Alfirean Age Book 1 - Inheritor of Strength

Secret Letter

Olivia’s horse heaved and panted as it pounded down the earthen road, its' sides lathered in sweat. With a gentle tug, she pulled on the reins and slowed the bay gelding to a trot. “We’re almost there,” she said, patting him on the neck. Olivia had pushed the poor creature hard to make the two-hour journey in less time. She felt terrible about it, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something wasn’t right, and she was determined to make it home as soon as possible.

Pushing her energy into the traveling spells embedded in the road, she willed them to go faster.

Alfonso was hiding something from her; she was certain of it. But what could it possibly be? It can't be too bad, she assured herself. He’s only been alone for a few hours.

She gazed unseeingly at the vast, golden fields surrounding her, framed by the faint image of mountains hanging in the distance. Seventeen years. That was how long she had known Alf.  For seventeen years, she had loved and protected him like a little brother, though he was, in fact, older than her. And now she had two years left. Maybe less. Why God? she asked. Why does it have to be Alfonso? He's the sweetest, most giving person I've ever known. It's just not fair. Her knuckles whitened as she clenched the reigns, and her eyes stung, threatening to spill tears. 

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding, the words from the Ancient Script she'd been reading since childhood echoed in her mind.

Humph, how could she trust in Him when everything was falling apart? And how could she understand something she couldn't comprehend?

A dark flash captured her eyes, and she set aside her musings for a different time. She had arrived.

At long last, the rolling, open fields fell away and Carlos came into view. A uniform collection of rustic, wooden buildings, two-to-three stories tall, erupted out of the shoulder-high sea of golden grass.

As she reached the first of the odd buildings with their wooden storefront facades, the anti-collision spells kicked in and severed her energy to the traveling spells.

Carlos had once been a simple waypoint where three main thoroughfares conjoined. But due to Vackzilian’s interference with the teleportation stones and Carlos's strategic location, the Empire had planted one of its Imperial Legal Centers smack dab in the middle of the town. Now the once quiet hamlet had traffic running through it all hours of the day.

Riding through the congested streets, she couldn’t help but stare at the strange buildings, despite having seen them many times before.

The founder of Carlos had been a curious oddball who had found an ancient tome depicting an old western town—a town which supposedly existed sometime before the Age of Dragons. Everyone referred to that time period as The Lost History since little-to-no information remained. Only a small handful of books had survived that era, one of those books being the Ancient Script, also known as the Holy Word. As for the book describing the old west town, the founder of Carlos had become enamored with the idea. As a result, he'd tried to model his community after the description in the book, which meant the houses and stores were made out of wood instead of earth.

This had always struck Olivia as an odd choice, seeing as wood was  harder to work with than earth and clay; moreover, Carlos sat in the middle of a dry, flammable savanna. Everyone with half a brain knew that wood burned. Of course, there were spells to protect against fire, but still.

She arrived at the three-way intersection, and a carriage in front of her turned to the left, giving her a clear view of the Imperial Legal Center across the way.

Unlike all the other structures in town, the Legal Center was crafted of white marble. The tall, grand building boasted soaring stone columns, crystal skylights, and intricate carvings on every pillar. To finish it off, the imperial symbol—a dragon with wings spread wide in flight—embossed the front of its giant doors.

Olivia squeezed her knees and urged her horse through the intersection. She then jumped off, swiftly tied its reigns to one of the hitching posts, and with a determined air, rushed up the massive marble stairs.

Inside, only four clerks currently worked behind the long desk stretching from one end of the building to the other. All of them were busy with elongated lines extending in front of their stations. So much for wanting to get back as fast as possible, she thought, a bitter taste lingering in her mouth.

With a resigned step, she started to trudge over to the shortest line when a fifth clerk emerged from the back room and waved her over.

Finally, a ray of sunshine to break up the constant gloom.

Her lips twitched in a momentary smile—being frequent envoy of a High Lord did have its perks.

“Olivia, it’s nice to see you again. What do you need today?”

She pulled the documents out of her satchel and handed the envelope to him. “Would you process these, please?”

“Certainly. Was another lucky child adopted?” the short, bespectacled clerk asked, taking the packet.

 “No, not today.”

Olivia's fingers tapped a nervous staccato on the work surface as she glanced out the skylight at the sun.

He flipped through the first of the documents. “Alfonso’s will? Isn’t the young master too young to be worrying about such morbid things?” he asked in a cheerful voice.

Yes, of course he was! It wasn’t fair that he... Olivia clenched her jaw, unintentionally glowering at the poor man.

At her glare, the clerk’s smile vanished, and he silently retrieved the next set of papers from the yellow packet. They were, of course, the report on what happened that morning. He read over them, his throat bobbing as he swallowed down his shock. When he finished, he glanced at her, an expression of understanding and sorrow in his eyes. But she kept her face straight and stared past him. She didn't want to talk about it.

He straightened the papers and nodded. “I’m going to expedite this to the Emperor.”

Reaching underneath the desk, he pulled out a paper-sized scrying pot. He then poured water into the small silver device and placed a magic-imbued glass panel on top. Taking Alfonso’s will, he placed it on the glass surface. Upon contact, an image of the document briefly appeared in the air, then disappeared. One-by-one, he removed and replaced the report's remaining pages. Upon completion, he set aside the papers and retrieved the last stack from the packet. Flipping through the pages, he briefly examined each one before using the scrying pot to send them along as well.

They must be the plans for the magic school, Olivia thought, but as the man reached the last page, his hands shook, and his eyes filled with terror.

 “What’s wrong?”

The clerk's hand trembled as he handed her the paper.

It was a letter from Alfonso. 

Olivia, by the time you read this, I will be dead. And if all goes well, so will Vackzilian the evil wizard.

Realization struck Olivia, and she dropped the letter. That’s what he'd been hiding from her! That’s what he was planning to do!

Placing her hands on the cold surface, she vaulted over the marble counter, and before any of the clerks could respond, she dashed for the back room.

Pushing her way through one of many swinging doors, she entered the massive space. Shelves and cabinets, filled to the brim with legal documents, lined the room's walls, but what she was after sat squarely in the middle of the Imperial archives—the teleportation stone.

Covered in dust, the circular slab of gray stone sat unused and abandoned. Once, everyone had used it freely. Hundreds of times per day, the plain stone would activate and become a thing of beauty as millions of magical runes and symbols glowed, reflecting and refracting light throughout it. 

Now, it was different.

Vackzilian had cut off all teleportation. Only those who could afford to buy charges—which were astronomically expensive—could use the teleportation stones.

Carlos' stone, she knew, always had three charges which were to be used only in an emergency.

This certainly counted as one.

Three guards in charge of protecting the room lounged at a table playing cards. At the sight of Olivia, they scrambled to their feet, knocking their table over and sending the cards flying in all directions as they rushed to stop her.

“Miss, you can’t be back here,” one of them stated, the two V-shaped black stripes on his shoulder pad denoting him as leader of the trio.

“Move,” she snapped.

They stared at her dumbstruck.

Olivia gritted her teeth. She didn't have time for this. She needed to get back.

 “I said move, or I’ll make you,” Olivia brought up her hand, palm facing upwards and fingers curled, ready to charge a spell.

At her threat, the three men drew their weapons, and as one, they channeled a shield around themselves and the teleportation stone.

Olivia had known threatening trained soldiers wasn’t the wisest course of action, but she didn’t have time to do this the proper way. Fire crackled in her raised hand. “In the name of Alfonso Vivyander Brockovich the third, seventh High Lord of Alfireá, I command you. Get out of my way!”

“But Miss, you can’t just…”

“I won’t tell you again,” she breathed.

The soldiers looked at each other, confusion written in their features. They clearly didn't have a clue what to do. 

A fireball formed in her palm, blue strands of lightning coiling about it. The fire would break through their shield, and the lightning would render them helpless long enough for her to use the teleportation stone. It was a bit mean, and she would definitely have to apologize later, but she had to get back now. She had to stop Alfonso.

At that very moment, the mayor of Carlos barged in. “What in Eldrin’s name is going on here!?” he demanded in a tremendous thundering voice, his bright red hair and beard bristling with electrical energy.

“She’s attacking us,” squealed one of the guardsmen from behind their shield.

The towering, muscular man swiveled towards Olivia. Instantly, the anger in his face faded, only to be replaced with confusion. “Olivia?”

“Zachariahs,” Olivia said, nodding at him and dispelling her fireball.

Zachariahs stared at the dissipating flame in her hand. “What are you..?”

“Alfonso is going to attack Vackzilian, and I need to use the teleportation stone to stop him. Kindly tell your men to move out of my way. If you would, please.”

The mayor’s already furled eyebrows scrunched even further. “Alfonso is going to do what?”

Olivia huffed out a sigh of agitation. “He’s going to challenge Vackzilian to a fight to the death, and I need to get back now! I have to stop him.”

“That’s ludicrous. What in the world would make you think he would do-”

A clerk interrupted his question. “Sir,” he said, holding up Alfonso's letter as he jostled for a position among the other clerks crowding the doorway. 

With a delicate cough, he cleared his throat and began to read the letter out loud:

Olivia, by the time you read this, I will be dead. And if all goes well, so will Vackzilian the evil wizard.

I have known for a long time I was dying, but I never thought it would come so soon. I believed I had many years left, and I never imagined that my life would become a danger to others. I wanted to be helpful till the day I died, but now, even that has been denied me.

I will not stay around to suck the life out of you and Harold for another two years. I could not live with myself for doing that, and I refuse to be a burden for as long as I live.

I also know the magic school Harold proposed cannot possibly provide enough money to keep things running, especially when both of you are attempting to keep me alive.

So I have thought long and hard and prayed over it, and I believe God has shown me a way to provide for you, Harold, and the orphanage... even though it will cost my life.

By now, I'm certain you already know what I plan to do. It's a long shot, I know, but if it works, the reward from the Empire will provide enough money to keep the estate going for years to come.

Olivia... I know I will never be worthy of your affections, but in my wildest dreams, I'd always hoped that one day we might be together. I’ve always wanted to tell you, but I've never had the courage to express my feelings. However, now at the end, I could not bear the thought of dying without telling you that...

 I love you.

Yours Truly,

Alfonso

Olivia snatched the letter from the clerk’s hands and read the last part over and over again. She hadn’t known. He had never told her. Suddenly, a memory of when they were children and Alfonso had taken her hand and promised to marry her, flashed in her mind. But—they were just children—it hadn't meant anything. Another memory arose. When they were teenagers, she had helped him sneak on top of the manor’s roof to stargaze. A streak of light had crossed the heavens, and they'd both wished on the shooting star. When she'd asked what he'd wished for, Alf had told her he'd wished to marry her and have a dozen children. She had laughed, thinking he was hiding his real wish behind a joke. Since that night, he had never mentioned anything again.  

Could he have been serious?

Holding the letter close to her heart, she closed her eyes and muttered, “Alf...”

Zachariahs slapped her on the back. “We’ll stop him, don’t you worry,” he said, then turned to his soldiers. “Kenzie, grab the men out front. You two, break the protective spells on the teleportation stone and get it ready. Clerks, get back to work before the people start to riot,” the mayor bellowed.

The room burst into a flurry of motion, and in a matter of seconds, Zachariahs, Olivia, and as many guards as could fit on the stone, stood ready to be trans-dimensionally relocated.

In a loud, booming voice, Zachariahs barked the command to activate the transportation stone.

Olivia closed her eyes and said a silent prayer as she waited for the world to warp around her. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes and looked at the mayor. Did he say the wrong comma-

Vackzilian’s large, floating, holographic head appeared in the middle of the room. “I'm sorry,” it said in a sanguine tone. “But I have decided not to let anyone teleport today, though I am not sorry about any inconvenience this may cause you. Do have a nice day.” And with a flash, Vackzilian’s holographic head disappeared.

Fire burned in Olivia’s stomach and steam rolled off of Zachariahs's bulging muscles. “Get me my horse! Now!!” the mayor roared.

In their haste to obey him, the soldiers tripped over one another as they fled the room.

“We will stop him, even if I have to run old Jim into the ground to get there,” he reassured Olivia once more. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Alfonso already had an hour and a half lead on them. By the time they got there...

No! She wouldn't let that happen. Olivia set her face like a flint as she marched towards the door. Vackzilian was not going to kill Alfonso. She wouldn’t let him.

***

Alfonso gazed at the blackened wasteland before him. A low-sounding hum permeated the air, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The trip had been long, hard, and the most disturbing thing Alfonso had ever experienced.

Every step had made him feel like he was being pulled through a wind spell and thrown out the other end. Worse yet, the land had changed at an alarming rate. He'd started out on the edge of a jungle, and with only a few steps, had found himself on top of a cliffside. The next thing he knew, he was in a marsh. As he thought back, it was hard to keep track of his journey. As far as he could tell, he had been through a savanna, a forest fire, a desert, and even the top of what looked like a  dormant volcano at one point.

However, what now lay before him looked far more disturbing than everything combined. The thick, rolling jungle abruptly ended, as if someone had taken a scalpel and sliced away the verdant greenery. All that remained was a barren land that formed a vast circle around a jagged hillside leading up to Vackzilian’s tower. The few trees left standing were scarred by thousands of burn marks as if numerous small lightning bolts had struck them.

This was the last leg of his journey. Once he crossed, he would reach the tower. He would fight Vazkzilian, and then... 

He shook his head—now was not the time for thinking.

Eyeing the ground in trepidation, he extended his foot and stepped onto the charred, brown dust.

“Ah!” he yelped in surprise and jerked backward.

The ground had bit him.

He stared down at his feet in disbelief. Wait, it couldn’t have. Could it?

Kneeling down, he cautiously reached his hand over the barren land; sure enough, a small strand of lightning shot out. “Ouch,” he pulled back his hand and rubbed his palm. Somehow, the land itself had become a roiling sea of energy.

Alfonso stood up. Well, now what?

He glanced back the way he'd come. No, he couldn’t go back. He would not do that to his friends, to his family. Clenching his teeth, he stepped out onto the electric-charged land.

Nothing happened.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, a loud c***k rent the skies, a bright light flashed, and not more than twenty feet away from him, a gnarled tree gained a new burn mark.

With a resounding yelp, Alfonso took off running across the barren land towards Vackzilian’s tower, pumping his skinny legs as fast as he could. With every footstep, explosions erupted all around him as lightning bolt after lightning bolt struck the outlying trees. His heart pounded as he sped up, and the world blurred in one continuous mass of pale lights and murky skeletal branches.

At long last, he reached the foot of the hill, drenched in sweat and exhausted. The lightning stopped, and he dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for air. The journey had drained most of the energy he'd obtained that morning, and now his muscles ached, his heart fluttered, and his lungs rattled.

His heartbeat finally slowed down, and Alfonso gathered his remaining strength, wiped the sweat from his brow, and staggered to his feet. Weary in both mind and body, he raised his head and gazed up at his final destination.

Vackzilian’s dark tower rose from the unnaturally raised hill before him. The eerie, black obelisk pierced the heavens, dominating the landscape and serving as a stark reminder of who truly ruled this land. Flashes of light burned his eyes as indigo bursts of lightning sizzled along its ebony walls and shot off into the boundless firmament.

A chill ran down Alfonso's spine, and he shivered—partly because of the aurora of fear the imposing tower emitted and partially because of the cold air encompassing the entire area.

It shouldn't be so chilly, Alfonso thought, rubbing his arms. The sun hung high in the sky, unimpeded by clouds or mountains; yet, the whole region appeared dim, as if a dark mist covered everything, even though there was none to be seen. There were no birds, no animals, and no signs of life. The only sounds in the barren wasteland were the lonely whistle of the wind and the crackling of the racing lightning.

Alfonso shivered again and looked away. If he stared at the tower any longer, he might just turn and flee like countless intelligent people had done before him. Stories of what had happened to great warriors stupid enough to challenge Vackzilian nagged at the back of his mind. Even the great and powerful General Turik had barely survived his encounter with the wizard.

He shook his head. Now was not the time for fear and doubt.

Pulling his traveling bag to the front, he tugged out the three scrolls he had purchased. As he unrolled them, he stared at the spells weaved into the paper. Once he activated these, his time left on earth would be limited.

In his heart, he knew he was doing the right thing, but he also enjoyed living. His home, his friends, all the townspeople, he would never see any of them again.

Fear threatened to overwhelm him, and sorrow engulfed his heart.

Just when his courage failed him, words from deep within flowed through Alfonso and pushed away the darkness.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Alfonso smiled. It was the passage he quoted every time he was called upon to help shape Imperial legislation or speak to an audience.

He nodded to himself—I can do this.

Pressing the summon scrolls against his chest, he poured his last drops of energy into activating them.

The parchments exploded, and a billowing white smoke enveloped him. It coated his arms, his legs, and his feet, obscuring his view.

When the fog cleared away, Alfonso the weak had disappeared, and Alfonso the mighty warrior emerged. Clad in gold-plated titanium armor sporting a chiseled abs breastplate, a crimson-plumed helmet, and sculpted lion shoulder pads, Alfonso struck an imposing image. At his side, a golden sword adorned with shining red rubies gleamed with magical light, and in front of him, a proud white stallion pranced in golden armor.

So much for one size fits all, Alfonso smiled cheekily as he gazed down at the armor which utterly dwarfed him. He moved his arm experimentally. Well, at least I can move, he thought as he struggled to pull himself up on the horse.

Finally, seating himself in the saddle, he breathed a sigh of relief. The first step was finished. Everything was in place. Well, almost everything. Both his sword and armor hummed with protective and offensive spells set to activate upon entering combat—spells he didn’t have the energy, or physical strength, to power.

Tapping the side of his helmet, he activated a scrying displaying the list of spells embedded in his armor. Quickly going down the list, he turned them off, less they cause him to faint even before the fight began. Now everything was in place, and one thing was for certain: with this armor, steed, and sword, Vackzilian would see him as a dangerous threat. In fact, he was counting on it.

Pausing for a moment, he took a deep breath and bowed his head. He then closed his eyes and whispered a small prayer taught to him by his mother. Lord, give me strength and let me be a mighty vessel used by thee. And when the end draws nigh, and my task on earth is done, welcome me to Heaven's side and watch, I pray, over my beloved ones.

Alfonso lifted his head, grabbed the hilt of his sword, and with a calm, confident motion, unsheathed his blade. Releasing a battle cry, he charged up the hill on his fearless steed.

As he charged up to the wizard's tower, his upraised sword reflected the sun’s light, shining like a burning flame. His horse’s hooves thundered underneath him, sounding like the beat of a war drum, and the wind whistled past his ears, carrying his voice as he uttered his battle cry.