by Nic Weissman
******
Erion accompanied the wizard to a very small room that was at the end of the hall. When they entered the door closed. With a gesture from the magician, a sphere floating in the middle of the room lit up, revealing a well in the center of the room, with a structure that reached almost a step high and where the water came up to the edge. The wizard then pointed to the well, looked at Erion, and waited.
Erion approached the well and saw his face reflected in the water. After a moment, strange images began to form. There was a battlefield on a rainy afternoon. Erion was dressed in a light armor that was damaged in several places. His clothes, which seemed something like a campaign uniform, were torn on the sleeves and on one leg. Missiles rained in all directions while Erion tried to wipe the mud and rain off his face, otherwise they hindered his vision. In his right hand he held a beautiful short sword. That edge ... those engravings: the young man was sure he had seen the sword before, but did not know where. A huge flaming projectile, fired from a catapult, struck the ground just a few steps away from Erion, crushing two unfortunate soldiers. Erion felt heat in his face. It was a very real sensation, almost like being in that place.
The image suddenly clarified. He was in a brighter place. He immediately recognized the courtyard of the orphanage where he had grown up. A small, weak child was at his side. It was Mithir! They both ran to hide behind a pillar while two sisters came into the yard screaming their names.
The image changed again. He was in a field of colorful flowers. It was a spring morning. The landscape was not completely familiar to him, but it was not strange either. It didn't seem to be Bor. Erion ran following a girl with long, dark hair. She wore a very nice violet dress. Her skirt described poetic flights over flowers while he was still laughing, without reaching her. He did not see her face. The image went dark.
Now he was in a huge cavern. The roof had to be forty steps high, maybe more. Although it was dark, he saw huge eyes at the back. Each was the size of a human adult. They were bright, intelligent, telling and terrible eyes. Erion panicked before that presence. A huge flash of fire, like a torrent spread at lightning speed, shot toward the end of the cave where Erion was. The silhouette of a huge dragon was drawn for an instant.
The image changed again showing a spacious lounge. Now he was sitting at a desk chatting with two men. Erion noticed the decor. It was incredibly rich and full of watermarks. Gold, silver and precious stones sparkled at every corner. Then the young man remembered his dream. He could swear that this room was in the same richly decorated building he had dreamed of days ago. The image stopped and the young man returned to see his face on the water.
“What was that all about?” he asked, still impressed as he turned toward Mengul.
“The future, your future ... maybe. You see, the future is always in motion, conditioned by events and by certain interventions. Tell me, what have you seen?” the old man asked.
Erion described the five scenes, one by one. The young man explained that the orphanage seemed to be an image of his past that he vaguely remembered, but he did not think he had been in any of the other places. The magician looked at him very seriously.
“You say you have seen a dragon in a huge cavern? Could you see the color of his scales?” asked the wizard, suddenly interested.
“No. I could see his eyes and little else. They were terrible,” said the young man.
Mengul gave his penetrating gaze and understood that Erion described exactly what he had felt.
“There's something else. The office reminded me of a dream I had not long ago,” said the young man.
The wizard asked, urgently, to tell him all the details that reminded him of the dream. He asked if he had other strange dreams that made him feel a similar sensation. Erion then recounted the dream of the swamp.
“What does this mean?” asked the young man.
Mengul walked briefly around the room, looking down without answering. Finally he stopped and looked at him again.
“Erion, I must confess something. I had already seen you. Some months ago the well showed me your face. Since then I've been trying to find you, something that I only recently managed. The water showed me a vision of a scene in which you visited me in this tower. I asked for your help with something. Then the image changed and I saw a path. Some misfortune had happened. I could see a broken wheel of a cart. A three-year-old child was alone in the middle of the road, crying. Suddenly a lantis came down from heaven and descended to where the little child was,” said Mengul.
Erion then recalled some of the stories of his childhood. The lantis appeared often in these stories. They are also known by the name of the Fairies of Heaven and they lived in the Sphere of the Firmament with Oris and the other gods. Occasionally, Oris gives some of them a mission in the world, usually to help someone very kind or someone who had been appointed by the gods for some reason.
“The lantis felt great pity and compassion for the little boy and gave him a drink of milk. Then she led the way to somewhere else. The vision ended.”
“Who do you think that child was?” Erion asked.
“Well, you, naturally,” said the wizard.
A wave of strange sensations flooded the young man's mind. Somehow he knew the old man's answer before he heard it. He did not remember ever having seen a lantis; however, the scene that the magician just described was not entirely unknown to him. One of the great mysteries of Erion's life was to know the details of his origin. The sisters had told him that a sheriff had found him wandering along the roads on the outskirts of the city with tattered clothes and had brought him directly to the orphanage. Erion never regained those clothes or anything he was wearing when he was found and never knew any other clue about his origin. If the history he had been told was true, perhaps he hadn't been abandoned by his parents. Perhaps it had only been an accident. A thought crossed his mind at the speed of lightning. Perhaps his parents were alive somewhere, still mourning their lost son.
“The well doesn't show everything, just what we need to know, but I'm convinced that you were the child of that vision. I also believe that, in a real or figurative way, you have been appointed by the gods for a special destiny. And that I will play some role in that destiny. But that's all we're allowed to know at this time,” said the wizard enigmatically. “The visions and prophetic dreams are extremely rare in most mortals, with the exception of two groups: the Visionaries and the Chosen Ones. The first are those who have an innate ability for divination; in some religions they are also called prophets. The Chosen Ones are a much smaller group. They are marked by the gods for a special destiny. As I said, I am convinced that you are part of that second group, and the fact that you've had these dreams only reinforces that notion,” he added.
It was a lot of information to absorb. Erion explained how the office of the well vision is much like the ornamentation he had seen in another one of his dreams. Mengul said that this confirmed that the dream had been premonitory.
“In general, trust your feeling. If you sense that the dream was different from an ordinary dream, it is most likely so,” he said.
“And now what?” asked the young man.
“I don't know. You also write your own story. At the moment you have a mission that your colleagues have just accepted. I suggest that you meet with them and set yourself up.”
Erion nodded thoughtfully, still pondering the meaning of it all.
“One more thing. In your journey you will have to go through Ellis, the land of the elves. You may find The White Lady. If this happens, consider it a great gift. Listen carefully to what she has to say,” the wizard warned enigmatically.
“But how do we find her?” Erion said.
“Nobody finds the Lady. She will seek you, if she deems it appropriate.”
“How will we recognize her?” Erion insisted.
The wizard smiled slightly.
“I can assure you that when you are before the Lady, you will know,” Mengul responde
d. “Now, leave.”
Erion said goodbye to the old magician and went to meet the group. His destiny awaited him.
APPENDIX
Units of measurement
These are the main units of measurement in the World of Oris:
Distance measurements
Finger: 23 mm
Step: 1.2 m
League: 5 km
Weight measurements
Fifthload: 46 kg
Arrobe: 5.2 kg
Quartile: 1.3 kg (1/4 arrobe)
Volume measurements
Pitcher: 16 liters
Bottle: 0.75 liters
Flask: 0.19 liters (1/4 bottle)
About the author
Nic Weissman is a fast growing name in Fantasy fiction landscape. Nic is the creator of the saga The Merchant's Destiny and The World of Oris. Nic was born in 1974 in mystical place where the sea ends.
His first novel The Orb of Wrath and its sequel The White Lady are now available through multiple channels both in ebook and paperback, both in English and Spanish. The books have been already acclaimed by multiple authors and bloggers like Jordan Elizabeth, Peg Glover in Write-Escape and Tome Tender.
Over the past 16 years, Nic has lived in 14 different addresses across 3 different continents. He has traveled to 30 countries and speaks 4 languages. As you can imagine, Nic loves travelling.
You can follow Nic through his web nicweissman.com or Social Media channels like Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Slideshare.net and Linkedin among others. Nic writes under a pen name for professional reasons.
Discover other books by Nic Weissman
The Merchant’s Destiny saga:
The Orb of Wrath
The White Lady
(Coming soon)
The Fairy’s Pond
Duel of Dragons
The World of Oris:
Volume I
Volume II
Volume III
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