Stet's Legacy: Circles of Prophecy- Book I

By Petr Barrow

The world nearly died on Deaths Day. Those who survived the famine, war, and plagues which followed rebuilt what once was. Isolated subcontinents reclaimed the law and rule of humanity, the prize once won from the Dragons. With the wars of rebuilding fading slowly into memory, the legacy of a long dead wizard rekindled humanitys true nature.

On the isolated and forgotten land of Inopia, Othin Cairn, healer, student, and former slave, departs his university on a clear and simple task. His path crosses many others in the sparely populated land. His journey quickly turns from one of routine and order, into a turbulent passage from theory to fact.

Now, during his first excursion, Othin rediscovers Inopia, the land formerly revealed to him through book and lecture. He meets and befriends Justinian Munney, a young royal traveling under the guise of Elroon Newhope, and the beguiling Lady Ansonia Forster. Justin and Ansonia reveal a land of indulgence and hope to the inexperienced healer. When the trio happen upon the tall wizard Rabisu, Othin is taught the darkness lurking beneath humanity.

Rabisu, young, brash, and powerful fears none of the beings of Inopia. Yet he flees the dark cult of Pavidus and others who seek the tall man for his arcane knowledge and the prophecy linked to him.

It is a forced alliance with Rabisu which enlightens Othin on the ugliness of a world devoid of reason, ruled by lust and greed. Kings willing to sacrifice their kingdoms for a vague power foretold and creatures and beings willing to die of a purse of gold.

Othin Cairn and his companions are swept through the small yet diverse land of Inopia as they too attempt to unravel the enigma of prophecy.

Is it chance, fate, or the fulfillment of haunting prophecies which forever ties Othin Cairn to Stets Legacy?

Petr Barrow welcomes your questions and comments. E-mail him at [e-mail]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 21, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469120188

Petr Barrow

Petr Barrow lives in Midland, North Dakota. He works, he lives, he carries on. Stet’s Legacy is his first book

Book preview

STET’S LEGACY

Circles of Prophecy—Book I

Petr Barrow

Copyright © 1997 by Peter B. Nelson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

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[e-mail]

Contents

I.

TRAVELERS

1

2

3

4

5

II.

A DAY IN FAIRDALE

1

2

3

4

III.

"INVITATION TO

THE DRAGON’S DEN"

1

2

3

4

5

6

IV.

ACCEPTANCE

OF DEFEAT SWEETENS

EVENTUAL VICTORIES

1

2

3

4

V.

AGAIN A SLAVE

1

2

3

4

VI.

PERISCII

1

2

3

4

5

6

VII.

PARTING

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

VIII.

NOT PREY

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

IX.

"BEWARE

THE JEWEL’S SPARKLE"

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

X.

AN END, A BEGINNING

1

2

3

4

5

6

GLOSSARY

DEDICATED TO THE PEOPLE OF PATIENCE.

Image337.JPG

I.

TRAVELERS

1

"Ours is a world twisted and reshaped by magic. The mantle of power was seized from the Dragons just as Dragons captured it from the now extinct Shapechangers. Dragons ruled the Great Continent with cruelty and petulance. Every year of the Wyrms’ reign increased the world’s anguish. The ancient races of Dwarf, Elf, and the filthy races were powerless to break their bonds. Life on the Great Continent was woeful and pointless.

"A new race appeared on the Great Continent. Some say they were created by the Titans, others say the gods grew tired of the Dragon’s arrogance and sent forth an enigmatic people from the southern islands to humble the terrible serpents. Whatever their origin, humans proved to be most resourceful and resolute.

"The young race fell under the Dragon’s rule. But a clandestine discovery soon changed the face of this world. Unlike all other races, humans found they could ‘borrow’ nature and shape it as a weapon. Not all humans held this ability, those who did remained in seclusion and mastered their new craft. When their numbers and force fostered enough might, these humans, who called themselves wizards, rebelled. Other humans followed them blindly. Dwarves, fascinated by the power, left their mountain homes to confederate the new race. All other races, their hope lost in generations of subjugation, refused to follow.

"Wild magic and the fury of Dwarven blades which had waited over a millennium for this moment, turned on their masters. Few Dragons, Lord or Sentinel, were spared. The ancient lore of the Shapechanger’s demise could not compare with the pain heaped upon the Dragons. Humans, with Dwarves by their sides, now ruled the Great Continent, the Dragons vanquished. The cowardly races were forgotten, cast away and ignored by the new world masters.

"First small city states, then kingdoms, and finally empires grew across the continent. Ironically, those most responsible for the freedom all now enjoyed avoided the entangling exercise of civilization. Wizards sought their own way, selling their power to the highest bidder, all the while remaining uninterested in ruling the land they had liberated. Wizards were seen as wise and came to be revered by man and Dwarf. Their coming brought joy to those who welcomed them and sorrow to those who shunned them.

"Centuries passed, kingdoms grew and disappeared, and civilization spread. Humans found other areas of expertise, some were blessed with a new breed of magic. Not a magic from nature which could destroy, but one which healed and protected. Some said it was the Titan’s creation, others said it was the gods who grew tired of the piety of glorified wizards. Whatever its source, the new magic was titled white magic and those who wielded it were healers. Masters of the new craft were deemed sanctifiers. The wizards’ ancient magic became known as green magic and remains the greatest known power in our world. Wizards and sanctifiers found themselves too similar to avoid being rivals.

"From the flat peninsula of Inopia a lone wizard climbed the Nalyd Mountains. He looked across the expanses of the Great Continent. He made this mountain top his home for nine days. On the ninth day of his vigil, he called out, ‘all I see and have yet to see will be under my rule. Who is more worthy than I, a great wizard, to rule this land. You praise a healer for he frees your pain. My ancestors freed your very souls. I shall enslave you. I am the fulfillment of the Prophecy of the One Great Wizard. I already own you.’ That wizard was Stet. A wizard now equated with destruction.

"Stet abandoned his mountain, the peninsula of Inopia quickly fell to the mighty wizard. Over the next four decades, through force, discreet strategy, and coerced alliances, Stet claimed half the Great Continent as his dominion. In his wake he enslaved the cowardly, massacred the defenders, and humbled the kings. The Great Wizard marched his troops nearly unopposed to Lanark, the center of the continent, the center of civilization. With the conquest of this grand city, Stet would be free to crown himself the one and supreme ruler of civilization.

"Stet descended upon Lanark. King Gaffer Mannish, the Dwarven sovereign of Abalon, and leader of the combined forces of the west, descended upon Stet. Neither Shapechanger nor Dragon witnessed a contest as furious as the Battle of Lanark. The few buildings not reduced to rubble in the once proud city were splattered red. Around Lanark the sky was darkened by smoke, the rivers ran crimson and trees dripped scarlet. Tens of thousands lay dead or dying. Their fate proved blissful.

"Refusing to accept defeat, Stet led his slave, the Dragon Asiv, over the carnage. Stet sought the ruined center of Lanark, and vengeance. There, King Mannish awaited the wizard. Both knew neither could claim victory until the other died a painful death. Gaffer stood in silence, slowly swinging his war ax. Stet became enraged as he beheld the Dwarf whose well-timed assault thoroughly destroyed two armies.

"Stet voice a single command through his rage. ‘Kill,’ the wizard shouted as he released the magical chain which bound his Dragon. Asiv, still young and knowing only slavery, swallowed the Dwarf whole, ax and all. As the Dragon dutifully returned to her master, she screeched in pain. Gaffer slashed his freedom through the beast’s massive neck, his slice breaking the Dragon’s magical fetter. Asiv fled to the east, abandoning her master. Mannish, drenched in cold pink Dragon’s blood, again stood in defiance of the One Great Wizard.

"Unlike white magic, the power of green magic can be easily measured. A wizard can allow his magic to grow within naturally, or he can add to it by stealing the magic of other wizards. This is done by defeating another in battle, a willful surrender of the magic, or robbing an incapacitated wizard. Stet added to his might through the massacre of his own kind. He had sent nearly three-hundred wizards to live eternity before the Battle of Lanark. Stet’s body was long past its magical limit, but through his research, he discovered it possible to store power within magically enchanted crystals. Dwarven crystals were mined by wizened Dwarven cutters and shaped into perfect octagons. The master wizard filled and emptied these crystals at his leisure.

"Stet faced Gaffer without a single crystal, but he was by far the most powerful wizard in history. Within him flowed enough power to defeat the mightiest of the ancient Lord Dragons. A lone Dwarf barely impose a challenge, Stet had killed more Dwarves than King Gaffer had whiskers.

"Nine of the king’s most loyal knights stepped from the rubble, surrounding Stet the Dreadful. Each knight held a crystal. Stet was amused by the feeble ambush. He knew only a wizard could evoke the crystals, which he did. Stet planned to dispense so much agony on his remaining foes eternity would not grant escape from his wrath.

"The very moment the crystals became evoked, Stet found himself encased within a sanctifier’s ward. King Gaffer played on Stet’s rage, and the wizard failed to feel the presence of another magic user. Giraldus the Aged, strongest of the new magical species, reversed the ordinary spell of ward. His version was not one to keep others out, Giraldus’ design was to trap the wizard inside. Unfortunately no one foresaw the destructive rage of a caged Stet. He still held a weak link with the crystals outside. Surging his internal power, he awakened the crystals, turning those who held them to ash.

"The powers of the crystals were reclaimed by Stet. Instantly the ward flashed from brilliant white to dark green. The ward rapidly grew and was soon the size of a Titan. Inside, the wizard Stet frantically wielded the powers of the crystals in a violent struggle to free himself.

"Giraldus the Aged fell to his knees before the rapidly expanding ward. He risked his life to prevent the ward from erupting. He feared the consequences of releasing the wizard. The sanctifier also realized a caged Stet may prove more deadly. Most of all, Giraldus the Aged was beset by shame and anguish, for he understood he had doomed the world. Like filling a wineskin, the sanctifier’s ward could only hold so much. Stet continued to release his might, seeking to rupture the magical skin which bound him.

"The ward continued to grow, eventually enveloping Giraldus in green magic. The wizard pulled the sanctifier into the ward, believing this to be his key to freedom. Inside the growing sphere the two men battled. Without an escape, the release of magic caused the ward to expand more and more. Giraldus was mortally wounded inside of his ward, too old and too weak before Stet, the total of his magic relinquished. Stet remained captive, his magic and the stored magic of the crystals drained in his attempts to escape. As for King Gaffer Mannish, once called the bravest Dwarf of any age, he fled for Abalon.

"The ward grew for three days and two nights as Stet violently sought his freedom. Some say it was a league across before it erupted. But if any saw it at all their death was certain. The ward erupt the third day after its creation. In every direction magic flowed into the environment. The magic which blasted upward created the green cloud which remains slave to the winds to this day. Powerful wizards can draw from that cloud, the magic of the long dead One Great Wizard Stet theirs to command.

"The wild release of such a vast amount of magic back into nature held other dire consequences. Because it was a mix of green and white magic, nature itself could not welcome its return. Some say the Titans did not foresee this possibility while creating white magic, others said it was the doings of Elven gods which had finally become powerful enough to punish man and Dwarf. Regardless of how or why, every race shared the same dilemma. The corruption of nature grew from the center of the Great Continent, forcing the races together, causing them to work side by side for plain survival.

"Two things, it was discovered, were able to halt the rapid advance of the corruption. One was the salty waters of the sea, the oceans will not transfer the corruption. The second was Dwarven crystal. Somehow, through the chaos, long walls with bases of Dwarven crystal were built. The Long walls cut off the periphery of the Great Continent while ensuring humans would continue their reign.

"One side of the walls saw the races crowded together. Over populated, millions died from starvation, plagues, and other malfunctions resulting from broken civilization. On the other side, the land took on a sick green tint. Nothing grew or lived naturally. Both plant and animal found a freakish and bizarre existence. Many wondered which side suffered worse.

"But all that was one-hundred and fifty-two years ago. Death’s Day has been forgotten by most. The harsh lessons learned now ignored. Greed, ambition, and expansion are again on the minds of the kingdoms. Another day of death will end the reign of humans and Dwarves, this time by the ruler’s own hands.

Now do you understand the world about you old Jess? Othin Cairn asked the mule he had ridden the past two days. Old Jess was more interested in the dry fall grass she nibbled than anything her master had to say. I hope I did not bore you at the least.

You did not bore me storyteller, a voice abruptly called from the shadows outside Othin’s fire light.

2

Othin leaped away from the revealing firelight, uncertain from where the voice had come. This was his first excursion into the real world, but he knew trail thieves and cutthroats would kindly relieve him of his blood to get hold of the few pieces of silver in his belt. What manner of coward prowls so close and uninvited to another’s camp. Make yourself known. You have been duly warned. Othin’s attempts to sound dangerous failed to convince even himself. The deafening silence told him he did little to frighten the unseen intruder.

A fragment of the night broke away, becoming a silhouette in the fire light. The figure of a large man leading a horse gradually revealed itself to Cairn. Footsteps crushing the dried prairie grass rung inside Othin’s head. This intruder had to be prowling to come so near unheard. As the stranger came forward, Othin stepped backward. Soon the stranger stood in the light and made no attempts to conceal himself.

This was hardly a man. Although tall and wide, the face of the stranger, even in firelight, revealed his age to be no more than eighteen years. The appearance of this man-child was not one of a trail thief or saddle bum, however. His clothing was clean and well tailored. A multicolored-colored cape kept out the autumn breezes. The inside of the cape was a deep red satin, the outside a light shade of green, adorn with many red tassels hanging from the shoulders. Under the cape the man-child wore loose fitting sky blue garments. Thick black leather boots and gloves covered his extremities, and a flat, felt, embroidered hat covered the wavy black locks of the stranger’s head.

As the uninvited guest squatted near the small camp fire, Othin saw the sparkle in the man-child’s light eyes, as well as the jiggle of his oversized belly. Please, you have no need to fear, my unsuspecting host, the stranger said, a smile revealing near perfect, porcelain teeth. You must realize that I could have taken your life any time during your tale. Othin did realize this. The cold night sky was clouded, not a trace of light penetrating the wide celestial blanket. Cairn learned a brighter fire would be needed on similar nights in the future.

The man-child removed the belt from his waist and dropped it to the ground. A saber and two fat money pouches hanging from the belt crashed to the ground, startling Othin. The stranger proceeded to unsaddle his horse. Evidently planning to stay the night, he spread his padded bed roll on the dry fall grass. I speak truthfully my friend, Othin’s guest said calmly, his back to his host. Put away your weapon and warm yourself by your fire. Cairn returned the rusty dagger he carried in hopes he would never need it, back into its rusty sheath. Even without a weapon and inexperienced, Othin was not completely defenseless. Cairn did not return to his fire, however.

Trust is not given away, it must be earned. Who are you? Othin asked, finally feeling the annoying chill of autumn so far from his fire.

I can understand your apprehension, the man-child said adding dry branches to the fire. I shall confide in you because I know what you are. I am Justin Munney of Gainsbala, and am no threat to you, gentle priest.

Othin stood in silence. Many questions stirred in his head. He found he was unable to grasp one before Munney again interrupted the silence.

You seem troubled that I know you are a priest, the guest spoke in a playful tone. If you sought to conceal your identity, you would have been wise to disguise yourself and your habits. Munney dropped a few more branches onto the fire as he looked about the camp Othin had until so recently found solace. This camp would make a Glut uncomfortable. And your appearance, Munney said waving a hand at his host. All gray clothing with a simple black cloak, so drab, so like a priest.

If it were not all true, Othin may have felt insulted by the young man’s observations. But his guest was correct, Othin would soon be ordained a priest. This was Cairn’s first venture into the world outside his university and already this unexpected visitor made it more than he had hoped, or dreaded. You know what I am, Cairn said stepping back into the light of the fire. I know what you are as well.

Othin’s words halted Munney who turned his attention from stoking. I told you who I am, what more can you know?

You said nothing of what you are, but I know. Othin began to enjoy controlling the conversation and let go a grin which revealed this fact to his guest. Confidently he returned to his bed roll You are Archduke Justinian Munney of Gainsbala. Nephew of King Silas III and fourth in line to his throne. Cairn laughed aloud seeing the expression Munney now held. Now you look surprised that I know what you are. You did not happen into the camp of a slow-witted tramp. I have spent my life in study. The royal lines of Inopia are not unknown to me.

I was vain to underestimate you, my friend. I admit defeat, you have proven too wise to outwit, Justin offered, running his fingers through his already thinning hair. Please do me the honor not to divulge my true identity. My homeland of Gainsbala is not appreciated by every dweller of Majestic Kingdom. Call me Elroon Newhope.

What a terrible name, Othin thought. So terrible in fact, it was believable. If you do not wish your identity know, why did you tell me your true name?

The man-child smirked wryly. Misfortune follows a man who would lie to a holy man.

I fear your beliefs to be in the minority, Othin responded good naturedly. I shall do as you ask. Tell me why Gainsbalian royalty travels so far from home unescorted?

The Archduke flashed a quick smile as he stood from his bed roll. That is a long story which makes my throat dry. Returning from his saddle, Justin carried a jug, not of buttermilk Othin reasoned. Resetting himself before the fire, Munney uncorked the jug and offered Cairn a drink.

No thank you, I do not drink. Othin pleasantly replied.

I should have known a priest would find offense in grain not baked in bread. As we say in Gainsbala, ‘if you drink you die, if you do not drink you die, might as well drink,’ Munney sang the last line of his quote. He offered no smile, immediately he tipped the jug back for a long drink. Othin began laughing and was soon joined by his guest who could not help but spill some of his liquor. Please you are disrupting important work, Justin said, ale dripping from his chin and staining his garments.

Why do you travel so far from your native land unescorted? Why to such a desolate northern grassland? Othin asked. Each passing moment eased the original tension between the two young men. They now found conversation easy with one another. If your throat is willing, tell me your tale.

Well, the Archduke began as if he was about to answer the same question for the one-thousandth time. I realize that I will never be king. My two cousins come before the Grand Duke, my father, who comes before me. So my ambition is to become the greatest general in my kingdom’s history. I am certain that I will lead an entire army, and if my younger cousin decides the military is not for him, I shall lead all my kingdom’s armies. He paused taking another long quaff from his jug.

What does you family’s lineage have to do with your being here?

Munney settled back on his makeshift bed before continuing. You see, I know what I am going to be, but the question remains, how proficient will I be at it? I began traveling about Inopia when I was thirteen. When I first began a bodyguard traveled with me of course. But after saving his life in an altercation last year, I was allowed by my father to travel alone. I travel to meet people other than royalty, to meet the people I will someday lead into battle. Also, I observe the landscapes of this continent. There is peace now, but who knows where I may be called to fight for Gainsbala.

To Othin this made little sense. Certainly, first hand knowledge is always the best he had been taught, but this was a noble. He need not leave his estate to have his curiosities satisfied. Most of Inopia was a rolling grassland with little variation in its landscape. Justin was simply a person who was easily bored with the monotonous royal routine. Still one question nagged Othin, how old are you?

I am in my seventeenth year, does this surprise you? Justin smiled knowing that it did surprise his host.

You are quite bold for your age and have already acquired some malefic vices for one so young, Cairn added pointing to the already half emptied jug.

What, does that mean drinking is bad? You already know the Gainsbalian philosophy on spirits. Munney swallowed another generous dose of brew.

Othin came under the impression that his lordship was not overly intelligent and had the tendency to over estimated himself. But Justin was comfortable with himself, a ‘you get what you see’ attitude. His power of observation and application enforced his implied claims of military genius, he was not completely lacking of intellect. The young priest found that he liked this man-child from the start.

Lavish living is corrupt living we are taught, Othin said quietly. It seems you travel without destination. I travel to Zonam where I will join a caravan headed for Sartosalle. The honor is mine as a student at the end of his curateship to journey to Ayr Temple and present the annual reports of my university, the Garden, to High Priest Calinda IX himself.

Being chosen for such an important task means you are more than a student, but also a healer, a future sanctifier. Now tell me how you came to be here, how you came to be what you are? The

Archduke sat up to hear another tale from his host. A tale he was invited to hear.

Othin felt a bit reserved about revealing his life story, but he preferred speaking to the alternative of sitting alone watching sticks burn. I was born in Bonum, near Nenova …

I will not share a camp with anyone who allows slavery, the young gentlemen cut in, forgetting his former courtesy. He quickly climbed to his feet, never letting go of his jug.

Cairn was startled and again feared for his safety. Instinct kindled his inner power and forced his hand toward his dagger. Reason calmed Othin. He realized that few kingdoms held any relations with Bonum, the kingdom known as the ‘Misery of Inopia.’

when his shock wore away, Cairn quickly explained himself. He removed the glove from his left hand. Justin squinted in the dim firelight which revealed Othin’s crippled hand. The tips of his four fingers were cut away. All that remained on the stubs were brilliant white scars. You see this is what happens to seven-year-old slaves who learn to read.

Oh, you were a slave. I am sorry. Bad brew sometimes shortens my temper and lengthens my bravery. Justin again sat on his roll and corked his jug. His face flushed from regret. A Bonite is seldom welcomed in my homeland.

I understand your disfavor of Bonum. I myself have been instructed many times to forgive and forget my transgressors. Othin laid back and stared at the cloud filled night sky. The evening breeze sighed a haunting chill. The night reminded him of tales of warlocks which frightened him as a child. He was content to spend the rest of the night silently reliving his loss. His guest ended those plans, asking, what happened?

After a moment more of silence, Cairn recalled his early history. He continued staring at the blackened sky. I am the fifth of six children, three brothers, twin sisters, and myself. My youngest brother survived the childbirth my mother did not. He was still an infant during the rebellion. I remember the area around Nenova as being a rich agricultural valley. The operation was large and many slave families toiled there. I was only seven and fortunately assigned gentle duty in the message office where I cleaned and ran errands. Two free men worked there, Boggs and Druek. They read the messages aloud and sometimes left the notes behind when they departed to give orders. I was able to remember what they read aloud and then studied the messages, matching up the words. In time I found I could read. I also saved some of the discarded messages and taught my older siblings.

I figured any boy who attends the Garden is intelligent, but teaching yourself to read is amazing. Justin called Othin a boy, Cairn wondered if Munney realized he was a few years older than the Archduke, though he may not look it. Myself on the other hand, was tutored by a palace monk. I was never much interested in anything besides military history and strategy, and was many years older than seven when I could handle reading and writing. Munney sounded a bit shaken, either from his lager or shame.

After another short silence Othin sensed his guest wanted to hear more, so he continued his tale. I was put into a ‘coffin,’ that was the name given to the dank, foul smelling stalls slaves were shackled in before receiving punishment. The stalls were nearly full. Most awaiting their death sentences for such crimes as stealing the Shiv’s crops, which was simply trying to feed your underfed family. Others were murderers of the worst kind, slaves who killed fellow slaves. They received only a few lashes, the dominion was never overly anxious to loose an excess of slaves. But the murderers usually met with an accident after their release. Cairn turned his sights to his well bred friend. Justin uncorked his jug and somberly took a healthy drink. Now the ‘unbearable’ instances of his sheltered youth must have seemed trivial in comparison to Othin’s.

Cairn continued. Next to my stall was a deranged old woman named Abby, accused of witchcraft. She claimed to be a soothsayer, possessor of psychic powers. Abby shared her visions of an upcoming omen. ‘You will see freedom by the light, you will see the king, rebel and relish the freedom.’ Unfortunately for Abby people believed her, so she had to be disposed. Othin still remembered her plump, dirty face. Abby was the only overweight slave he had known. As for seeing the future, he did not believe it when he was seven and he did not believe it now. ‘The future is unknown until it becomes the controllable present,’ he agreed with that fragment of philosophy.

I do not believe in psychic power, Cairn continued, again looking to the heavens, but I will always remember that disturbed old woman. You see, when I was finally dragged from my coffin I realized why so many were waiting sentences. His majesty, Shiv Omar Cordell made his first visit to Nenova since ascending to his father’s throne. Those in charge wanted to make his first visit memorable by allowing the Shiv to carry out some of the punishments, I was his second, Abby still hung from the gallows. They had not hooded the old woman. She dangled there, the rope tight about her neck made her face appear more plumb in death than in life. Her eyes bulging, she appeared to be watching over her fellow slaves. The priest sat up, startled by his recollections, he looked somberly to his guest. Recalling the past caused his voice to go cold. It was a voice he could have used to frighten the Archduke earlier. Othin recognized that the Archduke was frightened now.

The Shiv repulsed me from the first, I will never forget him. Omar is a slobbery man, he stands barely over five feet but weighs over two-hundred pounds. He does not look evil, although I am convinced he is. His face instead displays his fear. Justin was nodding slowly, he agreed with Othin’s description of the Shiv. Being royalty, Munney may have encountered the Shiv on occasion.

The Shiv called me ‘his disrespectful piece of property.’ A guard pinned my hand on a table. When Cordell cut my fingers with his own curved knife, all hel broke loose.

Munney sat cross-legged and stared muddledly at his host. Othin stared back expressionless, again showing the Archduke his usually gloved left hand. The pure-white scars capped his stubs like four snow covered mountain peaks.

The instant my fingers were severed, brilliant white light shot from my wounds. No one, not even I had any idea of the power within my body until it was released to heal me. Everyone, the Shiv and guards included, moved away from me. All slaves of Nenova were forced to watch the punishments. Instead of my being their example, I became their excuse. They remembered Abby and revolted.

The Archduke sat quiet as the plains. The breeze fell and the night became still and soundless. The only noise came from the meager camp fire, the nearby Sparrow River, old Jess, and Justin’s horse. Munney furrowed his forehead, searching for a reply to a story that showed him a piece of Inopia he had known only in rumors. Finally something came to his mind. What happened to your family, your father, brothers and sisters? asked the man-child.

This was the most painful memory of all for the young priest. He had witnessed his own father’s death. He did not know where any of his siblings were. His voice softened with the remembrance of his family. "Everyone fled. Hundreds of slaves attacked their masters. We were told three wizards guarded us. It turned out only one was a wizard, the other two were impostors to help the undermanned guards control us. The one true wizard killed more slaves than the five score of guards. She was not powerful enough to stop the masses, a rock finally caved in her head after her powers faded. Through the chaos the Shiv and his escorts escaped to Parva. When the carnage ended no one attempted to organize, everyone fled for M.K.

We were a couple days out when troops overtook us. My father, my oldest brother Vergel, baby Patrick in his arms, and myself could not find our missing brother or the twins. When the troops overtook us, they killed nearly everyone. My father protected us, taking many arrows in his back before slumping to the mud. His hand crushed a flower. I still remember the flower, a wild rose, in my father’s handprint. His last words were ‘remember cold fire.’ Othin slumped on his roll, pulling his cloak tight around himself as the cold autumn air picked up, chilling him once more. I was separated from my brothers and on my own. Luckily I traveled north, so many went south, unknowingly into the Dragon’s Outland. A monk found me and delivered me to the Garden. Now I am here.

Justin threw a few more sticks on the fire seeing his host had become cold. What is cold fire, Othin? His voice a whisper because of the mood, slurred because of his drink.

Othin shrugged, I have been student at the Garden since I came to Majestic Kingdom. My knowledge covers many areas and languages, yet I have no idea what my father meant. Cold fire has been handed down in my family, that much I know. Besides our name, it was the only legacy we had.

Never have I heard such a sorrowing tale, Justin mumbled, nearly asleep as he spoke. I had a dislike for Bonum because my father did, now I have a more explicit reason. He tried a smile but it was out of place at the moment. I would like to travel with you if you would allow me, Othin.

Othin nodded his approval. Cairn welcomed the company and found the Archduke pleasant, very much to the contrary of what most said of royalty. Traveling would be less monotonous with a companion and swifter with one so experienced.

Splendid, Justin slurred. I enjoyed your story Othin, but I must add I have gone to sleep with happier thoughts. This time he was able to flash his smile.

The Archduke no sooner wrapped himself in his bed roll when he started a light snore, still clenching his jug. Othin added a few more branches to the fire for the night, went through his nightly mediations, then wrapped himself in his blankets. He looked to the dark sky again, still thinking of his father, brothers and sisters. The hour was late before he fell asleep, his eyes still prone to tear up so many years later.

3

D awn broke, Cairn rose. He went through his morning meditations. The morning was bright and clear, Majestic Kingdom rolled to the horizons. With no wind sweeping the rolling plain, the fall day may prove to be quite warm. After completing his meditations, Cairn noticed the Archduke had already risen and had strayed from camp. His gear neatly packed, horse saddled and breakfast cooking, even old Jess was already saddled. Othin looked to the river and found Justin returning to camp having filled the water skins.

You finally decided to stir, Munney called, a bloated water skin over each shoulder. Do not let your breakfast burn. I already ate, the rest is for you. Eat straight from the pan.

Othin found a thick cut of meat frying in the pan, bread and half a small gourd were set out on a plate. Where did you get the meat? Cairn asked taking the hot pan from the fire. With so much food he believed a nightly meal would be unnecessary.

Justin smiled, I was running low on supplies and traded with an old farm couple at the head waters of the Sparrow. My good ale for that bad ale I had last night as well as the food.

I was there and wished to barter. They told me to beg elsewhere.

Munney’s smile broadened, then became a laugh. I guess you just have to know what an old farmer needs. Othin snickered and ate his meal.

The Archduke took the pan to the river to wash it as Othin packed his supplies. This was no ordinary blue blood, Cairn thought. He rises early and works hard, less must be expected of him because he is low on the succession rope. While he packed, Cairn heard the wind being cut, much like the beating wings of a large insect. From the corner of his eye he saw an object fly from the river. On his finest day he would never had reacted in time, a dagger stuck in the ground within a hair of his left boot. It was his dagger. Feeling his belt he found the dagger and sheath gone. The sheath then followed the same path as the dagger, bouncing to a stop in front of the priest.

I cannot tolerate neglected weapons, called Justin, making his accurate throw from twenty paces away.

Retrieving the dagger Othin saw it was now clean, no remnants of rust remained, masterful carvings on the blade and handle now exposed. Painted on the sheath was a scene depicting an ancient battle, though much of the paint had worn away over the years. Cairn returned the dagger to its place on his belt, not forgetting to thank Justin for his kind act.

The two young men climbed onto their respective animals and followed the north bank of the Sparrow River southeast toward Zonam. Justin was forced to pace his animal slower than normal, otherwise Othin and old Jess would fall far behind. Justin did most of the talking that morning. He spoke of the beauty of his Gainsbala, his opinions of the ale in M.K., and later his family. Cairn felt slightly envious of Justin’s family life. The healer still clung to the idea that his siblings were somewhere alive and thinking of him. Although he knew it was unlikely that all six children could escape alive, he continued to believed it possible, sometimes that helped.

Look out, Othin shouted. He nearly fell from his mule though old Jess never flinched.

Easy, Justin returned, holding a hand out in case Othin needed steadying. A pair of prairie chicken, pheasant some people call them. The birds had launched themselves from the thick grass along the Sparrow, they seemed to have emerged from directly beneath Othin.

Wish I had brought my cross bow, Justin said watching the birds chirrup over the river. We would eat well this night if I had. Hard to believe any remain, Justin continued, unable to travel to far without speaking. Inopia, before Death’s Day, had an infestation of prairie dogs and flicks. During the years of famine and plague prairie dog was about all anyone had to eat. I have never even seen a prairie dog burrow. Somehow the prairie chicken survived.

Perhaps, Othin said quickly so as not to miss the opportunity to speak. Unlike the prairie dog, pheasants were captured, domesticated, and bred. Our would be dinner was most likely a pair of pheasant returned to the wild.

Justin cocked an eyebrow. For a moment Othin believed he had nothing to say. Odd, the Archduke began. He grinned, either amused by Cairn’s thoughts on pheasant or his unspoken belief Justin could remain silent. I would never have thought of prairie chicken is such a manner. You are wise, Othin Cairn.

Othin had no opportunity to welcome the complement, Justin promptly changed the subject. He recounted the epic tale of his getting drunk in the Lake Region village of Pisek. Othin rode along beside him, his eyes drifting off along the wooded banks of the Sparrow and the endless sea of grassland. Grassland dominated most of Inopia, there were a few hills which passed for mountains, three forests, but the rest bare. Mostly trees grew along the waterways and where ever planted along settlements. As Justin regaled about twelve or fourteen of something or other in a single night, Othin spotted dark smoke rising from behind an intensely thick growth of trees along the Sparrow. He had noticed it earlier, but at the time the smoke was white and wispy like that coming from a cottage hearth.

Justin, Othin ended his friend’s tale. What do you make of that smoke?

Munney leaned back in his saddle. The column had risen high into the air. They were perhaps a third of a league from the source and still the smoke loomed high over their heads. That came about suddenly, he said as he shifted in his saddle to scan the horizon. I saw smoke earlier, whatever was smoldering is aflame now.

Are there any settlements near here? Othin had studied maps before his journey began. He noted the area between the Garden and Fairdale was sparsely populated with only a few hamlets and farm communes which lay outside the Sparrow’s flood plain.

I fear it may be trouble, Justin spoke without his infectious smile. A good deal of highwaymen and river pirates so far from Zonam and Wyndmere. The smoke had begun to diminish. Munney cleared his throat and grabbed tight his reins. We must offer what assistance we can.

Othin did not want to hear those words. He had been warned before departing of such dangers. He had hoped he would never encounter anything more threatening than a rainy night. He realized he would be of little use against a gang of robbers, but he had been taught to all beings, good or bad, human or non-human. He was thankful this brash young royal had offered to accompany him. Facing such a dilemma alone, Cairn would be hard pressed to find courage. As it was, strength in numbers, he held no question he must investigate the source of the smoke.

I agree, Othin had to shout as Justin rode away.

The Archduke wasted no time, he seemed to have a sense of urgency as the smoke billowed, its source hidden. Justin headed his horse through the trees and into the frigid river, not waiting for Cairn to follow. Othin did not expect old Jess to do the same. Instead he turned and headed for a ford they had passed only a short distance up stream. He called back to his companion who hung to his horses neck as she swam the Sparrow.

I must double back, I will catch up, the young priest shouted. Munney raised a hand of confirmation.

Old Jess came through, she ran faster than Othin thought her capable. Short moments later they crossed the ford and reached the south bank, but the roundabout had brought him a mile back upstream which he had to recover on his ride back. Old Jess maintained her speed during their return along the southern shore. A great amount of time had passed, to Othin it seemed hours though he knew it was a few long minutes. Had he a fine beast like Justin he would be by the man-child’s side, not hurrying to catch. He hoped the Archduke did not charge in brazenly, instead of first surveying the scene. He had known Justinian Munney less than a day and understood the brash Archduke would wait for no prompting if trouble waited him.

Othin jounced into the outgrowth, old Jess, though winded, had proven herself reliable. Breathing was difficult on the mule’s bouncing back, as he climbed down Cairn found himself out of breath. Othin crouched low and entered the outgrowth where the land remained level and did not yet slant to the river. Jess followed him a short distance before he waved at her to stay. Somehow the mule understood and went to work looking for something edible.

Othin began to sweat in the unseasonable warmth of the fall day. He crept among the trees. The leaves had fallen, but with the growth so thick he was unable to see passed the dense brown trunks. The more he tried to be silent, the more noise he made on the leaf and twig covered soil. He squeezed between brittle, leafless branches, and over rotting trunks. As he approached the far side of the outgrowth, the product of the smoke came into his limited view.

Wagons and supplies of a merchant train lay in disarray. A few horses stood among smoldering, once functional wagons and dead humans. Despite his apprehension, Othin took another step forward. He stumbled over a large branch. He stooped and picked it up. The branch was heavy, but would prove better protection than his now polished dagger.

Where was Justin, he was not to be seen, around him all was silent save that of his own heart. Cairn decided to take a chance and come out of hiding, hoping he would not find Justin among the dead. He quickly crossed the ten paces to the first overturned wagon and corpses. Their blood had not yet dried and none of the bodies stank harshly under the warm sun. They were surely dead, but not long departed. Anything or any being could be near. Trail thieves, Orgillions, or even