Soul of the Prophet: The Elder of Edon Book I

by David Angelo

  “I bet his ego’s slowing him down,” Chok added.

  “I really wish you’d stop snickering behind his back,” Black-Tooth said. “If it weren’t for Rocklier, this group wouldn’t exist.”

  “And I wish you’d stop kissin’ the ground he walks on,” Chok replied. “Rocklier belongs in a classroom, not as a member of a resistance.”

  “It never ceases to amaze me how much you underestimate him,” Black-Tooth said.

  “I’m not sayin’ he’s a bad person,” Chok said. “You’re right, Rocklier has done a lot of good for our team. But that was back in the early days, and we’ve moved on from then. We don’t need him anymore.”

  Black-Tooth chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because Rocklier makes you feel stupid?”

  “Rocklier makes everyone feel stupid,” Chok retorted. “He feels smarter by makin’ others feel like sacks of bricks.”

  Fin added, brimming with curiosity, “I’m really looking forward to meeting this guy.”

  Kaw-Ki took a seat next to Fin. “And you’ll never forget the first time he puts you down,” she replied. “In the meantime, does anyone mind if I take this damn guard uniform off?”

  “Go ahead,” Black-Tooth said. “We’re not going back to Triticon anytime soon.”

  “Oh, thank the Elder,” Kaw-Ki said, tugging at the shroud that covered her head and concealed her face. “I don’t know how those guards wear these things without passing out.”

  Fin expected Kaw-Ki to look like a typical Cullidon, but as she undressed, he was taken aback by what he beheld. When she started to wiggle her way out of her cloak, a Faranchie tail unraveled at her feet, and her lower half looked like that of a Faranchie. Yet her torso featured traces of Cullidon, with Cullidon hands and arms and a stocky, barrel-like chest. Her skin was teal, and she had Cullidon dorsal spines but not a mane. When Kaw-Ki’s face finally appeared, it looked like that of a Faranchie but was slightly elongated, like a Cullidon’s. Fin realized then and there that Kaw-Ki was not a Faranchie or a Cullidon but a Faranchilldon, a rare mix between the two species of dragon. He knew that they were sometimes the outcome of cross-species relationships, but they were more often the result of a Cullidon raping a female Faranchie. Because of this, they were often shunned by both species, forced to live on the outskirts of society in tight-knit groups. Throughout his life Fin had only heard about Faranchilldons from stories he read or folktales he was told, yet he’d never actually seen one in person until now.

  Fin found himself staring at Kaw-Ki, unable to look away. He knew it was wrong and understood that what he was doing was dedragonizing and hurtful. But try as he might, Fin could not muster the ability to stop. Eventually, Kaw-Ki turned her head in Fin’s direction, and he looked away.

  “I’m sorry,” Fin said, ashamed. “I shouldn’t…”

  “It’s okay,” Kaw-Ki replied.

  Fin turned back and saw that Kaw-Ki was smiling. “There aren’t that many like me these days,” she said, “and I’m not surprised if this is probably the first time you’ve seen a Faranchilldon before. I’m not offended, especially now that you’ve shown that you understand that I am a dragon, just like you and everyone else on Edon. You’d be shocked how many people still don’t understand that.”

  “I understood it,” Black-Tooth said.

  “Of course you did, Honey,” Kaw-Ki replied. She smiled at Black-Tooth before turning her attention back to Fin. “Black-Tooth understood right from the start, and we’ve been lovers ever since.”

  “Ya think?” Chok asked. “Y’all been together for the greater part of a decade. Come on, now. If that ain’t love, then I’m what you would call a gentleman.”

  “Well, we know that’s not true,” Black-Tooth joked. Chok glared at him, but Black-Tooth held a finger up and looked toward the forest. “That’s Rocklier’s horse if I’ve ever heard it.”

  “’Bout damn time,” Chok grumbled.

  The sound of thundering hooves came from somewhere beyond the edge of the forest. Then a blue Faranchie emerged from the trees on a black stallion and charged toward the group. The Faranchie pulled on the reins and stopped the horse a few feet from where they were. Now that he was still, Fin could see the intricate charcoal markings along his cobalt-blue skin. There was pair of hairlike frills on his head, which met at the tip of his nose in a triangular pattern. Rocklier looked older than the rest of the group, perhaps in his early forties. He also sported two sheathed katanas, which were slung over his shoulders and crossed behind him, creating an X on his back.

  “I could hear the warning sirens from beyond the edge of the wood,” Rocklier said. “Is this your idea of a quick, stealthy escape?”

  “Things didn’t really go as planned,” Black-Tooth replied.

  “That’s happened a lot recently, hasn’t it?” Rocklier asked.

  “Hey, Rocky!” Chok snapped, springing to his feet. “How ’bout you lay off the criticism and just be happy we got ’im out in one piece.”

  Rocklier looked down at Fin, who stood up to introduce himself, but his tail was still sore, and a jolt of pain raced up his spine. Fin grunted and fell to one knee. “I’m okay,” he said uneasily.

  “I can tell,” Rocklier said sarcastically. “So much for getting him out in one piece, eh, Chok?”

  Chok did not reply but only mumbled an insult under his breath and turned away.

  “Anyway, Rocklier,” Black-Tooth said. “Where’s our air support?”

  “Kyu, Kemp, and Chinaw took off before I left,” Rocklier said. “That was fifteen minutes ago. They should be here by now, unless there’s a strong wind.”

  They were interrupted by the blaring of conch horns coming from over the edge of the hill. Fin pulled himself up and saw a patrol of about ten or twenty Triticon guards, clad in black cloaks, charging toward their position on horseback with guns, bows, and swords at the ready.

  “No,” Fin mumbled, his sense of freedom dying.

  “Cheer up, kid,” Rocklier said, “and look behind you.”

  Fin turned around and was surprised to see three winged beasts flying over the edge of the forest in a triangular formation. They resembled oversized bats with large black wings, and they made a strange buzzing noise as they approached. As Fin looked closer at the giant bats, he realized that they were not bats at all, nor were they creatures. The flying beasts were actually elaborately crafted machines, their wings made from black canvas stretched over a wooden skeleton, and each one was being flown by a Faranchie.

  “They’re called dragon wings,” Black-Tooth said as the objects flew by, fanning them with the wind they generated. “One of our greatest weapons in the war against Cullidon tyranny.”

  Before Fin could ask what role the dragon wings played, the gliders decreased their altitude and zoomed over the cluster of guards, dropping what looked like small black tubes. There was a crack, and the black tubes exploded, sending chunks of smoldering earth flying into the sky. Several Cullidon guards were knocked off-kilter, while a few of them were blown into chunks of fleshy red bits. The surviving guards skidded to a halt and attempted to flee, but their horses, spooked by the blasts, ran across the field in every direction. The dragon wings turned around and made a second run, dropping more explosive tubes onto the guards. Again, more blasts rang out, and several more guards disappeared into clouds of bloody mist.

  “Is this magic?” Fin asked in disbelief.

  Rocklier laughed heartily. “If you consider Edonion ingenuity to be a form of magic. Those things that they’re dropping are actually sticks of gunpowder connected to fuses, filled with small rocks and bits and pieces of shrapnel to maximize the amount of damage.”

  “You can thank me for that invention,” Chok added.

  There was a brief pause, during which the dragon wings dropped more gunpowder sticks on the remaining guards, who were now scattered in various states of confusion and shell shock. Fin was hypnotized, his eyes fixed on the dragon wings, which had broken
formation and were now circling the guards like a pack of vultures.

  “Let’s get moving,” Black-Tooth said as the last of the guards darted off back toward Triticon.

  Fin and Chok got back on their horse. Black-Tooth gave Kaw-Ki a much-needed break and took the reins. She climbed onto the back of their horse, wrapped her arms around Black-Tooth’s waist, and rested her chin on his shoulder. The three horses calmly trotted forward, Rocklier leading the way, and crossed into the thick forest. Above the canopy of snowcapped pines, Fin saw the three dragon wings buzz, moving toward an unknown destination.

  “I’m glad that’s over with,” Fin said, sighing in relief.

  “I think we’re all relieved that it’s over,” Black-Tooth replied.

  “And now that it is over,” Fin said, “are you going to tell me why I was arrested and almost executed and why, exactly, you came to save me?”

  Black-Tooth opened his mouth, but Rocklier cut him off.

  “We will,” Rocklier said, “when the time is right. There are a lot of things about yourself that you do not know, and some of it may be surprising to you. But just know this: the soul of the prophet always picks well.”

  “I don’t understand,” Fin said.

  Rocklier looked at Fin with a disapproving look, as if he expected Fin to know the context of his statement.

  “Rocklier,” Black-Tooth said, “I told you he didn’t know the Prophet’s Song.”

  Rocklier turned away with a frustrated look on his face. “My mistake,” he said in a tone that reeked of condescension.

  Fin sighed, more confused than ever before.

  The steady, repetitive motion of the horse’s movements felt so relaxing to Fin that several times he needed to jolt himself to stay awake, lest he drift to sleep and fall off the horse. Time was pointless in this state of mind, when the world seemed to speed past and the names of his new acquaintances dodged him. The battle between staying awake and falling asleep, waged in a state of semiconsciousness, shortened the length of the trip for Fin. Soon, the horses began to walk along an area where there were no trails and the forest gradually became darker. The bark of the pine trees turned black, and their needles looked a darker shade of inky green. These trees worked in tandem to blot out the sun and covered the ground below them in a thick, oppressive shadow. Not even the snow, white as it could be, was spared, and it appeared almost gray along the forest floor. It was also deathly quiet; Fin heard no chirp from a winter bird nor rustle of a squirrel or any other woodland creature. Just the cold wind blowing through the trees.

  Fin knew there was only one such place that carried this brand of darkness. “Don’t tell me we’re in the dead oak,” he said, glancing at every dark-toned object in sight.

  “We sure are,” Black-Tooth replied.

  Fin recoiled and felt the urge to dismount and run away, far away. From the moment he was old enough to listen, Fin had been told countless ghost stories about the dead oak. According to those tales, the oak got its telltale color from a long-forgotten curse, which brought pain and misfortune on anyone stupid enough to venture through. It was also apparently haunted by the ghosts of countless travelers, victims of the oak’s hex, who’d been looking for a way back to civilization. If that were not enough, the oak was inhabited by ghastly creatures, all of whom had a taste for dragon blood and liked to steal young children. Of course, Fin never took any of these superstitions as fact, but even the most hardened dragon always said a little prayer to the Elder whenever they passed or came close to the dead oak.

  “Cheer up, Fin,” Rocklier said, somehow able to sense Fin’s concern. “All the things you’ve heard about the dead oak are lies. Gutless ramblings from the minds of drunks, with no other purpose but to achieve a few good laughs after a few too many. In other words, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Okay,” Fin replied. “But why are we walking through them?”

  “Because,” Black-Tooth said, “this is where our gathering place is located. It’s a lot easier to conduct the operations of a resistance group when everyone, including the police, is afraid of trespassing.”

  Fin nodded, still a little uneasy, as the horses continued deeper and deeper into the heart of the dead oak. As they went, the forest around them seemed to grow more and more untamed, and the trees took on mangled, almost abstract shapes.

  Rocklier turned to Fin and smiled. “You are about to see something that is not located on any map,” he said. “Its existence is a mystery, and very few know about its location. It is one of the strangest wonders in all of Edon, one that I myself am not able to comprehend.”

  “What is it?” Fin asked. But before he got a response, his question was answered for him.

  Beyond a small section of black trees directly in front of them was a huge, ring-shaped clearing, surrounded on all sides by forest. A radiant glow emanated from within, casting off the shadows of the dead oak. When they emerged through the tree line into the clearing, Fin was overtaken by a relaxing calm as he examined with awe this marvel of nature. The clearing was about seven hundred feet across, a perfect circle, its ground carpeted in a layer of fresh green grass, without a single tree or spot of snow in sight. Morning dew glowed on the tip of each blade of grass and reflected off the ground, a sea of shimmering emerald. This sight was accompanied by an awesome silence, not like the one inside the dead oak but a euphoric stillness that instilled a sense of peace within Fin’s soul.

  “This is called the Fist of the Elder,” Black-Tooth said. “No one knows what it is, where it came from, or why it’s here. The only thing known is that no trees grow within its perimeter, and no snow accumulates atop its grass. It is also the location of our secret base.”

  Sure enough, at the edge of the clearing directly ahead of their position, Fin saw a cluster of tents, both large and small, gathered in a small circle around a lit campfire. The three dragon wings were parked next to the tents, each one held down with weights on their bottoms, their cone-shaped noses pointed up in the air. As they approached, Fin caught sight of three Faranchies sitting around the campfire, minding their own business and recovering from their flight.

  “How come no one’s found this?” Fin asked.

  “Think about where you are,” Chok replied. “You’re in the heart of the dead oak. No one’s gonna come this deep except by force.”

  “Or by accident,” Black-Tooth added, “just like my parents.”

  Fin glanced at Black-Tooth in bewilderment.

  “Long before I was born,” Black-Tooth said, “it was their hideout. In fact, they were the ones who helped spread many of the legends that are associated with this place.”

  “Why is that?” Fin asked.

  “They were outlaws,” Black-Tooth said, “and they needed a place for them and their companions to stay.”

  “The nut didn’t fall far from the tree,” Kaw-Ki said, giving Black-Tooth a gentle squeeze around the waist.

  The team stopped in front of the encampment and dismounted. Chok took the horses away to graze on the fresh pasture, while Black-Tooth and Kaw-Ki introduced Fin to the rest of the team.

  “Fin,” Black-Tooth said, “I’d like for you to meet Chinaw, Kyu, and Kemp. Everyone,” he addressed the trio of Faranchies, “meet Fin.”

  Each of the three team members took notice of Fin.

  Chinaw, who was busy poking a log on the campfire with a stick, had a bright green hide, with streaks of dark blue down his spine and lower neck. He had a headdress of spikes arranged like that of an iguana, with spines around the sides of his head and a line of spikes going from the top of his head down the back of his neck. Chinaw looked older than Black-Tooth and Rocklier, and he also sported a crescent-shaped scar around his right eye.

  “Hey,” Chinaw responded without emotion, and resumed his log poking. He did not seem the least bit happy, and in fact, he looked absolutely deprived of joy, like Fin’s former cellmate.

  Kyu was seated next to Chinaw on an overturned log, patientl
y looking into the flames of the campfire, her arms crossed over her chest. Her base color was orange, with large patches of black all over her arms, legs, back, and chest. Her entire skull was shaped like an arrowhead, with two corners jutting out from either side of her head. Fin had a feeling that Kyu was around Chok’s age, perhaps a little younger.

  “Hi, there,” Kyu said pleasantly.

  After nodding at Kyu, Fin’s eyes drifted to the Faranchie who was seated next to her on the log, the one who was named Kemp. Her head was in a book, and she hardly took notice of Fin’s presence. Kemp was purple, like the flesh of a plum, without any markings at all. It was a bit rare for a Faranchie to be a solid color, except in those instances when two Faranchies with the same base tone had a child. Kemp’s crest consisted of a single spike protruding from the back of her head, like the one on the back of Fin’s head but a few inches shorter. Aside from that she had no other frills, horns, or other spiny objects coming out of her skull. Judging from her looks, Fin guessed that Kemp was only a few years older than him, the youngest member of the group thus far.

  “Good day to you, Fin,” Kemp said, but her lips did not move, and she did not show any sign of speaking. Even stranger, to Fin’s astonishment, Kemp’s voice seemed to be coming from inside his own head.

  “Um…?” Fin started.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it?” Kemp replied, her voice again reverberating through Fin’s skull. She put down her book and looked up at Fin through a pair of yellow eyes that looked even brighter against her dark complexion.

  “I was born without vocal cords,” Kemp said from within Fin’s head, her lips not moving an inch. “However, my grandmother taught me how to communicate using the power of telepathy. What you are hearing right now is a telepathic message, which I am currently transmitting into your mind. It is very strange, I admit, but the longer you live around me, the more used to it you become.”

  “Um, sure,” Fin said, trying as hard as he could not to look creeped out. But Kemp just smiled, not taking any offense to Fin’s reaction, and resumed her reading.