The Forgotten Scroll: The Hope of Odrana, #1

By Brandon J Greer

When thirteen-year-old Jaxon's father died, he thought all was lost, until he was taken to a new world. Living his whole life on a dying planet, he never imagined he would see trees, grass, or blue sky. He never even knew they even existed. Overjoyed at the possibility of a new life, Jaxon soon learns that it might not be possible after all. He entered this new world through a forbidden cave with ties to an evil wizard, and the punishment for being inside is death. And if that wasn't bad enough, the monsters of this world seem to be drawn to him. Set on a path where Jaxon will have to defend his right just to live, he must learn to rely on his newfound friends or all might be lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brandon J Greer
• Release date: Jun 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223734635

Brandon J Greer

Brandon J Greer is second and third oldest in a family of ten. (He was second oldest until a new marriage brought a new child that bumped him to third.) To set himself apart from so many siblings, he discovered the arts. Drawing, acting, and writing pulled him in at a young age. His first book, Around the World in About a Year, was completed in the sixth grade and was complete garbage but it won him a place in an arts competition at the local university. Now living in northern Utah with his wife and daughter, he travels as much as he can.

Book preview

300 Years Ago

An unexpected tingling sensation raced through his body. It wasn’t painful but he had never experienced it upon entering the cave before. He’d come here many times over his unnaturally long life, but this was new. Glancing down at the cold, hard stone, he saw nothing that would have caused it. Yet a thought, a mere hint of an idea, was forming at the back of his mind. Something felt familiar as the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. Turning around, he stared at the opening. The sun, setting below the horizon, cast shadows into the cave, like fingers probing the mountain cavity. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds echoing around him, hoping to make sense of his discomfort. Nothing. Keeping his eyes closed, he pushed out with his mind, mentally searching for anything his mortal senses might have missed.

There. Embedded on the ground, just inside the entrance, was a footprint. A magical footprint. A spell of binding had been subtly woven into the stone itself, and by crossing it, he had activated the effect.

No, he bellowed.

He charged towards the dying light of the sun, already anticipating what had been done. The wizard braced his body for impact while sending out another mental pulse. The transparent tendrils of the barrier spiderwebbed in front of him. The spell to counteract the binding flowed from his lips and he prayed that he was running fast enough to break through.

The impact sent a shockwave through his body. His limbs buzzed with numbness and he crumbled to the ground. The spell was stronger than he had assumed. With weak legs, he slowly rose, struggling to regain composure over his labored breathing. Testing the air in front of him, he inched his hand forward. A crackling pop echoed through the narrow chamber when he reached his invisible prison door. Recoiling in pain, the smell of electricity and burning flesh lingered in the air.

What is this trickery? he shouted.

This is the punishment we have called upon you, Akalis. This is retribution for the crimes you have committed against this country and her people.

Crimes? Akalis shot back, saliva following his forceful words. And what crimes do you think I am guilty of? With my will alone, I have bettered this world. Would you punish me for that? I have brought order from chaos. Who are you to accuse me of these things?

In reply, six people Akalis knew well stepped into view. Stanton Kymal, Theresa Whitmore, the Morse twins, Harriet and Thatcher, Albert Mackman, and the foreigner, Valross Finijer. They were his allies, his confidantes, or so he thought. Their bodies were enveloped in a transparent white cocoon of mist that smoked and bubbled as it came into contact with their skin.

The things you have done are unpardonable. We have no other choice than to imprison you here. Even though we are not powerful enough to end your life, we can prevent you from ever entering our world again, Harriet said.

I know what you are doing, Stanton, Akalis said with a laugh, menace playing across the contours of his face. You know this will not hold me. When I am free, I will exact my revenge.

You are wrong, Akalis, Stanton replied in hushed and reverent tones. You, in all your skill and knowledge, have failed to understand the true nature of this binding. This spell will ensure that you will never be able to cause any more harm to the people of Odrana. It will prevent you from ever entering our world again.

Impossible, Akalis said with a chuckle. Nothing you are capable of can surpass my power. It is just a matter of time.

Akalis closed his eyes once more, searching the barrier for any weakness it might be hiding. His eyes flashed open when he finally understood the true nature of the binding.

Yes, Valross said through a thick accent. Now you understand how this will hold you in place.

It will not hold forever, Akalis said, defeat creeping into his voice. Even with your sacrifice, you cannot see to that.

You are correct, old friend, Stanton said. This binding will not hold forever, but we have more than enough life within us to ensure that it lasts at least as long as your unnatural lifetime.

Frustration rose in Akalis’ chest. He knew the power of the spell, but unlike the others, he knew of its origin. As he paced from wall to wall, his mind fought to discover another means to defeat it but no solution came to mind. The spell was sound.

You have no idea of the extent of my power. You could not comprehend the depth of lost knowledge I have discovered. You may have won today, or even for the next hundred years, but mark my words. This spell will fall, and when it does, I will be waiting. I will have my revenge. I will destroy everything you hold dear. Your families, your loved ones, this entire world will bear the consequences of your betrayal.

Turning his back to his so-called allies, Akalis marched deeper into the cave, slowly swallowed by darkness. Even in his absence, his promise of revenge hung heavy in the air.

The six stood their ground, faint mist rolling off their bodies as it fed into the gaping maw of the cave. One by one, they began to fall, void of the precious life that had so recently coursed through their veins. Freely given, the life force of the six was drained away until only two remained breathing.

Will the spell last long enough? Theresa asked Stanton, gasping out her final, agonizing breaths.

This is the last hope we have of saving the world. The clues have been hidden. When the barrier falls, and it will fall, we can only hope that Akalis will be dead. He wasn’t lying when he said he had learned things we never would. He has never been afraid to delve into the darkest of magics. If anyone can find a way to survive this, it is him.

Breathing out their final goodbyes, Stanton and Theresa collapsed to the cold, unforgiving earth. The ultimate sacrifice had been made for the fate of the world and mankind would never be the wiser.

A Dying Planet

If there was one indisputable and undeniable fact about the world, it was that it was dying. No one pretended any different, mostly because the human race had already seen to it. Wars and hatred had ripped society apart and scorched the sky and ground, and we could do nothing to fix that. Even if we wanted to, we no longer had the knowledge. The only constants in life now were pain, suffering, and meaningless survival. It didn’t matter how old you were, life treated everyone the same. A thirteen-year-old boy was no different from a forty-five-year-old man. One day you were here, the next day you might be gone. It wasn’t fair, but at least everyone stood the same chance.

There were a few of us that dreamed, though. Dreamed of something better. We refused to accept that the barren wasteland we had been left with was all there was. Dreamers were scarce and usually young, like me. Youth had the tendency to see beyond the ugly truth. But sooner or later, reality catches up to everyone. You can’t outrun reality. Or can you? If you don’t give up, who knows what is really possible? That’s where I come in. My name is Jaxon, and this is my story of the impossible.

THE BURNING WHITE SUN beat down on the barren earth. The coolness of the night dissipated much too rapidly for my taste and there was no shade in sight. My skin was already cracked and bleeding, and it wasn’t even noon yet. I wouldn't survive much longer if I spent much more time out in the open. Spinning around, I searched for shelter but found none. No trees, bushes, or hills to cower behind. The mountains, which loomed far in the distance, were my only source of hope. If I could make it there, I might live through this, if the collectors didn’t find me first.

Collectors didn’t usually go after someone my age but I was now in debt and there was nothing I could do about it. I had no money to pay them with so if they found me, it would be the slave trade. Just the thought of that pushed me forward. The worst part was that the debt wasn’t even my fault. The doctor had assessed it to me even though he failed at saving Father’s life.

The thought of Father sent guilt, loss, and anguish coursing through my defeated body. I blamed myself. I had known better than to bring up Mother. Even though I never knew her, I’d learned from an early age that she was off-limits. It always sent Father into a rage of depression. Worse, I had used her as a weapon against him to try and get my own way. If I had just kept my mouth shut, Father would still be with me.

I’m sorry, I said for what seemed like the hundredth time as I crawled up another short dune, the sand burning my hands and exposed knees. I didn’t mean it. Please come back.

I would have cried if my body had enough liquid for tears. I needed water but it was the rarest commodity in the world. If I didn’t have enough to pay off the collectors, I’d never have enough to buy water. Father always took care of that.

No matter what I tried to think about, my thoughts always turned back to Father. At thirteen years old, Father was the center of my world, along with our small, one-room shack in the middle of the wasteland. It had been all I’d known but now I was alone and on the verge of death myself.

One more dune, I told myself, struggling to urge myself on. I’d been out in the wastes for two days now with nothing to eat or drink. One thing was certain though. I’d be with Father soon. My time on this cruel rock was rapidly coming to an end.

As I crested the top of the dune, my palms sunk into the soft sand and I tumbled down the other side. Without the strength to pick myself up, I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my fate. This was it. My life had come to an end. Closing my eyes, I rolled onto my stomach to wait for death.

Heat-laden dreams took me back to that heart-wrenching night. I was back at the fire waiting for the doctor to finish. Anxious and terrified, I stood and paced from the shack to the fire. Sleep tugged at my eyes but I knew I couldn’t sleep. I needed to know what was going on. Rushing over to the tiny shack, I forced my way through the door. The stench of death almost knocked me off my feet.

Get out, boy, the doctor yelled, his voice lacking any trace of sympathy. He didn’t care if Father lived or died so long as he got paid. Doctors in the wasteland were all the same.

Hurrying back outside, I stood next to the fire again. The flames licked at my skin, causing the hairs on my arms to curl and burn. Blisters formed as I watched, but I didn’t move.

Get up, boy.

It wasn’t the voice of the doctor. I looked around, surprised to find the wastes around me empty. No one was talking to me. Then the voice came again, followed by pain blossoming through my side.

Get up.

I cracked open my swollen eyes. A tall man with a bag over his shoulder and a rifle in his hand stood above me. One of the collectors had finally caught up with me.

I don’t have any money, I said. And I’m not worth anything as a slave. You might as well shoot me and be done with it.

I’m not here for money and I don’t need a slave. I’m here because your father sent me.

At the mention of Father, I gathered together as much strength as I could and sat up.

What are you talking about? Father is dead.

I know that, the man said. I was there when he was attacked. No one could have survived that.

I tried to get a good look at his face, but the glare was too much. I don’t think he ever mentioned you.

As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I coughed.

Here, drink this, the man said as he pulled a small bottle out of his bag.

With a shaky hand, I took the bottle and eased it to my mouth. I choked as the cold liquid flowed over my lips and ran down my throat. My dry, swollen tongue immediately soaked up as much of the passing water as it could. I had never tasted water so sweet before. When I was done, I handed the bottle back.

Thank you, I said. Where did you get that?

Never you mind. You need to get up. We’ve got a long way to go before night falls.

I didn’t move from the coarse, hot sand. What do you mean?

Have you ever heard the expression that curiosity killed the cat? the man asked.

I cocked my head. What’s a cat?

The man sighed then bent over and grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet. He only let go when he was sure I wouldn’t crash back down.

Can you walk?

I took a few practice steps. My knees were weak and trembled when I moved, but I managed to keep my balance.

Good. Drink some more, the man said as he pulled a second bottle from his bag. You need to keep your strength up. The collector isn’t far behind. We can still lose him but we’re going to have to be quick about it.

I was confused. Half of me didn’t believe that there was anyone there, but the water proved otherwise. However, I had heard about heat madness before. It could drive a sane man crazy in less than a day. I had been out here twice as long. But I doubted heat