Prophecy Of The Guardian (Guardian Series Book 1)

by J. W. Baccaro

  Fear struck into the hearts of the Cullach, and the priest halted the ceremony.

  “Wolves! Only wolves,” Deloth urged, the light of the flames capturing his eerie red eyes. “Finish the sacrifice!” he snarled.

  The priest began to speak in the common tongue, “Great Gods of the Outer Realms, hear our prayer; you have given us domination, and may you continue to deliver this world into our hands. We offer this child—”

  Unexpectedly, a terrible sound of thunder roared across the sky, and an explosion of blue fire burst upon the ground near a large number of Cullach. The blue flames merged into a whirlwind-like element, then multiplied and quickly sought out every Cullach in a one hundred foot radius, disintegrating both flesh and weaponry.

  Mirabel’s signal.

  A moment later, at the entrance of the town, Seth fired his wizardry arrow, killing another cluster of Cullach. The explosions were immensely loud, causing the enemy to scatter, running into one another, striking some of their own down.

  “We’re under attack!” Deloth shouted, clenching his teeth in rage. “Spread out! Spread out!”

  Gaining control of themselves, they separated into groups.

  “Priest, continue with the sacrifice. You twelve stay here—guard him.” He charged out with the rest of his soldiers. “Who dare attacks us with Wizard Fire? There’s only one Wizard left upon earth and he fights for Abaddon. Can it be——the ‘accursed race?’ No, that is impossible. They were wiped out long ago!”

  Wolves from every side of the village sprang out from the trees and attacked the Cullach, ripping them to pieces, tossing their body parts to and fro, black blood spraying everywhere.

  Seth joined the attack and charged in with his sword, laying waste to every Cullach he met, splitting their heads in half or cutting them through the torso.

  However, the battle had only begun and the enemy began to fight back—and fight back hard, killing a few wolves and clustering around Seth.

  The priest, desperate to complete the sacrifice, continued, “Gods of power and might, please except our offering. Take this child, commit him into your darkness; swallow his soul in blackness.”

  The fire around the demon statue burned higher and a gray mist formed above it. In the mist, a ghostly creature appeared taking the likeness of the statue. It gleamed down at the offering as if hungry to devour his soul once the knife did its job, severing his little head.

  The child vigorously cried out in terror.

  “Now!” the priest shouted. “Release his—”

  Before the last word could be spoken, an arrow struck the priest in his heart and he fell dead. The gray mist and the form resembling the demonic image disappeared, and the fires vanished.

  Mirabel rushed out of the trees, screaming, shouting, and attacking the twelve guards like a madman. This presence seemed to awaken an inner rage in him, dormant for many years; his heart was on fire to save the boy, no matter what the cost. In twelve flashes of the blade, one after another, the guards were dead; their carnage and broken armor lay before him, blood dripping from his hair. He went to the child. “Shhh, everything is going to be all right, little one.”

  The child eased his tears, looking directly into Mirabel's eyes.

  He cut the straps and wrapped him back in the garments which were tossed aside before.

  The alpha female wolf then came to his side, rubbing her beautiful white fur against his leg.

  “Please take care of him until I return?” Mirabel asked.

  She nodded, gently lifted the babe by the garments, and carried him into the forest.

  Now, came the time to act.

  The ground shook like an earthquake, the winds picked up, howling furiously. A flash of yellow light and a flash of green streaked above them.

  The wolves abandoned the battle, and the remaining Cullach gazed upon two glowing individuals, Mirabel and Seth.

  Mirabel’s hair and eyes evolved into yellow with a glowing aura of yellow light. Chaotic streaks of lightning surrounded his presence, and his skin had changed from cream-colored to glistening citrine, the color darkest among his veins.

  Seth transformed also, hair and eyes shining forest-green with a matching aura of light encircling him like a sphere. His skin appeared as a rich demantoid, radiating with power.

  “I—I don’t believe it, Nasharins!” Deloth whispered, taking a step back, his features trembling. “Ki—kill them.”

  All remained still…frozen in fear.

  “Whoever disobeys shall be executed,” he snarled. “KILL THEM!”

  This time, they obeyed but not one Cullach, common or elite, landed a single blow, not even a mere clashing of blades.

  It seemed as if Mirabel and Seth had become ghosts; attacking, vanishing, reappearing in different locations, thrusting their swords into the enemy’s hearts, walloping off a dozen heads, or cutting their bodies in half from the lower torso. Blood soaked the ground like a torrential downpour. One by one, the Cullach fell. The might of the Nasharins could not be matched.

  “Destroy them!” Deloth shouted from afar, terror in his voice.

  About ten elite decided to gang up on Seth, hoping at least to kill one Nasharin and please their commander. Why they’d chosen him seemed to be a matter of chance.

  When they surrounded their ‘prey’ about to charge in unison, Seth countered by simply raising his hand, eyes flashing and split the ground apart, causing the elite to fall into the crack. With another wave of the hand, an additional section of ground split and a host of broken rocks collapsed on top of the fallen enemies, crushing their bodies like insects.

  Four now remained—Deloth included. One ran to a stationed, nerve-wrecked Arman horse, leaping onto him and fled.

  The alpha male wolf, a massive beast with blackish-silver fur, stormed out of the brush on over to Seth, offering him his back and they pursued.

  The last three stood in front of Mirabel.

  “I want his head,” Deloth sneered the order.

  Without seeming hesitation, the two turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  Mirabel raised a hand blazing with light, and out from his palm shot two bolts of lightning, striking the Cullach down in seconds. The thunder still roared as their bodies lay smoldering. Then he tried shooting Deloth with the same attack.

  The evil leader held up his shield and the lightning ricocheted off it, blowing apart a section of ground. “My shield was forged from the Demon Stone Mountains. Your element is useless against me Nasharin.” He unsheathed his weapon and attacked, swinging, thrusting and stabbing.

  Mirabel dodged each time and then drew his sword. With a single clash, it broke Deloth’s blade in two. Mirabel halted, waiting for his opponent to catch his breath.

  “Nasharins were wiped out long ago,” Deloth said, gasping. “Where did you two come from?”

  He made no reply.

  Grinding his teeth and clenching his fists, Deloth shouted, “Then die with your secrets!” Taking a dagger from his girdle, he threw it at him.

  With his supernatural ability, Mirabel tossed his sword into the air and clasped his hands onto the flying dagger by the smooth section of the blade, avoiding the double edges. He held it in one hand and caught his sword in the other. “My name is Mirabel Luthais, and if you are familiar with the Nasharin race, then you may better know me as ‘Mirabel the Great.’ ”

  Deloth stood dumbstruck and Mirabel threw the dagger into his heart.

  ~~***~~

  Seth finally gained ground on the retreating Cullach, for the horse wasn’t running its full potential, knowing what kind of creature it carried on its back. Horses were also no friends to Cullach. Soon, Seth came along beside him and the heathen swung his sword. Seth held out his shield and blocked, then looked into the horse’s eyes.

  Brother stallion, please rid yourself from the vile being that rides you, he spoke into its mind.

  Immediately, the stallion stopped dead in its tracks, throwing the Cullach off its ba
ck.

  He hurled through the air a good fifteen to twenty feet before crash-landing onto the ground, his body rolling across thick blades of grass. Seething with anger, the Cullach stood, but only to meet Seth's blade as he swung in a long arch, walloping off the Cullach's head. The decapitated body collapsed, black blood squirting out excessively.

  Realizing it was free the stallion galloped over to Seth and stopped by his side.

  Seth smiled, and patted his smooth brown mane.

  Thank you, my friend. Go now. Be free.

  It stood up on its hind legs, whinnied and rode off along the plains.

  Seth took a deep breath while his green glow disappeared—his hair, eye color and skin were again normal.

  In the far distance, echoing through the darkness of night came the sounds of sickly howling cries.

  “Worgs,” he noted aloud. “There must be at least a hundred.”

  The cries were getting closer and louder.

  Seth gripped the wolf's mane. “Take me back to Arman immediately!”

  The alpha male snapped a growl and rode off.

  When Seth entered the town, he found Mirabel kneeling down at the pit where the three humans were ruthlessly thrown into. It looked to be a long trench which made an unnatural mass grave for the men and women of the town, slaughtered by the Cullach.

  Seth could hear him whispering, “My dear friends—please forgive me. I arrived too late. Even the battle we’ve won here doesn’t cover the wound of your loss. I pray you all find peace I failed to bring you.”

  'I failed to bring you?' When would the guilt over his wife and son end? Seth wondered. Mirabel, always believing such tragedies were his doing alone. If he’d arrived earlier, fought stronger, or minded his surroundings better, perhaps they would still be alive—as his thinking went. “This is not your fault,” Seth soothed, patting him on the shoulder.

  With a weak smile Mirabel stood, and the alpha female came out of the brush and carried the child to them, placing him beside Mirabel’s feet. He seemed to be napping quite pleasantly. “Even through all of this the child is asleep.” Mirabel chuckled.

  All of the wolves finally came forth and clustered around Seth, Cullach blood still dripping from their jaws.

  “Thank you, brothers and sisters; your willingness to lend aid shall be remembered by he who sits on high. Please, go now in peace,” Seth told them.

  They howled and ran into the forest, disappearing into the night.

  “We must abandon this place immediately,” Seth urged. “An army of Worg Riders is coming. They must have heard the explosions. We have less than an hour.”

  “All right. Let us take the child and return.” Mirabel picked him up and held him gently. “I shall call you ‘Darshun,’ meaning ‘blessed one’ in the language of the Wizards.”

  “Mirabel, where could this little Nasharin have come from?”

  “I don’t know. But Deloth mentioned this land possessing ‘hidden secrets, a world transformation,’ then something about...Abaddon. ”

  Seth remembered the name and a chill shot down his spine. “I haven’t heard that name since I was a boy.”

  “Neither have I. He spoke about him as though he were yet living. Calling him ‘our lord.’ ”

  “Abaddon, alive? But—?”

  “Seth, I have a feeling a terrible evil is rising.”

  ~~***~~

  Anxiously, Kaylis sat in the bushes while listening for Mirabel and Seth. To ease his tension, he began digging his fingers into the dirt until he touched something he first mistook for a rock. The smooth texture aroused his curiosity. He dug around and lifted it from the ground. The object’s weight felt tremendous, its shape a perfect circle. “What is this?”

  His attention strayed as he heard something running through the woods, coming toward him. It stopped alongside the bushes and slowly began to walk in. It was too dark to see what it could be, so Kaylis gripped his sword, held his breath and sat motionless. The creature sniffed, stepped away, howled and ran off.

  “Phew, only a wolf.” He wiped the sweat from his brow; then a dozen more stormed by. “What’s going on?”

  Inexplicably, the mysterious ball shined with a bright golden color, and in the distance, a familiar voice whispered his name, “Kaylis?”

  “Mirabel!” he shouted and came out from the undergrowth. “Thank goodness you two are back. I was worried sick when I heard explosions.”

  “That glowing sphere, what is it?” Mirabel asked.

  “Some type of heavy ball I found in the dirt. Though it only started glowing when you two came near. I have no idea why. Hey, who’s the child?”

  Mirabel ignored him and handed Darshun to Seth. “May I see it?”

  “Of course.” Kaylis gave it over and the glow became brighter, omitting more and more light.

  The child Darshun awoke and gazed upon the ball, reaching out to touch it. The golden light surrounded his entire body. He giggled, moving his hands up and down, seemingly trying to grab the golden aura that shined around him like a sun. A few moments later, it vanished, the ball became dark, and Darshun drifted into another sleep.

  “Umm—what just happened?” Kaylis asked.

  “It responded to Darshun’s presence, but I don’t know why. And if I am not mistaken, this looks like some type of ancient Wizard Crystal.”

  “It definitely seems to be some type of crystal, but it cannot belong to the Wizards of old,” Seth interjected. “Only four were ever created: Fire, Water, Air and Earth. This isn’t one of them.”

  “I’m aware of that, but this is no manmade tool. Neither does it seem to belong to the Dark.” He gazed at the crystal and then at Darshun.

  “What are you thinking?” Seth asked.

  “As of now, I have no answers. Kaylis, may I keep this for awhile?”

  “Oh, you can have it. I’m in no position to possess an object like that. But Mirabel, who is the child?”

  “I’ll explain on the way back.”

  As Seth expected, they heard horrible shrieks and angry cries from the Worg riders. Without a doubt, they’d arrived in Arman, witnessing their comrades torn to shreds, and were now out for blood.

  “We must go now!” Mirabel commanded.

  They returned to the camp in half the time it took traveling to Arman, though Kaylis had to ride Mirabel's shoulders for a while.

  Upon their entrance, the people rushed over to them. “We heard explosions in the distance,” an elder greeted them. “What happened?”

  “Seth and I sacked the village of Arman and killed the Cullach that were dwelling there. We rescued this child from a ceremonial sacrifice. He’s the reason we went. He's Nasharin.”

  The people were astonished.

  “Though, I’m afraid we must abandon this place immediately.”

  “But we’ve only just arrived.”

  “By now, a patrol of Worg Riders is searching for us. They may come as far as here.”

  Feeling tired and overwhelmed, many people began to grumble, cursing his name.

  Now seemed the time for Magnus to act on the people’s despair. “Mirabel…” Magnus sneered, approaching with a sarcastic grin, “…was it really necessary to spare this one child and risk the fate of all these people?”

  He made no response.

  “Oh, please don’t misunderstand me, I do not wish death upon the child, but Cullach do make sacrifices every day.”

  “Not this type of sacrifice,” Seth growled the words at him.

  “He’s not our problem. The Loreladian people are whom Mirabel should be concerned about in this time of war. And now for his own personal vengeance he has put us all in danger.”

  “Mirabel has no such dishonor,” Seth defended.

  “Of course he does. He knows the common folk here are already exhausted and cannot defend themselves should another attack come. He’s put them all in harm’s way. Now we have to leave again? How long will it be before he murders us all?”

  “Did
you not hear what Mirabel said!” Seth shouted, growing tired of Magnus’ negativity. “This child is one of us, a Nasharin!”

  Magnus stepped toward him, eyes stern. “And many more Nasharins there would be if this vile heeded my warnings a century ago! I knew the threat we were facing, saw what was coming, but he didn’t listen. You were there. How many Nasharins do you think lost their lives that day? Nasharins on the verge of unleashing their elements, warriors who could’ve made a difference in the survival of our race?”

  “The Plague took our race, not Mirabel.”

  “Ah yes, the Great Plague of Death. Less than twenty survived it. Yet, we pulled through, did we not? We relocated and began building up our lines once again. But only so they could fall into the slaughter of the Barbarians! Why, even our sacred works and historic writings perished in that blaze. We might as well never existed. Our numbers are so limited now we can hardly be called a people, not to mention the entirety of the Ackarda race Mirabel ‘the great’ sent to the grave that day also, including my—my…” He glanced away, as if he didn’t want to remember. “No, Seth Caelen…” He pointed at little Darshun. “…this new found Nasharin is not my concern, and neither should he be yours. I have a Loreladian wife now, and I will no longer risk any other actions which might put my family in danger. So, I’m taking my own path. I advise you to do the same.”

  “I will follow you, Magnus,” one of the men shouted, “Whoever else wants to live, come with us!”

  Secretive talk and mumbling among the people went on for a few minutes…about half of the Loreladians then chose to follow Magnus.

  Enraged, Prince Loreus pushed his way through the people and stood between the two separate groups, facing those on Magnus’ side. “Have you all no faith, respect, or honor anymore?” the eleven-year-old boy shouted. He looked very young, but already spoke with a kind of authority. “What would my father, your king say to this? Mirabel has been our brother and everlasting friend for past decades. He is the hero who saved your forefathers from the Barbarians one hundred years ago and indeed was the closest friend to my father. Will you just abandon your king’s last wish and separate yourselves from us?” Speaking his final set of words, his foot caught someone’s backpack and he stumbled, falling hard upon his face, a rock digging into his ribs.