Heirs of Prophecy

by M. A. Rothman

  “Sadly, it’s too late for that,” said Dad.

  Honfrion leaned back. “What do you mean?”

  Dad opened his mouth to answer, but Throll cut in. “Honfrion,” he said, “are you loyal to the wizard?”

  Honfrion studied Throll for a long moment, as if considering how to answer. Finally he nodded, apparently having made up his mind. “As I have said, I owe you all a great debt. It’s only through your kindness that my daughter lives. I’ll tell you what you wish to know. But can we agree to keep each other’s secrets?”

  Everyone in the tent nodded.

  “Good.” Honfrion beckoned everyone closer, then spoke in a low voice. “I would sooner see the wizard dead. But I do serve him, however unwillingly. He’s instructed me to migrate the caravan in a very specific pattern, so as to escort his agents traveling from city to city. I’m accompanied by at least two dozen of his men at all times. Except for now,” he added.

  “Now? What’s different now?” Throll asked.

  “I don’t exactly know,” Honfrion said. “When we arrived at Augbherle, we had a troop with us. They set up their quarters at one of the inns. And then one day, they disappeared. We haven’t seen them since, nor have any others taken their place among our caravan. I can’t say I object to their absence.”

  Dad smiled. “Let’s just say that the soldiers did, in fact, disappear,” he said darkly.

  Honfrion’s eyes widened. “You—? Do you mean to say…?”

  Dad nodded. “They attacked us. We had no choice. And it wasn’t only Azazel’s soldiers. We were also confronted by Azazel himself.”

  Now Honfrion’s expression turned to one of disbelief. “Forgive me for doubting you, but few who face Azazel live to tell the tale.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Dad said. “Yet here we are. In fact, Azazel got the worst of it. When he left us, he was gravely injured. But we expect he will recover, and when he does, he will come for us again. That is why we’re currently on our way to his tower, where we plan to finish him off.”

  “This… this isn’t possible,” Honfrion scoffed.

  “It’s possible,” Ryan said.

  He looked questioningly at his dad, who nodded.

  Ryan lifted his right hand, took a deep breath, and sent threads of crackling electricity arcing between his fingers. Then he closed his hand into a fist, extinguishing the energy.

  Dad looked at Honfrion. “I can do the same. But… my control is not as good as Ryan’s, so it’s best I don’t demonstrate.”

  The merchant king appeared beside himself, his face showing a combination of shock, dread, and joy. Arabelle, on the other hand, was grinning widely, her eyes sparkling in the firelight.

  Finally, Honfrion broke into a sly smile. He rose from his seat, went over to a large chest, and pulled a small box from within. He unlocked the box with a key he produced from his tunic, then took out a silk-wrapped object and returned to the table.

  He set the object down carefully and unwrapped it. Inside the layers of silk were two very old leather-bound tomes.

  “These books are from the time before the demon attacks. They are the oldest books I know of. You wish to know Azazel’s origins and of wizards before the time of the demons? These books are your best hope for finding the answers you seek.” He pushed them across the table. “They are now yours.”

  “Thank you, Honfrion.”

  “No, it is I who thank you. Do you truly believe that you can rid the world of Azazel?”

  Dad pressed his lips together into a thin line. “Let’s just say that we’ll do everything we can to ensure that Azazel won’t trouble anyone again.”

  Honfrion’s hands began to shake. “If you achieve your aim, then I’ll soon owe you another blood debt. These books are a mere trifle in the face of such a deed.”

  Dad smiled. “Actually… there is one other thing you could do for us,” he said awkwardly.

  “Anything,” Honfrion replied.

  “I request your caravan’s escort to Azazel’s tower. If possible, I would take him by surprise, and that will never happen if we travel in broad view. But hidden amid your caravan…”

  “It’ll be done,” Honfrion said firmly. “And still it will not begin to repay the debt I owe you. But there is one more thing I might offer.” He raised one of his bushy gray eyebrows. “It’s clear to me that my daughter fancies your son. If he would accept her, I would gladly provide a handsome dowry.”

  Ryan was so taken aback that it took him a long moment to fully absorb what the merchant king had just said. Did he just suggest I marry his daughter? He glanced over at Arabelle, who smiled coquettishly. Ryan felt his face burning red with embarrassment.

  Dad was equally surprised. “I, uh… Let me consider the offer,” he said. “I need to talk to my son first.”

  Ryan barely heard a word of the conversation after that, nor could he meet Arabelle’s gaze. He liked the girl, but in no way was he prepared for anything even resembling marriage.

  After dinner, Ryan, Dad, and Throll retired to a private tent that Honfrion had arranged for them. As Ryan plopped down on the side of his bed, he felt Throll smiling at him. Ryan probably looked like a trapped animal right about now.

  “I understand what you’re feeling,” Throll said, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “But know that you’re in Trimoria, you should be aware that it’s customary for fathers to arrange marriages for their children. In fact, you should be thankful to your father. It’s unusual for a father to seek a son’s opinion on the matter.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Throll shrugged. “The father knows much more about such things, does he not? The child doesn’t have the experience to wisely choose a mate. Imagine the chaos that would come if we allowed our children to make their own marriages!”

  Dad chuckled. “Well, this is a little different from what we’re used to back home. Still…” He knelt before his son. “Ryan, it seems to me that you think Arabelle is attractive. Am I right?”

  Ryan felt his face grow warm.

  “Your blush shows the truth of it,” Dad said. He stood and faced Throll. “In Trimoria, how would a match like this be viewed? If you were in my position, or in Honfrion’s, what would you make of it?”

  Throll frowned. “Arabelle is highborn and wealthy. Not to mention beautiful. I could hardly hope for a better match for my own son. As for Honfrion… under normal circumstances, a blacksmith would be an excellent match for almost any girl. But he would not promise his daughter to a mere blacksmith. I suspect it is Ryan being a wizard that makes the match appealing in his eyes.”

  “So you think I should accept the offer?” Dad said.

  “Dad!” Ryan interjected.

  Throll ignored the outburst. “She looks healthy. She clearly knows when to remain quiet and when to speak up. She seems to have been brought up well. So yes, if I were Ryan’s guardian, I would agree to this match.”

  “And you don’t think Ryan is a bit young to be married?”

  “We’re speaking of betrothal, not marriage,” Throll said. “Many betrothals are arranged at birth. But typically the marriage ceremony is not performed until the male child reaches his eighteenth birthday or completes his apprenticeship.”

  Dad turned his gaze on Ryan. “Well? It’s up to you, obviously. But I can tell you like her, and she likes you. You’ll have at least a year to get to know each other before you’re married. Your mother and I were only engaged for six months before we got married.”

  “Ya, but didn’t you guys date for like four years?”

  Dad shrugged. “Listen, you can take your time. I’m certainly not going to dictate the timeline of your betrothal—”

  “My what?”

  “Listen, I’m just letting you know that nothing’s final until you get married. Get to know her. And besides, with the way you look at her,” he added with a grin, “I’m betting that before long you’ll be begging to speed up the process.”

  A
million thoughts flew through Ryan’s head, but the one thought he kept coming back to was the feeling he’d had the moment he first saw Arabelle. He could still picture how she looked in that moment: her beautiful face, her doe-like eyes, her raven hair. It took him a moment to realize that he was smiling.

  “I think I’d like to get to know her,” he said at last, his heart beating heavily in his chest. “So… I won’t be mad if you make the arrangement.”

  “You’re growing up so quickly,” Dad said, pulling Ryan into a hug. “Now the difficult part begins.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dad winked. “Someone will have to explain this to your mother.”

  That night, Ryan found himself unable to sleep; his mind was filled with thoughts of Arabelle. After an hour of tossing and turning, he decided to rise and look at the books Honfrion had given his father. He lit a candle, retrieved the books from the table where Dad had left them, and returned to his bed, where he propped up his pillow and sat. Dad and Throll didn’t stir.

  The first book was not at all what Dad had asked for—it was a history of dwarves and their smithing techniques. Still, Ryan flipped through it, and he ended up stopping to read a section on mining that he found quite interesting. Several passages referred to something the dwarves called the “Seed of Trimoria,” which piqued his curiosity. He looked it up in the appendix, and was directed to a passage in a chapter titled “Mining Accidents.”

  While the wealth they promised was considerable, the passages at the thirty-fourth level of the mine were deemed too deep and too hot for dwarves to traverse. Several reliable sources also cited the presence of odd creatures, including imps. This was viewed as proof that the miners had dug too close to the forbidden deep, and that wisdom called for them to withdraw.

  Yet before the operation was called to a halt, several among their number uncovered a large spherical seed that glowed like a crystal and emanated heat. The miners brought the seed before a conclave of wizards, who determined that the seed was a flawed element of Trimoria that should, they said, never have been brought into this world. They claimed that the seed held a dark and unstable power, and that this power influenced the seed’s holder in a dark fashion. The longer the seed was held, the greater the influence.

  Ultimately, the conclave’s advice was to return the seed to the location where it was found. The dwarves concurred.

  Following this decree, it was declared by the clan elders that the thirty-fourth level was to be sealed off from the world above. The seed was returned to the mine, and the foreman blasted the entrance. Passage into the deep has been barred ever after.

  Ryan moved on to the second book. This one, dated nearly a thousand years ago, was from an ancient Trimorian census taker, and the early chapters contained loads of information about the elves, dwarves, and humans comprising the Trimorian population. There were also estimates on the size of the ogre population, though the footnotes expressed great doubt about their accuracy.

  Ryan found a section on skills and livelihoods, and quickly moved to the data on wizards, dryly noted though it was.

  Wizard categories = Under two percent of Trimorian citizens

  Hedge Wizards: 80% of wizards qualify

  War Wizards: 10% of wizards qualify

  1% of War Wizards qualify with the designation of Senior War Wizard

  Healers: 10% of wizards qualify

  1% of Healers qualify with the designation of Senior Healer

  Archmage: Only a dozen wizards over the past hundred years have shown the ability to warp magic

  Ryan flipped through the pages in search of further explanation, but there was none to be found. He wondered most at the designation of Archmage and this ability to “warp magic”? What did that mean? Could that refer to his ability to shunt power into objects like the armor and weapons?

  It was interesting, and he would definitely have to read both books in more detail, but it was also disappointing. There was nothing in either book about Azazel’s origins, as Dad had hoped. Perhaps that information was truly lost to time.

  As Ryan skimmed the rest of the book, a page fell out and fluttered to his lap. He picked it up and saw that it wasn’t a page at all, but a map that had been stuck inside the book. It showed a forest with a maze-like path leading to a location labeled “Ellisanethra.” There were no other labels, and no indication of where the forest was even located. It was less a map than it was a guide to the maze. He would have to ask Throll about it in the morning.

  He yawned suddenly, and realized that looking through the book had achieved at least one thing: it had made him tired. He tucked the map in his pocket and set both books aside, then blew out the candle and lay down.

  As he drifted off to sleep, his mind danced with visions of the beautiful Arabelle.

  “Did you hear what my boneheaded husband wants to do?” Aubrey snapped as she stormed into the kitchen.

  Of course Gwen knew. They all wore the rings; they all received the same messages.

  Aubrey didn’t wait for a response. “He’s arranging for Ryan to marry Arabelle!”

  Gwen smiled. “You should be proud. That is a wonderful match. Arabelle’s father is one of the richest men in Trimoria.”

  “I don’t care if it’s a ‘wonderful match,’ Ryan’s only seventeen! How could Jared do such a thing?”

  Gwen looked confused. “I don’t understand. I was nine when my parents arranged my marriage to Throll.”

  “He doesn’t even know her,” Aubrey said, shaking her head. She held her hands over her swollen belly.

  “I didn’t know Throll,” said Gwen. “The first time I met him was the week we were married. Prior to that, he was off in another city, playing soldier.” Gwen shrugged. “Besides, it seems to me that Ryan found Arabelle attractive. Did you see the way he looked at her when she was here?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And she seemed like a nice girl. Very well-mannered,” Gwen continued.

  “Yes, but—”

  “And I think she likes him too,” Gwen finished. “So what is your concern?”

  “My concern is…” What is my concern? Aubrey wondered. And then her shoulders slumped. “My concern is he’s my baby. I don’t think I’m ready.”

  Gwen laughed. “Mothers never are. I remember my mother was hysterical for a week after my betrothal. Eventually, though, the idea grew on her. I’m sorry to say it, but I find that we mothers are sometimes too emotional about the choices we make. Occasionally, it’s good to let the husband make a few choices.”

  Aaron walked into the kitchen, looking thoroughly amused. “I can’t believe this. Ryan’s getting married?”

  Before Aubrey could reply, Gwen said, “Not immediately. It’s customary to marry no earlier than eighteen.”

  Aaron snickered. “Ryan’s getting married.”

  Aubrey glared at him. “I’ll not have you teasing your brother. Don’t even say anything to him about it. The men have enough to think about right now.”

  “I bet Ryan has plenty to think about,” Aaron said with a wide grin.

  “Can you believe how Ryan’s life has suddenly changed?” Sloane asked Aaron. The two of them were walking through the woods looking for mushrooms. “It seems like only yesterday that the two of you arrived, and now he’s a wizard and betrothed.”

  Aaron laughed. “Yup. I’m betting he’s not exactly loving life right now. Can you imagine suddenly being told you’re getting married to a stranger you barely know?”

  “Well,” Sloane said matter-of-factly, “I expect we’ll be betrothed soon enough.”

  “Not me.” Aaron shook his head. “No one’s telling me who I’m marrying.”

  Sloane laughed. “Aaron, you have to accept that your father will one day arrange your marriage, just as my father will do the same for me. And it’ll happen soon. I’m fourteen already. It’s unusual for someone my age to not yet be betrothed.”

  “You sound like you want that,” Aaron said. “How
can you allow your dad to stick you with a complete stranger? What if they aren’t nice? What if they’re an idiot? Or they don’t like you?”

  Aaron had mostly been talking to himself, sharing his own feelings on the matter, and wasn’t thinking of how Sloane felt. So he was surprised and ashamed when she suddenly put her hands over her face and began crying.

  “Sloane… I’m sorry,” he said delicately. “I didn’t mean that… Sloane, your dad’s really smart. And really nice, even though he loves to yell at me during training. He’s going to pick someone wonderful for you. You know he will.”

  Sloane pulled him into a hug, and he felt her warm tears on his shoulder. “But what if he makes a mistake? What if he doesn’t really know the boy he arranges for me? What if the boy turns out to be someone horrible like Slug, but he just hides it well?”

  As Sloane hugged him fiercely, Aaron felt a strange sensation spreading through him. And suddenly he could scarcely believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

  “What if you and I got betrothed?” he said quietly.

  Sloane stopped crying. She pulled back. “Are you serious?”

  Aaron felt a blush bloom on his cheeks. “Well, I’m not a stranger to you. And I would never be mean to you, at least not intentionally. And I would try to not be too stupid.”

  Sloane laughed. “You boys are all stupid, so you can’t promise me that.”

  Aaron grinned. But then an awkward silence fell between them. Suddenly, he found it difficult to look Sloane in the eye.

  Finally, Sloane spoke. “I would love it if you and I could be arranged, but… that isn’t how it works. My father makes that decision.”

  Aaron’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean you’d be happy if it was you and me?”

  Sloane blushed and cast her eyes to the ground. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”