“Was that the fate of Milandrith?”
“Eventually yes, but there is more you must hear.”
“Oh—all right.”
“The other Wizards confronted Milandrith and banished both him and his bride from the entire western region. What happened between the king who wanted his daughter back and the Wizards who banished her is too dark a tale to tell. As for Milandrith and Auristela, they journeyed to the east where they met a simple and friendly, yet powerful tribe of Humans known as the Ackarda—experts in warfare and martial arts. The Ackarda welcomed them into their village, where the two lived out their lives among the people, siring many sons and daughters. Their offspring mixed, the population grew and many carried the secret to our being, the spirit of the Wizards.”
“You’re saying we’re part Wizard?” Darshun asked, the excitement in his voice running high.
“Yes, half-Wizard and half-Human. We sustain long life and holy magic passed on from the Wizards, and great strength, will and determination passed on from the Humans, molded together as one entity.”
“Tell me more, father!”
Mirabel smiled. “Many years later, when Princess Auristela died of natural causes, Milandrith left the Ackarda village and became a nomad. He wasn’t seen by anyone for a long while. Fifty years passed and the Ackarda grew in high numbers, but none of them had yet discovered their hidden powers. Then one day, Milandrith returned in search for a young Ackardian warrior whose reputation covered the region. A man named Marsainn. He found him at a fighting arts tournament and saw for himself the man’s reputation was true. He became an excellent warrior, pure of heart and mighty in skill. Milandrith introduced himself and Marsainn bowed before him in honor. But the Wizard wasn’t there for veneration. The days were growing dark. A war from the west was spreading that involved Humans against the Cullach and Wizards.”
Darshun’s eyes widened as he gasped.
“That's right—this time Wizards fought on the side of the Dark. The Humans of those lands were being overrun and the war was soon to enter the eastern territory. Marsainn swore he would rise up to defend his people. But Milandrith told him there was little chance he would defeat these new creatures of darkness—for the Wizards possessed a terrible, almost uncontrollable power.”
“What did he do?”
“He touched Marsainn’s forehead and gave him a prophetic vision of a possible future. Marsainn saw his wife tortured, his children mauled, his land taken over and his people enslaved. Great rage burned within his spirit and his entire body became engulfed in red flames. His power shook the very ground they stood on and then disappeared like a candle flame. He fell to his knees and nearly fainted. That’s when Milandrith told him of his hidden powers, the only powers that could defeat the coming war.”
“Fire and flames?” Darshun asked. “I don’t understand.”
Mirabel stood up. “Pay careful attention.”
Abruptly, Darshun felt energy tingle his heart and pass through him; the wind began to blow.
Then, what seemed like the power of the sun invaded Mirabel. Not only did his hair become wild and yellow, matching his gaze, but also a dancing light rose from his body, accompanied by streaks of lightning. He smelled like a thunderstorm.
Darshun became frightened. Not like a mouse-cornered-by-cat kind of frightened, but rather, the fear of standing before an entity of great supernatural power; like an Angel or Abidan himself and he began to weep.
“Do not be afraid.”
“B—but your hair and eyes are different—they’re shining like the—the sun. And that glow around you, what is it?”
“The energy of Yellow Lightning…part of my element. Each Nasharin is born with an element that comes from one of the Great Four Magics of the Wizards: Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. Unleashing the element changes the color of your hair, eyes and skin. Your senses are sharpened; speed, power and stamina increase dramatically, and you gain two magical abilities. I possess lightning and can cast illusions of my own image; I am of Air Wizards Magic.” He drew his sword.
Darshun stared intently at it.
Within a matter of seconds, the shining silver in the sword changed over to yellow, casting another aura accompanied by additional lightning, just like the surroundings of his body. “Nasharin weapons are forged from the strongest metal on earth, Milandrith Metal. It was discovered by Milandrith and therefore, named after him. It’s a rare metal. Some say created by the ancient Wizards, others claim it’s merely natural. Whatever the case, it is the only metal we can use to fight to our full potential. When a Nasharin focuses his energy into this metal, it becomes stronger and as you can see, gives off an aura of light—or fire if that’s your element. But elemental magics, such as Water or Air can sometimes differ in abilities and color. Take Air Magic for example; while I have lightning, another could create violent windstorms. While my aura appears yellow, another’s could be blackened flames also known as ‘Shadow Fire’ which in and of itself is not only an aura, but also a rare and fantastic third ability that cloaks one’s true power.”
Beginning to understand, Darshun asked, “Fire was Marsainn’s element, right?”
“You are correct.” Mirabel descended to his original state, and sat back down.
Darshun seemed amazed at how simple it seemed, like a mere switch to control one’s power.
“But he needed to learn how to wield it,” Mirabel continued. “For you see, when one evolves into Transformation…The frenzy begins.”
“Frenzy? You mean like a madman?”
“In a way, yes. There are creatures that frenzy after the taste of blood, a desire or need so incredible they feel they must have it, beyond all logic and thinking they must possess, indulge and bask in it. These are known as the Vampirae, their origin heavily debated but still unknown.”
“Blood-sucking creatures?” Darshun shivered. “Ugh!”
“Then…there are those whose animalistic nature takes over by the light of the full moon, unleashing a frenzy similar to that of a starved beast. These are known as the Lycans, half-wolf, half-man. And then there is us, the Nasharins whose greatest lust is energy, not only within ourselves but the energy of a worthy opponent, the stronger the better. Our frenzy is to challenge such an opponent and stand triumphant afterward. Like a male deer in the season of rut, following the scent of a female, ignoring his surroundings and all signs of danger, his one and only goal is to find her—so we are placed in a similar mindset, chasing after one who rivals our strength. We do not become satisfied until we either challenge and win, or die in defeat. This frenzy is the worst of all. Makes us vulnerable to no end and must be controlled for many Nasharins have died because of it. It's perhaps the most difficult chapter in Nasharin training.”
“What about you, Father—can you control it?”
“Yes, quite easily now. But Marsainn had to learn the hard way, nearly getting himself killed. Milandrith eventually figured out the problem and helped him conquer it and become an elite warrior. Milandrith also helped a dozen other Ackarda unlock their abilities and control their weaknesses. The war came and Marsainn led his people into battle, defeating the Wizards and the Cullach. Oh, what a battle that must have been…”
“So, what happened to Marsainn?”
Mirabel shook his head, returning himself from deep thought. “After the war, he began a school and called it ‘The Nasharin Arts.’ Nasharin is an ancient Wizard word meaning ‘Wizardman.’ From that day forward, the arts were passed down generation to generation. Tomorrow…your training shall begin.”
Darshun jumped into the air shouting with great joy, dancing around the fire, getting a chuckle out of Mirabel. But Darshun couldn’t help himself. The excitement became too much. “I will do my best! Which Magic do you think I will have? Fire, Water, Wind—?”
“That will be discovered only when you’ve reached that level. To transform, one must go through difficult training, far more complex than that of the common warrior. For our entit
y causes much to transpire.”
“Transpire? What do you mean?”
“When we transform it isn’t by will that the ground trembles, the air shifts, or other such phenomenal occurs. Rather, it’s the raising of our power, the releasing of our energy, which in turn affects the elements of nature.”
“I understand; what magnificent creatures we are! I will be just like you—hey, Uncle Seth is one of us too, is he not?”
“Tell me why you would think that.”
“Oh, well, just the way you two correspond with one another, not to mention a few things I’ve seen him perform in the wilderness involving different types of animals, like direct communication. And the feeling, yes, I can sense a similar spirit within all three of us, much unlike the Humans—”
“How be it you can sense energies other than your own? I have taught you nothing yet.”
“Umm, I don’t know. Is that a bad thing?”
Mirabel stared at him, studying his eyes.
Darshun looked rather uncomfortable and glanced away while licking his lips. “Did I do something wrong, father?”
“Not at all my son. And you speak correctly; Seth Caelen is also a Nasharin.”
“Which Magic?”
“Earth.”
“Wow, this is so—amazing!” He looked at his trembling hands and pinched his cheeks hard twisting the skin to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Shaking with anticipation, he shouted, “I’m a Nasharin! I’m Nasharin! I’m a Nashar—”
“Darshun!”
Immediately, he closed his mouth, eyes widened.
“You must realize the Nasharin way is not a game but a way of life, and we respect life. We protect the weak, the innocent. We defend the earth and all that is good. Never forget that.”
“Yes, Father. I understand. Although, I do have one further question. Are Uncle Seth, you and I the only ones?”
He sighed. “I once knew two others, but what became of them is beyond my knowledge. It is doubtful any more exist. Nasharins now-a-days are as rare as Wizards and Dragons.”
“What happened to them?”
“Many years ago in the Ackarda Woodlands, our people’s habitant, and strange events occurred, leading to the near extinction of our race. The elder and most powerful of the Nasharins mysteriously disappeared; others were found skinned alive hanging from trees. Some were slain by the sword, beaten to death or burned beyond recognition. These events led to much talk and council, but it was all in vain, for a deadly plague suddenly struck and wiped out most life. Nasharins, animals and even much of the plant life died and then the plague vanished without a trace. Some called it sorcery, others a natural disaster. The majority believed it was a curse upon our people.”
Darshun shivered at his words.
“You must understand something…with the exception of Humans and Dwarves; we’ve always been hated by every race. Not just the Dark, but also the Light, most definitely. The three center ones: Wizards, Centaurs, and Elves—especially Elves. They call us the ‘accursed race.’ From the very beginning, they feared we would destroy the world. No one thought anything good could come from the offspring between Wizards and Humans, because Wizards have incredible power and Humans lust for power and are so easily seduced by evil.” Mirabel stared into the fire as he paused.
Darshun gave him a wondering look as he waited for him to finish.
“However, in all of written history, save for only a few, there’s never been an evil Nasharin. We’ve always followed the practical ways of the Light, and the most Holy God Abidan. Perhaps, it was the pureness of heart Princess Auristela was said to have, and she passed it on through her spirit, or perhaps something else. But enough has been said tonight.” Mirabel threw a few more logs onto the fire. “It grows late. We best get some sleep. Tomorrow we will awake at first light.”
Still wishing to talk, Darshun nonetheless accepted. Besides, the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he'd awake to begin training. He could hardly wait for the rising sun. He wanted nothing more than to become like his father, a Nasharin Master.
They lay down, covering themselves with wool blankets, and then placed feather pillows under their heads. The fire burned nicely. Darshun enjoyed the warmth. He listened to the running water of the river and gazed up at the stars, pondering the things Mirabel had told him. Shortly after, he drifted into sleep.
“Rest well, my son,” Mirabel whispered, “Your journey is just beginning.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DREAM ASSASSIN
Five long years passed, then Mirabel and Darshun finally returned to Loreladia. They entered the city by late afternoon, passing many folk in the streets that didn’t recognize them. Mirabel wore a hooded dark brown cloak, a coarse tunic, and simple breeches. He looked thinner than he’d been prior the trip, but his tall figure, broad shoulders and powerful gaze still overshadowed many, so his appearance even frightened some.
As for Darshun, the boy looked entirely different…Except for his eyes. They’d stayed the same since he was a child. Steel blue with speckles of shining amber, like stars from afar; beautiful, spacey and distant. His blonde hair changed to honey brown and rested past his shoulders with a slight curve. He stood almost five feet tall. His body looked firm, tense like a mighty warrior’s and he dressed like Mirabel.
The two Nasharins made their way to an old friend’s house, Seth Caelen’s. He’d already expected them this day and prepared a welcome-home feast. Drifting through the air were smells of roasted chicken, garlic stuffing and spicy stewed vegetables.
Before getting a chance to knock, Seth opened the door. His long metallic-gold hair swaying from a light breeze, he smiled. “Brother Mirabel, Brother Darshun, welcome home!”
As always, Seth made another fantastic meal. Though he wasn’t a farmer, his crops always grew better, tasted sweeter, spicier and more wholesome than any of the common farmer’s fruits and vegetables. He seemed a master at gardening and in fact, not once did he ever lose a crop. He also always managed to pick out the best tasting chickens and deer.
Uncle Seth. That was what Darshun called him since he could talk. He loved his uncle. Many times, they would take walks through the woods together, enjoying the wilderness. Seth held a deep attachment to it, speaking to every piece of creation as a family, saying, ‘Brother Tree, Sister Water, Brother Grass,’ or ‘Sister Flower,’ and often, strange things did occur.
Darshun would spot different types of animals following them, usually approaching Seth.
His uncle would pat them on their head or stroke their fur, whether it be a squirrel, a raccoon, an owl or a wolf even one time—a skunk! Afterward, they’d casually wander off.
Uncle Seth would get lost for hours doing nothing but watching the environment. Birds catching fish or landing on his shoulders to sing a melody, mother and daughter fawn eating grass together. The sway of the trees in the wind, or the playtime of the wild ferrets running, jumping, sneaking around and stealing shiny rocks. Then there was his favorite animal of the four leggers; the opossums—nomads of the wilderness, the silent wanderers who mind their own business. Seth loved watching a mother passing through, carrying her babies in her pouches, eyes always ahead and watching out for danger. They, like most, cared deeply for their young, and Uncle Seth often said, we could learn a lot of morale by observing our little brothers and sisters.
One time, Darshun wandered off during a severe thunderstorm. Slipping down an embankment, he’d gotten himself caught between a mound of fallen trees and the rising Azriel River. It would’ve only been a matter of time before the waters rushed in and crushed him to death against the trees. But a gray wolf with glistening sky blue eyes climbed down the mound and gently picked him up by his shirt. She carried him up and over the trees, with Darshun screaming his head off, believing he was about to become her next meal.
The set of lungs on the boy seemed unnatural and extremely displeasing to the wolf and for a moment she even seemed to debate eating him.
Aft
er ten minutes of being carried by this beast, Darshun saw Uncle Seth and cried out his name. The wolf threw him down beside Seth's feet, and Darshun stopped weeping, realizing Seth had somehow asked the wolf to find him. His uncle stroked the creature’s head and she shifted her fierce gaze to Darshun, making him cower. Then, she stormed off.
“I thought she was going to eat me,” he said.
“Next time she may, if you do something as foolish as wander off during a storm,” Uncle Seth answered. “Now let's get you back to your father and out of those wet garments.”
Only after he’d learned of his Nasharin people, did he understand how Seth spoke with the animals of the forest. Earth was his Magic and communication with the woodland animals was 'one of his gifts, not to mention the fearsome power of splitting apart the ground.
“May I be excused?” Darshun asked, wiping gravy from his lips. “I want to go visit Elwin.”
“Of course.” Mirabel nodded.
“Thank you, and thank you, Uncle Seth, for the food. It was great. I’ll see you later!” He stormed out like a wild boy, almost forgetting to shut the door. It wasn't until Seth got up to close it that Darshun returned with a silly, embarrassed look on his face. “Apologies,” he said.
“Not to worry, lad,” Seth responded. “Go on now, reunite with Elwin.”
He didn't have to say that twice. Darshun slammed the door and was gone.
~~***~~
Mirabel turned to Seth with a look of bewilderment. “The boy is unique.”
“Yes, I can sense what he’s accomplished,” Seth responded, finishing his mug of coffee.
“And in such a short time. It’s almost—too surreal to accept. He mastered the use of his five senses, his ability to feel creatures’ energies and to fight by martial arts in two years. Then we journeyed through deep valleys and heavy forests, which he had no trouble crossing, to a mountain beside the Eastern Bay. I discovered a nice piece of Milandrith Metal upon those rocks and forged him a sword. And like his other tests, he quickly mastered it. But...”
Prophecy Of The Guardian (Guardian Series Book 1) Page 5