"No?" Alan repeated a bit unsure that he had heard the Shaman correctly. "You are not going to be sending your warriors to help fight the Twisted? Why not! I thought your people reviled in slaying those creatures."

The creepy blue green fire crackled as a log settled and sent out a puff of glittering sparks. Hearing this noise somehow made the massive cavern even quieter. Alan and the rest just staired expectantly at the three ancient men, who in turn sat unmoving like statues. Though the actual wait for the reply was short, it felt awkwardly long. Then with parched voices the three Shamans never took their eyes off the odd blaze in front of them while giving their reply.

"That is not the issue." The Shaman on the left replied. "The issue is that we will not send our help to the Skull. In truth, we have known that a Speaker would be coming to us. Our runes have told us. Your Head, Daivat Bellona the Undertaker, is from a bloodline stemming from our people here in this canyon; a traitorous bloodline."

"This might be true, but the prophecy says nothing about the Undertaker or the Skull." Wind Speaker pointed out, breaking his silence. "What might be the reasoning for this choice."

"That may be so, that the prophecy says nothing of the sort, but it's enough for us." The Shaman on the right replied immediately. "The Bellona bloodline is banished from here and no help will we give to that bloodline or its followers."

"This is ridiculous." Alan scoffed standing up. He was curious about the Heads family history, but now was not the time. "I did not just cross the desert wildlands for several days, recite a stupid prophecy from memory and get a 'No' for an answer! There has got to be a way that this can be resolved."

"I am afraid not." The left Shaman replied shaking his headdress and causing the feathers to ruffle. Alan was about to start arguing again but was interrupted.

"The towns people will likely not survive. Can you accept deaths of innocents?" Ashen One interjected.

"People die all around us, every day. Who are we to not let nature take its natural course? Anyone who associates with the Skull are just as guilty as the Bellona bloodline." The right Shaman replied decisively. "We will not help in any way!"

Alan was about to blow his top hearing this. He was so mad in fact that he just stood there with his mouth opened into a shout, but no words came out. His finger was pointed at them angrily shaking, eventually it formed into a fist and dropped to his side. The others, still sitting behind him, were equally perplexed and unsure how to proceed. Alan wanted to slap some sense into those uncaring old men and took a step forward.

Suddenly a shadow seemed to move over some candles out of the corner of Alan's vision. Despite being angry he looked sideways at it. Nearly out of sight and completely unseen, unless one looked directly at that place, was an animal masked man holding a long rifle. A ragged cloak he was wearing had covered a candle, which was what gave him away. Looking around quickly Alan spotted several more guards also well hidden in the gloomy cavern. They had only just appeared when he acted aggressive towards the Shaman. Seeing this, Alan visibly backed down. In turn the shadowy guards disappeared into the dim darkness.

"Perhaps there could be away." The center Shaman suddenly spoke out.

His raspy old voice echoed slightly nearly startling everyone out of the tense stalemate. The other two Shaman simultaneously turned to look away from the blue green fire for the first time and at their ancient counterpart curiously. Their long, matted beards could even be heard rustling on their aging skin. Which was kind of unnerving and gross.

However, they made no objections and the center Shaman continued. Reaching down into a leather bag at his side the center Shaman pulled out a handful of assorted items: metal bolts, carved rocks, whittled wood, and bits of fabrics. Then murmuring some inaudible words, he raised his wrinkled fist of items to his lips, kissed them and then flung them in front of himself and between the colorful fire. All three Shaman leaned forwards to view the apparent runes.

Then with wordless unity the Shaman seemed to have come to an agreement and the center Shaman continued speaking. "Prove to us that your Head sent someone worthy of receiving help. We have a place known as the Pit. In this Pit, we have our warriors battle captured Twisted for training and rites of passage. Kill one of the Twisted and we will let those impressed by your skill volunteer to return to fight the Hoard. It can be the only fair way to assist the Skull and innocent people of that town."

"Why would you suggest this?" The Shaman on the right asked and followed up with a heavy cough. “This can still only help the traitor.”

"Not for the Skull's sake, but for the person seeking vengeance." The center Shaman replied still speaking raspy. "The Twisted are the earths curse and enemies of the Sun. Letting a bad blood feud discourage us from our calling's is unwise. Let me show you all."

The ancient center Shaman lifted a wrinkled hand up towards his neck and pulled on a leather strap tied around it. The weak sound of it snapping off could be heard as he pulled it out from behind his greasy, matted beard. Tied to this strap was a leather sewn bag. The bag was no bigger than his palm and looked like nothing all that special.

Pulling the leather strap out from the bag to untie and open it, he reached inside and scooped out its contents. In the dim, oddly colored light, Alan couldn't quite see what it was. Before he could ponder further though, the Shaman started chanting something completely incomprehensible. It sounded like no language Alan had ever heard before and more like gibberish.

Stealing a glance behind himself, Alan saw that Wind Talker and Ashen One were watching this scene unfold with wide eyes and with their full attention. Apparently, they knew something he did not. Being servants of Lady Cassandra, they had probably encountered something similar to this.

When Alan looked back, he was shocked by what he had been missing up until now. The items from within the bag were now floating above the blue green fire and encased in an ominous yellow glow! They appeared to be square chunks of bone, wood, and stone; all of which had strange rune like carvings etched into them. Those etchings were also glowing with the same bizarre yellow glow. The entire time they were bobbing around in the fire's smoke, like tea leaves being stirred in water.

The Shaman continued his gibberish sounding words until, without warning, he gave a shout and flung his wrinkled arms out to strike the floating etchings. The pieces scattered all across the cave floor in front of Alan and between the fire. They landed in no discernible pattern or cause any kind of action. The yellow light had dissolved from around the objects, but still glowed inside the etchings themselves. The sight was actually rather very anticlimactic, yet still nothing like the runes the Shaman had used before. This was proof of their power without a doubt.

"See for yourselves." The center Shaman said still sounding raspy.

Alan looked down again at the items scattered at his feet but was utterly confused. The glowing objects and signs had no meaning to him. "What is this nonsense? They are just scattered on the floor."

"No, this is a message from the spirits." Wind Talker replied quickly standing up to look at the ground with enthusiasm. Ashen One and Garth also stood up to peer at the items.

"Really?" Alan remarked sounding unconvinced. "Read it to me then. I have no understanding of such things."

"Let's see, it says that the one seeking the prophecy's revenge is a young woman, unaffiliated with the Skull. In fact, she is not even from the people in the Damn?!" Wind Talker said a bit surprised.

"A young woman not from the Damn?" Alan replied. "Are you sure because that can't be right. Lady Cassandra never said the gender of the person of prophecy."

"I am sure of what I have seen and shown you." The Shaman replied. His gaze had returned to look into the flames and away from them. "Lady Cassandra has her reasons, I am sure, for not speaking on this. However, it is a young woman, that I can say for certain. Now enough of this. Garth, take them to the Pit and let them prove their worth!"

It was clear now that the three Shaman now has no intentions of speaking further. The way they seemed to stair even harder into the blue green flames made it obvious. Garth gave a respectful bow and turned to leave.

"Come, they have spoken." Garth murmured to the other.

Ashen One and Wind Talker both gave a similar bow and followed after Garth quickly. Hemlock hadn't said a word or moved at all the entire time all this was going on. He was just trapped in awe, fear, and excitement. Seeing the others now getting up he quickly got off the cave floor and bowed rapidly several times before scurrying after the other three. Alan, however, remained behind just for a moment longer. There was something he just wanted to ask.

"Will I continue to have a role to play in this prophecy? Beyond that of helping bring you Sun People to fight?" Alan asked the three Shaman. "I kind of just want to let this all blow over. Prophecy or not, becoming the strongest is all I crave."

For the first time the three of them broke their solemn composure and broke out into a labored chuckle. Then they, once again in unnerving unison, looked right at Alan and spoke. "Good luck, Speaker!"

Alan shook his head and turned quickly to leave, as if he were both annoyed and concerned by their aged giddy expressions. "Whatever, don't give me straight answer then. I am tired of all this fanciful mystical crap anyway. I'll just kill that thing in the Pit and then I am out of here!"

Leaving the massive cavern behind them, the guards locked the round door to the metal wall tightly behind Alan as soon as he was through. Again, he noticed the gun spear in their hands and couldn't help but wonder what model the gun was. As he glanced up at the imposing metal wall one last time, Alan felt like an ant in its presence.

"How could human build something like that? I'll never know." Alan though turning away to catch up with the rest. “I think I find physical things far more interesting than whatever odd ritual I just witnessed was.”

When they left the massive cave entrance to go outside, they were nearly blinded by the afternoon light spilling in. After being in the candlelit cave tunnels for so long it took them several minutes to recover properly. During that time Snake Tooth approached Alan who kept blinking furiously.

"Everything was fine out here. A few odd looks from the locals, but all together uneventful." Snake Tooth said while scratching his scruffy neck. "The stuff that they have on is just so strange and savage."

"That's good. At least these freaks can act somewhat civilized." Alan replied rubbing his eyes. "We are nearly done here. We just need to go fight a Twisted and prove to these Sun People that they should come help us. Going somewhere called the Pit. Hey, Garth, let's get going to the Pit already."

Garth glared sideways at Alan with slight smirk. "Fine. We will retrieve your weapons alone and go there. Must not keep the Shaman’s words waiting."