Heirs of Prophecy

by M. A. Rothman

  Then, before Aaron could respond, she stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek.

  The feeling that followed was unlike anything Aaron had ever experienced. It was as if he’d been electrified from the inside out.

  “Let me talk with my dad and Throll,” he said. “If that’s truly how you feel, I bet I can convince them.”

  Sloane beamed. “Oh, Aaron! I really hope you can.”

  And as they stared into one another’s eyes for an impossibly long and awkward moment, Aaron felt uncomfortable and overjoyed all at once.

  Wizards and Dwarves

  When the caravan arrived at Cammoria, it was time for Ryan and Arabelle to part ways. Ryan found it surprisingly difficult. In the few short days they’d traveled together, they’d become practically inseparable. Often the two of them would walk through the grassy hills, picking flowers and laughing with one another—all under the careful watch of her armed escorts, of course. They’d learned so much about each other, and Ryan was convinced that he and his father had made the right choice.

  As Ryan, Dad, and Throll rode away from the caravan and on toward the wizard’s tower, Ryan turned to his father. “After we’re done here,” he said, “can you help me make a ring for Arabelle?”

  Dad smiled. “Of course, son. Did you want a specific design?”

  “I’ll think about that, but mostly I want it to be a communication ring. Her father’s always sending his escorts with us, and we never have time alone to talk…” He felt embarrassed that he’d shared so much.

  “I understand,” Dad said with a wink. “You want a special linked pair of rings, a pair that won’t communicate with the rest of us.”

  Ryan felt his cheeks warm. “Yes.”

  Dad ruffled his hair and laughed. “Consider it done.”

  Ryan hugged his father.

  “I told you it was a good match,” Throll said, grinning.

  “How far is the tower from here?” Dad asked, straightening up.

  “From what I remember, it’s a few hours’ ride from here.”

  “You’ve been there before?” Ryan asked, surprised.

  “Never inside. But it stands close to a cave network I used to explore as a child.”

  “Do you think we can get there without encountering trouble?” Dad asked.

  Throll shrugged. “I can’t know for sure, but I’m hopeful that the wizard’s guards will mistake us for messengers until we come up to the castle.”

  “Just remember,” Dad replied, “if you see Azazel, stay behind us. Your armor is fully charged, but I would rather not test it again.”

  That reminded Ryan that he needed to make sure his energy was at maximum; from this point forward, they could never be sure when they might need to fight. As they rode onward, he pulled a piece of bread from his saddlebag and started to eat.

  “Is there something wrong with the bread?” Throll asked. “You’re making a sour face.”

  Ryan grimaced. “Arabelle made it. I think it may not be completely cooked.”

  Throll roared with laughter. “Not much of a baker, is she?”

  “Her mother died giving birth to her, so she didn’t have a teacher for most of her life,” Ryan said with a shrug. “She says she’s getting pretty good with some things, but is only just learning about baking.”

  “Well, you’re a good young man to eat your beloved’s undercooked bread,” Throll said. “I remember suffering through Gwen’s first attempts at cooking. We choked down quite a few inedible meals before things began to improve.”

  “Maybe Gwen could teach her a few things,” Ryan said. “In the meantime…” He took another bite of the bread and almost gagged.

  Throll roared with laughter again.

  The spire was soon towering almost directly above them, and the horses stepped out of the trees and into the fields surrounding Azazel’s tower. The tower’s entrance stood directly ahead, guarded by two soldiers wearing the sigil of the dark wizard. They didn’t move from their post as the three men on horseback approached.

  Throll stopped in front of the guards and dismounted. As always, he was an intimidating figure given his height, his shimmering armor, and the large glowing sword belted at his waist, and the guards looked uneasy.

  “Greetings,” Throll boomed. “I’m Throll Lancaster, protector-general of Trimoria. We’re here to seek an audience with the wizard Azazel.”

  “Actually, s-sir,” the guard on the left stammered, “on this day, we guard an empty tower. Lord Azazel is not home.”

  “Not home?” Throll repeated.

  “He comes and goes,” the guard on the right offered. He seemed less intimidated than the first. “He appeared here only a day ago, and then disappeared again.”

  “How many is your number?” Throll asked. “How many soldiers does the wizard keep stationed here?”

  The second soldier frowned. “Beg your pardon, Lord General, but I’m not sure Azazel would take kindly to my sharing that information. And I don’t wish to cross him. I have a family in Cammoria that depends on me.”

  Throll smiled. “I understand, soldier. But allow me to put your fears to rest.” He waved a hand behind him at Ryan and his father. “My friends and I have already lain waste to twenty soldiers just like you. Azazel runs from us even as we speak. You see… the lord wizard had the audacity to try and assassinate my child. I don’t take kindly to such things.”

  Clearly Throll was trying to frighten these guards with a display of strength. Sensing an opportunity, Ryan decided to contribute to the display. He casually sent a web of energy bouncing back and forth between his hands.

  The confident guard’s face drained of all color, and he fainted on the spot.

  Surprisingly, the nervous guard proved the more resilient, though clearly he was terrified. “P-please, L-Lord General, don’t let those w-wizards kill me.”

  Throll waved a calming hand and spoke in a gentle voice. “We mean no harm. In fact, I like you. I can tell that you’re a dutiful man.” He moved closer to the guard and slung his arm over his shoulder. “I tell you what. Go talk to the Protector in Cammoria. Tell him that Throll recommends you and your partner be added to the town’s garrison. Do that, and all will be well.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the soldier said. “I would love to serve in Cammoria, sir.” He shifted nervously.

  “Good,” said Throll. “But before you go, could you tell us which direction Azazel headed?”

  The soldier pointed to the southwest. “That way, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Throll said. “Best of luck to you in Cammoria. And be sure to take your friend with you.”

  The soldier shook the other guard awake and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, Munson. We have to go.”

  The two soldiers hurried away, the one named Munson glancing back over his shoulder only once before both men broke into a run.

  Dad clapped Throll on the shoulder. “Do you think they’ll do as you said?”

  Throll chuckled. “I think we frightened them enough to make them do just about anything we tell them. At least for today. There’s no telling what tomorrow will bring. But I do know the Protector in Cammoria. He’s a good man, and will take care of things.”

  “Is it wise to create fear?” Dad asked. “I mean… there’s always chaos after the fall of a tyrannical ruler.”

  Throll nodded. “You make a wise point. But for now, we hunt a dangerous and wounded man, and we can’t afford to underestimate him. If we can make his troops fear us, that improves our odds. We can fix the fear we sow soon enough. But for now, it will serve us well.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Dad said, though he still looked uncomfortable with the idea.

  “Well, it’s done now,” said Ryan. “And seeing as the wizard’s not at home and his tower is unguarded, how about we take a look around? Maybe we can find some sign as to where he went, or what his plans are.”

  “It’s worth a look,” Dad agreed.

  Throll stepped forward and op
ened the wide doors. The interior of the tower was completely dark—not a torch lit, not a single sign of life.

  They stepped through the opening, and the darkness enveloped them.

  Most of the tower proved to either be entirely empty or contained nothing of interest. But there was one room that they could have searched for days: the study. The walls were lined with rows and rows of books, and more sat stacked on tables here and there.

  Dad discovered a stack of personal journals and immediately sat down to go through them. Ryan flipped through a few at random, but found little of value. The entries were mundane, though several passages made it clear that Azazel had a hatred for dwarves. More than once he stated his intent to one day invade the mountains and eradicate them.

  As Dad pored through the journals, Ryan looked around at the books on the shelves. His eye was drawn to one with a lock, and he pulled it down. If the lock was meant to protect its secrets, it had done just the opposite, and with a bit of wire, Ryan easily jimmied it open.

  He sat down to read, and when he came to a passage that intrigued him, he read it aloud.

  “Bring to me your children for testing as they are newly born. For the waters declare them Wizard, and our hope abides with them. A weekly bath will inoculate the wizard from the sway of evil.”

  Ryan looked up from the book. “Throll, what was the message on the fountain?”

  Throll recited from memory. “Bring to me your newly born children so that they may be purified in the waters of this fountain.”

  “Could it be possible that the passage in this book was the original message,” Dad said, “and that Azazel changed it to suit his own needs?”

  Ryan nodded. “I bet Azazel uses those fountains to detect people with magical power.” He had a sudden realization. “What if Azazel keeps spies waiting at each fountain, and whenever a baby makes the fountain light up, Azazel sends in one of his assassins. Throll, didn’t you say that babies who lit the fountain would always meet some accidental end? We even caught an assassin with poison ready for Zenethar! It makes perfect sense.”

  Dad frowned. “It does seem plausible.”

  Throll flipped through a book and grinned. “It seems like our wizard has a female suitor. Listen to this.”

  I have no idea why I haven’t crumbled to dust by now from old age… maybe it’s the elf queen’s magic sustaining me. I just don’t know. She’s forbidden me to visit her at Ellisanethra, so here I wait. Like a cuckold pining away for the lover who spurned him. Some Lord of Trimoria I am…

  “Well, that’s sad and pathetic.” Dad said, shaking his head.

  “Ellisanethra…” Ryan had forgotten all about the map in his pocket, but now he drew it out. “Throll, I’d meant to ask you about this.”

  Throll took the piece of paper. “Where did you get this?”

  “It was in one of the books Honfrion gave us. It was tucked between the pages.”

  Throll frowned. “I’ve never heard of this Ellisanethra, nor have I seen this map, but…” He nodded. “I do believe I know where this forest lies. You see this cliff here? And these hills? Yes… I think this is near those caves I told you I used to explore as a child.”

  Dad came over to look. “Do you think Azazel may have retreated to where his old girlfriend lived?”

  “I don’t know. But the area isn’t far from here. There’s a path through the caves that’ll get us close to these woods, I think. And it’s in the same direction the soldiers claimed Azazel had gone. We could investigate.”

  “I suppose for now it’s all we have to go on.”

  They were just about to leave the study, and the tower, when Ryan noticed a reddish sparkle from a candleholder beside the door. “Hey, Dad,” he said, “look at this. It’s imbued with red flakes of crystal or something.”

  Dad took the candleholder and studied it, holding it close to his face. “Interesting. I’ve never seen this metal before. Throll, is this familiar to you?”

  Throll stepped closer and shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Dad got that familiar twinkle in his eye. “A new metal means a new test,” he said with a grin. “Ryan, do you think you could slice off a bit of it, and then we can see what properties it has.”

  Throll frowned. “My friend, I’m not certain that now is the time for blacksmithing experiments.”

  Dad waved him off. “It’ll just take a second. Ryan?” He set the candleholder on the stone floor and backed away.

  Ryan stepped closer and fired a filament of energy at the candleholder, just like he’d done to divide the coins long ago. But it wasn’t nearly as easy this time around; in fact, by the time he was done, he was sweating.

  “That was a lot tougher than any metal I’ve cut before,” he said. “It was like it was resisting me.”

  Dad took a flask of water from his belt and poured it over the sliced piece of metal. “I was thinking that might be the case. Let’s try charging it. I’ll count.”

  Ryan poured energy into the metal as Dad counted the passage of time. To Ryan’s surprise, the metal seemed bottomless. A full minute passed, and still it continued to accept a charge. Then another minute, and another. After four minutes, Ryan was afraid he was going to collapse from exhaustion. But he kept at it, and finally, at five minutes, the metal sparked, indicating it was full.

  Ryan stopped, his knees buckling. “Wow.” He grabbed a block of cheese from his pack and began wolfing it down.

  The piece of metal was now glowing with incredible intensity.

  Dad was thrilled. “Throll, do you have any idea who might know something more about this metal?”

  “I wish I could help,” said Throll, “but as I said, it’s beyond my experience. Perhaps a dwarf would know more.”

  “Well, add meeting some dwarven smiths to my list of things I want to do,” Dad said matter-of-factly as he pocketed the glowing metal. “Onto that cave shortcut you talked about?”

  “Yes, the caves aren’t far. They’re just to the southwest.”

  Dad looked at Ryan and asked, “Are you okay to go?”

  Ryan nodded as chewed on the last morself of cheese and pocketed the non-glowing piece of the new metal. “Ready.”

  Throll smashed his fist against his breastplate. “To the caves…”

  They’d traveled for almost thirty minutes when a mountainous ridge came into view. Throll picked up the pace and soon they were within sight of what was clearly the mouth of a large cave entrance. Ryan’s heart skipped at the sight of a small group of improbably short people clearing the area of rubble from what looked like a recent landslide.

  “Jared, today is your lucky day,” Throll whispered. “Dwarves.”

  Ryan marveled at the industrious dwarves as they worked in concert to clear away the mouth of the cave.

  Throll yelled out a greeting. “Hello. Can we lend you any assistance?”

  One of the dwarves looked up and put his hands on his hips. “Don’t ye be worryin’ about the rocks. My men and I can clear dat out quickly enough.” He pointed up the hill beside the caves. “If’n ye wants to help, convince dat river over yonder to stop getting blocked with debris and flooding dis cave. Da last time it happened, we were barred from entering all through da spring.”

  Ryan looked at where the dwarf had pointed. A collection of tree roots and debris had accumulated at a tight bend in the river, blocking the river’s flow. And if the river overflowed its banks, the water would likely roll downhill directly into the caves.

  Dad turned to Throll. “This is the quickest way to the forest?”

  “Aye, it is.” Throll nodded.

  “Come with me, Ryan.” Dad motioned for Ryan as he walked toward the riverbank. “You burn the wood above the waterline, and I’ll burn the wood below it. It’ll disturb the flow of the water, and we’ll probably kick up a fair amount of steam, but aside from a few dead fish, I don’t think we’ll cause any harm. We should have the area clear in no time.”

  �
��Okay, here goes nothing…” Ryan extended his hand, and a roar of flames and energy erupted from his palm. From behind him, he heard the dwarves yelling over the sound of steam billowing up from the river.

  “Neither of dem is Azazel,” one said. “I would swear my beard on it.”

  In short order, Ryan and his father had cleared the river of all debris. They were topping off their reserves by eating cheese as they returned to the mouth of the cave.

  “Anything else we can do to help?” Dad asked matter-of-factly.

  The dwarves stared at Ryan and his father.

  “Are ye of Azazel’s ilk?” asked a dwarf with an exceptionally long red beard.

  Dad laughed. “If you mean to ask whether my son and I are from the stock of an evil, tyrannical, mad wizard who doesn’t deserve to live, then the answer is no. I don’t believe we fall into that category. In fact, we plan on removing Azazel from this world and from any living person’s concern.”

  The dwarves stood in silence, their mouths hanging open.

  “Do ye mean Azazel is dead?” the red-bearded dwarf asked.

  “Not yet,” Ryan said. “But we aim to change that fact. He tried to kill us, so we’re really only returning the favor. I hope you don’t mind.”

  The dwarves all laughed.

  “Me name is Silas Redbeard of da Redbeard Clan,” the long-bearded dwarf said, extending his hand for Ryan to shake. “We would like it if’n ye would share a meal wid us. We can exchange stories. I suspect da stories you three have to tell will be quite interesting.”

  As the group finished eating and drinking, tales were exchanged, including of the events back in Aubgherle. To Ryan’s surprise, it turned out that some of these dwarves knew of Ohaobbok.

  “I can’t believe da ogre fell off a mountain and lived,” Silas said with a laugh. “I still owe dat mountain of muscle an apology for how I first treated him. I would love to meet wid him again.”

  “You should come visit Aubgherle,” Throll said. “You might find interest in Jared’s other son. He’s the other boy from the Protector’s vision.”