Inheritance

Chapter 22: Wild Thunder

Many years ago, when Eory was only six-years-old, thunder cracked in the distance and rain cascaded relentlessly from a dark, night sky.

Eory and his brother, Gershom, were safe and sound inside Maribel castle and lying on their bellies. In each of their hands was a toy horse, and they played together like the carefree children that they were.

Even though Gershom was a highly bright and intelligent young man who had talent and passion in many activities—including dance, numbers, strategy, politics, and writing--entertaining his little brother was far more preferable to him than any of those other things.

The two brothers were having a grand time and making silly, exaggerated voices for their horses, until the first of many thunder bolts rang in the distance.

Eory clapped his hands over his large ears and sniffled in fear.

Gershom smiled at his little brother comfortingly, and then rose to a sitting position. The older fairy watched Eory shudder in terror for a moment with his shaking, ivory hands plastered to his large ears. Gershom thought of a way to comfort his little brother--a way that would make their parents proud.

He pulled his little brother onto his lap and whispered, "the thunder is like Pollyanna..."

Eory was still shuddering, but instead of staring ahead blankly, he now looked up at his brother with concentration overcoming fear.

Eory only saw Pollyanna rarely, and when he did, she was quiet and imposing. She would stand stoically by his father's throne with her sword pointed downward on the dais and any peasants who came to beg the king for a favor would be faced with having Pollyanna there as a looming threat. Otherwise, he hardly knew her except from the stories his family told him about her. He could tell Gershom was going to tell him one now.

"The thunder is wild--dangerous--but it can do you no harm if you can control it. Pollyanna is the same way, but she is even more wild and dangerous. Thunder goes away; Pollyanna does not."

There was a pause between them as Eory was now intently listening to his older brother rather than the oncoming, heavy rain.

"You remember, right? That you can control her so long as you always use those three words?" Gershom said with a smile.

Eory thought for a moment, and then he nodded. "'I order you to...'"

Gershom nodded.

Thunder rang again and Eory gasped in fear. Gershom held him all-the-tighter and then he said, "tell me, Eory. Why should an Arrozan fear a silly thing like the thunder when he already has control over the far more dangerous Pollyanna?"

Eory thought about all the stories his family told him about Pollyanna—how she had helped overthrow the evil humans who used to rule Maribel, how she had killed dragons, wyverns, and many dangerous mages and realized that he, indeed, should have nothing to fear, but...

Eory wanted to believe his brother, but even at age six, he was more cowardly than most Arrozans were at that same age. His brother and parents worried constantly that he would bring shame to their line with his sniveling nature, but they adored him regardless.

Gershom sensed his brother's doubts and, in a moment, he gently pushed Eory off his lap. The younger fairy sat in front of his brother, cross-legged. "Do you know why else you should neither fear thunder nor Pollyanna?"

Eory shook his head.

"Because we Arrozans are wilder and more dangerous than both. We bow neither to the thunder nor invincible warriors."