Eric

A word on wizards: Wizards are those who practice the art of magic. Magic is control over the elements. There are eight elements known elements. Most wizards have major control over one or two of the elements. The eight elements are: Earth, Air, Nature, Lightning, Fire, Water, Darkness and Light. Few have ever mastered all the elements. The first was Ptolemy and then came Merlin. This is the story of the third.

In the quite village of Zamar, 12 year old Eric and his friends were doing what most children in Zamar did with their spare time, having fun. Eric was slim with jet black hair and deep blue eyes. He had dark skin and was of average height. Eric and his friends were playing soccer. Just as he was about to score a goal, the village bell rang. Something important or something terrible had happened. Eric and the other children packed up all the soccer equipment and headed to the village square. Zamar had a river running through it which separated the north from the south. A bridge joined the two halves. The southern side had all the houses and farms whilst the north had an inn, supply shops and the village square, where Eric was headed.

As he reached the bridge he noticed something out of place. A man with a black cloak was on the bridge was slowly heading to the square. As Eric passed him the strangers’ fist struck out and hit him in the face, sending him reeling. Totally surprised by the attack, Eric tripped over and fell off the bridge. The last thing he remembered was the hooded man looking down on him with his soulless eyes. Eric drifted down the river and fell into unconsciousness.

No one noticed Eric was gone, even though it was Joanas, his father, who was being executed. Joanas had always been a generous man and was starting to lose money. Too proud to ask for help, he started stealing so that Eric wouldn’t worry. He had finally been caught though, and the punishment for theft was death. The hooded man walked onto the execution platform and took the execution scythe. He walked away from the village with the soul of Joanas in his hands. “Freedom?” rasped the soul.
“Nay.” said the man.
The soul let out a deep sigh and asked “Why me though?”
“Because you are an Everlast my friend.” replied the man.
The soul sighed again as the man walked to his mount. The horses’ body would not last the ride to the Stone Throne, but its soul would.