Age of Sorcery Book 1 (Prologue)

                                                PROLOUGE
There was a man on his white stallion, perched on a large hill, overlooking his burned down village.  It was located at the Troven Laquwia, which translated to “The Islands without Water.”  It was an enormous canyon without any bottom.  Atop it were several villages and trade stations, all connected by a series of bridges.  He was barely able to recognize it since many of the stone buildings were already destroyed.  Some of the structures had remained standing, such as the large wall that encircled his village, only because the fire hadn’t scorched it yet.  Most of the others had a roof or wall missing.  Out of the openings of the houses was billowing black smoke.  He knew that everyone there was dead.

  A teardrop ran down his dirty cheek.  This was the village where he had married his wife and reared his children.  It was his duty to protect this homestead from any harm, but he had failed, and his family was dead because of it.  The last thing he said to them was so cruel and angry.  He never had the chance to tell them how much he loved them.  If only he had one more chance, one last chance to say goodbye to them.  But not even all of the sorcerers in the world could bring them back.  The only one who could was already dead, killed by the Shadow King himself.  It seemed like all hope was lost for the world of Galshrina, unless…

  Unless he found the heir of the great wizard’s powers, the one relative that would be feared by all evil and save the realm.  All of Rézon was seeking him, both the Haven Templists, and, unfortunately, the Shadow King.  One side was searching for the heir for their salvation, the other to either destroy him or use his great power against them.  The Shadow King had sent his servant, Valderon, the creature that had tortured and destroyed this village and many others before it in search of the heir.

  The young man took off his glove and stared at the tattoo that was on the back of his hand.  Just the sight of it reminded him of all of those years of training, pain, and sacrifice.  He remembered the day when he thought that life would be so much easier after his training was done.  That was also the day when he thought that he would rid the land of all evil.  On the other hand, the man was not brave at all.  He was terrified of what would happen.  However, he tried to think of the good times he had, for Valderon fed on fear.  He fed on despair.  And he would not let anyone go without acquiring additional information regarding the prophecy or the boy.

  His horse charged down the hill, across the bridge, toward the village.  The gate that had once protected the village was as black as night, and the large doors were open.  Barely missing him, a small stone fell from the top of the gate, whizzing past his ear.  He flinched and gazed upward.  Out of the smoke was a slightly darker shadow.  He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, only that it wasn’t human.  Then, it disappeared.

  He slowly galloped through the gate and under the archway.  As the man progressed, the mist around him began to clear.  There were large lumps on the ground, which was recognized as bodies.  He dismounted his steed and approached one of the corpses that lay in front of him.  The closer to it he walked, the more distinguishing its features were. This body was a young woman, with a silver ring around her finger.  He recalled her as his wife.  The man rushed to her and held her in his arms.  Her beautiful face was pale white.  Her face was expressionless.  She had died peacefully.

  Something was different.  Something had changed.  He felt an evil presence, and it was close.  As he turned his head behind him, the feeling grew stronger, until his eyes could see what was right behind him.

  It was the same shadow that had tried to throw the rock at him.  It looked like a human, but it was far from one.  Its pupils were skull white.  Where the whites of his eyes should have been were pitch black.  He wore a black piece of cloth wrapped around his mouth to hide his razor-sharp teeth.  On his pale white face were several black tattoos.  His black cape was tattered.  Tight black clothes covered his body.  In one hand, he wielded a black sword that was covered in dark flames.  On the other was another tattoo, but in the shape of a flame, showing his allegiance to the Shadow King.  The man knew exactly who it was, and it wasn’t the type of creature you could easily run away from which.

  “Valderon!  You killed my family, my friends!  What do you want of me?  I have no new knowledge of the Haven Temple.  I have not been there in years.  So I ask you, why!  Answer me!”

  “Zela zen vrais,” He muttered as he evaporated into smoke.  A rumbling sound came from above the man, permeating his ears.  Another stone fell; two, three until he had realized what was happening.

  He mounted his stallion and galloped at full speed toward the village as the stone gate collapsed behind him, leaving the only exit at the other side. His horse stopped in front of a burning building as Valderon reappeared.

  “Well now, if it isn’t the troublesome sorcerer from Troven Laquwia.  I wasn’t looking for you specifically, but I have to say, it was a difficult challenge tracking you down.”

  Before Valderon could say another word, the sorcerer cast a shining light that immediately blinded the demon.  He cupped his hands over his eyes and moaned in pain.  The sorcerer’s white stallion kicked the distracted demon into the blazing flames.

  “Good job, Selene,” the sorcerer comforted his horse; however, killing a demon was not as simple as it seemed.  Most of the survivors told that they distracted them and then sprinted as fast as they could away from them, which was exactly what he was going to do.

  Selene galloped through the village, past the church, through the burning market, avoiding the flames.  Nevertheless, Valderon would not give up that easily.

  In some way, the flames were burning towards them, growing larger each passing second. He tried to turn right, but it was blocked.  Then he tried to go to the left, but it was also blocked.  Only then did he realize that he was encircled in the flames.

  Selene started to panic and tried to dismount the sorcerer.  He tried to hold on to the thin strap, but it swiftly snapped and he was thrown to the ground.  The flames had opened to let the terrified horse out and quickly closed.  He was trapped as the flames burned closer to him.

  The fire started to morph into the figure of a massive creature.  Not just a creature, a demon.  It was Valderon.

  “Tell me where he is!”

  “You think that I would just give up that easily?”

  He had to think fast, or the fire would consume him.  At the last possible moment, the sorcerer held his tattooed hand out and cast a freezing wind at the flames, turning them into ice.  The only flames left were the ones that formed Valderon.  He quickly froze him, but he knew that the demon was not dead.

  The man pulled his long silver sword out of his sheath and broke an opening from the dry ice.  There in front of him was the other gate, opened and untouched.  Only a few more steps until he was free.

  The sorcerer sprinted; his pulse beating liked a drum.  The stone bridge came into focus.  You’re nearly there.  Just keep running.  He continued to run, or else his life would soon come to an end.

  The stone bridge kept its shape; not adjusted by any dark magic.  Just then, he felt a stone arise from the bridge.  The man tumbled over, harshly breaking his leg. The intense pain seared up along his leg.  His mind was completely thinking of the pain, but he had to pay attention.  He couldn’t let Valderon take hold of him.

  The man gazed at the end of the bridge, but instead of seeing land, there was a rising wall of darkness, blocking out the bright and radiant sun.  And sure enough, on the village side of the bridge, was the shadow of a demon.

  “I ask you, mortal, what is the point?  My king has ordered that every prophecy to be erased.  The only ones left are in the Haven Temple and in the Lavrén Forrest.  Soon they shall too be erased.  And anyone who can recall a few words of it will be imprisoned.  If it is the whole writing or even a single line, they will be executed immediately.  This way, whenever he is born, he will not have knowledge of any of this.  There need be no war.  And if he possesses any knowledge of it, we will find him and hunt him down like a dog.  He then will be killed.  That is, unless, my king has other plans for him.  You know of what I speak.  I am speaking of the twilight sun, which is, of course, my king’s greatest accomplishment. Can you not see?  The boy will not know of his destiny.  The prophecy shall not come true.  And my king will forever have reign over the realm of Rézon.  And there will be none who can stop him-”

  The man shot a small blast of light at Valderon’s eyes, but the demon pointed his scepter to his side and the light followed, hitting one of the gate’s doors.

  “How impolite of you.  I thought that a sorcerer was taught to not attack demons.  Now, tell me any knowledge you possess of this boy, or else I’ll just have to force you the hard way.  Are you going to cooperate?"

  The man remained silent.

  Valderon seemed to grin under the cloth over his mouth.  He set his sword back in his sheath and spoke, “If you insist.”

  Valderon untied the cloth around his mouth, and threw it to the ground.  His lips appeared to be normal, but he made a twisted smile, his long, white, sharp teeth were revealed.  He slowly inhaled.  The air turned cold.  The wall of darkness rose higher.  Then, in the blink of an eye, the demon let out a deafening shriek.  The man instantly covered his ears in pain.  But it wasn’t the sorcerer’s hearing that Valderon was after; it was his mind that he wanted.  He was getting weaker and weaker with every second of that sound.  He couldn’t focus his mind on anything.  It was completely exposed.

  Now was Valderon’s moment to strike.  He stopped this torture and focused his mind on the sorcerer’s mind.  The man shrieked in pain.  He could see images in his mind, ones that the demon was trying to take.  There was a boy.  He was living in a shack.  It was in the woods.  He had a scar over his eye.  It was given from one of the traitors of the Haven Templists.  It was one from another sorcerer.  His shack resided along another village, where his friend resided.  There was also an ally of the Haven Templists.  It was located west of here. Then, the torture stopped.  Valderon had acquired the information he needed.

  “Ah, so he has been born, and by the looks of it, for some time ago.  I would like to thank you, foolish man.”

  “You under estimate me,” the sorcerer groaned.  “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.  And don’t for a second think that I’m going to let you leave alive.”  The man closed his eyes, kneeling now, at the center of the bridge.  He cradled the air between his hands.

  “What are you doing?” Valderon asked fearfully.

  There was no incantation for this spell.  Only the memories of the past could conjure it.  The man was picturing his family.  They were together, at their house, in peace.  A ball of light emerged between his hands.  It was getting brighter with ever memory passing.

  “No!” Valderon pointed his hand forward and let out an eruption of shadows.  They moved toward the light.

  Just as the shadows touched the light, the man’s memories changed.  He no longer saw himself with his family, but their graves.  The light faded.  The wall of shadow rose even higher.  And with an explosion of darkness, the man flew backward.

  Valderon stepped forward until he reached the man.  He looked down upon him in triumph.

  The sorcerer strained to speak, “Even though you might have won this victory, do not expect it to continue in the future.”

  “You forget of my master’s plan.  Now that Troven Laquwia has been stripped of all life, he shall continue to conquer Rézon.  After he is finished here, no one will stop him.  And the boy will die.”

  “You forget our allies, demon.”

  “It’s simple; I will get to him before they do.”

  “It is more than that.  He is coming of age.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Your mission to find me was only a distraction.  I was to lure you away from the village long enough for him to leave; to get himself lost.  Our allies are scattered throughout the realm.  He will find himself with them, eventually.  And when that occurs, he will travel to the temple; far from where you can reach him.

  “Face it,” the man strained with his final breath. “You have failed.”  With that said, his heart made its last beat.

  Valderon’s rage got the best of him, and he made a shriek that would kill anything near.  However, the village was a void of life, and nothing could hear him.  He turned his head to face east and evaporated into smoke, traveling to the village to find and kill the boy.