Rise of the Prince by Nicholas C Rossis

Author:Nicholas C Rossis
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Magical Realism, Metaphysical, Myths & Legends, Greek & Roman, Fantasy, Nonfiction, Genre Fiction, Metaphysical & Visionary, Literature & Fiction
Published: 2014-07-12T05:00:00+00:00

The Marshes

David

The old shaman chanted in a hoarse voice, swaying his gaunt body gently. David sat on the dusty floor of the dark tent. He fed some incense into the fire, breathing in the aromatic smoke. “What’re you doing?” he whispered after a while, growing impatient.

“Feel the planet,” the old man murmured. “Good. Evil.”

“How?”

The shaman ignored him for a while, then cracked his eyes open, deep in trance. His piercing eyes shone with intensity. “I’m in a forest.” He shifted the dust on the ground, as if it were soil and mulch. “A dark stain. Blood.” He whipped his head around. “An Orb. Someone’s been killed.” He gaped around him.

“What?” David asked.

The old man recoiled. “The beach. Stains. They grow… No more sand. Only blood.” He nodded, listening to the Orb.

David leaned forward, gaping at the old man. “What’s she saying?”

“Where man slays man, the blood can never be washed away.”

He stayed silent for a time, then yawned deeply and stretched his limbs as he came out of his trance. David twisted in impatience while the shaman regained his consciousness. “What did you see?” he asked when he could no longer contain his curiosity.

The old man shook his head. “A sign of things to come. The ancient enemy’s in the Haunted Forest. Take the fight to him.”

David had never heard of such a place, but the foreboding name told him all he needed to know. His shoulders dropped. “What should we look for?” he asked. “Is it Fallen?”

The old man tilted his head. “The Fallen are symptom, not disease. To cure the symptom, fight the disease.”

“But where?”

“Northeast. Prepare your friends. I’ll talk to the Elders.”

David stepped out of the tent, blinking repeatedly as his eyes got used to the soft afternoon light. A group of blacksmiths on their way to the tavern motioned an invitation for a drink. He smiled, but waved a polite refusal. The blacksmiths left, disappointed. They’ll have to make do without their patron saint, he thought, amused.

One of David’s set of skills that had proven notably popular with the First came straight from the knowledge crystal: metallurgy. David proved a worthy descendant of Lucas, although most of the materials described in the crystal either required components he had never heard of, or were too complicated to make outside a laboratory. He had, however, managed to construct a metal lighter yet more durable than anything used so far by the First. The weapons and armour built with it had given the Wind Warriors and the Fire Clan a distinct advantage over everyone else, and the two tribes now effectively ruled all First.

As an unexpected side benefit, the two clans’ blacksmiths enjoyed an unprecedented popularity among women. So, they considered him something between patron saint and blacksmith genius, competing for the privilege of his friendship, probably in the hope he would reveal some new knowledge while drinking out with them. As a result, David had not paid for a single drink in ages, despite his continuous efforts to make it clear that he would not show anyone preferential treatment.

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