The Fallen Prophet (The Dark Prophecy Book 1)

by Cody Loewen

When I lift my eyes to Rayfe’s face, his expression is solemn, knowing. Then that familiar grins lights his face.

  “Well, you’re in the right place. I mean, how could you not succeed with me by your side?”

  I can’t help but crack a smile in return and give him a shove on the shoulder. Somehow, he knows just how to pull me back from that dark, angry place in my mind, without forcing me to let go of my need for vengeance. Somehow, I just know that he will be right by my side when the time comes.

  Squaring my shoulders as I shove those thoughts away, my curiosity about my new partner takes over.

  “I know you grew up in this forest, but tell me your story,” I ask. Even though I’ve been around the elves for weeks now during training, he is the first one I have really sat down and talked to. The mystery of where they come from and their lifestyle is still unknown.

  “I’ve spent my whole life around Sylvestra,” He explains. “I have had the opportunity to venture out into the forest that surrounds the city, but never really got to explore very far on my own.”

  “Can you not leave the city whenever you want?” I ask, thinking about my own childhood, never leaving my own village.

  “There were no laws keeping us from leaving, but the forest outside of the city can be dangerous. Only the rangers travel far out into the undergrowth.”

  “The rangers?”

  “Rangers are kind of like the city guards of human cities, but they spend most of their time outside the walls,” He answers patiently. I lean in, fascinated by all the new information. I want to learn as much as I can about him and his life. “Both of my parents are rangers. They roam the forest, protecting our borders from invaders and other threats. Most of the elven army is made up of rangers. Enough to keep the city safe stayed behind, and the rest, from all the Elven communities joined the war. My father is the ranger captain of Sylvestra, so he stayed behind, and my mother stayed with him to help keep the city safe.”

  “Is that what you want to do after the war is over? Become a ranger like your parents?”

  “That is my plan,” He confirms. “They taught me everything I know about fighting, tracking and hunting. I want to use those skills to keep my people safe once I return home. I can’t see myself being anything other than a ranger after this war. I don’t think being a soldier is something you can ever truly leave behind you.”

  My mind flashes to my father, and I realize how right he is. All of those training sessions with his sword as I was growing up, both with me and alone. I knew him as a father and a farmer, but he never truly stopped being a warrior. He showed his courage and compassion for the people he protected until his dying breath.

  Will I be able to be happy returning to a simple life after this? I wonder silently. Where does my journey lead once this task is done? I have nothing to go back to. I could be whatever I want to be after the war.

  I spend a few moments in thought, imagining the path my life might take after the fighting is over.

  A farmer.

  A city guard somewhere.

  A mother—something I had never had.

  Where will I end up? I push these thoughts to the back of my mind. I need to focus on what is in front of me right now. There will be plenty of time for the rest of it once this is done.

  Rayfe and I spend hours talking as the embers smolder into piles of ash. He tells me more about his childhood, what life is like growing up in an Elven city. I soak it all in eagerly. I describe my village and my life before coming here in return and feel insignificant and simple compared to his wondrous stories. I tell him about my father, and our many training sessions. I tell him about tending the fields with him and delivering food to each of the villagers when harvest time came around.

  The clearing has gone completely dark by the time we decide to retire, and all the others have left for the night already. We move back to the sleeping area and find one of the few remaining empty tents. Rayfe and I will share a tent now that we have been matched as partners. Awkwardly, I stand outside, unsure what to do. Even though I know this arrangement is necessary, it doesn't make it feel any less weird. He takes his boots off outside and opens the tent flap, waiting for me to enter first. I remove my own boots and nod in thanks as I duck down and enter the small tent. Two bedrolls are already stretched out along each side, with just enough room to maneuver between them. If this were Caria, I would strip down to my undergarments before crawling into bed. But it is Rayfe. So, I only remove my leather vest before I crawl into my bed. Rayfe doesn’t share my modesty. He strips off his shirt, giving me a glimpse of toned shoulders and lean waist. When he begins undoing his pants, I quickly turn to the wall of the tent, glad for the darkness that hides the blush rushing up my face.

  Stop it, Lykara. He is your brother in arms. You are a soldier now. Quit acting like a stupid girl.

  I can’t help but smile to myself, thinking about going into battle with Rayfe by my side. I close my eyes, envisioning sweeping across the battlefield, our three swords carving a path through enemies like a boat cuts through the waves. Before long, I’m asleep, and those same images that served to keep my memories at bay, fill my head in my dreams.

  Dawn hasn’t made its appearance yet when I open my eyes. Rayfe is still breathing the slow breaths of sleep. The sight of his bare back sends me into quiet motion. Hoping to avoid any awkward encounter, I slip out of the tent, still wearing my clothes from yesterday, and pull on my boots. The rustle from inside suggests he is awake and getting dressed. Within minutes he is pulling on his own boots, that lopsided grin already lighting up his face.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asks as he tightens his laces.

  “Like a baby.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask if I slept ok?”

  “I don’t have to. You snored loud enough to wake the dead.”

  His chortle brings a grin to my own lips.

  “Don’t worry. That sound will lull you to sleep every night,” Rayfe winks. “Pretty soon you won’t be able to sleep without it.”

  I roll my eyes, glad for the banter to lighten the mood.

  After our morning run and a hearty breakfast, we head to the training grounds, unsure what the day holds now that we are working as a team. Pairs of initiates sit face to face all around the clearing, distancing themselves from the others as they continue to get know each other, building the trust required to solidify the fighting bond.

  I know that Rayfe and I should be doing the same. He must feel the same because he moves to an open area off to the side, and I follow him. We sit down, knees almost touching, so we can speak quietly and still hear each other. I know I should be asking him more questions, but my mind goes blank with the pressure of trying to force words to come to my mouth. Rayfe suddenly speaks up, and I barely avoid sighing in relief. Until his words register.

  “So, did you like what you saw last night?”

  Oh Gods!

  “I…I..what are you talking about?” My stammer betrays my attempt at composure.

  “You know. All of this,” he smirks, motioning to his body.

  Don’t you dare blush, you idiot!

  “A little full of ourselves are we?” I ask nonchalantly, hoping my voice doesn’t squeak and give away my nervousness. “From what I can tell, I should be glad it was dark.”

  “Well, it’s good to know that you won’t be trying to seduce me every night. That might make things a little awkward.”

  Jerk!

  Anger starts to rise in my chest, and I give him my best glare. His cheeky grin turns to laughter, as he raises his hands in apology.

  “Easy dragon girl. No need to breathe fire. I’m just messing with you.”

  Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, my ire starts to melt away immediately. Noting my change in mood, he leans in with a whisper, his tone suddenly serious.

  “Listen, we are fighting partners now, a bonded pair. We can’t afford to feel awkward around each other. And we certainly can’t keep things from each other. Yes, we
are different. I am an elf; you are a human. I am male; you are female. I can fight. And you…”

  I smack him as hard as I can in the arm, bringing out that infectious chuckle.

  “And you…have a magic sword.”

  I hold his blue-eyed gaze, grateful for the distraction from the awkward tension earlier, and even more sure that Ambrosius made the right choice when pairing me with Rayfe.

  “So how long have you known about that power within your sword?” he asks curiously. “And how much of an advantage has that given you over the other initiates here in your fights against them?”

  “I didn’t know anything about my sword’s magical abilities until a few days ago during one of my sparring sessions,” I answer, thinking back to that fight where I was first faced with that sense of anger and frustration that brought forth the abilities of my sword. “It transformed in the heat of the battle. But before that, I had no clue that I was holding anything other than an ordinary sword. I have been practicing the transformation on my own, trying to master the magic, but I haven’t actually used it in a fight until our fight yesterday.”

  “Why not? Powers like that would offer you some serious advantages over almost any opponent here. Why not use it to easily win?”

  I think for a moment, trying to word my answer in a way that truly get my thoughts across.

  “I thought about it,” I begin. “I knew the advantage that it would provide me if I could handle it, but I also didn't want everyone to know what it can do. Sometimes it is better to keep your advantage a secret than to flaunt it. Besides, I came here to train and try to win these fights before I even knew my sword was magic. I wanted to win because of my fighting ability, not as a result of magic. Does that sound stupid?”

  “Not at all. I get it. You earned each of those wins fair and square. Except for one.” There was that grin again. No judgement.

  “I really wasn't planning on using it against you; I don't know what happened. I grew so angry with you when I couldn’t keep up with you, I couldn't help but make it change and the rage didn't go away until our fight was over.”

  “Well, I don't mind the competitiveness,” He answers with a grin. “Being my partner, I'm glad that you have that drive to win because I don't plan on leaving here anywhere other than the top of our group of trainees. And, now that we’ve seen what you can do with that weapon, we can use it to our advantage in our fights together. You’re right though. We shouldn't use it publicly more than necessary, but maybe we can continue practicing with it when no one else is around?”

  I nod in agreement. Excitement courses through me at the prospect of being able to explore the wondrous magic within my blade with someone who I trust to know its secrets. Between his exceptional fighting prowess, the combat skills that I am developing, and the power coursing through my blade, I know that no other pair of initiates will stand in our way, even a little bit.

  “So, what do you think the next part of our training process is?” I ask him. “I think they've beaten us down as much as they're going to with their physical training and tests. I'm sure those morning runs, and the dreaded obstacle course aren’t going away, but there's got to be more to it now that we have been paired with our partners.”

  “I would assume our fights will now be in pairs,” he replies.

  It occurs to me that I have never actually fought beside anyone before, and I feel excited and nervous to try it out, to see what it feels like to truly trust someone else with your life in battle. Every fight I have known has been just me against an opponent, but from now on, I will never have to face another fight alone.

  The clearing has gone silent around us, and I look around to see why. Ambrosius stands at the center, legs wide, arms crossed, his silence commanding more attention than a horn blast. Once all eyes are on him, he takes a breath, his chest faintly rising before he begins to speak.

  “Good morning everyone.” His voice carries clearly across the clearing. “Today marks the first day in the second half of your journey to becoming Reavers. No longer will your performance be judged as individuals. Now that you have been paired up, your true challenges lie ahead. You will do everything as a team. Your morning runs will be together. Your obstacle courses will be completed together. You will eat together, work together, fight together. You will need to trust each other through everything, and you will either fail or succeed as a team. This morning, however, we will skip your run, and later in the day, will also take a break from the customary trip through the obstacle course, to more fully focus on learning to fight with your partner. Tomorrow brings an entirely new challenge, and one many of you won’t make it out of. But we'll worry about that tomorrow. Let's begin today.

  We get paired up with another team of initiates and wait to begin the fight, like we have so many times already. I glance all around the clearing at the groups of four, and I can't help feeling like there are a lot less of us than that first day we arrived here. I know that the clearing looks emptier because the cluster of fighting groups have doubled now that the fights will be between four people, but it seems to be even more than that. As I take in the familiar faces around me, I notice a few that are missing right off the bat.

  I wonder how many more of the initiates will leave before we make it through, and just how many of us will end up becoming Reavers?

  Pride washes over me at the thought that I have made it as far as I have, when so many of the other initiates who set out on this journey beside me have given up and failed. I know in my gut that I will make it through the training and become a Reaver, but actually thinking about everything that I have already accomplished puts a smile on my face.

  I watch one of the instructors approach, and I turn my attention back to Rayfe and the other pair of fighters before me. As usual, our weapons are enchanted for our protection, and the instructor steps back out of our group, allowing us room to prepare for our fight.

  Rayfe and I stand in front of a pair elves, each wielding two blades. They are so similar in size and appearance that they could be twins. The instructor motions us to ready ourselves. We step back, each of us squaring off against one of our opponents. Nodding in unison, we signal that we are ready, and then combat quickly begins. I step forward, my long sword gripped easily in both hands, and launch a flurry of strikes at my opponent, who falls back a step and sets his blades moving, working hard to keep mine at bay.

  I know that my single blade against his two puts me at a disadvantage and I keep up the momentum, not wanting to have to fall back into a defensive posture against him. I continue taking strides forward, landing blow after blow on his raised blades from all angles, but I quickly realize that I am not actually getting through his defenses, as one or both of his swords is always perfectly placed to pick off each strike long before it actually hits its target.

  He is trying to make me keep attacking so I will expend my energy..

  Frustration comes over me, and I think about shifting my weapon into a different form to get a leg up in my fight, but then I remember the strategy Rayfe and I had agreed upon to keep that advantage for later. Taking a step back and inhaling, I remind myself that these fights, while they might feel real and seem like high stakes, are actually just practice sparring matches. I have no reason to reveal the surprise that my opponents will discover when I truly need to use the sword on a practice match in the clearing.

  I launch another combo of blows at my elven opponent, using my longer and heavier weapon to try to drive him back through sheer force, and he continues to retreat in a wide circle. The sound of steel ringing on steel reverberates beside me, and I chance a glance over to where Rayfe is fighting. He seems to be doing far better than I, several of his strikes breaking through the defenses of his opponent to cause minor damage to the elf. I can tell that he has already begun to fully overwhelm his enemy, the fight looking to be more one-sided as the moments pass by in the blink of an eye.

  I barely sense a strike coming toward my head and dive out of the
way, immediately pulling my focus back to my own fight. The elf doesn't slow in his assault, and as I had feared would happen, I'm suddenly on the defensive, barely holding off his strikes. I have to focus my attention fully on keeping myself alive, and in the fight, not wanting to let Rayfe down by losing my own fight, while he is so clearly winning his own. I give up ground under his attack, trying to find a way to regain my momentum and come back even with the elf, but I can't seem to do so.

  Suddenly, I feel a brush against my arm. A quick glance to the side in between blocks reveals Rayfe, swords in hand, ready to engage. We are now fighting a single opponent between the two of us. Within seconds, he is on the ground from a fatal blow of one of Rayfe’s swords. I sheathe my own weapon at the conclusion of the fight, and Rayfe helps my opponent up off the ground. When I glance back behind me to Rayfe’s first opponent, I see him standing off to the side watching.

  Rayfe must have finished off his opponent almost immediately after I had glimpsed their fight, I think to myself appreciatively, knowing full well that I had almost lost my own fight because of my mistakes.

  I need to focus. I was doing well on the offensive, until I lost track of what I was doing to watch Rayfe. It almost cost me the fight, and probably would have cost me my life in real combat.

  An instructor talks us through our match, giving his input on our strengths and weaknesses in our first attempt at fighting alongside a partner, and discussing how we can each improve our fighting styles to better complement each other. I listen as he explains how each of us individually are successful and talented fighters. He tells us that our skills in combat, honed even sharper through the training we have received, put us on equal footing with the great warriors in the main army, and how we could each hold our own against almost any enemy that would stand against us. My heart swells with pride, until he tells us that our fighting prowess isn’t enough if we expect to become Reavers.

  For Reavers fight two battles, not one. While we each have an opponent, they don’t necessarily need to be fought separately or individually. He explains how a single opportunistic strike at our partner’s opponent while we are fighting our own battle might just save their life, ending their fight quickly, and allowing our own enemy to be taken down faster by the two of us working together. He tells us we need to learn to split our awareness, that while we must maintain focus on our own fight, we also need to always be mindful of what is happening with our partner.