Soul of the Prophet: The Elder of Edon Book I

by David Angelo

  Rixis stopped and grabbed Fin’s head, forcing him to look into his red eyes.

  “And mark my word,” Rixis said through locked teeth, “that will happen. You’re young, inexperienced, and are of no value to anyone except those around you who are too stupid to realize that you’re nothing more than a hopeless boy without a single chance of ending my reign. You’ve been straddled with unrealistic expectations, which you will never fulfill, and I will ensure your failure.”

  Rixis held up his right hand, and Fin watched in disbelief as his claws grew to nearly six inches in length before his eyes.

  “When Blizzard abandons you, I will be there to finish you off. I will hunt you down to the ends of Edon, and when I find you, you will be subjected to a form of suffering that you never thought was possible. I will break you, maim you, pummel you to a pulp, and gut you like a lamb. And when you’re begging me to take your life, I will keep you alive so that you can watch me inflict the same upon your friends, family, and everyone you’ve ever loved in your life. They shall all suffer like you, for your sake, and I will make you watch every second of it. Then I’ll peel the skin from your bones, stuff your gutted corpse, mount it on a carriage, and send it all over the countryside so that every Faranchie can see the price of defiance. Because I, Rixis, emperor of Edon, head of the state, and supreme leader of all the known world, bow before no one, and I will never bend a knee to those I have placed beneath me!”

  Rixis drew his hand back and brought his claws down upon Fin’s face.

  Fin sat up in bed with a start, his heart thumping out of his chest. Frantically, he looked around the room, expecting to see Rixis’s eyes peering out at him from the dark. He could still smell the smoke from Rixis’s pipe. But he was no longer in that Elder-forsaken dungeon but rather back at the inn, Scarlet sleeping peacefully at his side.

  He hadn’t even woken her up.

  Slowly, Fin laid his head back down on the pillow and tried to relax. But the ordeal had left him shaken, and his entire body trembled beneath the blanket. For the next hour, Fin stared dead-eyed at the ceiling, recalling every word Rixis said. It was one thing for Fin to read about the undead in a book, but it was quite another for one to invade his dreams and violate his domain with such impunity. Fin had never felt so small, powerless, insignificant. His stomach seemed to reel; his brain pounded inside his skull. It was worse than any hangover, and yet he was unable to vomit. The pit settled in his gut and ate away at his insides, leaving him like someone with the flu, cold and miserable.

  Fin rolled onto his side and watched as the blankets covering Scarlet rose and fell with every breath. He recalled what Rixis said about what he would do to Fin’s friends and loved ones. He winced at the thought of what Rixis would do to Scarlet, what little mercy he would show, what hell he would subject her to. He thought back to what he said earlier about his inadequacies, his doubts about being a father. That was another thing going against him. How could he protect his child from something that was already dead? Fin held Scarlet close to him, his eyes dampening with tears. He shut his eyes and lay motionless until he managed to fall asleep to the rhythmic beating of her heart.

  Soft, damp grass tickled Fin’s chest, while the fragrance of freshly fallen rain filled his nostrils, and the peaceful chirping of crickets roused him to consciousness. Even with his eyes closed, Fin could tell that there was something familiar about this place, something nostalgic and warm, like the cozy embrace of a childhood blanket. Given the chance, Fin would have lain there forever, soaking in the sweet feelings that oozed from every surface. Fin knew where he was before he opened his eyes, and the old oak tree on the outskirts of Notnedo greeted him like an old friend. But as is often the case when someone sees an acquaintance after a long time, Fin sensed something different about the tree. Even with the moon bathing it in ghostly light, the tree sparkled with its own distinct glow.

  Fin pulled himself up and walked over to the tree. His eyes were not playing tricks on him; the trunk was covered in tiny lights that were the size of dewdrops. A bunch of them were clustered down by one of the roots, shimmering so brightly that Fin had a hard time staring at it for too long. He ran his fingers down the side of the trunk, feeling the smooth, glassy beads that worked their way up to the tree’s single branch. Up above, the sky resembled the dark blue of a sapphire, and it appeared to move like the waves of the ocean. Fin could almost hear them crash onto a distant shore, and he knew not whether it was his imagination or just another part of this curious vision.

  This sight was offset by an array of shooting stars, which seemed to move with the waves, leaving long, white tails arcing across the horizon. Fin was so taken aback by this display of splendor that he hardly noticed when one of these shooting stars descended from the sky, sprouted a pair of birdlike wings, and flew down toward the tree. It was not until Fin heard the call of a hawk approaching from above that he saw the shimmering white bird of prey circling downward, then landing on the branch above him. The bird looked down at Fin through a pair of glowing blue eyes.

  “Blizzard?” Fin asked. “Is that you?”

  “Indeed, my child,” Blizzard answered softly. “Now hold out your arm.”

  Fin did as he was told, and Blizzard leaped from the tree and perched on his arm.

  “Now you know the truth about the undead,” Blizzard said, “and about Rixis.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this beforehand?” Fin asked.

  “I wanted you to find out when the time was right,” Blizzard said. “When the soul declared you a prophet, you were not ready to learn the true extent of Edon’s predicament. Hearing about the undead during such a fragile state would have been too much for you to bear, and you might have walked away before your training even began. It was best to wait until you were mature enough to handle such a shocking revelation.”

  “If you say so,” Fin said. “But why did Rixis wait until now to reveal himself to me? Why not when I was still at the pub?”

  “Because Rixis didn’t want to spill his secret,” Blizzard said. “Now that he knows you know the truth, he sees no other point in hiding and feels it’s appropriate to confront you. He wants to get under your skin and break you down. He knows that you pose a grave threat to his reign and that your knowledge of his existence will have damning consequences, so rather than try to continue the act, he figures he can psychologically torment you into submission. He wants you to feel minuscule compared to him, because it grants him a feeling of superiority and feeds into his false belief that his power is limitless. However, just know that what Rixis said about your title of prophet being worthless is false and that you are the only being on Edon capable of defeating an undead.”

  “How so?” Fin asked.

  “Remember what you read about holy objects’ effects on the undead?” Blizzard asked. “Because you are a prophet, chosen above all others, you are, in effect, a living holy object. Should Rixis come into contact with you, some of his powers will be weakened, even compromised. You and he will be placed on an even playing field, and while Rixis is still a very formidable foe, you would have the upper hand in a duel.”

  “Does this mean I’ll be able to kill him?” Fin asked.

  “Not quite,” Blizzard said. “You can hurt him, injure him, cut him to pieces, but even then there is still only one way to fully eliminate him, and you are not ready to learn it yet. When the time is right, I will tell you how to end Rixis’s reign forever. For now, though, think less about killing him and more about spreading the word of his existence across Edon.”

  Blizzard relinquished her grasp of Fin’s arm, flapped her wings, and began to rise into the air.

  “I shall talk to you another time,” Blizzard said as she made her way up.

  “Wait,” Fin said, reaching out. “I need to know some things first.”

  Blizzard turned and hovered over the top of the tree. “Yes?”

  “When will I be ready?” Fin asked.

  “There a
re some things for me to know and for you to find out when the time is right. You will learn soon enough that killing Rixis is the least of your worries right now. But believe me when I tell you that you will know when you’re ready to learn the secret to Rixis’s mortality.”

  Blizzard continued her ascent skyward. “I must get going, Fin. We both have a lot of work to do. In the meantime, blow the whistle loud and clear, and let everyone know that Rixis is alive and well. Don’t rest until every man, woman, and child on Edon is aware. Parliament will quake, and their leaders will suffer for the crimes they committed against my children.”

  Fin watched Blizzard disappear into the vast expanse of sapphire sky as the world faded to darkness once again.

  Bright, glorious sunlight pried Fin’s eyes open and roused him from his slumber. While uncertainty hung in the air, the fear from the night was gone, and Fin felt at peace once more. His arm was around Scarlet, who was still asleep next to him.

  Fin kissed her gently on the cheek. “Good morning, Baby.”

  Scarlet rolled over to face Fin, her eyes a pair of half-moons and her mouth curved upward in a warm smile.

  “Hey, Honey,” Scarlet said. “How’d you sleep last night?”

  “Not bad,” Fin said. “Not bad at all.”

  28

  BY THE TIME THEY arrived, it was already too late.

  The sunrise was covered by smoke and ash rising from the remains of a wheat field. At the field’s edge, Fin, Rocklier, and a few dozen other resistance fighters observed the scene of the crime. It was the fourth time in three weeks that a farm had been attacked by the Cullidon military, and it was always the same. They would attack at night, usually in the early morning hours. First they would raid the grain silos, taking as much as they could, then douse the fields with oil and set them ablaze. The resulting attack would leave the once-fertile land permanently ruined and the farmer with less than a fraction of his crop left to sell.

  The owner of the farm, a middle-aged Faranchie, stood motionless, staring dead-eyed as his livelihood went up in smoke.

  “Five generations of my family tended this farm,” he said. “And now—” The farmer clutched his chest and fell to his knees. Fin ran over to help him up.

  “Dad!”

  Looking toward the farmhouse, Fin saw a teenage Faranchie, about a year or two younger than him, running toward the group with his hands waving over his head.

  “Lance?” the farmer said. “Where are your siblings?”

  “They’re okay,” Lance replied. “We all hid in the cellar, while the farmhands and I tried to put the fires out.” Lance came over to his father and, with Fin’s assistance, helped him to his feet.

  “We’re sorry we didn’t get here in time,” Fin said solemnly.

  “I should have made you go call for their help,” the farmer said to Lance. “You’re so much faster than I am, and perhaps they could have come sooner.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” Lance replied, glaring at Fin. “Even if I did go, it still would have taken them forever and a day to get here.”

  “Don’t say that, Lance,” the farmer scolded. “They’re fighting for us…”

  “Then why didn’t they help?” Lance said, turning to the resistance with tears in his eyes. “In the time it took for all of you to get here, the Cullidons destroyed our field, slaughtered our animals, and killed most of our farmhands. Now we have to till a new field, with half the manpower that we had before, and plant another crop, which means we won’t have anything to harvest in the fall.” Lance paused to take a breath and turned to Fin. “And they’re doing this because you broke the news about Rixis. This is how they’re retaliating, and it could’ve been avoided if you kept your Elder-damn mouth shut!”

  Fin narrowed his eyes and reached for his claws, wanting nothing more than to cut the little twerp down. But he forced his hand to stay still, reminding himself that the kid’s emotions were doing the talking for him.

  Rocklier seemed to sense the rise in tension and stepped between Fin and Lance. “Our deepest apologies for not being able to save your farm. We will offer our assistance however we can.”

  “We don’t need your help,” Lance said. “Just leave my family alone.”

  Lance turned and led his father away to the farmhouse, which had not been touched at all during the ordeal. Next to it stood a tall grain silo, a gash running along its side. What was left of the grain trickled out from the bottom of the gash and accumulated in a small pile on the ground. Fin knew that there was still some more inside, but only a fraction of what was there originally.

  Fin and the rest of the troops got back on their horses and started the trek back to base camp in the small farming village of Taylorton. The ride was quiet, but the odor of the fire clung to them, mocking them as they marched in defeat.

  Rocklier trotted up next to Fin’s left. “Don’t let the farmer’s boy get to you. You did the right thing when you made the announcement that Rixis was alive.”

  “I know,” Fin said. “I just wish I could’ve anticipated how Rixis was going to respond. I figured he would just ramp up his offensive measures, send some more units down south. But attacking farms to manipulate grain prices and cause a shortage? How the hell were we supposed to predict that?”

  “We weren’t,” Rocklier said. “That’s why he’s doing it. By making everyone pay more for necessities, he’s hoping to erode any and all trust we’ve gained among Edon’s oppressed.”

  “Then why doesn’t he just raise taxes?” Fin asked. “You’d think that would be easier than what he’s doing now.”

  “Because taxes only hurt the poor,” Rocklier said. “Inflation hurts everyone. He knows there are Cullidons who are sympathetic to us, ones that are sending us weapons, money, and other equipment we need to be successful in our mission. He wants to make sure that they suffer, too, so that they, along with all the countryside, turn against us.”

  “And it seems like it’s working,” Fin said. He looked back and saw the columns of black smoke rising above the trees.

  “I wouldn’t get too doubtful yet,” Rocklier said. “We’ve still got plenty of support among both species, our recruitment’s up, and we have a potential lead on who may know where the stolen grain is being kept.”

  “That is,” Fin said, “if the lead is reliable. And until we find out, we end up running the risk of losing everything we’ve worked for.”

  Rocklier gave Fin a pat on the back. “The war’s just started, Fin. Now’s not the time to think about stitching together a white flag.”

  “You’re surprisingly optimistic about all of this,” Fin said with a chuckle.

  “I am?” Rocklier asked. “I’ve hardly noticed.”

  Fin nodded. “Usually you’d be the first to show doubt when everything goes to hell in a handbasket.”

  Rocklier shrugged. “It could be that after years of making minimal strides and pointless achievements, we’re finally getting somewhere. Besides, what you said about your conversation with Blizzard a few weeks ago eased some of the worry I had about Rixis.”

  “I still don’t know how to defeat him, though,” Fin said. “I just hope she’ll drop a hint sometime soon, or else we’re screwed.”

  They crossed through Taylorton’s gates and made their way to the stables. When they entered, they found Chok lying on his back across a workbench, apparently enjoying a midmorning nap.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Fin said, giving Chok a strong pat on the shoulder, but Chok never moved an inch.

  “Hey,” Rocklier said, dismounting from his horse and shaking Chok violently. “Wake up before Black-Tooth sees you sleeping on the job.”

  Nothing.

  “Hold on,” Fin said. He dismounted and felt for a pulse, but he could find none.

  “You sure you’re doing it correctly?” Rocklier asked.

  “Yeah,” Fin said nervously. “Scarlet showed me how after the pub brawl, but I don’t feel anything.” He turned to Rocklier, w
ho was already looking pale. “You don’t suppose?”

  “Dear Elder, I hope not.”

  Chinaw came around the corner, holding a pair of water buckets for the horses.

  “What’s going on?” Chinaw asked.

  “It’s Chok,” Fin said. “He doesn’t have a pulse. Not responding to anything.”

  Chinaw put down the water and cracked his knuckles. “Step aside, fellas. If this doesn’t work, start digging a hole.”

  They did as he asked, and Chinaw took Chok’s tail and wrung it. For a few brief seconds, nothing happened, but just when it seemed that Chinaw was about to shatter his vertebrae, Chok sprang to life.

  “Ow, ow, ow, stop!” Chok screamed. “What the fuck, Chinaw?!”

  Chinaw let go, and Chok grabbed his tail, making sure it was out of his reach.

  “What in the name of tarnation was that for?” Chok asked.

  “I was trying to wake you up,” Chinaw said. He turned toward Fin and Rocklier. “He was just playing dead, no biggie.”

  “But how were you able to stop your heart like that?” Fin asked.

  “It’s somethin’ I’ve always been able to do,” Chok replied, “and ever since you and Black-Tooth played dead that time when we escaped from Triticon, I figured I should start practicing, in case I need to do it sometime.”

  “You did a damn good job too,” Rocklier said. “I was just about to write my remembrance speech for your funeral.”

  “Oh, I’d love to hear that,” Chok said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Chinaw and glared. “And you, ya sadist, I told you that when I go into possum mode, all ya need to do is pour a bucket of water on my head and I’ll wake up.”

  “I tried that the last time,” Chinaw said. “But it didn’t work, and you sat there motionless until I bent your finger back far enough.”