Prophecy Unravelled- Heir Series Box Set

by Rin Grey

  He ducked and rolled instinctively, his heart pounding, as a clawed hand reached out for him. He leapt to his feet and dodged out of sheer desperation.

  What was going on? How had he ended up here? Where had Elizabeth gone? And a frecking dragon? They were stuff of legends, they didn’t really exist.

  Did they?

  It was hard to deny when one was coming straight towards him. He swung his sword desperately, knowing even as he did so that it was pointless. How could he hope to defend himself against a dragon with only a few hours’ training and a tiny sword?

  There was only one option. He reached inside himself for his magical energy, remembering the steps Elizabeth had explained to him that afternoon.

  Was it really only that afternoon? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Exhilaration surged through him as he unleashed the magic at the dragon and watched the creature shrivel and burn.

  Mitch gasped in relief and leaned forwards, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath and stop his legs shaking. What was going on? What kind of madness had he fallen into? And where was Elizabeth?

  He turned around, trying to get his bearings. He needed to figure out how to get home.

  This time he saw his surroundings fade.

  Now he stood in the middle of a town, and as he straightened up, a man raced towards him with a knife out.

  Mitch froze, his tired, confused brain struggling to process the scene in front of him. This was different from the dragon. This was a human, albeit one that was trying to kill him.

  He had only seconds to think as the man closed the distance between them, the sun glinting off the knife he held raised. Only seconds to decide what he was going to do.

  He brought up his sword, thinking to block the man as he’d blocked Elizabeth’s swings, but the knife was smaller than a sword and the man sidestepped and swiped at Mitch’s side. The glancing blow dug into Mitch’s skin, and pain bloomed, causing him to cry out.

  In a haze of confusion and pain, power surged through Mitch, and he threw a tongue of fire at the man.

  Flames enveloped the man but didn’t stop him darting at Mitch again, his arms outstretched, screaming hideously.

  He fell to the ground at Mitch’s feet, flames fading, leaving only a blackened, charred corpse.

  A woman pushed her way through the crowd that had gathered and fell on the body, crying. “What have you done? He thought you were going to attack. He was only defending us.”

  Mitch looked beyond her to see two dirty children clutching at each other, then back at the charred body. Suddenly, he thought he might be sick.

  He hadn’t killed an innocent man, had he? The man had been trying to kill him. He’d come out of nowhere. Mitch had been the one defending himself.

  Hadn’t he?

  But the woman’s tears were genuine, and the crowd was looking at him accusingly—as though they agreed with the woman’s assessment, not his. And Mitch felt awful, no matter who was right. Even if that man had been the one at fault, Mitch hadn’t wanted to kill him.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He held up his hands, backing away as she threw herself onto the body again, sobbing.

  Mitch looked around desperately, searching for a way back to normality. This had to be a bad dream. Surely it wasn’t real?

  Suddenly the town was gone, and he was on the plains.

  He barely had time to take a shaky breath before a leather clad soldier launched at him from behind some rocks, screaming a battle cry. Adrenaline and fear flooded Mitch’s body, and instinctively he raised his hand, power surging through him.

  Before he’d even unleashed the power, he saw the soldier turn as black as the other man’s corpse. He backed away, his hands up, the magic fizzling in his body leaving him shaking.

  But the soldier didn’t pause. The man’s sword was up, and Mitch was sure it was all over.

  Then he realised that he was still holding Elizabeth’s sword. He struggled to bring it in front of him before the soldier brought his sword down.

  The force of the strike sent Mitch sprawling backwards. The soldier followed him relentlessly, and Mitch scrambled away from him on his hands and knees. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t skilled enough to beat this man with a sword. Yet to use his magic…

  The soldier roared and swung the sword down, straight towards Mitch’s chest.

  Almost instinctively, Mitch threw his magic up as a shield to protect himself. The sword bounced straight off.

  The soldier roared and tried again, only to achieve the same outcome. Mitch laughed frantically in relief.

  His respite was short lived. Next thing he knew, a dozen more soldiers crashed through the bushes, swords drawn. Desperately Mitch tried to hold them off with his magical barrier. Blows rained in on him from all directions, and despite the barrier holding, he ducked, and curled up in a ball on the ground.

  He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t hold them off for long. His magic was going to be all gone, and then they’d kill him. Desperately he shoved against the barrier, sending it flying out from his position in all directions.

  Pieces of soldiers scattered around him, but the relentless blows on his shield stopped. He let his magic dissipate and stood up, staring around him. Blood stained the leaves, arms and legs were scattered in piles.

  Mitch stared around in horror.

  Had he done that?

  His magic wasn’t that powerful, was it?

  Yet even as he thought it, he knew it must be true.

  The force he felt within him suddenly didn’t seem as benign and wonderful as it had earlier in the day.

  He turned and bolted, running as fast as he could, desperate to escape the horrific scene.

  Running helped some of the tension dissipate, and eventually he stopped, breathless, leaning against a tree. Somehow, he was back in a forest again.

  His breathing had just settled back into an almost normal rhythm when he heard sticks cracking behind him. He swung around just as a bear roared and lumbered towards him.

  Mitch screamed and backed away. Turning to run, he tripped over a tree root and sprawled on the ground in front of the bear.

  Another roar shattered the air, and Mitch desperately brought his sword up just as the bear swung a great paw at him. The animal screamed in pain as the sword cut through its fur and into its flesh. It stood looking down at him, uncertain, then roared again and turned and lumbered away into the forest.

  Mitch scrambled to his feet, panting. He glanced nervously around him, wondering what was going to come at him next. It felt as if the whole world were out to get him, and he had no idea why.

  And he didn’t have any time to try to figure it out. The sound of laughter echoed through the woods as half a dozen young men walked into the clearing. Mitch tensed, waiting for them to attack, but they just smiled and waved to him.

  Mitch remained on edge, waiting for things to change, sure they were going to attack any second. But the men just laughed and joked, accepting him into their small group readily. After a few moments, he allowed himself to relax as they chatted about nothing much at all, and he actually began to think that the day’s adventures were over, and to wonder how he was supposed to find his way home.

  He should have known better. Without warning, more soldiers broke through the trees and came at all of them, swords drawn. This time though, Mitch wasn’t facing them alone. The young men pulled out their swords and charged towards the soldiers as though they relished the fight.

  Mitch certainly didn’t. His hands shook, and he wanted nothing more but to go home and find his bed and collapse for a week. But he had no idea how to do that, the only certainty being that he couldn’t achieve it if he wasn’t alive. So he tried to hold his sword steady and be prepared for the fight.

  He lost count of how many soldiers they fought, but it seemed that no matter how many he or the other men defeated, there were more. They were never-ending. Exhausted, Mitch eventually stumbled and fell, and t
wo soldiers loomed over him.

  Too tired to think anymore, Mitch called on the magic Elizabeth had explained to him earlier, flinging it indiscriminately at the soldiers.

  The onslaught stopped and he collapsed back onto the ground. The grass seemed awfully inviting, and for a moment he considered just lying there. He was about to shout to the other men when it hit him. He struggled to his feet and looked around.

  There, lying among the soldiers, were the young men who he had laughed and joked with earlier.

  He’d killed them all.

  This time Mitch was sick, vomiting on the grass until his stomach was empty. When the heaving finally eased, he fled the scene, running through the forest, no longer caring where he went or what happened to him. His magic was a curse, not the blessing he had thought it was. He had all this power, and it was far too easy to use—or misuse.

  He didn’t want to be a mage anymore. The power it gave him was too terrifying.

  He just wanted to go home, to his mother, and be the same person he’d always been before all this started. Before he ever learned he was a mage. Before his life changed forever.

  But that wasn’t to be. Mitch wasn’t even surprised this time when he found himself near a rushing river, a boat full of bandits with dirty teeth and knives heading straight towards him. Adrenaline flooded him, and indecision warred in his breast. He knew he could dispense with the men in one flash of magic, but that thought brought him nothing but fear. He had no idea if there were innocents among them, or what had brought them to this place in their lives. It wasn’t his job to judge them. He just wanted to stay alive.

  But how could he accomplish that without violence?

  The answer was so simple, Mitch almost laughed in relief. He used a wave of magic to push the nose of the boat away from the shore. The bandits shouted and railed and tried desperately to make it turn, but it took very little magic for Mitch to keep it pointed away, and before long it sailed harmlessly past.

  Mitch laughed out loud at how simple the solution was. Maybe he could do this after all.

  The time passed in a blur. Mitch had no idea how far he walked or how many other foes he had fought, but not once again did he regret how he used his magic against them. Oh, once or twice he used it to protect himself, when someone had been about to strike him, but he didn’t use any of the combat spells Elizabeth had shown him, nor direct any sort of attack at a person or animal.

  Just as he was about to collapse where he was and give up, his surroundings faded into nothingness.

  Mitch looked around, disorientated, and realised he was back in his mother’s living room. As his vision cleared, he saw Elizabeth standing opposite him. But instead of the sword she had been holding earlier, she now held only the hilt. The blade was at her feet.

  “What happened?” he asked in confusion.

  He hadn’t imagined all that, had he?

  Elizabeth stepped forwards, took his hand, and gave it a shake. “Congratulations, Mitch. You just passed your last test and are now a fully trained mage.”

  What she was talking about? What test? Then it dawned on him, anger warring with relief. Maybe he hadn’t actually killed anyone. But if so…

  “You mean all that was a test? The people dying, and everyone attacking me?” Mitch demanded furiously. Anger as strong as his relief flooded through him, and for a moment he couldn’t find his voice to speak. How could she have done that to him?

  Elizabeth nodded, her face sympathetic. “It was. I’m sorry. I know it is an awful experience, but it’s the only way you can realise how dangerous your magic can be without anyone actually getting hurt. Far better that you kill some illusions than accidentally hurt a real person.”

  Mitch wanted to shout and scream at her, to insist that he wouldn’t have done anything like that, and he hadn’t needed that awful experience to convince him of that, but the reality of the experience made the words choke in his throat.

  The illusion, as she’d called it, had shown him just how easy it was to misuse the power he had. He could no longer deny that he might have hurt someone. It had been just that thought that had sent him to the Dome in the first place, but until now he hadn’t realised the horrifying reality of it.

  Yes, no one had really been hurt. But he was going to have to live with the knowledge that his magic had the power to kill with little effort. It was a sobering thought, and the experience would not leave him quickly.

  His voice was subdued as he asked, “Do all the mages at the Academy go through this? Did you?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “The mages at the Academy go through a similar experience, yes, but it’s rare for them not to know it’s a test. Usually they’ve heard from older students. It’s supposed to be a secret, but it rarely stays that way.”

  “And you?” Mitch prompted.

  “I had a very similar experience to you. I had no idea it was a test until it was over.” There was no hint in her voice as to how the experience had affected her, but despite her reserve, Mitch couldn’t imagine it had left her any calmer than it had left him.

  It did let him hope that one day he could regard this experience as something valuable.

  Right now though, he really didn’t want to examine the details.

  Instead, he looked around the room, realising it looked no different than it had earlier. No sign at all of the magic he had been throwing around. “What exactly was that?” he asked, curiosity helping push away the horror. “Was it real? Did you… transport us somewhere or something?”

  Elizabeth seemed glad of the change of subject too. “No, we stayed right here. I used illusions to make it seem as though we were somewhere else.”

  “So why isn’t there any…” He broke off, uncertain how to explain. “I was throwing around a lot of magic. I would have expected there to have been some effect.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I managed to shield the rest of the room so the magic didn’t affect it.

  “And all those… people?”

  “They were illusions too. Some of them were me, with a different face, others were simply magical constructs.”

  Mitch glanced down at the sword blade on the ground. “What happened to your sword? Did I do that?”

  That drew a grin from Elizabeth. “Yes, you did. It would seem I owe Digger a new sword.”

  Mitch stared in disbelief. “How did I break your sword? Was it my magic?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, not magic. It wasn’t all brute strength though. My sword, the one I lent you, has a knack for cutting through other swords.”

  “It does?” He looked at the sword in his hand and wondered what it was about it that made it so special.

  It certainly looked fancy, with elaborate engravings all down the blade and a large, milky stone embedded in the hilt. But Mitch couldn’t see how any of that could make the sword more effective.

  “How does it do that? Is it magic?”

  Elizabeth picked up the broken sword blade and held it out to him. “Not magic exactly. Take a look.”

  Mitch turned the broken blade over in his hands, not sure what he was supposed to be looking at. It looked like an ordinary, steel blade, just like any other. He glanced back at Elizabeth’s sword. Her blade was a similar colour, though maybe a little shinier.

  What was he supposed to be seeing?

  He looked up to see her smiling in amusement. “Really look at it. Look at what it’s made of.”

  Understanding dawned, and Mitch looked at both swords again with new eyes. For a moment he hesitated over using his magic, its destructive power still fresh in his mind. But this was different. There was nothing destructive about learning about something. So using his magic, he delved below the surface and instantly knew what she meant.

  The sword that had broken so easily had the majority of the particles lined up in one direction, but many were still chaotic and random. In Elizabeth’s sword, they were all perfectly aligned and joined together in a complex diamond shaped matrix. It was beau
tiful, reminding him of the things he loved about his magic, the sense of awe and wonder it gave him. He stared at the sword for a while, still no closer to figuring out how they had achieved the wonder. But he could easily see why the sword was so much stronger than others.

  “How did they do that? By magic?” he asked Elizabeth, fascinated.

  “I have no idea. I suppose so, but I’ve never been able to come even close to replicating it. Though I admit I haven’t exactly devoted a huge amount of time to it.”

  “Where did you get it from then?” Mitch asked.

  She didn’t answer straight away, and when he looked up, her face had closed up, her mouth tight and her eyebrows drawn down. “That’s a long story.”

  Mitch couldn’t help suspecting it was a fascinating one, but her expression didn’t invite further questions. He looked at the sword again, wishing it could talk so that he could learn its secrets, then reluctantly handed it back to Elizabeth.

  She checked the blade briefly, her expression relaxing, but it was undamaged by the swordfight. She buckled on her own scabbard and re-sheathed the sword. “Help me put the room back the way it was,” she instructed.

  Mitch was glad of the physical activity to help ground him again in the real world. He knew he would be playing the scenes of the afternoon over and over again in his head over the next few days and weeks, but right now, he appreciated the distraction.

  Chapter 4 - History

  After leaving Elizabeth and Mitch to whatever it was Elizabeth had planned, Digger sought out Gemma, who was banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. Obviously she was still agitated about Elizabeth teaching Mitch sword fighting, though he had no idea why.

  He wisely decided that now was not the time to ask. If she wanted to talk, he was there.

  He did his best to be unobtrusively helpful as she silently put a string of sausages into the pot to cook. As they worked, the thumps and grunts of combat started in the next room. The intensity of the sounds indicated that this was far more than a sparring match. Gemma glanced towards the other room often, but she didn’t comment.