“Click clack” goes the sound of the Grand Councilmen Zeyphods shoes as he strides towards the room of which many great debates of the nation have been held. In the head of this man an internal debate was raging, a debate of whether he should tell The Counsel of the grave news he had just been informed of previously that morning. He frowned remembering that morning.
He had been walking down the main road when a man had jumped out of the side ally and confronted at him with the grave news that burdened and sadden his heart. The thought of the dreaded information made him shudder and he quickened his pace even more. He arrived at the door to the conference room 20 minutes later, stopping outside the door, he breathed deep a few times and knocked at his destinations door.
“Enter” said a deep baritone voice. Taking a few seconds to calm his raging heart he pushed the door open and walked in, the first thing he noticed was a large rectangular table in the middle of the room, around it sat The Counsel, at the head of the table sat The Supreme Leader: Ragnorok, he was a tall man with long dark black hair, a small dark patch of facial hair covered his chin, the corners of his mouth lifted in a pleasant smile when he saw Zeyphod.
Zeyphod slowly, and with his head down, walked to his seat on the right hand of his Lord Ragnorok, as Zeyphod took his seat and Ragnorok turned to him:
“Zeyphod, Welcome.”
“Thank you my Lord” Zeyphod replied with a look of sadness on his face.
“Why so sad, Zeyphod?” asked Ragnorok inquiringly
“Well My Lord, I have some bad news.”
“And what news would that be?” said Ragnorok starting to get angry.
“Well…..”Said Zeyphod then taking a breath he continued “The Queen of the Gladstone tribe has passed away, My Lord”
“What!” Shouted Ragnorok rising from his seat
Zeyphod looked shaken from this outbreak of fury from his Lord
“I know this news troubles you lord but it is true, your spy in the tribe notified it of me this morning” said Zeyphod “he had rode from the tribe nonstop for two days sir”.
“That’s not all, My Lord” said Zeyphod, terror starting to show in his voice “Before the Queen died she gave birth to a son”
“A son?” said Ragnorok questioning in his voice as he retook his seat
“Yes, My Lord” said Zeyphod then taking a deep breath he said that which he had been dreading “The baby has the Marking of the Prophesied child”
Ragnorok’s eyes widened at this “The Prophesied child?”
“Yes, My Lord”
“It has all the signs?” asked Ragnorok worry in his voice
“I do not know that, My Lord” Said Zeyphod “The spy has not gotten close enough to check.”
“Tell the spy first chance he gets, check to make sure” Ragnorok ordered.
Ragnorok asks “Did the spy say what it is to be named?”
“Narc, My Lord” said Zeyphod a little shakily
Ragnorok sits back down and turns to Zeyphod “I want you Zeyphod to watch this boy personally, maybe we can change his fate”
Zeyphod dry swallows and answers “As you wish, my Lord”
Meanwhile in the Gladstone tribe -a tribe that’s hidden deep in the mighty mountains of Clodin – whisperings and murmurings have broken loose all over:
“Did you hear the Queen has died?”
“The baby is cursed!”
And loudest of all is:
“The Prophesied One”
High up in the main tent a baby is crying, as the Shaman of the tribe picks it up it ceases its crying and looks at the Shaman with eyes of a deep gold. The Shaman takes a closer look at the baby, only to see that the rumors were true.
It had the features from all the tribes. From the Gladstone tribe it had bones of pure diamond so pure the baby seemed to glow with its strength, from the Northmen tribe breath as cold as the wind of the first snow, from the Highwind tribe joints on its shoulder blades that would soon grow into majestic wings.
From the Vorlax tribe a tail with a barb so sharp it had ripped through the blankets swaddling it, From the Nightwalkers tribe the teeth of a jungle cat also the Shaman guessed the reflexes and agility would arrive later, From the Flamebearer tribe it had skin that got red when it fussed, the Shaman new that in the future it would be able to light it’s skin afire.
The Shaman then looked at the Marking that had the village whispering, it was a silver dragon running down the right side of his face from its forehead to its chin, it looked so real that it seemed to be living on the babes face. The Shaman put the baby down in its crib and departed from the tent.
The Shaman ran to her tent and pushed the flap open, walking in she began rummaging around till she found what she was looking for. A very old parchment held together by oil secreted from the Gongwa trees. Trees that can only be found near the Vorlax tribes campsite. The title of the parchment read “Prophecies and legends of old”.
The Shaman unfurled it and read the title of the first legend
“The Prophesied child”
Below that it read “Of all the kings that have been Ragnorok is said to be the worst, he is depicted as an all-powerful being. But there is one said to be able to defeat him. A child born with all the traits of the tribes, the child would be identified by the sacred marking: A Silver Dragon. Once the child reached the age of 15 it will go and learn from the greatest of the tribes on how to use its powers to their full extent. It is said he will then travel to the Supreme Leaders fortress and rid the world of him”
The Shaman after reading this then burst from the tent and shouted to the entire Village “It has been confirmed! The Queens child is the Prophesied one!” Many cheered, some screamed, a few just stared with blank expressions on there faces. The Shaman then ran back to the Queens tent and walked in. She was startled to see the baby looking at her with its deep gold eyes.
Copyright © 2011 Aaron Allen. All rights reserved.