The Chronicles Of Irindia Book One: The Gatherer (YA Fantasy)

By D. John Watson

David Sanchez is like any other normal 13 year old boy. He likes sports, video games, and hanging out with his friends. His father has taken a new job that has moved them 1500 miles from everything David knows and loves. David thinks his life will never be the same again. He doesn't know how right he is. He is unaware of the way his life will change when he makes a silent wish, a selfish wish, because he is angry.

There is another world, parallel to ours, one that is in desperate need of a hero. Dark forces are trying to take control of a powerful tool, a gateway that will change the face of that world, and ours. Lord Draga will stop at nothing to bring his Master into the world. The only thing standing between him and his goal is the strong will of the young Empress Alassa.
In addition, Lord Draga cannot take the gateway by force, it must be relinquished voluntarily. Draga has destroyed whole villages in his pursuit of the gateway. How long will Alassa hold out if the last surviving member of her family is in danger? But there is a prophecy, a prophecy that says a savior will come and defeat the evil taking over Irindia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. John Watson
• Release date: Oct 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301504664

D. John Watson

D. John Watson grew up in Mansfield Connecticut, near the main campus of UCONN. Growing up asthmatic, he spent a lot of time reading and drawing. He fell in love with the possibilities of fantasy and science fiction used those to fuel his art with an eye to becoming a professional illustrator. His love of these genres drew him first to study art at another nearby university and then to turn those illustrations into writing.While researching a short story, he took a sample martial arts class and was soon on his way to accomplishing something that he never expected to do as a child, becoming a martial instructor. He became an assistant instructor and eventually the rank of 2nd Dan.D. John was also a contributing columnist for All Authors Magazine and has published two short stories in All Authors Publishing House’s Concordant Vibrancy anthologies.D. John is married and lives with his wife and son in western Mass where he works as a restaurant manager and is currently working on the next chapter in the Chronicles of Irindia series as well as other projects.D. John Watson can be found at https://www.facebook.com/djohn.watson.3https://twitter.com/DJohnWatsonhttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6424805.D_John_WatsonA few words from the author:When I was growing up I was drawn to what is now called speculative fiction, which I guess is a term that encompasses both science fiction and fantasy. I read books by such diverse authors as Tolkien, Lewis and Asimov because I was drawn to worlds where anything was possible. Later, with the arrival of other writers like J. K. Rowling and Christopher Paolini, I was able to enter a world where magic was not only possible but very real. As a kid, and in a time before computer games and internet gaming was even a thought, I spent what might have seemed to be an inordinate amount of time in the worlds that such writers created. I was able to indulge myself through the words that I saw on the page or images on the theater screen. Through such writers, I was able to visit fantastic worlds and meet incredible people. During those years, I tinkered with some short stories and allowed my drawing and painting to reflect my imaginings. That wasn't enough. I wanted to do something that could be shared by more than just a few people I chose to see a painting or a sketch. I wanted to create a world of my own.This series began with a simple premise, like all fiction; “what if?” That premise came from an image that I've had for a long time. It was the image of a young hero floating off the ground, wreathed in small ethereal lights. I saw threatening creatures and a final wash of light that was the end of the story. But how to get there from the beginning? That is, after all, the writer’s challenge. To get from point A to point B and give the reader a ride worth taking. This is, I hope, that ride.

Book preview

BOOK ONE: The Gatherer

D. John Watson

The Chronicles of Irindia Book One: The Gatherer is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This work is the sole property of the author and no duplication either written, electronic or by any other means may be made of this work, in whole or in part, without the express written consent of the author and his representatives.

Copyright Pending© 2016 By D. John Watson

Original Cover Design by Jay van Schelt

 For my wife, Donna, who keeps me from taking myself too seriously, and our son, Michael, who keeps me from getting old before my time.

And a special thanks to Y. Correa for all of her advice and help.

THE LIGHT

The Ancients- In their physical form they were called the Calharda.  They gave up their physical forms to become more powerful.  It’s through them that the Gatherer will wield the stone.

David - Known as the Gatherer.  The boy chosen to wield the Stone of Irindia against Lord Draga and his dark armies.

Empress Alassa- The ruler of Irindia and Draga’s last obstacle to the gateway that will allow him to bring his evil master through.

Suma- The one chosen by the Ancients to protect and instruct the Gatherer

Lady Nene- The leader of the armies dedicated to the destruction of Lord Draga.

Prefect Andara- Ruler of Duann.

Lady Andahar- Prefect Andara’s daughter and the one selected by Draga as the bride for his master.

Ethelár- Leader of the elves and the person Gindu chooses to hide Andahar.

Gen. Brahn-One of Lady Nene’s chief councilors.

THE DARK

Lord Draga- A wizard who was seduced by Jumdha Sek.  He has dedicated himself to freeing his evil master from his prison through the Mirror of Irindia.

Lord Trigara- Draga’s ally.

Jumdha Sek- The demon obsessed with adding Irindia to his realm.  He failed once before when his two chosen assistants were destroyed as his master was on the brink of being freed.

Agrimar- Former councilor to Alassa’s father.

Targans- Raiders who inhabit the northern territories.

The Three Sisters- Sirens who try to kill David.

FORWARD

When I was growing up I was drawn to what is now called speculative fiction, which I guess is a term that encompasses both science fiction and fantasy.  I read books by such diverse authors as Tolkien, Lewis and Asimov because I was drawn to worlds where anything was possible.  Later, with the arrival of other writers like J. K. Rowling and Christopher Paolini, I was able to enter a world where magic was not only possible, but very real.  As a kid, in a time before computer games and the internet was even a thought, I spent what might have seemed to be an inordinate amount of time in the worlds that such writers created.  I was able to indulge myself through the words that I saw on the page or images on the theater screen.  Through such writers I was able to visit fantastic worlds and meet incredible people.  During those years, I tinkered with some short stories, and allowed my drawing and painting to reflect my imaginings.  That wasn’t enough.  I wanted to do something that could be shared by more than just the few people I chose to see a painting or a sketch.  I wanted to create a world of my own.  

This series began with a simple premise, like all fiction; what if?  That premise came from an image that I’ve had for a long time.   It was the image of a young hero floating off the ground, wreathed in small ethereal lights.  I saw threatening creatures and a final wash of light that was the end of the story.  But how would I get there from the beginning?  After all, that is the writer’s challenge, isn’t it?  To get from point A to point B while giving the reader a ride worth taking.  This is, I hope, that ride.

My central character had to be from another place, so I delved into my own life and that of my family to create an origin that was every bit as real as our life.  What’s real and what’s fictional….?  I’ll have to leave that to the reader to decide. Many of the places in the first part of the book are real even though some of the details have been changed and no real names were knowingly used, to protect the innocent.

I then had to take him to a fantastic world and throw him into a problem that he was uniquely qualified for, despite his own reluctance and disbelief.  But a journey isn’t taken alone, and other characters have to share in it, both good and bad.  Here I was able to be a little freer in my dealings with the land I call Irindia.  This is a land that has to be populated with people as real as anyone you might know or meet on the street.  They have their own customs and their own languages.  The latter was the hard part, and I took examples from real languages using a very good on-line translator site that has saved my immeasurable work.  While I was populating Irindia, I decided that it wasn’t enough to have just elves and giants but to look at other mythological beings.  It was in their earthly lineage that I selected some of the languages.  Elves and wizards use a combination of Welsh and Gaelic, while other languages, such as Romanian, Norwegian and Greek have their own places.  Since many of my creations originated here, it was important to use real languages.  That’s not to say there aren’t humans here, there are.  

During the course of writing this first book,. I struggled with what to include and what to leave out.  Dragons, for example, are too easy to use and too common.  However, they have a cousin that can do many of the same things except for one, breath fire.  Wyverns have given me a chance to use a creature that will not incinerate whatever they go after.  A fire breathing monster attacks the ship your hero is on, that’s pretty much the end of the story.  Other creatures allowed me to solve certain problems like wall scaling, or for use as battering rams.  To paraphrase George Lucas, some creatures are created because they serve a purpose and some you create out of whimsy.

Both white and dark magic is used in abundance and that presented another problem: what form should it take?  For the most part I tried to stay away from potions where my hero was concerned.  Let’s face it, they’re too difficult to use and they would have required carrying around a lot of equipment and ingredients that would have made traveling difficult.  If you’re traveling across a strange landscape, the last thing you want is to have to carry a lot of excess baggage.  But magic takes many forms, and I thought it might be better if I went with elemental magic where he was concerned.  I didn’t put that restriction on other wizards or any of the races I decided to give this ability to.  

So here we have it.  A young hero on a quest to return home, and in so doing, free an Empress and destroy a dark wizard trying to bring his darker master through to Irindia.  Like many stories, he has a mentor and in this case, the mentor has a secret that he cannot tell.  He’s opposed by a wizard who will do anything to destroy him, or gain his allegiance, and a host of creatures from both antiquity and my own mind.

If I have done my job right, then I have accomplished my goal.  All writers write for one person first, themselves.  A good writer writes the kind of book they would want to read if they were wandering in a local book store or library.  This is what I have tried to do.  Enjoy the ride.

PROLOGUE

Below him stood the object of his quest, the source of the voice that had guided Sama since his departure from his home. The depression was several hundred yards in diameter, and looked like it had once been home to a small settlement or large temple complex. He could see the outlines of several foundations, the remnants of tumbled walls and thrust up stones. Much of the ruins were overgrown with thick vines and scrub, as well as stunted trees. It might have been a grand place hundreds of years before, but there was little left of it now. Time and the elements had stolen its grandeur.  It was slowly returning to the forest from which it had been carved. On the far side was a dark hump that seemed to melt into the base of the rise. The voice whispered dark promises into his mind.  Promises of power and magic that would make him greater than his brother, greater than even the father who was trying to hold back his education. Here he knew was magic that had been denied them both by their father, a powerful sorcerer himself.   There was power that could be learned under other teachers -- this teacher was promising him the most secret, arcane arts he could ever want to know. Not even his father would have attempted to enter this world.  He would do so willingly.

I am here, even from this distance Sama could feel its overwhelming power. In all of his nineteen years he had never felt anything as strong as this. This power was filled with incredible promise. Not even his father, who was exceptionally powerful, could compare to what waited for him below.

What are you? Sama asked

I am power and magic, came the response like thunder in his mind. I am everything that you want and hunger for. I am the future, ready for you to claim.

I can’t, Sama said, as he found strength to resist. It was an evil power.

Then you will fall into your brother’s shadow, remaining second to him, second to him in your father’s eyes. You will be inferior in every way if you turn away from this gift, the voice said in a seductive tone. I can make you more powerful than your father could ever imagine. In me, you will find the means to exact your revenge on all those who betrayed you or imposed their limits on you.

It was true. He was in his brother’s shadow. His younger brother had always been the favorite, the one their father doted on in every way because he found it easier to master the magic that was part of their heritage. He was inferior, and his father had never let him forget that. Sama felt the words brush his mind and revive his desire to be more than others would dare to be.

You will be forever eclipsed by a power that cannot reach its full potential, as you cannot reach your own, sighed the compelling voice in his mind.

Deep down he knew it was true, but was this the way? Could he handle the power that was being promised?  Or would he succumb to it and be destroyed? His father had warned them both that there was power that should never be embraced.  Ancient magic that was both arcane and evil which was best left to the past, never brought out into the light. Theirs was magic of the light. Very powerful, and in the right hands, more powerful than any dark magic. Yet there were some who delved into the secret arts, plumbing the depths of dark magic for the ultimate source of power. Many ultimately went insane. Others were destroyed by white magic. Embracing dark magic was a road to destruction.

They were ill equipped to handle true magic, the voice assured Sama. Weaklings and zbabělci, the voice finished disdainfully, using the ancient dark language.

For the past three days the voice had been there-- coaxing, seductive at times demanding at others, but always there with answers to fit the questions. As he stood at the top of the knoll and looked down at the ruins below he knew that everything he wanted was only a few yards away. It was there waiting to be claimed and if he didn’t take it, another would. He would return to his brother’s shadow. Sama knew that he had to have it at all cost. For the last three days he had wandered the wilderness in search of the source of his benefactor. 

Come and accept what I have to offer, again the voice used an enticing tone. A tone that was soft as a kiss. With it came images too horrible to describe. For three days he’d roamed without rest or food. His dark blue traveling cloak had been left behind the first night, hopelessly entangled in brush. His clothes were torn and his limbs were scratched and bruised from the trek through dense undergrowth, across very rugged terrain. He was ragged looking, with leaves in his normally flawless long dark hair. There was a fresh wound across his cheek. Only the cut of his tattered clothes gave any clue to his status.

Now, standing at the end of the journey, he could see the remains of a structure built into the hillside a few hundred yards away. It was a distinct shape in the foliage. Even though the entrance was covered, he knew it was there all the same. 

Who are you? He asked.

I am who you need me to be, came the soft response. I am your destiny.

My destiny?

Yes, the voice sighed. Become what you have always been meant to be. 

All he had to do was to embrace it as the voice had asked him to. It was a simple thing to walk the few hundred yards and take what was being offered to him. There was a price, but any price was worth what was being given in return.

Sama started down the rise. He could feel the gloating sense of relief in the presence that had been his only guide, his only friend. It was his truest friend, he’d accepted that. Others had tossed him aside, his father looked down on him, and his brother had left to pursue both his future and the one they had both come to love. She was with him now.  That was a far worse betrayal than anything else he could imagine. His feet slipped in the loose scree that covered the slope. A couple of times he thought that he would lose his balance, but at last he touched the floor of the depression. 

In here, he heard the voice say.

The light was failing. He had to be careful as he threaded his way through the scrub and ruins. Occasionally piles of shattered walls, shapeless humps of other wreckage caused him to have to go around. The shadows were getting longer and he started to realize that these ruins were larger than he had thought. It would be dark by the time he reached the far end of the ruins. As if to emphasize this, heavy dark clouds started to roll in, causing the failing light to be reduced even further. Rain started to come down. Soon he was drenched to the skin.

Time stopped for Sama.  At last he walked around a vine-covered wall to face the large hump. There was a crack of thunder, then a brilliant flash of lightning.  In an instant, he saw the hump for what it was. On either side of the vine-draped doorway were two truncated statues.  One was only a pair of legs. At its feet was a stone head, with bulging eyes and jutting tusks on its otherwise human face. What was left of the statue of the other showed a belt of human skulls around a slender waist. Only the crown of the head was visible, but there was no doubting the identity of the pair: Kava and Mishao.

Sama looked at the statues and felt cold dread start to creep into his mind, fear churning in his gut. He knew the legends well. Kava and her son Mishao were seduced by dark magic, corrupted to the point that their appearance reflected their nature. The two of them made a pact with evil. Consequently opening the gates to Hell. Terror reigned throughout Irindia for a millennia.  All was nearly lost until the Ancients, using their powers and the power of the Stone of Irindia to crush the pair, destroy the world they had created. The city they had selected for their own was laid waste in a blast that erased thousands of their warriors.

Not everything had perished. There was at least one life here, and it waited for him. No one else had seen his importance him, but this entity did. It understood him in a way no one else ever had. Sama reached out and pulling aside the heavy vines. They were rooted in the rock and reluctant to leave, but he was determined. Insects that had been disturbed by the sudden, violent tearing up of their home emerged to investigate. He felt their legs running over his skin as they swarmed up his arms, then under his clothing.

Soon you will have everything you want, the voice promised. Soon you will be more powerful than you have ever thought possible; all you have to do is enter and accept my gift. Take it! Take it and all that you desire will be yours.

Sama entered, grateful to be out of the rain, the soaked clothes he wore only increased the perpetual chill in his bones. Pressing his hand on either side of the walls Sama used them for guidance. The walls were rough and damp.  At one point something slithered out from under his touch.

Sama felt that the floor had started to descend. Eventually he came to a cavernous chamber, and suddenly torches flared.  Sama saw that he was in a large, circular room with rough-hewn walls. On one side was a stone bench, in the center was a circular dais that was covered with strange symbols carved into the black stone. Something with many legs crawled around his neck and reflexively he flung it aside.

Creatures like that have their uses, as you will soon learn, his mental friend scolded.  Even the most repulsive creatures can be used for their gifts. Now it is time for you to embrace your destiny. On that bench, you will find new clothes. Put them on and stand on the dais.

On the stone bench was a set of robes that he knew hadn’t been there before. He was sure of at least that, even if nothing else made any real sense. They were heavy, dark and much too big, but they felt warm.  He set them down quickly stripping off his soggy, tattered clothes, which had cost his father far too much. They made a wet, smacking sound as they hit the stone floor. In a basin next to the bench, he caught his reflection and winced at what he saw. His long, narrow face looked haggard, there were dark rings around his eyes, .scratches, some only half healed-- marked his long, skinny arms and narrow chest. He was seeing a stranger in the reflection. Just as quickly, he was in the new robes, which were several sizes too large, and he instantly felt their warmth spreading through him to drive out the chill.

Now embrace your true self, the voice commanded.

Sama went to the dais, standing in the center, yet as soon as his feet touched the firmament a charge went through him. He was imprisoned. Now he was helpless to leave, even if he wanted to. Around him, the strange carvings started to glow and the charge became stronger.  Images began to flood through his mind. Not just images, but knowledge he knew his father wouldn’t dare learn.  The whispered promises paled in comparison to his newfound knowledge.

Time ceased to have any meaning to him as the images.  Information continued to flow into him, filling his mind with the darkest formulas and spells. There were recipes for the creation of creatures unlike anything he had ever known, torments that could be delivered, breaking the spirit and mind of the one they were used on, procedures for shape shifting, everything that was known about animals and plants. It was a limitless treasure trove of information that was now his.

Sama could feel himself being reshaped as well. His muscles were expanding, his bones growing. Pain seemed to flow through every muscle and joint as the being that had lured him there transformed him into something unfamiliar. With that, came the knowledge that he was stronger and healthier than ever before. 

At last, the power of the dais released him and causing him to stagger. He could feel the power he had been given flowing through him like a river. A new name came to him. A dark, powerful name that would one day be spoken in hushed whispers of dread.  Lord Draga.

You have become what you were meant to be. Now go and prepare for your task. Together we will reshape this world. Then, we will reshape others.  Nothing is forbidden to you now.   No pleasure… no desire. All is yours for the taking.

I accept your gift, Draga said as he knelt on the stone dais, which was still as cold as when he’d stepped on it.  The raw power that had surged through it had done nothing to warm it. 

In a pool of water, he caught his reflection for the first time since his transformation. His hair was far longer and snow white, but the face was otherwise ageless. There was a yellow glow behind his hazel eyes. Looking at his hands, he saw they were larger and stronger than they had been before. No longer was he the frail looking youth that he had been when he had left home, walking for days to get here. 

His senses were heightened. He could see, hear and smell things that before his transformation would have been beyond him. He heard the various creatures, which resided here. He smelled the disuse of age-- the mildew and rot. His vision was also far more acute than it had ever been. Draga could see the far side of the chamber, which he discovered was covered with many of the same symbols as were on the dais, but there were also faded images of powerful demons and bizarre creatures. Edges and curves were more defined; colors were more intense. It was as if he were seeing for the first time, as though a blindfold had been removed.  A rat scurried along the wall and escaped into a small crack. He knew that he could have easily killed it with a single word.

As he ascended to the surface he no longer needed to feel his way. He saw the route perfectly, as though day and night were the same. Never again would he fear the dark, or be startled by sudden sounds, confused by a strange smell or taste.  

A massive shape greeted him as he emerged from the entrance. It was a great, hulking, predatory beast.  Out of reflex Draga reached to touch its mind. Wyvern were the most dangerous creatures in the air, a fitting mount for one such as Draga  He found it easily and bent its will to his own.  The beast lowered itself to the ground and allowed Sama to hoist himself onto its back.  The beast gave a cry and launched into the air with the thunderous beating of great wings.

Draga left the forest then looked down on the city of Caribeth. It was a sprawling city at the mouth of the river that gave it its name. For as long as he could remember it had been his home, but no more. He had another now. There was no need for this one. 

In order for him to truly be free Draga had to erase everything that had been part of his old life. Draga raised his arms then closed his eyes. He saw the images of his plan for the city and the commands came to him without effort.

First he heard a whistle, then a boom as the fiery rock struck and exploded with the force of a meteor. He could hear the screams. These were followed by another whistling sound.  This time he felt the passing of the stone, as well as its heat as it descended on the city. Another followed that one, and then another.

Finally he saw the results of his anger and was satisfied.  Raging fires besieged the city and the spot where his father’s house had been was a deep crater that was littered with burning debris.  Any who survived the assault did so out of luck. Sama was gone; his entire past was erased.  It was now time to take what was his. He had been denied his entire life, treated as second best, not worth the time to be noticed for his true gifts. However another had noticed and given him his due.

An image came to him; it was the vision of a white tower sitting in the center of a maze of gardens and pools.  There was the Gate of Irindia..) A gateway that would allow him to go anywhere in Irindia he wanted. However, it was controlled by powerful magic, which could only be freed with the blessing of Empress Alassa. 

You will build an army unlike anything that has ever been seen, and you will sweep aside all that oppose you, the voice had told him as he had left the chamber.  You will take this region, and then Irindia itself, for your own, the voice promised.

The voice had kept its promises.  There was no reason to think that it wouldn’t continue. I will have everything I want, Draga told himself.

The voice was cold in its agreement. Yes, you will.

CHAPTER ONE

FOR David Sanchez, the move from Boston to rural North Carolina was a sentence he was powerless to appeal. It was a journey into exile from everyone and everything he had known. He’d argued fiercely against it, but in the end the decision had been out of his hands. His approval hadn’t been needed. His opinion hadn’t even been wanted, despite the assertion to the contrary. Now, as he watched the signs on I-95 announce the approach of his new prison, he saw the futility of further argument.

His father was selected from a pool of management candidates by a national recruiter for a position in a new restaurant in Fayetteville. Alberto Sanchez had a reputation as an aggressive troubleshooter.  Boston having been his latest assignment for a large restaurant corporation. In David’s thirteen years he’d moved several times. Boston was the longest assignment because it was centrally located. His father was able to turn around four restaurants that were on the verge of being forced to close because of low profit or poor management. For the last five years, they’d lived in the small suburb of Winthrop, where his father had belonged to the local country club and David had spent many summer days at the beach with his friends.

Now David was forced to leave all of that-- his close friends and summers at the beach, which had been only a short bike ride from his house.  Everything having been packed into a moving van and sent off to their new home in Hicksville, as he called it out of his father’s earshot. His dad promised this was to be their last move. He’d given up being a corporate troubleshooter for the stability of running a single restaurant.  The pay was good and the location was far from the hectic life of the city.

His mother was excited by the change. She’d quickly found them a place in the country-- it was a farm.  Twenty-four acres of land, mostly pasture, where she could start her own business boarding horses and giving riding lessons. She’d grown up on a farm in rural Virginia. For her this was a chance to return to those roots. During the weeks preceding the move she had taken every opportunity to extol the virtues of life in a small southern town. The family values, the open friendliness and the genuine hospitality that were the trademarks of small towns like Roseboro, which was to be their new home.  

In the front seat of their Saturn wagon, his parents were busily talking, his mother becoming more excited with each passing mile. He stared dully out the window at the signs for local restaurants offering down home cooking and local outlet stores where everything could be had for the lowest prices anywhere. The roadside was a virtual sea of billboards that stood in newly planted fields, which were larger than any farms David had ever seen. Only his PSP and his iPod kept him from succumbing to the bleak landscape he saw outside the window of the car.

We’re almost there, he heard his mother announce as they took the turnoff in Dunn.  

Swell, was the mumbled, yet sarcastic response, but not so muted that he didn’t catch his father’s glare in the rear view mirror.

And will the prisoner step forward to accept his sentence, he thought. You are hereby exiled to Nowhere North Carolina until such time as you can leave for college, or succumb to boredom.

His mother turned in her seat. She was a strong woman, and often times the one to intercede between he and his father. You have to give this a chance, she told him.  He could see that his attitude was wearing on her legendary patience. I need your help fixing this place up, and school starts in a couple of months so I’m sure you’ll meet plenty of kids your own age then.

And what about all of my friends back in Winthrop?

We already told you we would have Kyle down, she reminded him. But we’re not bringing anyone here until we’re ready.

Despite her role as an intermediary between her son and her husband, Ann Sanchez was more than able to stand her ground where David was concerned. She was smaller than David’s father yet a complete contrast to him in appearance. She had blond hair and light colored skin with the beginning of a tan due to regular visits to a local gym where she ended her workouts with a few minutes on a tanning bed. David’s father had dark hair and skin, and the years of eating at restaurants were showing in his waistline, which forced him to occasionally consider dieting.  

David was nearly the spitting image of his father. He wasn’t nearly as darkhis eyes were a deep blue, with that exception he could have posed for any of his father’s school pictures.  Two things he also were his father’s temper and stubbornness.  Both of which his mother was trying to get him to change, with only minimal success.

So I’d suggest you lose the attitude or I might change my mind, David’s father said without taking his eyes off the road.

The warning was all it took for him to return to his game and the scenery was lost to him. The car passed a mixture of cotton and tobacco fields, single storied houses as well as trailers.  He missed the occasional abandoned house sitting in a long forgotten yard, or the small roadside cemetery with only two or three stones surrounded by a crumbling wall.

At last they stopped at a small country store so that his mother could pick up some groceries to get them through until she could get to a supermarket. David looked at the store, which sat on a dirt lot with a pair of old gas pumps. An old man in an off-white T-shirt and bib overalls was pumping gas into a large green tractor with a massive mower attached to it. The building itself was ancient. Much of the white paint was gone, and a pair of rockers sat on one side of a newer looking soda machine.  

David took a moment to stretch after being in the car so long. Except for occasional stops for gas and food he’d been in the car for the past day and a half They’d driven almost nonstop , with his parents taking turns, although his father insisted on being the one to navigate the largest cities.

You want anything? his mom asked. as he mounted the steps behind her.  

The interior was far cooler than the outside, and at first glance the shelves looked like most small markets David had seen. While his mother shopped he wandered down one aisle after another discovering that unlike most markets he was familiar with, this one offered everything from chips and toilet paper to nails and barbed wire. The counter had small displays that could have been found in any convenience store. Behind it sat another old man in a faded work shirt and jeans. He was a heavyset man, with heavy jowls, thinning black hair, and salt and pepper stubble.

Just a soda, he replied with a shrug.

There’s cold pop in the machine out front, said the man as he stubbed out a cigarette in a well-used ashtray.

David accepted four quarters from his father and went out to the machine. After he got a soda he looked at a cork-board that was screwed to the wall just outside the screen door. The board was a collection of posters, handmade signs and clippings that told him about hay prices, the results of last year’s  "Hollerin’ Contest", free puppies (beagles) and used farm equipment. David pulled the tab on his coke as he scanned the board while listening to the conversation inside between his parents and the storekeeper.

So what brings ya’ll down heyah? the accent was unmistakable. A slow, heavy drawl that was typical in the South.

My husband is opening a restaurant over in Fayetteville, David heard his mother tell the shopkeeper he as read the various postings on the board.  

Where ya’ll stayin’?

We’re renting a farm a couple of miles up the road, his father replied. My wife wants to run a horse farm.

The conversation was now punctuated by the tapping of keys on an older looking register.

Ya’ll must be talkin’ about the Hammond place. Nice piece of land.  Good pastures, he replied as he tapped in another price. If’n I was you, I’d git some of that there ant killer back by the fertilizer. Blue Devil’s ‘bout the best you can git. You gotta ( Changing got to for gotta would make the dialogue read more authentic to the culture.) watch out for them fire ants. You git them on ya and ya’ll know you been bit.

How are we gonna know where they are?  David’s father asked.

Cain’t miss the mounds. They git pretty big. Some can git high as one or two foot.

At the pump, the driver of the tractor hung up and climbed on. He waved to David who responded more out of reflex than friendliness. The engine roared to life and the tractor headed out onto the road, which was lightly traveled. David watched for a moment as the tractor chugged slowly down the road. It was soon lost from sight around the bend and he continued his reading.

There were footsteps and David heard his father returned to the counter.  

That’s the stuff. Spread that on the hills and the ants will take it to the queen. No queen, no nest.

Anything else we should pick up? David’s mother asked.

Cats, he suggested. They’ll keep the rats’ out’n the barn. Ya’ll can never underestimate the value of a coupla good barn cats.

After another minute David’s parents came out of the store with a cardboard box and what he’d heard the man behind the counter call a sack. David shuffled to the car  setting the box in the back seat  beside him. His mother put the bag on top and David took a quick inventory. Instant potatoes, eggs, bread, grits and hotdogs, along with some cleaning supplies and a yellow can with the words Blue Devil on it. On the side of the can was a picture of an ant with six legs in the air with Xs for eyes.

I’ll have to go to town tomorrow and do some real shopping, his mother said  as she closed her door.

The truck should get here tomorrow, but if it doesn’t, we’ll need a cheap grill or something to cook on, came his father’s response.

At last they arrived at the farm, which was at the end of a long, dirt road. A field planted with cotton separated the farm from the main road.  One side of the road, was taken up with a large pasture, a couple of simple ranch style homes sat on the other. A newer barn was at the far end of the pasture, and at the head of the dirt drive was an old brick farmhouse with a green tin roof. The house was single storied, like all the other houses David had seen since turning off the highway, it also had a porch that went around three sides. A rocking chair sat near the door as though waiting for someone to come out and sit in it.

David got the groceries while his mother used the key they had gotten in the mail just a few days ago to open the door. He followed along at a distance and walked through the door into a large living room. Instantly, he was struck by the smell of dust and mustiness, the smells of a house that had been shut for too long.  Ahead of him was another room, with pocket doors that led to the kitchen. After setting the groceries on the slightly yellowed kitchen counter, he walked through the rest of the house. A short hall with flower print wallpaper just off of the kitchen opened to a large bedroom and a bath. His room was to what would eventually be the dining room. Through the living room was another room that would be the office. Each of the rooms were equipped with a ceiling fan. In the living room was an old, dilapidated, green couch that would soon be on its way to either the barn or the dump.

Even as he walked through and opened doors and looked in closets, he could hear his mother making her plans about what would go where and what she thought they needed to make the place more "homey" as she put it. Already she was in her element.  He knew that she was having visions of the house that she would create out of the one they had just found. Nothing made her happier than to take a new home and make it hers. Every piece of furniture and every picture would be placed exactly right.   While she might listen to suggestions, she knew what she wanted. David and his father would be relegated to simply moving things. There would be endless adjustments, no small amount of grumbling, but she would persevere, and in the end, she would create the look she wanted.

She was telling his father that their furniture would all have to be replaced because it just didn’t fit in with the house. David could imagine his father wincing behind her back as she made her list of things that would have to be changed. There was talk of old fashioned furniture, country fabrics and copper pots. When he returned to the kitchen, his mother was putting the last of the cans into a cabinet over the counter that ran all along one wall.

What about all of the stuff we brought with us?

She turned to him. A yard sale, she said without flinching and David could see a slight pink flush on his father’s face.

You just want to sell everything and start over? If I’d known that I’d have saved the money on the movers and gotten a smaller truck.

Not everything, she replied. And I’m not going to do it right away, but it would make the place seem like where I grew up. Our furniture doesn’t fit in here. Maybe in Fayetteville or Raleigh, but this is the country.

His father grunted and turned in defeat. He’d won few arguments against her after thirteen years, so he knew when he’d lost this one as well. This is going to cost a fortune, he growled as he headed back into the soon to be dining room.

It’s a good thing you get paid well then, isn’t it?

After a quick lunch, David joined his mother out in the barn. He was hotter than he’d ever felt.  Before he’d gone more than a few steps, he decided that the small fan in the house seemed like heaven. He was sweating by the time they reached the entrance to the barn, which consisted of a long hall with three stalls on one side and lockers on the other. Webs covered many of the rafters. The lockers contained battered water buckets, an old saddle, and assorted cans of paint, pesticides, some rakes and brooms.  

This is going to take some work to get it ready, she announced as she tested one of the stall doors. It had come off one hinge so that the bottom dragged on the ground. It’ll have to be re-hung before I can use it.

Two of the three stalls had hay in them, the one at the far end needed new boards. All three had hornet’s nests in the rafters and on the walls making David wonder if it would ever be fit for use as a farm. His mother wasn’t deterred by the flaws. Instead she seemed to be glowing from the prospect of finally having the farm that she’d always wanted. No longer was she the suburban housewife, but a county girl on a farm.

At the far end, a door led to a large open room with a set of rough stairs that went to a hayloft. The floor was empty except for a tractor and a well-worn sofa, which was being used by a bloodhound. The dog looked up at their entrance then gave a disinterested woof before putting its head back down. The floor needed sweeping. David knew that would be his job, and of course the spider webs would have to be cleaned out.

Be careful of spiders, the shopkeeper had warned. Black widahs n’ fiddlebacks are pretty common down heayah, n they’re nasty if’n they bite ya’.

Most of the spiders he saw were ugly, with long legs. What his mother called barn spiders. They helped with the bugs just like a cat helps with rodents. This will take forever, David complained as he scanned the barn imagining   the work that he was going to have to do to get the place ready for the first customers.

A couple of weeks, provided the roof doesn’t leak, Mom replied enthusiastically as she looked up at the roof.

****

After another few minutes they returned to the house. David took his PSP into what was to be his room. Just as it had on the trip down, it would be his link to sanity during the long, dull days where the only thing he had to look forward to was the occasional trip to town and plenty of hard work outside and in the barn.

Out in the other room he could hear his parents talking. He’s going to be bored out of his skull, his mother said. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

How could we pass this opportunity up? You got your farm, and I have a new restaurant that I can make mine instead of having to fix someone else’s mistakes. And let's face it; we’re both tired of having to navigate that nightmarish traffic.

I know, but it seems so unfair to have uprooted him now that he’s finally making friends. Do you remember how hard it was for him when we first moved to Winthrop? All he had then were those games….

There was also the chance that I would have to go to another restaurant and for how long, six months, maybe twelve? And then another after that one was fixed.  At least this way, there isn’t someone looking for me to transfer because some manager couldn’t run his or her store. How many times have we had to move in the past few years? I’m tired of moving. No, it’s time to settle down.

I know, was his mother’s response. I just hate seeing him have to start over. It was easier when he was young-- before we had to worry about changing schools. At least where we were before, he was able to stay in the same school.

But this is a town he can grow up in without having to worry about being on the streets past dark or getting into a gang.

He has more sense than that, his mother replied.

I know he does, I was just using that as an example of how dangerous a big city like Boston can be.

David listened for another minute, then plugged in his iPod’s head set and turned up the volume of the music. Once more he was the topic of the discussion and he knew there wasn’t anything new to what was going to be said. It was the same talk they had had before, sometimes with him in the room, but most often, not. Despite his mother’s excitement over the move, she was more concerned with how he would respond to the drastic change in their life.  If only his father felt the same way.   

Is he the one?

The response was immediate and confident. Yes.

They existed in a dimension of pure energy, a place beyond the confines of the physical world. Once they had been physical beings, mortal, and subject to all the forces that rule mortal lives. Over the millennia they had entered this realm, leaving their physical selves to the ravages of time. Here they had abilities; awareness that they never could have had in their former incarnations. They were not ghosts, but they were not alive either. They were known by many names by the races of their former world. They called themselves the Ancients.

How can we be sure?

If we’re wrong, our world will fall into irreversible darkness, another said.  

The legend is clear, the signs are there, he is The One, the second voice replied.

He must be tested.

The stone will test him before it reveals itself.

We must know for sure before he goes for the stone. There can be no other way, another voice said. The legend says that also.   

A female voice entered the discussion. I have seen his mind, the part that he does not know, the one that is his true self. I agree, he is The One.   

I concur, his lineage is beyond question. Even now the standard of the eternal firebird has been raised and will soon go into battle, another voice, stronger than the rest proclaimed. The legend is clear on that.

But does he have the strength he needs?

He is stronger than he knows, I have seen this also, the female voice replied calmly.  

But he is also angry.

His anger is inconsequential yet is the source of his strength. He is loyal. There is power in his mind and heart, the second voice proclaimed.  

His opponents will be exceedingly cleverextraordinarily powerful. Lord Draga is on the verge of succeeding, and if we fail he will succeed in plunging this world into eternal darkness. Already he has the White Tower and the empress. Soon he will have the power of the gateway and the ability to go where he pleases.

We must act now, the second voice proclaimed. There were others added their agreement.

Then it’s agreed. We will invite him here, one of the voices said. He will need allies, and there is only one who has the strength to help him.

They all recognized that what they were going to ask was going to be exceptionally difficult, but it had to be asked. Only the prophecy gave them reason to believe that the one they were going to ask would accept. For all their powers, the future was invisible to them. It was unpredictable. The route to the final destination could take a hundred different paths. Only the end of the journey they were discussing was known, not the route to getting there. A myriad of events could propel the one they saw on an alternate path toward his destiny. The time to act was now. They could not afford to wait any longer if they were to bring an end to the darkness that was threatening to consume the land. The second voice sounded less sure on this matter, Will he agree?

He will, the first voice said.

I have doubts about the one we would ask to accompany him. He will be in pain, the second voice offered. To hunt down his own, is a task no mortal should ever be asked to undertake. With so much at stake can we risk emotions coming into play that would divert him from his course? It is a raw wound still, even after all these years, and we are asking him to confront he who caused so much damage. The damage was made worse when Lord Draga destroyed his own home and family.  

I have seen into his mind as well, the female voice said. His mind and heart are stronger than we might have thought-- his motives are as they should be.

But are they enough to allow him to undertake the task we would ask of him? the older voice asked.

What other choice is there? He knows our enemy better than himself, the second voice stated.

I do not like the relationship they share, said the soft voice.  

It is his weakness, but also his greatest strength, the first voice offered.

Then we must prepare, another soft voice stated.

Agreed, several said in unison. Both must be prepared for the task that awaits them.

CHAPTER TWO

DAVID saw himself as though he were watching a movie. He was standing on a dais surrounded by columns. The dais, like the columns, were covered by a strange runic writing that he had no clue how to read.

It was a strange, alien language to him, but something told him he was meant to understand their meaning.

Where am I?

It was a dream. David, knew that even though he was asleep, and with that knowledge came the realization that no matter how strange it was, it wasn’t real.

You are where you need to be, a voice replied without hesitation.

The voice was clear. The version of him standing on the dais showed no sign of hearing it. He tried to see beyond the scant light around the dais, but he couldn’t see anything. Shadows moved, darker against dark--hints of other people. He sensed that those beyond the light were agitated by his presence. Furthermore they were indignant by the fact that they were unable to get any closer. There was a wall that he couldn’t see. One that was clear and powerful enough to keep out anyone but himself.

He focused on the adaptation of himself that stood placidly on the carved platform. He was leaner than the one that greeted him in the mirror each morning. There was more muscle through his shoulders and arms, his chest was slightly broader. His face was longer, sharper.  His hair was only longer, but also streaked with white. It was an image that was both strange and disturbing.

This was, after all, only a dream he reminded himself.  Dreams were only the subconscious playing its games. His dream self was dressed in loose fitting brown pants, boots, and there was a curved sword stuffed into a brown sash. However, it was the face that drew his attention.  The strained expression that he wore that made him seem older than he was.  

David walked closer to his dream self, but the dream self started to levitate before he could get too close. At the same time, a flickering yellow light rose lazily from the surface of the dais and came to a halt in front of his face. Another, this one blue, did the same.  Then others began to rise. The lights were different colors and degrees of brightness. David’s dream self was bathed in their light.  The alter ego recognized them, seeming to relax slightly as though he expected