm snickered. Beef scowled and shot them a dirty look. Frankie nodded to the Oracle. "That's good advice. We'll take it into consideration, sir."

"I assume you've disturbed my meditation for something other than advice on what best to do with a bumbling fool?"

Frankie cleared his throat. "Yes, sir, we need your help, sir. Mala sent us."

The Oracle perked up. "Mala? Well, why didn't you just say so?"

He staggered past them and made his way to one of the shelves within the den. He searched among the clay jars and vessels. Finally, the Oracle took down a dusty terra-cotta decanter with a bulbous base that gently tapered to a long slender neck, ending in a narrow pour spout.

"Ah, there you are," he muttered and turned unsteadily.

He tottered over to the reflecting pool and positioned himself behind it facing outward toward Frankie and the others. They watched the Oracle with bated breath as he gradually tipped the decanter and drizzled olive oil into the water in a swirling motion. He peered intently at the various shapes and patterns the oil assumed as it drifted atop the water's surface. The Oracle raised his head and stared off reverently, apparently awestruck. After a moment he peered at Frankie, speechless.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

Not for one moment did the Oracle take his eye off Frankie as he answered Sam. "There is a witchslayer among us."

Sam, Beef, and Bookworm tossed bewildered glances back and forth to one another.

"Witchslayer?" Frankie asked, as if he hoped he had misunderstood the Oracle. "What do you mean? Who's a witchslayer?"

"It is you, my boy. You are the witchslayer."

Beef snickered. "Frankie, a witchslayer? I don't think so."

Frankie looked around at his pals and then back to the Oracle. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"That is what Mala saw in you. The ancient bloodline of a witchslayer. An age-old prophecy speaks of an unlikely heir to the bloodline who would one day travel great distances to avenge the wronged and restore the balance. That heir is you."

"Excuse me, sir, but your premise seems to lack logic," said Bookworm politely.

The Oracle shot Bookworm a penetrating glare. "There is no logic in the universe, foolish child. Only fate."

"But, it jus—" Bookworm began to say.

"Tell me, boy, was it logic that brought you here? To this time? To this place? Hmmm? No, it was fate."

"So, now that we know what got us here," Sam said. "What's going to get us back?"

"Patience, wench," the Oracle demanded.

"Oh, hell no! I'll show you wench, you stinky old freak," Sam said.

Luckily, Frankie, and Beef were able to snag Sam in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding a clash between her and the Wild Eyed Oracle.

"Easy, Armstrong," said Beef calmingly.

"You know, 'wench' doesn't necessarily have to be derogatory," Bookworm said. "It can simply mean young woman, or girl."

Sam shot Bookworm a searing glare. She took a moment to consider his words and slowly relaxed her tense posture. She shook loose from Frankie and Beef 's grip and straightened out her clothing. "I'll let it slide...this time," she said.