The Prophecy of the Gems by Flavia Bujor

Author:Flavia Bujor [Bujor, Flavia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-00-737504-2
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2004-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

Somehow the girls managed to mount their horses and continue their journey, but the air was filled with palpable tension and bitterness as they struggled to hold their angry tongues.

When night fell, bringing an end to a difficult and tiring day, the four girls stopped at the edge of a meadow, for Janëlle had persuaded the others to spend the night outdoors rather than in an unfamiliar village.

Unable to bear even to share some food together, Jade and Opal stalked off across the field in different directions to spend the night on their own.

Amber was alone with Janëlle. She felt no resentment towards their young guide, whose presence didn’t affect her bad mood one way or the other. Janëlle began to tell Amber about her past, how she came to be alone, working as a guide. Janëlle’s story was so similar to her own that Amber found herself opening up to the other girl and pouring out her grief over her mother’s death. She was relieved to have found a real friend, after being so let down by Jade and Opal.

When they grew tired, the two friends decided to go to sleep, promising to continue their conversation the next day. Amber slept heavily, without any dreams.

The sky was sprinkled with stars; the moon shone faintly. In the middle of the night, the silence was broken by a stifled cry. Amber awoke suddenly, gasping for breath; she felt a burning sensation spread throughout her body and slowly, painfully, she struggled to her feet.

“What’s happening?” she moaned. “I feel terrible!”

Janëlle did not reply. Her expression had changed into one of loathing and malevolence. She bent down and tried to pick up something in the thick grass, then straightened up with a shriek. It was impossible to deny: her eyes were flashing with rage.

“Janëlle!” gasped Amber, mesmerised.

“Leave me alone!” cried the other girl in a shrill, hysterical voice.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Can’t you tell? Don’t you want to understand?”

Janëlle slowly held out her clenched fist, then opened her fingers to reveal a palm disfigured by burns. At that moment, Amber saw her as the Nalyss had perceived her — as everyone would have seen her if her appearance had been the reflection of her soul: fat, with oily skin, messy black hair, dark eyes buried in puffy cheeks, a piggy nose, a massive and ungainly figure. Her eyes glittered with wickedness, and all her features betrayed a desire to destroy: she had become the incarnation of hatred.

“It’s your fault!” she screamed, as if demented.

“But — what is?”

“Everything! You don’t dare see what’s right in front of you? I hate you … I hate you!”

Amber felt sick. Her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t understand anything any more, and didn’t want to.

“You have everything for yourself, you’re the one I should have been!” wailed Janëlle. “You’ve stolen my place! You’ve stolen my life!”

“That’s insane,” stammered Amber.

“Of course, it’s easy for you to say that. Me, I’m just a poor miserable girl, I have no right to be important — that’s what you think.

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