Prophecy Of The Guardian (Guardian Series Book 1)

by J. W. Baccaro

  Eventually, the currents slowed to a gentle, steady pace and he saw the split of the river where he needed to meet Seth—Azriel’s Fork. He wondered if Seth would be there, or whether he lay dead somewhere upon the mountain, with a dozen arrows embedded into his body. Darshun let himself off the log, swam to shore and restlessly crawled up through the cold soggy mud.

  “Darshun,” Seth called softly, storming out of the tall grass.

  “Uncle Seth! You’re alive!”

  “By the help of friends…of course.”

  Darshun wanted to know what kind of animals had aided him, how they aided him, and where they were now, but the only thing he could manage to say was, “It’s so good to hear your voice.” He stood up and fell into his arms.

  “Try to stay calm my lad,” Seth soothed, giving him a comforting pat on the back.

  “What is happening?” Darshun asked.

  “We must return to Loreladia and find Mirabel.”

  That wasn't really the answer Darshun was looking for, but it sounded like a good idea. “All right, but my horse was killed. You’ll have to ride to Loreladia without me. We cannot waste any time, you know?”

  Seth pointed to their left. There stood Elwin’s horse, munching on vegetation. “I called to his stallion.”

  Darshun gazed at the horse and sighed. “Elwin,” he whispered. If it hadn’t been for Darshun’s stupidity, stopping to look for something he thought he’d felt though it’d probably been all in his head…Elwin might still be alive. It was his fault. At least that’s what Darshun believed. Then he remembered the healing leaf and checked under his tunic, in a pocket where he’d placed it. The leaf was damp, but fine. Mythaen would be saved. “Well, let’s go.”

  “I have another idea. Since the Azriel River flows close to Loreladia, if we build a boat, we can reach the city by morning.”

  “What of the horses?”

  “They’ll return to the city on their own. Come, I have some rope in my backpack. Let us hurry.”

  They gathered the proper wood, instructed by Seth, and in a short time built a small, simple boat. Then Seth commanded the horses to return to Loreladia while he and Darshun set sail down the river.

  The current moved swift and they traveled at good pace, flowing along the bluish-crystal to sometimes dark murky water. Though, Darshun didn’t like when the water looked dark. It reminded him of the Angel ‘Azriel,’ who is said to silently stalk the river, known as the Angel of Death, dark, mysterious and powerful. He searches for souls in his black, sometimes cloaked boat—souls of the dead that have to be brought either north or south to the gateways leaving this realm. But Mirabel always told him there was nothing to fear, for Azriel cannot nor would not seek the living, just the dead who aimlessly wandered onto the river.

  Darshun could‘ve sworn years ago when he was eight, he saw the Angel while camped not far from the river. It’d been the middle of the night in July and a cold chill—like a winter’s wind, awakened him. The campfire still burned and Mirabel looked fast asleep. He felt the chill again and this time realized it blew from the direction of the Azriel, less than ten minutes away. So strange…this cold and the presence it carried with it. Darshun simply had to see it for himself. Perhaps a Water Wizard dwelt nearby?

  He made a torch and journeyed down to the river. A thick fog ran off the embankment and possessed most of the running water, but something told Darshun to look north.

  A large being hooded and cloaked in black drifted past him on a boat too peculiar to even describe. It turned its head slightly, catching Darshun’s gaze, its eyes shining white, then disappeared in the fog.

  Darshun fell on his bottom, heart racing and blood pumping. Did he imagine this? Perhaps. Nevertheless, from that moment on, he would avoid the river at dusk—now he hadn't a choice.

  Soon, it grew dark. The full moon shone, accompanied by the bright stars; the air felt crisp, the sound of the currents relaxing. It became a lovely night; so stunning it nearly made them forget about the tragedy earlier in the day.

  Darshun’s fear of Azriel vanished.

  Up ahead, they saw fires burning on shore and heard music…a tribe seemed to be having a festival. The people danced and sang around great bon fires while Seth and Darshun passed by unnoticed.

  It brought Darshun’s memory back to Elwin, and the great fun they’d enjoyed at the Spring Festival just four nights ago. Now the lady, whom Elwin met and began to court, would never know him. The thought became depressing.

  It grew quiet, and only the sounds of the night creatures could be heard. From time to time, glowing eyes would gaze at them from the shorelines then disappear.

  Darshun wondered which type of animals they were, or if they really were animals at all. “Uncle Seth?”

  “Yes, lad?” He swung his gaze from the shoreline to face Darshun.

  “Those creatures with the burgundy skin and pointed ears you say are Dark Elves—what kind of arrows did you say they shot at me that exploded in such a rage of flames?”

  “Sythra. The fire comes from an unnatural elemental stone created from demonic forces long ago, gathered within the Demon Stone Mountains in a land known as Syngothra. The Dark Elves were fond of carving the stones into arrow tips to shoot. They explode on impact. The fire that burns is a demon fire, hotter, fiercer and more destructive than a natural one. And it lasts twice as long. But Sythra was said to have disappeared long ago. It’s odd those Dark Elves still possessed some.”

  “And what of the—the ‘hands’? The shadow hands I saw randomly jumping out from the flames?”

  “Believe it or not, it is said that Demons live in the fire.”

  He shrugged, not wanting to think about it. “I have another question.”

  “Go ahead, lad.”

  Darshun lowered his head. “It’s just—other than animals I’ve never—never taken a life before. See, when I slay elk or pheasant on the hunt, I feel a sense of sorrow for the creatures.” Darshun raised his face, his eyes fierce. “Yet, I felt nothing when I killed those Draconians. No remorse, no mercy. I wanted them dead. Is that normal?”

  Possibly likening himself to Darshun with his own past experience regarding death, Seth answered, “You felt nothing because those creatures are pure vile evil. They’re creatures that were never meant to exist. Ancient evils tainted much of the earth, creating these beings of darkness. Be not concerned.”

  “What is to happen now?”

  “That will be decided tomorrow. Get some rest.”

  Sounded like a good idea, for he hadn’t felt so exhausted since his training with Mirabel ceased. Then, relaxing his mind and focusing on nothing but the river’s gentle current, he fell into a deep sleep.

  Seth remained awake, watching over him on their journey back. Every now and again, he would grip the Water Crystal in the sack and wonder if the time of great darkness Mirabel once mentioned was really upon them.

  ~~***~~

  By morning, they reached their destination, abandoned the boat and made their way to Loreladia. When they entered the city, everything seemed as normal as it’d been the day they left for Arundel Mountain.

  “Darshun. Go to Mythaen, heal him, then meet me at the king’s castle,” Seth instructed.

  “What shall I say about Elwin?”

  “The truth. Now hurry.”

  For what news he must deliver, Darshun approached Mythaen’s house full of anxiety. It’s not every day you tell someone his brother was killed by a Draconian. He entered and found Mythaen in the main room with his sister.

  She seemed to be trying to feed him. “Oh Darshun, bless your soul,” she said. “You’ve returned just in time. He’s gotten worse this last hour.”

  Mythaen’s body was unnaturally thin, dehydrated, covered with rashes and blood dripped from his nose.

  What a nasty sickness, Darshun thought. He took out the leaf and put it in his mouth. “Eat this.”

  Using his last ounce of strength, Mythaen chewed the leaf and swallowed. W
ithin seconds, his body mass returned, the bleeding stopped and the fever left. His long hair regained its natural red color and his brown eyes were restored to life. He appeared to be instantly healed and rose up, as his sister hugged him. “Thank you, Dar. I thought I was going to be meeting the gods today. Didn’t have much faith in Elwin’s ‘magic plant’ idea.” He laughed. “But bless that little man’s soul because it worked!”

  “Yes,” Darshun muttered quietly.

  “You two are going to have to show me the location of those plants one day. Cannot keep them for yourselves.” Mythaen looked past him, then around the room and back to Darshun. “Where is Elwin, anyway?”

  Darshun lowered his head; he couldn’t bear to look upon him.

  “Dar—what’s wrong?”

  He raised his head. “Your brother is dead.”

  “What?” He stood up to face Darshun. “Dead—how—what are you talking about?”

  “He was murdered, stabbed by some lizard type beast. Uncle Seth called it a Draconian. We had not the time to retrieve his body—there were masses of them attacking us.”

  Mythaen’s sister fell on the bed and wept.

  Mythaen seemed well aware of what Draconians were, yet hadn't a clue they dwelt so close. “Why were Draconians attacking you?”

  “I’m sorry, but I haven’t time to explain. Uncle Seth awaits my arrival at the king’s castle. Something terrible is happening across the land, and we must find out what.”

  “Then, I’ll meet you there. First, I must go and tell my father and mother about Elwin.”

  “I understand. And Mythaen, I’m really sorry. He was my best friend.”

  “Dar…” He clenched his fists, teardrops cascading from his eyes. “…whatever is taking place—now involves me.”

  Darshun left Mythaen’s home and approached the castle. He saw Mirabel’s white mare stationed outside the gate. Finally, at no better a time, he’d returned. “I come to see my father,” he shouted to the guards.

  The gate lowered, and Captain Alaric stood on the other side, the morning sun shining upon his bald head. Whether he knew about Elwin yet could not be known, for he made no mention of it.

  Darshun neglected bringing it up. He just wanted to see his father and understand what might be going on.

  “This way,” Alaric called, inviting him in and showing him to the king’s lair.

  When Darshun entered, his eyes met the Water Crystal immediately. It sat upon on one of the king’s fine marble tables.

  Mirabel, Seth and King Loreus were gathered around it, speaking strange words about some type of demonic creature and a possible end of the world or rather—end of the Light.

  Once again, Darshun felt the same feeling he’d experienced at Arundel Mountain, when this crystal somehow ‘called’ to him. “Father,” he entreated, his voice saddened.

  Mirabel rushed over to him.

  Darshun stepped away, expecting to get scolded. “Forgive me for leaving Loreladia. I only wanted to save Mythaen. But I got Elwin killed instead.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Mirabel soothed, his strong tone comforting. “And Elwin’s death is not your fault.”

  “Please tell me what’s going on then? Why have you been acting so strangely, and what is that crystal?”

  “These matters will be discussed at the Wizard’s lair.”

  “Wiz—wait—what? Did I hear you correctly? Wizard's lair?”

  “Seth, you, and myself are going to see the Earth-Wizard Olchemy.”

  Darshun felt excitement rush through him. “You mean a real live, pure-blooded Wizard?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean, Darshun.”

  “May I accompany?” Mythaen asked seeming to overhear their conversation as he entered the room.

  He got here fast, Darshun thought.

  Mirabel walked over to him, placing an arm around his shoulder. “Mythaen, I’ve known you since you were a boy. You’ve faced many challenges with me and fought by my side in war. Your trust is well earned. Of course you may come. This involves all of us.”

  “Mirabel,” King Loreus spoke, “my men stand ready on your request.”

  He nodded. “Until then.”

  Within the hour, they mounted the four gathered horses and abandoned the city, with Mirabel leading the way.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PROPHECY REVEALED

  They headed south by way of a great forest. After a few days of steady travel, the temperature began to rise and the air was becoming a bit muskier. They crossed swampy grounds, pushed through heavy thickets and then entered lighter, drier woodland.

  By the turning of midmorning, Mirabel stopped next to a large boulder about seven feet high and five feet wide, covered in moss and bearing the shape of a half-moon. “We’re here.”

  “I don’t see anything,” Darshun commented.

  Just then, the mossy boulder began to move aside making a rumbling noise like stone scraping stone and uncovered a trail leading into the underground. It appeared to be illuminated in striking rays of green light.

  “You may enter,” a voice announced, powerful in tone, yet carrying with it a mystic kind of sense, vibrant and echoic.

  Darshun immediately felt knots in his belly. He found it hard to believe he’d soon be in the presence of a real Wizard, a being he feared to be extinct all these years.

  They followed the trail, and once they were underground, the boulder re-sealed the entrance; then they saw the source of the green light—plants! On both sides of the trail, and as far as the eye could see there were exotic plants shining green—glowing in the dark, illuminating the shadows. The radiance worked well enough for vision, like lanterns in a cave. They followed the path for about two hundred feet and it stopped at a wall of rock.

  “Now what?” Darshun asked.

  The rock unattached itself from the roof and sank slowly into the ground, probably a hollow casing, the rumbling noise vibrating their ears. Either someone was controlling these elements mechanically, or this could be the working of the Earth-Wizard.

  Before them stood a large circular room…They entered.

  The room overflowed with green, blue, and red flowers unrecognizable to Darshun, giving off wonderful smells, reminding him of the spectacular meadows near Loreladia. There were tables, chairs and bookshelves stacked with books—not a speck of dust lingering, and in the center…a lone tea kettle sat within a green dancing fire.

  Darshun’s attention quickly shifted to one standing in the shadows in the far right corner, where only the figure's large, hazel eyes could be seen. He seemed to stand low to the ground; this must be the Wizard, though due to his size, he wondered if he might be very young an adolescent perhaps, at least in Wizard years. Darshun stepped forward and immediately knelt. “Great Wizard, I am honored to be in your presence.”

  The figure said nothing, then slowly stepped into the light.

  Darshun had to admit this wasn’t what he'd expected a wizard to look like.

  Besides being female, she stood at about four feet tall and wore the face of a child. Cute with large ears; her fuchsia-pink hair looked delicately fashioned in two pigtails. She wore a turquoise velvet tabard and burgundy trousers with oak leaves stitched around the waist. Slowly, if not curiously, she approached.

  Darshun, still on his knees, watched her delightfully, but grew suspicious as her large, buggy, ‘innocent’ eyes suddenly grew impish, as if she were indeed thinking of misbehaving.

  Ah, it probably all existed in his worrisome head. No time to have distrustful feelings for a great ancestor. “How I have longed to come face to face with my ancestors. They…who brought my race into existence. My father told me a lot of the Wizards of old, but there’s much I wish to learn specifically from you. Perhaps forgotten events of the past only a flesh and blood Wizard could tell of, or rather, remember, being the wondrous thousand years your kind lives—and where it is said the Great Wizards ascend to at the end of those years. Oh! I regret having nothing
to offer you—we abandoned our city in haste.”

  The little wizard looked upon Darshun with such overwhelmingly adorable eyes, blinking twice about every ten seconds. She seemed quiet, strange and adorable—awfully adorable.

  Her impish demeanor gave him the strongest sensation—to hug her, like a child. But again, this was not what he’d been expecting. For surely, there must be more to the ‘Great Wizards’ of ancient times than this? Or, is it like the old adage about looks being deceiving?

  She pointed at his sword and tapped the leather sheathe.

  “What? You wish to see my sword?”

  She nodded, rather ecstatically.

  Darshun slowly drew it out and held the blade gently over his palm, the silver capturing the green fire light. “My father made this long ago while training me. You like?”

  The little wizard seemed at a loss for words, perhaps hearing nothing except her own thoughts, adoring the gleaming silver. She rubbed a finger down the blade and finally spoke, “Ooooo, shiny...Mine!” She snatched it by the handle and ran off.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Darshun yelled, confused and irritated “That—that doesn’t belong to you!”

  She continued running, sidestepping the others, then instantly vanished in a puff of pink smoke.

  “What in the world?” Darshun blurted out.

  The others couldn’t help but laugh, especially Mirabel.

  “The Wizard steals my sword, and you all think that is funny?”

  “Apologies, but not to worry,” Mirabel assured him.

  “What kind of wizard is this, a practical jokester? The whole time I was talking, not a word of mine seemed to run into her head. Rather, my speech went through it!”

  “Are you not impressed, son?” Mirabel asked, looking as though he knew something Darshun did not.

  “Well, in all honesty, she isn’t at all what I had in mind. But to answer your question—yes, I am impressed—at least a little. I mean that fire she's created here.” Darshun put his hands above the green flames and swayed them back and forth, causing the flames to flicker. “It gives off heat, but burns from nothing. Look—no wood! How is such a thing possible?”