Avoiding Winter

A destructive, magic storm threatens a kingdom. Can any force stop it?

The torrential rain pelted against the stone tower as a fair woman inside the tower stared blankly outside a stain glass window. She sighed, walked away from the window and exited her chamber into a broad hall.

A young man scurried up to her out of breath. “Princess, Ifria! Your father’s sickness has taken a bad development. The physicians have given him six hours to live!”

Tears welled up in Ifria’s eyes and she ran down the hall and burst into a room with an old, emaciated man on a bed.

Ifria rushed to his bedside and clutched his hand. “Father! Please don’t leave!”

“I can do nothing,” said the man speaking shallowly. “I have no other child but you. You must take the throne,” he said with a cough.

The king looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes he breathed shallowly.

Princess Ifria turned to man in a blue cloak. “Is there nothing to do?”

“I fear only magic can cure him. Since it was brought on by a death spell, likewise only sorcery will cure him.”

“That cursed wizard, Thourn!” said Ifria. “Is there no sorcerer around?”

“Even if there was, we couldn’t find one in time.”

Ifrian grasped her father’s hand and wept. She remained with him until six hours passed and he breathed his last.

Ifria cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead. She stood and left the room. It was about 3 in the morning and she headed for her own room to sleep. She noticed a small scroll at the base of her door. She opened it and read. Deliver the kingdom to me or I will show you the full power of my magic. I command the very force of nature. You have three days! Or else I will destroy the whole kingdom with a destructive winter catastrophe that will annihilate everything.

There was no signature but it was obvious it was Thourn. Ifria’s nerves tensed up and she gasped. “What shall I do?”

The man in the cloak heard her. “What is wrong, princess?”

“Thourn has threatened to destroy the kingdom with a storm unless we surrender, physician Titus.”

“His power is that great!” said Titus. “Only magic will help and what can we do in three days!”

Ifria gazed down. “We must grant his wish.”

Titus was about to protest but held his peace. “I will have a herald tell the people tomorrow at noon.” Titus sighed and walked away.

Words could not express Ifria’s sorrow. And she went to sleep sobbing.

She awoke and the sun’s rays were just gleaming over the mountains to the east. She left her room and went outside to take a stroll through the public streets. She sat on bench and looked at the sunrays creeping more and more above the horizon.

A peculiar man in a black, sackcloth robe sat next to her. She eyed him up and down. “May I help you sir?”

“I know of Thourn’s threat and I have come to deliver the kingdom from his hand.”

Ifria reeled back. “Who are you, sir! How do you know of the situation? Are you a wizard?”

“The power I have comes from no magic. I am Nithose, a priest of God.”

“Which god do you speak of?”

“I serve no false god. I serve the one and only deity.”

“And you say your God can defeat Thourn’s power?”

“Indeed. I am on my way to his fort in the forest.”

“Let me come with you!”

“Very well. But you must stay close to me. Let us be going!”

“I will supply the mounts.”

The priest and the princess rode into the forest and Nithose navigated through it. They came to an immense dirt mound and the two stopped.

“His fort is on the crest of the mound.”

The two dismounted and scaled the mound and came to large stone structure with a wooden door.

“Prepare yourself!” said Nithose. “Thourn! Come out you menace!”

A man in a crimson robe burst out of the building. “Who dares speak to me!”

“Your end has come, wizard!” said Nithose.

Thourn dispersed a ball of fire from his palm at the priest. He put up his palm and the fireball stopped in mid-air. It suddenly backfired at Thourn and his clothes caught on fire. He rolled about and cried in pain. “If I go, then so shall the kingdom!”

With his dying breath, he uttered an incantation and a blue sphere of light shot into the sky. Then he died.

The sky turned gray and a stinging shill pierced their bodies.

“We must get back to the kingdom!” said Nithose.

They mounted and rode back to the kingdom, where citizens were crying out in fear and cowering.

Black clouds rumbled and rain started to fall, lightly at first.

“Come with me!” said Nithose.

Ifria and Nithose ran to the castle balcony and he prepared to speak to the people. His voice was like a trumpet. “Hear me people of Evercrest! I come bearing the bane of this apocalyptic storm!”

Hailstones began falling from above and lightning strobed in the dark clouds.

“I am a priest of the Most High God! For this winter curse to stop, you must trust in Him! He created the heavens and the earth. And made the ultimate sacrifice for all mankind. His power can stop this catastrophe!”

Ifria sensed a strange presence or force surge through the entire expanse. She cried as a still small voice speak to her heart with such gentleness and benevolence. She believed in this deity spoken by Nithose.

She sensed the same thing in the crowd below. People were moved to tears.

Nithose lifted his hands and uttered a prayer. The downpour lessened until the sun shone through the clouds. Soon it was over. The curse was thwarted!

“What now, Nithose?”

“A golden age will go on forever and under your rain, Evercrest will thrive and blossom.”

Ifria embraced Nithose. “Thank you, priest.”