The Fallen Prophet (The Dark Prophecy Book 1)

by Cody Loewen

  This isn't working!

  I jump back to give myself space to ready for his next attack, but he is already moving toward me.

  I can’t even get a strike in because he will shatter my sword. Right now, I’d be better off just throwing it aside because it’s just getting in the way of me avoiding his swings.

  Desperately, I dive aside again to avoid another strike, at the same time willing my sword to become something larger and heavier. I regain my feet and glance down at the blade, still unchanged, before jumping back from another wicked blow of that devastating hammer.

  My adversary grins at my distress. Anticipating a quick victory.

  Come on!

  I picture a battle axe with the details of my sword in my mind, but still nothing happens.

  What is happening? I won’t last much longer. He is going to catch up to me, and it’s going to be all over. I’m going to let Rayfe down because I can’t freakin’ control my sword’s abilities all of a sudden. Why was so easy when I was practicing with Rayfe?

  I can't risk closing my eyes in the middle of the fight, but once more I try to create a mental picture of the battle axe in my mind, while still avoiding strikes of the deadly hammer. By the weight of the weapon in my hand, I don’t have to look to know that I have failed once again.

  The man, sensing my frustration and the fear that is quickly seeping into my mind, gives me a wicked grin.

  “Hey girl. If you give up now and admit defeat, I’ll take it easy on you, so you won’t suffer the pain from my blow.”

  Before I can answer, he takes a massive step forward, launching another horizontal swing at the center of my body. With the ground he has managed to cover in his step, I'm forced to fall flat on my back to avoid the strike, with no chance of regaining my feet before the next one comes down. I hold my sword out in what I know will be a futile attempt to block the strike and let out a scream of pure frustration and terror at the pain that I know is about to be coursing through me.

  Instinctively, I close my eyes, waiting for the impact of the magical death descending my way. My yell this time is one of rage at my incompetence and despair at the realization that I will never make it into the fighting group that my father was a part of. And as a result, likely never get the opportunity to avenge his death.

  Seconds seem like an eternity as I wait for that blow. The heavy weight I have been dreading, presses down on my short sword blade, followed by a grunt of pain as my weapon is ripped from my hands. I wrench my eyes open just as my opponent falls to the ground beside me, moaning as his body tumbles into the branches and leaves covering the floor under him.

  I quickly roll back to my feet, unsure of how I'm still alive, before I catch a glimpse of my weapon lying on the ground beside him. My sword has transformed into a long spear, it's wooden handle and steel spear tip somehow still in the detailing of my sword blade.

  After several minutes, the man regains his feet, his hand holding his torso where the spear must have struck him, causing the magical feeling of being impaled in the stomach. I have no idea what finally caused my sword to transform. I hadn't even been picturing a spear at all, or even trying to command it to shift in that moment, but it saved me, and my success in this trial.

  I pick up the spear, shrinking it down before sliding it into its sheath on my belt.

  “What the hell kind of weapon is that?” the man asks as he stares at my blade, the pain finally seeming to have left his stomach. Any answer I might give is cut off as he glances over at his allies to see that the other two fights have come to a conclusion.

  From what I can tell, both Caria and Rayfe have won their battles. Once again, I think about how lucky I am to have the partner that I do. Any lesser warrior would have been quickly overwhelmed by two opponents in a surprise attack. Rayfe ‘s cockiness seems to be well-deserved indeed.

  Caria looks winded, but obviously elated that she has won her fight. Rayfe doesn’t even seem to have a hair out of place as he stands there leaning easily against a tree.

  “I have to hand it to you,” one of Rayfe’s opponents says with chagrin. “You guys are tougher than you look. We thought for sure that outnumbering you would make it an easy fight; I guess you proved us wrong.”

  With those words they turn as a group and walk back toward the path, expecting an instructor to appear to lead them away at any moment.

  “Well, that was fun,” Rayfe says with a grin. “Four more opponents down and just a bit more walking to go until I have officially led you to back to salvation. I was a little wrapped up, so I didn't get to see either of your fights. Did anything interesting happen while I was busy saving your guys' life.”

  “Just the usual stuff, men underestimating me because of my size, and obvious beauty,” Caria replies.

  Rayfe grins and looks at me expectantly, eyebrow raised.

  I shake my head no, embarrassed at my inability to use the power granted to me when I needed it most and in no mood to talk about it. Rayfe holds my gaze as if he knows I am not telling the truth. But after a moment, he flashes that lazy grin and turns once more to lead us back to camp

  With the fight still lingering in our minds, the jokes and talking are kept to a minimum, and we walk silently, not wanting to draw any more attention. I force my focus on our surroundings, lying to myself that it is to make sure we aren’t caught off guard again, when I really just don’t want to dwell on my failure to control my sword.

  As the sun starts its downward path in the sky, a familiar clearing ahead comes into view, and within minutes, reveals itself to be our home. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as we break through the trees, and I catch sight of Ambrosius and the other instructors standing in the center, several initiates standing around them.

  There are still a few hours of daylight left, and I’m sure we won’t be the last of the groups to find our way back to camp, but we are obviously not the first. I spot Xander standing among the early arrivals, and watch relief come over Caria at the sight of him. Even though he abandoned her when she needed him, they are still partners.

  As we close the distance between us and the group, Ambrosius offers us a wide smile at our approach.

  “Welcome home, and congratulations initiates! You are now among the most elite fighting force on the continent. We have one more small part to get through, but I am happy to announce that you are now Reavers.”

  Warmth rushes through me at his words, unable to contain my pride at the accomplishment.

  I made it. I actually did it.

  “Your father would be proud,” I hear Rayfe whisper beside me as he places a hand on my shoulder. I give him a happy nod in response as tears well in my eyes and threaten to spill over as I think about my hero, and the steps I am taking parallel to the life he lived.

  “Of course, my parents won’t necessarily be overly proud of me,” he continues. “Being the god among men that I am, it was never in doubt that I would be standing here.”

  I snort at him and brush his hand off my shoulder as I shake my head.

  “Is there ever a truly serious moment with you?” I ask him as he stands there quite proud of himself and the joke.

  “Not if I can help it,” he replies with a grin.

  Ambrosius’ voice brings me back to the group.

  “Caria, I’m happy to see that you made it back here.” He glances over at Xander as he speaks. “Xander made a grave error when he left you behind. The only reason he is still here is because you were able to make it back and shouldn’t be punished for his actions. As fighting partners, you are both accepted into the Reavers, but know this. Reavers never leave their partner behind. Ever. The Reaver bond is based on trust. Without that, you will never be able to reach your full ability.”

  Caria gives him a firm nod before moving over to stand by Xander, and I can almost feel the tension between the two of them.

  Ambrosius turns to the rest of us. “Go rest. Get some food. Clean up. Once the sun goes down, and the rest of the initi
ates return, you will complete your training.”

  My mouth waters in anticipation of my first hot meal in three days, but my nose tells me I need a bath first. Caria and I head toward the secluded section of the stream reserved for the girls in camp, while Rayfe heads in the opposite direction, obviously deciding a bath more important than food as well.

  It is amazing how clean hair and a fresh set of clothes can change your outlook. Caria and I head toward the cooking fires, drawn by the mouthwatering smell of roasting meat. Rayfe is already stuffing food into his mouth as fast as he can, juices from the meat dripping down his chin.

  “Enjoying that?” I ask with a grin.

  “Mmmm. This is paradise,” he says, barely able to form the words around the massive amount of food in his mouth.

  “Well, you wouldn’t be so hungry if you had let me make a fire and hunt while were out in the forest,” I tease.

  “If I had let you do that,” Rayfe garbles between bites, “we wouldn’t be here right now as Reavers.”

  I know he is joking, but a part of me also realizes the truth in his words. If it weren’t for him…in so many ways…we wouldn’t have made it back.

  I open my mouth to thank him for everything, but I am interrupted by Ambrosius.

  “The sun is down. The contest is finished. It is time to complete your training. Everyone, gather in the center of the clearing for the ritual.”

  “Ritual?” I whisper, “What ritual?”

  “The bonding ritual,” Rayfe answers.

  I don’t remember anyone talking about a ritual involved with becoming a Reaver, but no one else seems confused, so I don’t ask. I just follow everyone else to the clearing.

  Ambrosius stands in the middle of our circle, and for the first time, I see who has made it through the contest. Some of them I expected, but a couple of the surviving pairs surprise me because they didn’t stand out as the best fighters in the group. Although, I have to admit, fighting skill isn’t everything. Sometimes just playing it smart ends up being the difference between success and failure.

  “It is time for the Reaver ritual.” Ambrosius’ booming voice is almost reverent. “The ritual marks the final stage of your training here. Now that you have proven your ability to work together and survive as a team under all circumstances, it is time to solidify that bond and create a deeper connection. The bonding ritual allows a pair of fighters to reach a level of closeness that wouldn’t be possible without its magic. The mental and emotional connection it will provide will allow you to fight together like never before. Once the ritual is complete, the last part of training will be focused on honing your abilities to connect with each other, utilizing the power of the bonding magic to work together and fight as a single mind.”

  I nod at the words, taking in the new information, now confident that I had indeed never heard of this before.

  This isn’t exactly something someone would ever forget.

  Ambrosius meets each one of our gazes in turn, emphasizing the solemness of the moment.

  “While the magic is strong, the ritual itself is rather simple,” Ambrosius continues. He pulls a dagger from his belt, and Rayfe holds out his hand immediately. Ambrosius nods and approaches Rayfe, taking his hand and carefully carving a symbol into Rayfe’s palm, just barely deep enough to draw blood, before turning toward me. I hesitate for a moment but push the emotions out and extend my own hand. I grit my teeth as I feel the razor-sharp blade slide through my skin, but almost as soon as he starts, Ambrosius is finished carving the matching symbol into my own palm.

  My initial instinct is to close my hand or wrap it up to dull the pain and stop the bleeding, but I see that Rayfe still holds his hand open, palm up, so as not disturb the symbol, and I do the same. Ambrosius resheaths his dagger before taking each of our hands and pressing them together. I grasp Rayfe’s hand in a tight handshake, both of our hands slick with the blood that is freely flowing between our grasp.

  Ambrosius closes his eyes and begins chanting in a language that I am unfamiliar with as he keeps his own hands on ours. I stand there expectantly, waiting for the flash of magic that will create the Reaver bond. But I feel nothing.

  “It is complete,” Ambrosius breaks the silence. “Now bonded, you are a true fighting pair within the Reavers. Open your thoughts and your minds to each other, experience a trust and bond like nothing else.”

  Ambrosius moves off to perform the ritual on the next pair, leaving us standing there still hand in hand. Not sure of what to expect, I let go of Rayfe’s hand and wipe the blood off on my pants, before wrapping my hand in my shirt to stop the flow. Rayfe simply stands there grinning like an idiot at the symbol carved in his palm. Obviously he knows more about what is going on than I do.

  I unwrap my hand and look at my own palm, at the symbol that is now a red, angry mark, no longer bleeding. I feel nothing different. Am I supposed to feel different?

  Maybe it didn’t work.

  I grit my teeth in frustration, and then a quick moment of confident happiness washes through me all of a sudden.

  I look up in surprise, unsure of where those emotions came from, to see that customary grin of his plastered across Rayfe’s face.

  “What was that?” I ask him, expecting him to know the answer like he always does.

  “The bonding ritual allows a pair of fighters to share their emotions, along with traces of their physical intentions with each other, to allow us to mesh completely in combat. You must have caught a glimpse of my emotions as you were searching within yourself. You should have seen the look of surprise on your face when you felt an emotion that wasn’t yours.”

  “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

  “Yes, it will,” he answers with a grin. “But think how much better we will fight as a pair now that we can feel what the other is feeling. You will be able to anticipate my moves based on what you feel through the bond. All we need is a little more practice, learning how the bond connects us, what it communicates, and how we can effectively use it in battle.”

  I nod in agreement, excited to work on this new dynamic as a pair. I'm already confident in our abilities against all of the other fighters we have gone up against so far. Between Rayfe’s skill with his swords, and the magic within my blade, we will be able to wreak havoc among the trolls when we get the chance.

  My mind drifts once more to that image of Kromm dying at my hand, reveling in the feeling of satisfaction of sliding my sword into his heart and watching his life fade from his eyes. The pain in my hands from digging my fingernails into my palms brings me back to the present, where Rayfe is now staring at me.

  “I don't know what exactly you’ve got going on in that head of yours, but the emotions coming through our bond are darker than anything I could imagine. Is this about that troll that killed your father?”

  I nod silently, knowing my emotions will take over and my voice will break if I try to talk right now.

  “Lykara, I promise you. We are going to get him. It's just a matter of time before you'll have the revenge you're looking for.”

  I smile, and silently thank Ambrosius and the rest of the trainers once more for creating this partnership between us. I can't imagine going into battle against my sworn enemies with anyone besides the elf standing in front of me.

  As the adrenaline from the past three days finally wears off, exhaustion sets in. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I head for the tent, ready to sleep in my warm bedroll on the ground, not hanging from a tree.

  The humming of voices and the sounds of movement coming from every direction, wake me from my slumber. Disoriented, I blink the sleep from my eyes and sit up and glance over at Rayfe. He, too, is sitting up with a look of confusion on his face.

  What is going on?

  “What’s happening?” he asks me, as if reading my thoughts. I listen closer to the noises, still a constant buzz all around our tent but moving away, toward the clearing.

  “I have no idea,” I answer. “
But we’d better get out there and find out. It might be more training?”

  Our ears didn’t deceive us. Everyone is converging on the clearing, talking and gesturing excitedly. The darkness of night hasn’t lifted yet, and the beginnings of a fire provides the only light in the clearing. I spot Caria, and motion for Rayfe to follow me to where she is standing talking to Xander.

  “What is happening?” I ask her. The same words Rayfe said to me, and the same words that I know are being repeated by everybody in the clearing.

  “I’m not sure yet. All I know, is that instructors started going tent to tent, waking everyone up and telling us to meet here as quickly as possible.”

  “Do you think this is about our training?” I ask, still trying to make sense out of the situation.

  Before she can answer, Ambrosius, flanked by the other instructors, strides quickly toward the central fire.

  The drone of conversation shifts to a buzz of whispers. By the time Ambrosius reaches the fire, complete silence has fallen. Every single eye is on him, waiting to hear why we have been woken in the middle of the night. I study his face, his body language, searching for a hint of what he is about to tell us, but he looks as calm and composed as ever.

  “Attention everyone!” Ambrosius announces, his voice easily carrying across the clearing, no other sound to compete with it. “We have received some troubling news from elven scouts positioned deeper in the forest. The troll army has been gathering strength near their fortress far to the west. Recently, they have been sending out raiding parties to small settlements to gather more supplies.”

  A flash of anger courses through me at that. Ambrosius takes a breath before continuing.

  “We have been tracking their movements over the past several months but haven’t been in an advantageous position to stop them. With most of their forces massed at their fortress, a siege would have been impossible. Our army has been spending its time apprehending smaller raiding parties, but with little success. Our scouts have reported a large movement of troll forces toward the forest, and we fear that they plan on attacking Sylvestra.”