The Young Shall Inherit: Aerolan Saga: Book 1

"Voravia. I believe it is your turn," a voice announced. She jumped at the voice and looked around at the door, the officer stood there motioning for her to follow.

  The young man had returned with him and was talking to the older man in low tones. He was shaking his head, but the older man talked and motioned with his hands apparently responding to the boy's questions.

  She glanced at the young man as she walked past and observed an angry boy, maybe violently so.

  She arrived at the chamber quickly. The officer said nothing to her and she no longer was in a gay mood. He led her to the center of the room, turned and walked away.

  She could see a raised platform where a small throne sat. She was alone, or so she thought. It was difficult to see anything because the light was so low.

  "Welcome, my dear," a voice spoke gently. She jumped again in her nervousness; she knew her palms were wet. She wiped them quickly on her gown, trying to hide her action, and looked up to see a man sitting on the throne.

  She was stunned by his presence and curtsied to him as best she could. She never had an opportunity to show respect for someone before and certainly not in such a grand place.

  "I understand you have a special talent," the man stated. His voice was so mellow she began to feel more comfortable and not so vulnerable. She wrinkled her brow at the statement, not understanding what he was talking about.

  "Probably learned from your mother," he added.

  What does this man know about my mother?

  "I don't understand, your highness. What special talent? Do you know my mother?" Voravia asked with a great deal more bravado than she felt.

  "Your mother and I had a rather special relationship at one time," the man answered, "possibly she mentioned me. I am Baalsa'n."

  Voravia's eyes rounded with surprise. She remembered her mother telling her of the man who was her father; a father who left them behind when he went off to war. That man's name was Baalsa'n. She had never known him. This surely couldn't be him.

  "But, sir. That cannot be. He was killed in a war in some distant place. We never heard from him again. The name is a coincidence; you can't be that man," she was speaking in earnest now, walking slowly toward the man. He held up his hand and she stopped.

  "But I am. I'm happy to see she spoke of me," he offered.

  "I believe you wouldn't have liked what she said,"

  Voravia spoke forcefully, "We led a hard life, a terribly hard life. Barely surviving the land and the life we lived. Our customs are cruel to a widowed woman with a child. You left us when we needed you. You are a black-hearted and evil man!" She was shouting at him now.

  "Yes, I suppose I am," he agreed, chuckling at her ferocity, "but you did survive and now you are here. Welcome, daughter."

  "I am not your daughter. I refuse to admit it. How could you do leave us?" she yelled back at him, stomping about in her anger, glaring at him. For some reason, she was afraid to approach any closer.

  "I had other priorities," Baalsa'n stated, simply, without emotion. "I had many things to do to gain this power," He waved his hand as though pointing out the obvious. " I intend to keep it. And you will provide more advantages with your power and will support me in what I now must begin. You will be rewarded for the effort and intensity you show."

  "What are you talking about? I'm not helping you; I'm going to leave now," Voravia shouted again, turned back around and walked toward the exit.

  Suddenly she rose into the air, rotating so she was upside down, looking down at the black marbled floor below. She tried vainly to keep her gown from falling.

  "You are impetuous," he laughed lightly, "You must teach me a bit of this strength you have. Believe me, I would be an apt and attentive student," he laughed again.

  Voravia opened her mouth to disagree, but willed herself to fall. She reached out with her hands and, as she did, she righted herself and sank slowly to her feet in front of, but no closer to, Baalsa'n.

  She gave him a haughty glare; her arms clasped below her breasts in defiance.

  "Ah, there. I knew you could be a malleable student yourself," Baalsa'n spoke, shifting in his seat.

  Voravia stood and stared at the man who claimed to be her father.

  "You see, you just saved yourself from a serious 'accident' by stopping your fall. It seems you know a number of 'interesting' things. But, time is short. I would love to chat with you more but I have much to do."

  "Leaving again." Voravia could not contain herself, "Seems fitting."

  Baalsa'n stood. He stepped toward her. She backed away, wanting to escape, but couldn't move. He rushed closer as though to attack her.

  She could see his face, handsome but fiercely strong, a will so strong, it would never be broken. She backed away, hoping not to fall.

  "Enough! Silence!" Baalsa'n voice rumbled as he stopped, glaring at her. She clamped her hands to her ears, "I will not tolerate anymore!"

  Voravia cringed from the voice and the man. Baalsa'n turned and walked back to the throne. She backed away slowly, thinking again she might escape.

  "You would be ill advised to try to escape, my daughter," he spoke as he spun about to sit again, "and there is nowhere you can go without my permission. I must tell you that you will serve me. It's your purpose in my plan whether you like it or not."

  Daughter! Not likely or accepted

  She stood glaring at him. She could think of nothing else to do; she didn't want to talk or listen.

  She wanted to turn this man to stone as she had the other, but nothing worked -- she had tried. So she waited to hear what he had to say.

  "Even should you attempt to deny what I have told you, it is true. There is a purpose and now there is you with the power necessary for you to contribute," Baalsa'n spoke softly but insistently.

  He gave her more instructions about how, when and where she was to go, why she had to be there and what she had to do after her arrival.

  She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

  Go to the South? Claim an ancient castle? Build an army that would follow their leader into hell? How can I do these things; I know nothing of these things. I know nothing. I'm a simple girl from the wasteland

  She began to cry softly, tears slowly flowing down her cheeks.

  "It will not be as bad as you may think now, but whatever you think, you must do these things," he added, "there is much to be learned where you are going."

  "Below this castle to which I send you, there are great manuscripts buried, prepared through the ages and placed there as men lost interest in their 'gods'," he chuckled. "There is knowledge to be gained by their reading. Particularly about an object called the Ahar'n hidden on this planet since its rebirth.

  It's imperative we know the whereabouts of this amulet. You must research the writings and discover where it is. I, and the rest, will await your discoveries with interest."

  "Why me? I have no diligence with resolving problems; I can't work like that. Isn't there someone else?" Voravia implored, knowing as she spoke the die was cast.

  She realized she would have to go. She knew immediately and now she felt compelled to go. And didn't know why.

  She stopped crying, her mood changed dramatically. She held her head higher, her brilliant hair flared out about her face, which now showed a hardness that wasn't there before.

  Her face, beautiful as it was, wouldn't delight the young men again; there was too much danger evident in the green eyes glistening with anger. Too dangerous.

  "I will leave at dawn. I'm eager to serve you, Father," she spoke sullenly, "and I will search diligently." She paused and glowered at Baalsa'n.

  Hate was a part of what they were to each other.

  "The two men. The younger one and the handsome one. They are your brothers," he added, looking toward a distant part of the room she couldn't see, but she didn't look away nor did she react to what he said about the others.

  "They too have their separate tasks and when the time comes
, they will come to you for guidance. That is my decision. It will be done," he stopped talking abruptly, "You may leave now."

  Without looking either left or right, Voravia turned toward the door and walked out without speaking again.

  DISCORD