The prophecy of the end: P1: Begining

Chapter One


Hot breath swirled around his head, like a ghost of himself back to haunt him.  The sky was black, no stars lit up the darkness, and no sound was heard except the rhythmical pounding of his feet on the pavement and the pants of breath that escaped his frozen lips.

The frost crunched underneath his feet, and as he stood, hands on knees, desperately trying to regain some of the breath that he was struggling to find, the scene was almost poetic.  The frost glistening in the dark sky, a low, thin fog, the holly and mistletoe hanging of the trees on the side of the road.

The scene was ripped to a quick and dramatic end with the loud clip, clop, clip, clop of horse’s hooves pounding on to the frost-ridden track.  His eyes lit up.  They were here.  Finally he could get rid of the darn thing and get to bed. 

For the first time since he had left the pick up point, he looked down at the package in his hands.  He realised that he was incredibly lucky it hadn’t made a noise yet, and preyed to whatever god was up there, don’t let it do it now.

He slowly crept round the corner.  Dark shadows swirled in the mist, and he couldn’t tell who they were.  He inched further round the corner, and took a step forward.  A puddle of ice broke underneath his foot.  The crack was no louder than a footstep, but in the dark, and the silence, it sounded like cannon fire.

He froze.  Whether the men on horses were friend or foe, he still didn’t know, and decided that the best way of self preservation was to get out of there.  He slowly backed away, but then his heart stopped.

A big, hard, rough hand had landed on his shoulder, and another came round his mouth.  His head was slowly forced round, until he was face to face with his captor.

A big, lopsided friendly face met his eyes, and he was released.  Alex let out a breath, as his heart returned to beating at its normal speed.  “Diego.  You shocked me.”

Diego grinned, revealing a mouth were all the teeth on his right side were there, and on the other there was none.  An ugly scar jagged between the big mans eyes and across the bridge of his nose, another ran down his cheek.  The slightly hopeful gleam from the moon bounced of Diego’s perfectly shaved head.

“Ajandro!”  Diego grinned, ruffling Alex’s untidy black hair.  Alex shook him of, and a tinge of annoyance crept into his voice.  “It’s Ajan.  No one calls me my full name  Now, are you even going to take this thing or not, I want to get home.  I’ve spent my whole day running around for you, and I want to get home and get some left over food.”  Diego grabbed the front of Ajan’s shirt, and stared him straight in the eye.  Ajan almost fainted, the smell of wine on Diego’s breath was so strong.

“Look, kid.  Even though we’ve known each other since your skinny little arse was born, doesn’t mean you’ll get the mark without working for it.  So you stop your complaining and give it to me.”

Diego put Ajan down, and took the bundle from his arms.  Diego looked down, and grinned, before ruffling Ajan’s hair again.  “Well done Ajandro.  You’ll make a rider yet.”  And with that he was gone, slipping effortlessly into the shadows, which for such a big man was no easy feat.     

Ajan shook his head.  Diego was completely mad, but he was a good friend.  Suddenly, another hand grabbed him.  And this time it didn’t seem so friendly.  Ajan turned slowly, and came face to face with a face he recognised, and brought fear into his heart.  It was the black knight, the head rider of the kingdom, and the arch enemy of the revolution.  He spat in Alex’s face, before throwing him on the floor. 

“Where is he?”  Ajan was shaking with fear, and could barely stammer out the reply “W-w-where is who?”  “Don’t act innocent with me!” Shark screamed at Alex.  “The Kings son, who you cowards stole from us!” Ajan now realised the significance of the baby he had been delivering.  “I don’t know, I…” Shark slapped him hard across the face.  “Don’t lie to me.  This is what we did to the last person who lied to me!”

Three huge men stepped out of the shadows, holding something.  Ajan didn’t realise what it was, until the stench met his nostrils.  It was the dead body of a man, and as the body was dragged closer, he recognised it.  It was Hands, the sneakiest member of the resistance, who was a master of infiltration.  Ajan was beginning to piece this mystery together bit by bit.

“I believe you know this man.  Hands, I think you call him.  He doesn’t have hands anymore!  He pretended to be a loyal servant to he king, snuck in to the birth of hiss on, and delivered him to you.  He did his job well, except for one thing.  He wore a short sleeved tunic, and one of my men spotted his mark.  He stole my son, but that wasn’t the worse thing.  He lied to me, little boy.  He lied to me.  This is what we do to liars”

The three cronies ripped of Hand’s shirt, revealing a horrible scar.  The word etched across his chest, was LIAR.

Shark leaned in close, and whispered in Ajan’s ear.  “I’m giving you one more chance, little boy.  Where is my son?”  Ajan could barely speak through fear, as he whimpered. “I don’t know.”  His captor sighed.  “Wrong answer.  Bring me the persuader.”

Ajan heard the noise of a knife being pulled from a sheaf, saw the wickedly curved blade, smelt the dried blood on Hands chest.  And he did the only thing he could think of.

A single scream ripped through the sleeping forest, awaking some crows who had fallen asleep on top of a fir tree.  It was held out for what seemed like an age, before falling into a deathly silence.

Diego slipped slowly away, desperately wanting to take out his revenge on the men that had killed Ajan.  He looked down at the bundle in his arms, and snarled.  The tiny baby boy, less than a day old, lay in his arms.  Small, Innocent… Helpless.  It was because of this little rat that Ajan and Hands had been murdered.  The red mist settled in front of his eyes, and he pulled back a massive fist…

“No Diego.”  An old, cackling, croaking voice came creeping out of the shadows, stopping Diego in his tracks.  He turned slowly and gasped.  Standing there, in the shadows was a figure that no one had seen in many years.  He hobbled slowly towards Diego, revealing himself.

His body was so small and frail, it looked like he could be snapped with a couple of fingers.  His arms were twigs sticking out of an ancient scarecrow, and his clothes were like rags, far too big for the tiny body.  Compared to the huge, hulking figure of Diego, he looked like a child.  Half of his face was covered in silky, almost silver hair, with a long beard and moustache and extremely long hair, which fell down to his chest.

His face was covered in wrinkles, and his mouth was full of surprisingly white teeth.  His eyes were incredible.  They were a sharp, crisp, sky blue.  If you looked into them, then you could almost feel that they were driving into your soul.  They echoed generations of wisdom, and showed bravery, courage, yet peace.  They showed power, yet gentleness. 

“No Diego” he repeated again, firmer this time.  Diego dropped to the floor, bowing as low as he possibly could.  “Master.” He gasped.  “I am sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.”

The Master hobbled slowly over to Diego, and smiled sympathetically.  “Yes you do Diego.  You’ve always had this problem, and the fact that those scum murdered someone who was been like a brother to you hasn’t helped.”

Diego nodded, and burst into tears.  He cried long and hard, and didn’t stop until he had no tears left in him.  The Master held the big man sympathetically, and whispered into his ear.  “Shhh, Diego, shhh.  I’ll tell you what to do.  You need to raise this kid like he’s your son, or your little brother.  You need to raise this kid like he’s Alejandro.”  “I can’t replace him Master.”  Diego sobbed.  “He’s gone and he’s not coming back.”  The Master nodded, and he slowly raised Diego to his full height.  “But you can raise this kid, and protect him.  And if you do that, we can end this war, and stop more innocents like Alejandro getting murdered.”  Diego wiped his young, beady eyes, and looked down into the Masters old, sad ones.  “How Master?”

The Master looked into the horizon, and sighed deeply.  The Sun was raising, blood red.  He nodded, and muttered to himself “Red sun.  Blood was spilt tonight.”  He turned to face Diego, and a single tear ran down his cheek.  “I think its time I called a clan meeting, and told you all the truth.”


Chapter Two

A campfire battled against the cold, and the bitter chill of the wind, as it flickered and almost died, before a prod from a stick once again made it leap into life once again.  Red, and yellow, and orange flickered in the haunting dance that the flames made.  They twisted, and flew around each other, with sparks flying out, and landing on the bracken floor, making one last burst of light and colour, before dying out completely.

Men laughed, and joked, and drunk ale from clay mugs.  Meetings of the revolution were usually very rowdy and happy occasions, with both children and adults eating plenty, and drinking more.

But today, there was a more nervous attitude.  Everyone noticed the absence of the big characters of Diego, and Hands, and the children wondered were Ajan was.  They drunk more out of fear of what was coming, than out of happiness and being merry.

As the sun set, and the moon rose.  A waning crescent, with an eerie silver light shining cautiously from it.  A lopsided smile, grinning evilly down at the campers, sitting on the edge of the forest.  The wind wailed, and it almost sounded like a whisper through the ears of the resistance.  “Its happening” the wind mocked.  “What you’ve always feared.  It’s happening.”  But what had they feared?

Emerging out of the forest came a ghostlike, figure, almost a shadow in the darkness of night.  He sat on a stump, on the edge of the group, and once again disappeared into the gloom.  Still, waiting, and almost gone, but still there.  Still waiting. 

The Master stood up in the middle of the group, wearing a green, faded hood.  People clapped and cheered.  “Speech!” they shouted.  “Speech!”

He slowly pulled of his hood.  One by one, they gasped.  They recognised the old wizened face, and muttered between them.  “It’s him.  It’s the master!”

He cleared his throat, and everyone fell silent.  Even though he had been presumed dead for years, and the disbelief that had taken them, they all respected this fabled figure, and wanted to listen to every word he said.

“Gentlemen, Ladies, and children of the resistance.” He began.  “It has been a long time since I last saw you all.  Some of you I have never met.  But you know me.  You all know who I am.

It is time I told you the story of how this resistance started.  It is time I told you of the prophecy.

Years, and years ago, the human race lived many miles away from here.  So far away, you would have to cross three oceans to find it.  It was a land of ice, and snow, and fierce beasts.  We battled, and battled, but we could not live there.

So a group of us, led by Arthur Archibald, a brave, strong, noble explorer, left the homeland in search of a more hospitable environment.  We sailed through unknown waters for three years, and began to give up hope.  But we sailed on. 

One night, the pilot fell asleep at the wheel, and we sailed into a storm.  We were thrown around the waters, and half of our crew drowned.  We were thrown onto the rocks, and lay unconscious until the sun shone again.  When I awoke, I found a land of beautiful foods, and forests, and grass.  The elves lived here.  The dwarfs lived here.  Nothing evil lived here.  We found some locals, and we asked if they could accept a new culture into their country.  They welcomed us with opened arms, and gave us fast ships and men to pilot them, so we could get home and bring our families.

But we also brought evil.  In the country where we had lived, there was a tree.  This tree was older than anything in the world, black, and had both good and evil pollen.  A child that had been playing in the tree brought a seed of evil.  And it spread.  It contaminated the elves, creating the warlords of the high mountains.  It contaminated the dwarfs, and created the goblins of the underworld.  It contaminated the good men of our trip, and worst of all, it contaminated Arthur Archibald, the most powerful human alive.

He declared war on the elves that had welcomed us.  He enslaved the dwarfs that had built us cities and homes.  Both being peaceful species, they did not fight back.  And because of this, they all either died out or ran into hiding.

We had changed this world of happiness, and darkness, into a world ruled by the King of Darkness.  He forced the magical elves to grant him immortality, and ruled with an iron fist, and an iron sword.

But some of us had not been contaminated.  Me and three of the others that had made up the original seven, joined together.  As one last gift, the elves granted us magic, before slipping away.

We formed the resistance.  We slipped away, buying our time before we could make our move.  But one last drama met us before we could hatch our plans.

A witch, that we met on our travels, gave us a prophecy.  This is what it read:

The one that you hate, shall be given a son.
That son shall both help him, and hinder him.
At the end of the world, a decision must be made
For good or evil, a journey must be made
And he shall end the war
But for what cause?  I cannot tell…”

As the resistance muttered and The Master finished talking, Diego stepped forward through the crowd.  The Master rose his arms.  “This is the son that the witch predicted.  This is the son that shall end the war, and bring back the good into this world!”

Diego rose the bundle of clothes to the sky, and through the trees, a burst of moonlight lit up the new-born baby.  The resistance gasped, and uttered once again.

“Rubbish!” came a loud voice, and everyone fell into silence.  A big man stepped forward, aggressively staring at the Master.

“If we believe what this man said, not only will we have to believe in fairy tale creatures, but we will have to accept that this man is over a thousand years old.  Not to mention he would be magic!  All this mumbo jumbo is crushing my head in.  Lets kick him out and get back to the wine!”

He laughed, and aimed a kick at the Master.  Suddenly, a beam of light hit him from both sides.  Purple erupted from the Master’s fingers, and his eyes lit up, turning into an either brighter shade of blue.  The light crashed into his attackers chest, sending him fly backwards.  In this rage, and with this power, the Master began to grow taller, and more impressive.  No longer was he a crippled old man, now he was a wizard with more power than anything in the world.

However, that was not what most shocked the onlookers.  It was the green beam of light that crashed into the back of the man.  Everyone turned, and they saw a hooded ghostlike figure sitting at the back of their group.  No one had seen him slip in, until now.

The double effect on the man was too much for his body.  He collapsed into unconsciousness, and lay still on the floor.  The Master looked up, and gasped.  “Brother.  It’s been too long!”

He ran to embrace the figure, who pulled his hood down to reveal an inhuman face.  His skin sparkled, and was pale.  You could see a pointed jaw line running down his face, and his eyes were bright yellow.  His ears were pointed, and he had flaming red hair that looked out of place compared to the rest of his face.  He was tall, taller than an average man, and so thin it looked like he would blow away in a wind.  But despite this, there was still a power about him that made even the bravest men in the group shrink away from this strange being.

A child, less than five years old, slowly walked towards the figure.  A desperate mother tried to pull him back, but was shrugged off casually.  The child reached up and touched the figures cloak.  It rippled like the sea, and made the man it was wrapped around seem even more magical.

“Elf” the child said, before raising its arms high.  The mysterious stranger stooped, and to the surprise of the resistance, picked up the child, and held him gently in his arms.  “Yes.  I am an elf.”  He looked up and smiled.  “This kid is smart.  Keep him safe.” 

Then, he turned his attention back to the Master.  “It is time Master.  They are getting impatient.  Where is the hero you promised us?”  The Master looked flustered.  “He was only born today!  Surely you can wait a bit longer?”

The elf looked grim.  “We’ve been waiting a thousand years Master.  That’s a long time, even when you’re immortal.  Some are saying its time that we left this place and went to find new lands.”  The Master became increasingly frantic.  “Just wait until he comes of age.  Then he will get you your kingdom back.”  The elf took a breath, and nodded.  “I may regret this, but fine.  You can have twenty years.  When that time is up, we shall leave, and you shall be left to fend for yourself.”

And with that he was gone, leaving not a shadow, or a footprint.  The Master turned to the resistance. 

“This is our course of action.  We shall go into hiding for twenty years, not making any actions, but recruiting.  Get the best warriors you know, tell them our story.  Tell them this:
You have twenty years.  Make weapons, make supplies, train sons, do whatever you must.  But when the sun rises, twenty years from today, tell them they must be ready to fight.  Tell them they must be ready to fight, for the good of this country, of all its people.  Tell them they must be ready to fight for freedom!”

End of part one.  Part two-Discovery coming soon!