The Young Shall Inherit: Aerolan Saga: Book 1

Perhaps there are those who toil for evil, perhaps these are no more than slaves to their own desires whether evil or not.

  For the opportunity to advance that inner wish, these search but stay hidden from others in the belief there will be no notice of what they do. Of what is ill gotten because of what they sacrifice.

  And of the compounded pain of their actions for the ambition to achieve something not yet attained.

  We must observe and pity . . .

  "Mord, get in here, you wretched waste of flesh!" Voravia shouted, her voice echoing through the caverns. "Do it now!"

  Throwing back the covers, she rose from her bed, stomped to the washstand and splashed her face with its freezing water. She dried her face on the towel hanging on the edge of the stand and looked into the mirror.

  The startling green of her eyes stared back at her; they were harshly red-rimmed with deep purple shadows beneath. Her skin was paler than she remembered with a revolting translucency. She snapped her gaze from the mirror.

  Pausing only a moment, she reached down into the water again and splashed the cool liquid over her face. Her long tresses of red and gold fell over her face as she continued to refresh her face.

  Maybe I can wash some color back into it with the cold.

  She looked again into the mirror. Her small face, the lips so pinched they were almost invisible, her disheveled hair falling loosely about, irritated her and she became angry.

  What sort of idiot are you? What can be so important you have to sit in these damned caverns to find some unknown answer?

  She snatched up another towel her servants had brought earlier and scrubbed her face with it. She stopped and, peering over the towel, saw the small twisted face of her servant peeking around the edge of the door.

  "Where have you been? Never mind. I don't care. Go down into the lower caverns and spread out all of the oldest scrolls you can find. NOW!" she shouted at the little man.

  The door slammed loudly as he pulled it closed. He ran away to do her bidding.

  She turned back to the mirror over the washstand, looking at her face. The dreams were robbing her of sleep.

  The strongest of the dreams revealed places and people she had never seen, nor known, standing around a huge table in a crystalline cavern.

  Above the table a revolving object floated, flashing great bursts of light outside to reveal those parts of the cave previously hiding in the darkness.

  Exploding worlds were cracking apart and rejoined, becoming something different yet staying the same -- destruction and rebirth.

  What she saw was not upsetting her, she thought it thrilling to dream such a grand display, but she was restless through the night because of the dreams. Exhausted when she awoke, she felt she was there as part of the experience.

  Where were they? Who were they? Was the dream about the past or the future?

  "Why am I dreaming these things?" she asked herself aloud. "Maybe I've a stronger imagination than I thought."

  She had a certain uneasy feeling however someone was inside her thoughts revealing these things, possessing her dreams to bring her a message of some sort.

  But who?

  She pondered, looking back at the mirror.

  Who? Baalsa'n? Probably?

  She slammed her hand on the washstand, splashing some of the water over. Absentmindedly, she wiped it away with the towel she held.

  Voravia was more than a little upset by this whole affair. Normally she shunned all contact with other people in this land, with one exception. Her few servants, over which she placed tight controls, were totally dependent upon her.

  It was not to her advantage to be starting a new project at this stage in her life; she was enjoying herself quite nicely before these stupid dreams began and she wanted to return to her old life.

  Many years before, as a child, she had heard tales of powerful people who created and destroyed worlds using magical objects of power. Even then, as young as she was, she thought such tales ridiculous and scoffed at the elders who told them.

  Her people were nomads, moving at a whim of nature or a leader, traveling constantly and scavenging from the land until it lay desecrated, stopping only when they found yet another place to destroy.

  She thought with strange introspection but wasn't aware of the difference.

  Perhaps a reason I prefer the caves. They are barren, cold and violated as everything I've seen throughout my life.

  The caves were indeed imposing. The violence that created the caverns was evident from the great creases folded from the strain of building mountains at the beginning of creation.

  When she came to this castle, many years before, she felt as though she had come home despite a realization there was never any peace in her life nor had she ever had a permanent home.

  Perhaps the scrolls would give her some answers. She discovered them, hundreds and maybe thousands, far below the level where she made her home. Though she had looked through a great many of them after their discovery, she eventually lost interest.

  She saw nothing of importance in them. They were filled with mostly ramblings of a historical nature revealing tales of various lands, peoples, other places and things for which she had no concern or saw how she could benefit from knowing about.

  "These dreams. I can't dismiss the idea those scrolls have a bearing on the meaning of the dreams," she mumbled, looking once again at her distraught visage in the mirror and frowning.

  "Perhaps those old tales held a certain bit of truth in them and the scrolls, the oldest of them at least, might offer a clue to this magical Ahar'n I dream about and the verification of the tales. Gods, I hope so!"

  Voravia didn't care so much about things as she did about simply being left alone. She had always hated people. Even as a small child, she would kick and scream if someone dared to pick her up. Maybe the reason these dreams were so disturbing.

  It was as though someone wanted to contact her and was trying to do it directly through her own mind. She certainly didn't like the intrusion. She didn't want people coming anywhere near her forest and lands, let alone directly intruding into her thoughts.

  Voravia , shaking her head, stomped off to the pantry to break fast. She rummaged through a few sacks and jars, taking out bits of dried fruit, bread and honey, poured a dipper full of water from the barrel, and sat down at a rickety little table.

  She spat out an apricot pit and got up from the table.

  Well, even if there's nothing in the stupid scrolls about this blasted Ahar'n, there, at least, might be a spell to ward off these dreams.

  She rose, leaving the table for the servants to clear, and made her way down the back steps to the caverns below.