by Steven Novak
After a long silence, she decided to say what she imagined both of them were thinking. “Do you think we’ll ever see any of them again?”
Tommy paused before answering. He, too, had been staring deeply into the murky stream. He was not looking at it so much as trying to look through it – wishing for just one more glimpse into that other amazing world. “Ya…I’m positive that we will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The prophecy. When the Elder had told us the story, he said that five would arrive and four would return. We all came back. It’s not over yet.”
Tommy’s comment sent a flicker of fear scraping across Staci’s spine like nails on a chalkboard. “Ya, but…I mean, those are just words…I mean, who knows what they mean, right?”
Tommy sensed the resistance in her voice, recognizing the twinge of fear. As if her terror was somehow palpable, it wedged itself in-between them, pushing her away. Tommy did not want her further away – quite the opposite in fact - and because of this he changed the subject. “Ya…sure…they’re just words…who knows…I’m sure everything will be fine.”
Playfully he bumped into Staci, trying whatever he could to bring a smile to her face . “Besides, could you imagine how much you’d get grounded if you let your weirdo neighbor drag you to another world again? You’d miss all of summer vacation.”
Staci chuckled half-heartedly, deciding not to think about the subject any further.
Off in the distance, the sun had fully dropped out of sight. Only the incredible glow remained, rising up into the sky, causing the underside of the clouds to glow a hauntingly beautiful magenta. Both children stared at it with slight, soft grins. The warmth of the sun’s light and the coolness of the gentle breeze massaged their skin with a temperature so perfect that they wished they could crawl inside and live there forever.
If ever there had been a perfect moment in their young lives, this was it.
Through the corner of her eye, Staci coyly glanced at Tommy. It had been so long since she had seen him smile. He had such a nice smile. Timidly her fingers walked across the edge of the windowsill like a pair of tiny legs; at last coming to a stop, her hand rested gently on top of his.
“I missed you, Tommy,” she whispered, still gazing off into the clouds.
The warmth of her hand felt wonderful on his skin - soothing, and comforting, as if this was exactly where it was meant to be all along.
“I missed you too.”
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CHAPTER 66
THE TYRANT KING
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His body was enormous. Every limb was as thick as a tree trunk, every muscle seemed chiseled out of stone or molded from super-heated steel. His skin was tight and leathery, showing the kind of wear that could only have come from a lifetime spent treading the waters of war and power. A silver-gray beard hung from his chin, at least two feet in length, pulled into a finely manicured point by three evenly spaced gold rings. The armor adorning his bulky mass was finely decorated, carved by twenty of the finest Ochan artists over the course of three painstaking years. After completing the design, the artisans had been murdered to ensure its originality. Between his thick, scaled fingers, he held a scrap of filthy, ripped fabric that once had belonged to his son. He had sent a select group of his finest soldiers to the ruins of the Fillagrou fortress two weeks ago to retrieve the body of his only offspring.
They had returned with a mass that was barely recognizable.
Behind him, a fire large enough to be seen through all of Ocha, crackled and popped. Its dark, brownish-black smoke rose into the afternoon sky as the flames slowly ate away the remains of Prince Valkea’s corpse. With every breath, the massive chest of the tyrant King heaved, stoking the flames of anger burning within his belly. For the most part, his son had been a failure – too quick to react, too weak-willed – just barely able to avoid bringing shame to the family name. His defeat and untimely death was a disgrace.
Be that as it may, worthless or not, he remained his son. Even in death, this would never change.
The one true heir to the throne had been murdered, his fortress destroyed and his corpse left in a state hardly befitting one of royal blood. If ever an act called for swift, immediate vengeance, this was it.
As sure as day turned to night, and night back to day, the great tyrant King would see to it that someone paid for the murder of his child. The blood of each and every creature involved in this heinous act would not only be spilled, but sprayed. Their deaths would be drawn out to a point so that the murderers would willingly embrace death. Their family, their friends and the friends of their friends would suffer equally. Not a single solitary creature would be spared.
From behind him, the voice of General Thrax cut the deafening silence. “I beg your pardon, Sire…shall I prepare your forces?”
The King’s answer came swiftly, “No.”
The seriousness in his tone caused the General to meekly back away.
“We will not leap blindly into war with creatures wielding such power. Such an act would be foolish. No, we will study them…we will learn their weaknesses and when the proper plan of attack has been made, we will descend upon them with the full might of the Ochan nation. My son’s vengeance will not be found through blind rage, but I assure you General Thrax…it will be found.”
Unlike his son, the tyrant King understood fully the forces that had been set in motion. Unlike his son, he believed in prophecies and acknowledged the necessity of magic. Unlike his son, he would prepare himself for every possibility. If this signaled the end of the great Ochan nation, he would not go blindly into the darkness. He would not go without a fight. If this was to be the end of all things, he would take as many of his enemies with him into death.
What sort of father would he be if he did anything less?
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
His Steven Novak was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. He attended the Columbus College of Art and design in Columbus, Ohio and currently resides in Southern California with his wife of ten years.
When Steven isn’t writing, he works as a freelance illustrator and endeavors to solve they mysteries of the universe. Unfortunately for him, the universe is a vast and complicated thing; he will most likely fair and decide instead to order a pizza. He had a far better grasp on the mysterious world of cheesy toppings.
His work can be found at www.novakillustration.com
“Fathers and Sons” is the first book in a three part series, the second will be released in the spring of 2011.
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