Soul of the Prophet: The Elder of Edon Book I

by David Angelo

  Fin knelt down and picked one of them up, grasping it by the wooden handle, and observed every inch of its deadly design. “What is this?” he asked.

  “Those are the claws of fate,” Rocklier said, “an ancient bladed weapon of the Faranchies, used for centuries before the Cullidons rose to power. They are almost as old as our race itself.”

  “Ahem,” Chok interrupted. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Rocklier?”

  “Oh, yes,” Rocklier replied. “Chok made this pair, out of a mixture of bronze and other metal materials.”

  “They’re based on a design that dates back to several hundred years ago,” Chok said proudly.

  “Which I provided,” Rocklier added.

  “Guys,” Black-Tooth said, “not now.” He turned back to Fin. “You think that’s the weapon you want to use?”

  “I think so,” Fin said. “There’s something about them that’s so…I can’t explain. It’s not like they’re made for me, but that I’m made for them.”

  Black-Tooth nodded and smiled like a father whose son had just spoken his first words. “Then I think you found a match,” he said. “Chok, do we have a wooden pair of claws that we can use?”

  “We sure do,” Chok replied. “I make a wooden version of every hand-to-hand weapon I cast.”

  “Of course,” Black-Tooth replied. “Please bring them and a wooden katana for myself.”

  “Oh boy,” Chok said, running for the flap of the tent. “We’re gonna have ourselves a little duel.”

  “A duel?” Fin asked, his frills perking on his head.

  “Not a real one,” Rocklier said. “A mock duel, against Black-Tooth, to test your dexterity in combat.”

  “This is going to be the first part of your training,” Black-Tooth said. “I want to see how you react in a blade-to-blade combat situation. For now, leave those real claws where they are. Once you advance past the introductory stage, then we can start using the real deal.”

  Fin laid the claw next to its twin on the mat just as Chok reentered the tent, brandishing a pair of wooden claws of fate and a wooden katana.

  “How long has it been since we’ve had a trainin’ duel?” Chok asked.

  “I can’t quite remember,” Rocklier replied, scratching his head. “Four, maybe five years?”

  “It’s been a while,” Black-Tooth replied, taking the katana by the grip. “As you can probably tell by now, Fin, we don’t get that many new members.”

  “And therefore, trainin’ duels don’t happen that often,” Chok added, handing Fin the two claws. “Take both of ’em; they’re meant to be used as a pair.”

  Fin grasped the claws by the handles and sized up the length of the four wooden prongs. Somehow, despite not being the real things, these training claws gave Fin a sense of power that he’d rarely experienced. It was likely just his inner child savoring the boyish joy of handling instruments of death.

  “I’d tell the others to join us,” Rocklier said, taking a seat near the wall of the pavilion, “but I think they’re preoccupied.”

  “Better to leave them be,” Black-Tooth said. “Fin’s probably under enough pressure as it is.”

  “It’s not too bad right now,” Fin replied.

  “Oh, just you wait,” Chok joked as he took a seat next to Rocklier. “When the whole of Edon’s breathing down your neck—”

  “Cut it out,” Rocklier said, nudging Chok with his elbow.

  “I’m only sayin’,” Chok retorted.

  “Hush,” Rocklier replied. “You’ve already said enough.”

  Fin and Black-Tooth ignored the little disagreement between their spectators and took their positions in the arena-like heart of the tent. Standing opposite each other, they raised and presented their weapons, like the feathers on two rival birds of prey.

  “Now,” Black-Tooth said, “I want to test the waters. I’m going to slash at you, and you are going to block me, okay?”

  Fin nodded. Black-Tooth swung his katana at Fin, who raised his left claw to deflect it. The sound of wood clanking on wood filled the tent as Fin blocked each of Black-Tooth’s swings.

  “All right, good,” Black-Tooth said. “Now, let’s get a little more serious. I’m going to try and attack you and make you surrender, and I want you to do the same for me.”

  “How do I get you to surrender?” Fin asked.

  “When the tip of your claw touches my throat,” Black-Tooth replied. “Or, on the other hand, if the tip of my sword touches your throat. Got it?”

  “Every last word,” Fin said, raising his claws in a defensive stance. A rush of confidence filled Fin, making him ready for whatever Black-Tooth had in store. The half-hearted, worrisome Fin of a few days ago was replaced by this new, more daring persona. But all this did was fool him into forgetting just how much of an amateur he truly was. Black-Tooth swung at Fin in an array of quick, heavy blows, which Fin struggled to deflect to the best of his ability. Fin felt his confidence wane as Black-Tooth chipped away at his defenses, while his arms grew tired with every block. Desperate to end this confrontation, Fin swung with his right claw, but he came up painfully short and created a sizable gap for Black-Tooth to exploit. Black-Tooth knocked Fin’s claw out of the way, swung his sword, and rested the blade against the side of Fin’s neck. Fin froze in his tracks, as if the fake sword that pressed against his skin were genuine.

  “Dead,” Chok called from the sidelines. Fin felt like he had been shoved off his metaphorical pedestal. Black-Tooth lowered his sword and gave Fin time to recover.

  “That didn’t work out very well,” Fin said, mentally cursing himself for saying something so blatantly obvious.

  “It’s okay,” Black-Tooth replied. “I don’t expect you to get it on the first try. I didn’t get it on my first mock duel with Rocklier.”

  “Or the second,” Rocklier replied, “or the third.”

  “But I got him on the fourth,” Black-Tooth said. “Now just concentrate on me and my movements. Look for a weak spot, and don’t strike unless you’re confident it’ll get the job done.”

  Fin and Black-Tooth resumed their noncombative positions on either side of the imaginary circle and prepared for the next round. As they readied themselves for the inevitable barrage of wooden sword strikes, Fin mentally planned the course of his attack. This time he would be on the offensive and mercilessly whale on Black-Tooth with an unrelenting show of force. It might not have been what Black-Tooth had recommended, but it made sense to Fin in that moment. The confidence was back, and the need to redeem himself filled him with determination. Crouching low, Fin raised his wooden claws in a threatening stance and licked his lips like a hungry tiger.

  “Ready?” Black-Tooth asked.

  “You bet,” Fin replied.

  Fin charged at Black-Tooth and assaulted him with a blur of claw strikes. But Fin’s offensive strategy caved in on itself. Black-Tooth blocked every strike with a grace and fluidity that left Fin spellbound. It was almost as if Black-Tooth could anticipate Fin’s movements before he had a chance to attack, placing his katana in just the right spot to avoid a premature conclusion. Frustrated, Fin lunged at Black-Tooth, hoping to knock the sword out of his hand. But Black-Tooth dodged the dive, and Fin lurched forward, tripped over his own legs, and fell flat on his face. The air was knocked from Fin’s chest as he landed like a beached whale on the hard ground. As Fin staggered to his feet, he felt the smooth blade of Black-Tooth’s katana touch the side of his neck.

  “Dead,” Chok said.

  “Must you keep doing that?” Rocklier replied.

  “Cool it, Rocky,” Chok said. “This is the most excitement we’ve had in this camp in years.”

  “Oh, so a daring prison break isn’t exciting enough for you?”

  “Really, guys?” Black-Tooth asked while he helped Fin back to his feet. “This isn’t a spectator sport, so keep quiet or take it outside.” Black-Tooth turned his attention back to Fin. “You all right there, kid?”

  “Yeah,”
Fin said, gasping for breath as air filled his lungs. “I’ve been through worse.”

  “I know,” Black-Tooth replied. “You survived being nearly strangled to death by a brute two times stronger than you.”

  Fin nodded, but it did nothing to calm his hurt pride. That was a stupid move on his behalf, and in the presence of someone so important, it made Fin feel more like an amateur than ever before. Part of him even wanted to lash out at Black-Tooth, as if that would reclaim some of the lost pride, but Fin held himself steady, knowing damn well that lashing out was the last thing he needed.

  “Why not ask the soul of the prophet for help?” Black-Tooth said.

  “You think that would work?” Fin asked.

  “It’s worth a shot,” Black-Tooth replied. “They say it always helps those it dwells inside. Give it a try. Perhaps it’ll surprise you with what you’re capable of.”

  Fin nodded, and he and Black-Tooth resumed their fighting stance. As they got ready for the next round, Fin calmly whispered under his breath, “Okay, whatever you are. I don’t know who you are or why you want to live inside of me, but if you can, show me what I can do.”

  “You ready?” Black-Tooth asked.

  “Ready,” Fin replied.

  Fin and Black-Tooth charged at each other and made contact in the middle of the tent. Black-Tooth was the first to strike, with a hard, downward swing, which Fin deflected with his left claw. Black-Tooth stumbled backward as Fin moved in with a mighty slash. Bringing the katana up again, Black-Tooth locked weapons with Fin, the blade of the katana wedged between the prongs of Fin’s claws. Both of them stood there, motionless, locked in a stalemate that neither of them were able to break. That is, until Fin saw that Black-Tooth was weak in the legs, struggling to maintain balance under Fin’s pressure. Realizing his chance at victory, Fin shoved Black-Tooth with all his might, causing him to trip and drop his weapon. Before Black-Tooth had a chance to retrieve it, Fin dashed over and kicked the sword away from Black-Tooth’s reach and placed the prong of a claw directly under Black-Tooth’s chin.

  “Dead,” Chok said in disbelief. Rocklier was also stunned, unable to muster a reply to Chok’s redundant comment, while Fin stood over Black-Tooth, panting, his eyes wild with the excitement of the moment.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Black-Tooth said with a smile. “Now let’s see if you can do it again.”

  13

  FIN AND BLACK-TOOTH, STUDENT and master, dueled for the rest of the day, stopping only briefly in the afternoon for lunch. They continued to spar long after Chok and Rocklier lost interest and left. The sun had begun its descent to the horizon when they finally decided to call it a day. After they gave the wooden weapons back to Chok, Black-Tooth took the liberty of showing Fin the tent where he would sleep during his tenure.

  “So, how many times do you think you beat me?” Black-Tooth asked as he and Fin made their way through the camp.

  “I don’t know,” Fin replied. “How many?”

  “I’m asking you,” Black-Tooth said. “I lost count of how many times you made me surrender.”

  “Get out of here…”

  “No, I’m serious,” Black-Tooth said. “You’re a fast learner, or the soul of the prophet is pushing you in the right direction.”

  “You know,” Fin said, “when I was fighting you, I felt something inside me, like an energy of sorts. But that was only in the times when I beat you. During the times when I lost, I didn’t have that same feeling. What do you think?”

  Black-Tooth shrugged. “It’s hard to say,” he replied. “It might have been wishful thinking, for all we know. When you get the chance, talk to Kemp about it. At least that’s where I would go if I had a question like that.”

  “What would Kemp do?” Fin asked, just as he and Black-Tooth stopped near the entrance of a tent.

  “She’s sensitive,” Black-Tooth said. “You know how she talks with her mind because she doesn’t have a voice? Well, that’s because she’s born of a race of Faranchies who have psychic powers. For example, remember when she was staring at you funny when you first arrived? She was scanning your mind to see if you were lying.”

  “She read my mind?” Fin replied, astonished.

  “Sort of,” Black-Tooth said. “It’s a lot more complicated than that and delves into details that I can’t explain. I’d recommend talking to her about it when you get the chance. For now, let’s look at your tent, shall we?”

  Black-Tooth opened the flap, revealing a wooden cot with a freshly made straw mattress on top, covered with a thick wool blanket.

  “Wow,” Fin said, “a tent to myself. I thought it was going to be like the orphanage.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Black-Tooth said.

  “Before I lived at the pub, where the older youths have rooms for themselves, I lived in an orphanage and had to share my room.”

  “Rest assured,” Black-Tooth said, “we’re not strapped for space around here. I like to respect our members’ privacy, in case, you know, they have a significant other who wants to spend the night.”

  “You don’t follow the population control laws?” Fin asked.

  “Heck no,” Black-Tooth replied. “Those laws mean nothing to us. We’re a resistance group, and therefore we resist the control of the Cullidon parliament in everything we do. What better way to stick it to the system than by defying one of the most oppressive laws that’s ever burdened us?”

  Butterflies flew in Fin’s gut as he pondered the ways he and Scarlet could defy their Cullidon overlords. But before Fin could fall into an arousing dream, he shook himself back to reality.

  “You’re certainly not like Alto,” Fin said with a giggle.

  “Why? Was he very strict about this kind of stuff?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Ah,” Black-Tooth said with a nod. “But I sort of understand where he’s coming from. If anything happened, say, in the pub, and the Cullidons found out, he would not have been able to protect you. At least with us, if the Cullidons want to try and arrest one of our members for breaking that law, we would fight them off as best we could.”

  Black-Tooth let the flap of the tent drop before turning to Fin. “Looks like it’s getting dark. You mind helping me get some wood so we can start a fire for dinner?”

  Fin agreed, and the two headed in the direction of a large pile of wood outside the camp. As they picked up piles of split logs, Black-Tooth asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you in the orphanage?”

  “Only briefly,” Fin replied. “I don’t think my life truly began until I moved into the pub. Not a whole lot happened during my early childhood that was of interest. I have no recollection of my parents or my family, so I can’t tell you who they were or what happened to them. I don’t even know if they’re dead, alive, or in some state of incapacitation.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Black-Tooth said. “And I’m sorry if I’m treading on sensitive ground, but when you said ‘orphanage,’ it sort of rang a bell.”

  “How so?” Fin asked.

  “Because I happen to be an orphan myself,” Black-Tooth said. “In fact, you and I are the only orphans in this group.”

  The idea that he and Black-Tooth shared such a trait comforted Fin. Despite their differences, the fact that they were able to relate on this one topic made him feel less alone in his new surroundings. After they had gathered enough wood, the two turned back toward the camp.

  “So, what ever happened to your parents?” Fin asked. When he realized just how deep that question was, he bit his tongue in disgust. It was a question he had been asked before, and while it never fazed him much, he understood just how touchy it could be with other people.

  Black-Tooth smiled. “Don’t fret,” he said, sensing Fin’s self-loathing. “I knew you were going to ask it sooner or later. They died when I was around five or six, but considering the lives they lived, I’m surprised they didn’t die sooner. As I told you before, they
were outlaws. My dad called himself Black-Hide, and my mom called herself Shark-Tooth. They roamed across this part of the Edonion countryside, harassing rich Cullidon barons and distributing the spoils to the poor.”

  “You know,” Fin said, putting a finger on his chin, “I think I’ve heard of them. Alto told me that they were big back when he was young. In fact, he had a pendant that Black-Hide gave to him when he was a kid.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Black-Tooth said. “They made quite a name for themselves during the height of their fame. But fame is what killed them. I don’t really remember the whole story, but after I was born, they became the prime target of a Cullidon bounty hunter who was hired by a bunch of landlords to suppress them. They eluded him for a while, until they knew that they could run no more. I was sent away for my own safety, while they were killed in a heroic standoff. Years later I adapted their aliases into my nickname, Black-Tooth. It was my way of honoring their memory, and because of it, I feel like they’re always watching over me wherever I go and whatever I do. At this point it might as well be my real name, considering that people have been calling me Black-Tooth since I founded this resistance twelve years ago.”

  “That long, eh?” Fin said.

  Black-Tooth nodded. “I was your age when I met Rocklier, who told me all about the prophecy, and was inspired to start the Children of the Dragon Storm as a way to spread the word to keep an eye out for the prophet.” Black-Tooth paused for a moment and thought. “Twelve years. Damn, that makes me feel old.”

  They reached the camp, where they dumped their wood next to the firepit. Darkness had fallen on the dead oak, and the camp was draped in an eerie blue haze. Black-Tooth took a few logs and proceeded to build a small teepee with them.

  “Need any help with that?” Fin asked.

  “Nope,” Black-Tooth replied. “I got it. Anyway, back to what I was saying. This little resistance of ours has never really been that large, but it used to be bigger, much bigger. Members came and went; some died in battle, while others were captured and executed before we were able to save them. The last few years have been pretty difficult on us, to say the least. There were a few operations that didn’t go as planned, with disastrous consequences. We lost a bunch of members who either fell in battle or lost faith in our cause. The members who are still with us just happen to be the most devoted. But even their loyalty couldn’t save us from disbanding.”