Alfirean Age Book 1 - Inheritor of Strength

New Beginnings

Joy radiated from Harold as he watched Olivia and Heralda struggle to put the robe on Alfonso. His master, no, his son was alive. And not just alive. For the first time in Alfonso's life, he was healthy. How this had occurred, Harold could not fathom; however, there was no doubt in his mind the events taking place before him were real. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and whispered, “Thank you, Father. You are truly a God of wonders.”

“Ah, there we go,” Heralda exclaimed.

Harold looked up. They had finally managed to get his brown plaid dressing gown around Alfonso’s chest, though it was a tad bit too small: the sleeves failed to cover his wrists, the sides left a sliver of chest exposed, and the hemline barely fell past his knees.

Harold smiled in bemusement. Somehow, Alfonso had grown over nine inches and amassed two hundred pounds of pure muscle overnight, which was scientifically unheard-of to Harold’s knowledge. The amount of energy required to change Alfonso's mass alone was nigh on incalculable, to say nothing else of the other changes.

The ladies stepped away, allowing Alfonso to carefully lower his arms. “Do you think you can walk to your study?” Harold asked.

The young master eyed him incredulously, “Absolutely not. The last time I tried to take a step, I blew the door away.”

Harold glanced at the gaping doorway and the charred pieces littering the floor. “Hmm, I can see your dilemma. Perhaps we should get you to the courtyard before we have you try to move again.”

“I agree, but just how do you think you're going to get me out of here?” Alfonso said, keeping his body motionless.

“That does pose a problem,” Olivia agreed as she and Heralda retreated towards the stairway.

“I believe a paralyzing spell should suffice. Then several of the healers and I can carry him out. That is," Harold switched his attention back to Alfonso, "if it is agreeable with you,” he said.

“I guess,” Alfonso said, shrugging. His shoulders jerked up, and his elbows banged against the already damaged wall. “Ouch!” he moaned.

“Yes, the sooner we get you out of here and to a place where you can freely move, the better,” Harold mused.

As he raised his right hand and activated the spell’s imprint in his mind, an emerald green light erupted from Harold's palm. The small beam shot forward and smacked Alfonso in the chest.

The light twisted around Alfonso's body and fizzled out.

Olivia stepped back in shock. “He resisted your spell. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

“Well, this seems to be a little more difficult than I thought,” Harold said as he shook his hand, seeking to dispel the tiny jolt of magical backlash.

Alfonso smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to do that.”

“I know. It seems the protective frequencies you emit are too strong for my spell to penetrate.” Harold swung around to address the group of people watching by the stairwell, “As you can see, I will require assistance. If you would, please.”

The healers of the group exchanged glances, nodded and hesitantly inched forward. As one, they raised their hands and group-cast 'paralyze' on Alfonso. The first time it didn't stick, and the second time it only partially stuck. Altogether, it took them seven attempts before Alfonso collapsed to the floor, paralyzed.

Confident the spell had fully taken, they rushed to pick him up and carried him downstairs and out into the back courtyard.

The hot tropical sun had just passed its zenith, and a refreshing equatorial breeze blew through the courtyard. Colorful birds peered down inquisitively from the trees, watching as the healers set Alfonso down on his back in the sandy part of the quad.

Upon placing him down, they retreated to a safe distance.

“It would be best," Harold said, facing the healers and household staff which had followed them outside, "if all of you were to go back inside. Today is a day of rejoicing, and I do not wish to see it turn into one of tragedy if an accident were to occur.”

The majority of the group listened and retired to the mansion; however, several of the more adventuresome ones stayed put, intent on staying to watch.

Harold crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. Standing over six feet tall with silvery black hair and broad, well-muscled shoulders, he struck an imposing figure, and of course, Harold's reputation throughout Alfireá for his mastery in magic did little to hurt his cause. All of this combined reminded the group Harold was not one to be disobeyed. With varying expressions of alarm, the remaining stragglers scurried into the house, unwilling to face Harold's wrath, all except for Olivia, that is.

As the others fled, Olivia stood there defiantly: her arms crossing her chest, her feet firmly planted, and a look of challenge written in her dark brown eyes. Harold sighed. Olivia was the only one unafraid of his wrath. Understandably so, seeing as he had raised her like a father and mentor since she was eight years old, and if anyone knew how to get past his defenses, it was her. "Alright," he conceded. "I suppose you are fully capable of defending yourself. You may stay.”

Olivia smiled in satisfaction and clapped her hands. Turning to face Alfonso, she announced, “You can move now.”

***

Being paralyzed was an odd sensation. Alfonso knew his arms and legs were there; he just couldn’t feel them. As he laid there waiting for the numbness to wear off, he stared into the sky. Puffy white clouds traveled across the blue expanse. The scent of daisies tickled his nose, and the sound of monkeys screaming in the distance assaulted his ears. Life is so strange, he thought. One moment, he was living in a frail, sickly body, and the next, he was waking up in a new, vastly improved form. The ever-present fog in his mind, that had been there since childhood, had dissipated, leaving his thoughts and his five senses crystal clear. He could see things he'd never seen, smell things he'd never smelled, and hear sounds he'd never heard. And now, he could move faster than he had ever moved before.

Of course, I'll never move without destroying things if I don't practice, he thought and attempted to flex his hand. His right index finger snapped out and smacked against the ground, sending up a small plume of sand.

Alfonso felt the sting as the tiny particles pelted against his foot and he froze. Then again, I think I'll wait until I have full control of my extremities.

Bit by bit, his toes and limbs began to tingle as the spell weakened. Once the lack of feeling completely wore off, Alfonso twisted his body to the left, endeavoring to roll onto his stomach, but as his shoulder blades hit the ground, he went spinning to the left like a tumbleweed rolling in the wind.

“Oomph,” he gasped as his back collided with the courtyard's rock wall; then, flopping forward, he fell face-first into the sand.

A group of chattering monkeys, attracted by the noise and strange movements, swung from a nearby tree, jumped onto the wall, and gazed down at him with unbridled curiosity.

Well, at least I’m on my belly, he thought while pushing sand out of his mouth with his tongue. Now I just need to get to my feet.

Ever so slowly, Alfonso placed his palms against the sand and tried to push his body upwards, but it was not to be. Like a tightly coiled spring, his arms launched him several feet into the heavens, and at the pinnacle of his ascent, he dropped like a rock. Sand exploded around him in a tidal wave as his body made contact with the earth. His nose planted solidly into the ground, and the sound of laughing primates echoed from the walls.

It's not that funn-, a violent sneeze interrupted Alfonso's thoughts as sand made its way into his nose.

"A-a-achoo!"

A mighty wind spell, activated by his abrupt sneeze, swirled into existence. Twisting and dancing, the wind formed into a miniature tornado in front of him. It sucked him into its greedy maul, picked him up, and launched him to the other side of the courtyard and into the flowerbed.

Alfonso landed hard on his rump, squashing the gardener's prize zinnias, and skidded several feet backward. He flopped to his back, and pink, purple, and orange flower petals burst into the sky. Alfonso then watched as a wall of sand, created by the windstorm, rained down on Olivia, Harold, and the laughing monkeys.

Angry, offended screeches erupted from the primates. They jumped up and down, shaking their tiny fists at the large lumbering oaf, then hastily escaped back into the trees.

Brushing the sand off, Olivia channeled a magic shield around her and Harold.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that!” Alfonso called out.

Harold shook the sand out of his hair and laughed, “I can see that.”

This is starting to get annoying, Alf thought. Rolling doesn't work. Pushups don't work either. I'll have to try something else.

Maybe I can sit up.

Tightening his lower abs, Alfonso took a deep breath and pulled himself upwards. 

The world spun as his upper half shot up and forward, flipped him head over heels, and smashed his head straight through the courtyard's wall.

Instantly, his ears rang and he heard Olivia gasp in horror.

Leaning backward, Alfonso pulled his head out of the rock barrier and collapsed to the ground.

He stared up at the sky in a dazed state and blinked several times as Harold hastened to his side.

“Are you alright?” his butler asked, his face tight in concern.

“I think so.”

“Are you certain?" Harold said, a note of wry amusement in his voice. "Your eyes are wobbling.”

Alfonso closed his eyes. “Yes, fortunately, it didn't hurt that much.”

“Didn't hurt that much? You just stuck your head through a solid rock wall!” Olivia exclaimed.

Alfonso reopened his eyes and looked up at Harold, “Why am I having such a hard time moving?” he asked.

Harold's face took on a thoughtful expression, and he tugged on his mustache. “I would have to examine you thoroughly to be certain. However, I believe the best explanation lies in your willpower. Since the day you were born, it has taken all of your strength to move. While now, even the slightest of twitches will suffice for the movement you desire.”

Alfonso sighed, “You know Harold, I always wanted to be stronger, but now that I am, I'm not so certain I want to be.”

Harold chuckled, "We might be able to help you with a binding spell, but once it wore off, you would likely shoot halfway across the town."

An image of himself flying clear over the top of the manor and into the middle of the lake popped into Alfonso’s head. “No thanks, I’m doing that well enough on my own.”

***

The next three hours blurred together in Alfonso’s mind. All he could remember was one disaster after another.  It was as if every thought or twinge of his had resulted in an explosive action. To make matters worse, when he'd finally gotten the hang of standing up, the magical energy inside him had sprung to life. He'd ended up turning one-third of the courtyard into a muddy sea of glass, obliterating the courtyard’s left wall into a pile of dust, vaporizing the flower beds with an out-of-control lightning bolt, and worst of all, freezing a flock of birds in the trees into a solid block of ice. Harold assured him he could resuscitate the poor creatures, but Alfonso had his doubts.

Despite all this, by the end of those three hours, Alfonso was capable of standing up, sitting down, and walking around without destroying anything.

Finally, Alfonso thought as he completed a full lap around the demolished courtyard without incident. With a sigh of relief, he plopped himself on a bench underneath the Coolabah tree. The tree had been planted for his father’s Koala bear, which had been a gift from the Emperor. Sadly, the adorable creature died not long after his father passed away.

"Would you like a drink, young master," his butler asked, holding out a tall glass of water.

"Thank you," Alfonso said and downed the water in one go.

After drinking, he laid his head against the tree and closed his eyes. It was nice to take a break, he thought as he listened to the water trickle down from the dehumidifier stones placed along the walls. The gems gathered the extra humidity from the air, making it easier to breathe. The collected water then flowed into a stream that ran around the courtyard's exterior wall, into an underground conduit, and down to the lake. 

As the moments drifted on, he noticed Harold wasn't moving.

“You’re waiting for me to tell you exactly what happened, aren’t you?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Indeed," Harold said, "your present state of being is most curious, and I am quite eager to assess how such a thing is possible.”

Alfonso smiled. Harold always loved a good mystery. In his limited spare time, he worked in the lab with Olivia and the other healers, attempting to unravel the secrets of the universe.  

“I am as well,” Olivia said as she removed blades of grass from her hair, sat down beside him, and took the cup from his hand.

Alfonso nodded, and with a weary tone, he told them of his fight against Vackzilian. His two friends stayed silent, listening with rapt attention, as he recounted the strange string of events. However, when he arrived at the part where Vackzilian had addressed him, Olivia interrupted. “Wait, he said what?”

“I know," he said. "It sounds weird, but he told me he had been waiting for me for hundreds of years, and even though I was the mightiest hero in the land, I would not defeat him.”

 “Mightiest hero of the land?” Olivia burst into laughter.

Harold laid his hand on her shoulder. “It may sound ridiculous, but Vackzilian is no fool. He would not utter such words lightly. There must be more to this than we see.”

Alfonso shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m pretty sure he had me confused with someone else because he even said that my defeat would begin his reign or some such nonsense. After that, he hit me with a lightning bolt that glowed orange and red. The spell was so powerful it burned straight through my armor and into my chest.”

“Wait. Are you positive the spell’s color was orange?” Harold asked.

Alfonso thought it over, closing his eyes and reliving the moment as he watched the lightning bolt arc from Vackzilian’s hands and careen into him. “Yes, I’m sure it was orange with a red outline.”

“That’s strange," Olivia mused. "Very few spells give off a specific color when the corresponding frequencies clash together. In fact, I know of only four or five of them that have an orange glow, and all of them are  some form of an alteration spell.”

Harold nodded, “I agree. It is most curious, indeed.”

The butler waved to a maid who was endeavoring to tend to the vaporized flowerbed. “Would you please retrieve book number forty-nine from the f*******n spell section of the library.”

The maid sighed, gave the vaporized flowers a forlorn look, and then darted back into the manor.

 As she left, Harold motioned to him, “Please, do go on.”

Alfonso briefly summarized the rest of the fight, leaving out his desperate struggle to stay alive. Wrapping up his story, he told them how Vackzilian walked up to him and said, "'You have failed. "I should slay you where you lay and let the crows feed on your corpse, but letting you live as the weakest man alive will be a punishment far worse than death.'

“And with those comforting words, he kicked me down the hill, where I died. At least, I thought I did, until I woke up in my bedroom, that is,” Alfonso finished.

“Ah, if he said that to you, it appears my assumption may be correct,” Harold said, tapping his chin.

“You know what happened?” Olivia leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around the cup, eager to hear his explanation.

Harold held up a finger. “Wait a minute until I know for certain.”

Shortly thereafter, the maid reappeared with the book Harold had requested. On its spine, the number forty-nine was etched in red lettering.  

“Thank you, miss,” Harold said as she handed him the black tome.

The maid curtsied and joined the other caretakers who were trickling out of the manor to fix Alfonso’s mess.

Harold opened the book and flipped through its pages. Once he located the passage he was looking for, he stopped and scanned through it.

“Yes, this must be it," he said, excitement brimming in his voice. "This spell here is called ‘Vilick's Reversal’—so named after the mage who crafted it. It is the one spell I know of which glows orange with a red outline. According to the book, it is believed to only work on inanimate objects; however, I presume Vackzilian modified it to work on you.”

“What does it do?” Olivia asked while Alfonso chimed in, “Why would he use that on me?” 

Harold spun the book around so both of them could take a look. “It takes an object’s defining trait and reverses it to the exact opposite. Meaning, if the object's main attribute were hot, this spell would make it cold.

“It was initially designed for scientific and experimental purposes. The spell involuntarily uses the caster’s brain to calculate all the frequencies and math needed to make the change. During the initial calculation, the caster cannot do much more than basic physical actions."

“That sounds dangerous,” Alfonso said.

“It is, and that is why it is f*******n. Due to the way the spell functions, it uses an immense amount of energy, and once cast, it is unstoppable. In other words, if I were to cast 'Vilick's Reversal' on an object, and I did not have enough magical energy to change said object, the spell would siphon all the energy out of me, thus ending my life. It says here," he pointed to a passage in the volume, "'many foolish mages have tried to use ‘Vilick's Reversal on small objects such as rocks and consequently, have died.'"

“Careful,” Alfonso called out to one of the household staff he noticed pushing their hand against the damaged courtyard wall. The man jumped out of the way as a portion of the barrier crumbled towards him. “It appears I will need help to fix this,” the worker mumbled to himself and made his way back towards the manor.

"To answer your earlier question," Harold continued, "my only guess is that he must have had a vision of you defeating him and came up with this solution. In fact, it was probably the only way he could have defeated you without resorting to physical force, which, if he thought you were the strongest man alive, would have been foolish for him to attempt."

"But why did he use this spell?" Olivia asked. "It seems like a rather risky move on his part."

"Hmm," Harold's brow wrinkled. "It may have been the only spell wherein he saw himself emerge victorious. All others would have resulted in his death."

Upon seeing the confusion in his audience's faces, Harold expounded. "If Vackzilian had used any other spell powerful enough to pierce your summoned armor, you would have drained his remaining energy, and he would have died. He may have seen this outcome in his visions, though he would not have known why such a result would occur. However, this spell made your body too strong to continue being a magical vacuum. It is why you were unable to kill him.

“As you well know," he continued, "your defining physical trait was your weakness. As a result, ‘Vilick's Reversal’ changed your trait to being strong.” Harold chuckled, “Vackzilian must have thought you were the strongest man alive and this spell would make you the weakest man alive."

Alfonso shook his head. "I guess that makes sense, but why did it cause such a drastic change. Shouldn’t it have only made me as strong as you? I mean, I wasn’t that weak."

Harold raised an eyebrow, "It appears that you and I may have different definitions of weak. Nonetheless, you are correct," he said. "The subsequent outcome of the spell is vastly more than one would initially calculate."

Harold paused and massaged his mustache, "It may be that your body's unique ability to latch on to someone's energy and not let go fed more power into the spell. Which, in turn, increased its effect exponentially.

"And if my theory is true, which I’m fairly certain it is, it also explains your false death.”

"What happened to my flowers?!" the head gardener wailed as he dashed over to his prized collection of decimated zinnias.

Alfonso scrunched down and tried to hide his now massive figure behind Harold as he asked, “It does?” Alfonso knew the poor fellow had spent hours each day tending to that specific flower patch, and if at all possible, he wanted to avoid eye contact with him.

“Indeed. You see, your body had become so deteriorated it had to completely rebuild it from the ground up. In doing so, the spell stopped your heart and put your physical form into a magical coma. And that is why you appeared to be dead for a day and a half.”

“Wait a moment,” Olivia interrupted. “You said the spell uses the caster’s brain to calculate? Then all of this should be impossible! No matter how smart Vackzilian is, there is no way his brain could calculate all that information. To do what you’re saying, he’d have to subconsciously know healing magic better than you and I combined, as well as countless other facts about the human body.”

Harold took a deep breath. “You are right,” he admitted. “Nevertheless, with the evidence standing in front of us, we can only conclude that Vackzilian’s intellectual prowess is vastly superior than what we believed it to be.

"Of course, this is all mere conjecture. There may be missing pieces, or I might be wrong altogether."

The sound of shattering glass rang throughout the air as the caretakers cracked the muddy glass in the courtyard. Piece by piece, they began to methodically remove its remains from the premises.

Alfonso closed his eyes and gently massaged his eyelids with his fingers. What Harold proposed made sense in a weird, fantastical sort of way, but there was a gaping hole in his theory. “If what you say is correct, I don’t understand how everyone thought I was dead. I mean, with that much energy running through my body, you would think I’d look like I had a raging dragon fire inside of me. Didn’t any of you use Ra’avah?”

“Of course we did,” Olivia answered. “But Vackzilian’s magic energy is invisible to our eyes. We can see the effect, such as a lightning bolt or a hologram, but we can't see his magic's energy flow like we can with everyone else's. That was the main reason no one could undo the spell that blocked the teleportation stones. You know Harold and I tried to break the spell on them ourselves, but without being able to see his energy patterns, it’s practically impossible. If I had to guess, that’s also the reason why no one could break the shield he put up around the Imperial Mine.”