Inheritor of Strength (Book one of Alfireán age)

Calm Before the Storm

Alf focused all his of thoughts and energy into running away. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Vackzilian—and the death of his friend—as possible.

By the time they reached the fork in the road, sweat drenched Alf from head-to-toe. Physically and mentally exhausted, he turned on to the Belkin forest road and slowed his pace to a jog.

Zachariahs was gone.

Carlos was gone.

And this was only the beginning, Alf knew. If Vackzilian was left to his own devices, he would continue to wreak havoc across the land. As these thoughts paraded through his mind, the magnitude and importance of his mission began to settle on his shoulders. This wasn't a simple adventure. This was life and death. Father in heaven, he prayed, give me the strength to endure. Guide my feet and grant me wisdom to know what I must do.

As Alf prayed, he let his body fall into a smooth, rhythmic pace.

For the next twenty minutes, he kept this steady pace until, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a child scamper into the forest. Alf stopped, grateful for the break, as Olivia ran after the little girl.

"Leave the butterfly alone," Olivia chided.

"But I wanted it."

Tilting his head to the sky, Alf breathed in the moist jungle air. Then he looked back behind him. More than half of the people were sitting down.

Staring at them in curiosity, Alf took an experimental step forward, and like magic, the people floated along with him.

Some of the heaviness in his heart lifted at seeing the strange phenomenon. Even in the darkness, there was hope. These people could rebuild their lives. They could pick themselves back up and start to live again all because of Zachariahs' sacrifice. His story would be told from generation to generation, and he would live on in the hearts of his people.

"I'm ready," Olivia called, rejoining the line with the girl in her arms.

Alf picked back up his pace, ever so often glancing over his shoulder.

What a funny picture, he thought. Everybody is floating forward like ducks gliding along the water. His gaze fell to the ground lying a few inches beneath them and watched as it raced by. If only I'd had this when I was younger. I could've followed Harold everywhere—like a baby duck, and with that thought, he rolled his eyes and laughed as he turned his attention back to the road.

Sometime later, as they neared Brockovich, Drake strolled up next to Alf and sat down beside him. Alf smiled as the prince sat there, floating in the air, while he did all the work.

Drake grinned back at him and said, "This skill is far more useful than even I thought. I can only begin to imagine the impact something like this could have in battle. It may very well be the sole thing that enables us to take back the Empire."

The light in his eyes dimmed, and Drakovian's grin faded away.

"I'm glad you were able to think of this strategy," he said looking off into the distance. "In fact, your decisions today made me realize that my view of the world is flawed. You... You have something that I don't."

Alf glanced down at him and contemplated how he should respond. After a moment, he said, "No, Drake, I don't." He shook his head, "I'm nothing special. It's the one true God I serve. He is the one who enables me and teaches me. Just today he saved my life, and he has done so many times before."