by Pamita Rao
“See? This is how you teach them a lesson,” said the guard, right before Freddic hurled the contents of his stomach onto the ground and onto the guard’s shoes.
CHAPTER TWO
Creed
On the north wing of the tower, overlooking the large expanse of the land of Tireol until the unknown, unmarked lands, emperor Creed stepped out of his chamber into his elliptical balcony. The balcony encircled the tower, leaving Creed with a view of the northern, eastern, and western borders. He folded his arms in front of his chest, marveling at the vast lands he had captured.
On the west, the rugged, artistic houses of the aristocrats surrounded Lake Tamaha, peaceful, quiet, away from the rough seas and dipping cliffs of the south.
On the east was the market square, where merchants would come every day to sell their goods. These merchants lived in smaller houses in the south of Tireol and worked mostly for the aristocrats, selling stock in the morning markets and paying weekly taxes, which all came back to the castle’s treasury.
Beyond the market square, towards the north, where his eyes could not reach, was Groigad village, which was home to all the spoils of war. Most of these men and women had been aristocrats themselves in other kingdoms. Some proved good merchants, so he let them work in return for the taxes, but the others simply had no skills worth his time. He turned such men into slaves and threw their families in Groigad, which had once been a barren village. Over the years, these men and women built homes with a type of sand called ‘Loghe’, which was only available in Groigad.
Some travelled every day between their homes and Tireol palace, while others travelled to Lake Tamaha to work in the homes of aristocrats. Every year, Creed sent out his troops into many smaller villages throughout Myrth to hire and train men in his army to fight beside him in war and to be guards in his castle.
His gaze then shifted to the enchanted forests of the north. His brow furrowed. He had spent years trying to cross those lands but had failed. Even now, he had yet to find a way to cross the enchanted forests.
It was a myth well known to anyone in Tireol that the enchanted forests hid the gates of heaven created by gods. The gods used the gates to travel between various realms to observe and guide the life force that they helped create. Creed had been fascinated with the stories as a child and had tried every year to reach the enchanted forests, but he’d never succeeded to go through the lands.
To the naked eye, the enchanted forests were nothing but barren land, and it seemed to span forever. Anyone who went through it was either lost or eaten by things that had never been described by survivors—as there were none. In the past few years, his urge to cross the gates and reach other realms had increased. He wanted to see what was out in the universe.
He had annexed all the lands on his own planet. He now ruled not only Tireol and numerous smaller kingdoms but also the empires of Tryll and Taelk, located in the Western Seas. He had raided these kingdoms with fleets of Tireol ships and brought back many from those kingdoms as slaves to his land. There were no more lands left to conquer, across the seas or otherwise. He knew this because he had travelled all of Tireol through land and sea but found nothing.
He was finally the ruler of the entire planet of Myrth, and yet, he wanted more. He wanted to rule other lands, other realms. He felt an unquenchable desire to go through the gates of heaven, but there was only one man in his kingdom who had managed to cross the gates of heaven so far.
“The great emperor Balthasar,” he scoffed. It had been three years since his father’s death. Creed had counted every day for thirty years of his life, waiting to take his rightful place on the throne. But the old man had died without giving him the power to reach the enchanted forests.
“There is no power, Creed,” Balthasar said, lying on his featherbed, too old and weak to move or eat. “It is destiny. One cannot find the gates; the gates show themselves to those who are worthy. If you have tried and failed, then it wasn’t meant to be, son. Let it go,” Balthasar advised with all his wisdom, but Creed suspected the old man wanted to keep the powers and knowledge to himself.
Out of rage, Creed had unleashed his powers onto Balthasar, killing him while Balthasar watched in horror—his own son, turning into a monster.
He deserved it, thought Creed. Balthasar had never been a capable father. He loved his subjects and the land of Myrth, but he never cared for Creed. He stopped Creed from having fun with his subjects and would punish him for torturing servants in their chambers. Balthasar never gave him what he wanted and treated him like a criminal. Creed once spent a long time in prison when he was just a boy, because he cut open the stomach of his maid in waiting, after which Balthasar had forced Creed to abdicate his rights to the throne. After witnessing Creed’s brutality, Balthasar’s trusted aides had begged him to order the execution of Creed, but Balthasar had refused. Creed had been overjoyed. Maybe Father loved him more than he loved his own subjects. But when another prisoner who had previously served under Balthasar spoke of a curse that followed the old king, everything became clear.
Creed’s mother had cursed Balthasar. If he ever tried to harm Creed, everything he truly loved would be destroyed. He would lose his subjects, his land, and everything he had worked hard to protect. Knowing this, Creed had finally given up hope of ever reconciling with his father.
Soon, Creed was forced into exile, where he found more men like him, who were interested in the dark arts; he lived deep in the shadows of the forest of the east and communed with dark sages, who knew the secrets of dark magic. Creed, during his exile, learned those skills, and over the years made allies within the kingdom. With their knowledge, he poisoned Balthasar.
Little by little, they administered poison into him, through his evening drinks. Creed watched his father grow weaker each day while he became stronger. With the help of the dark sages, Creed learned the skills needed to attain powers like his father. He honed the skills until he was ready to take on the throne. He came back to visit his father on the final days of his life, giving him one last chance to share the knowledge of the gates, but Balthasar had refused.
Creed had then used all the dark powers within him to kill the most powerful man in the entirety of Myrth and taken the throne by force.
This year, something even better had happened. Queen Elora gave birth to his heir, his son, Neelahaim. And upon his birth, Creed invited Drahim, the oldest amongst all dark sages to force a vision of the child.
Drahim forced a vision of the child and spoke with utmost respect. “He possesses powers to cross the gates of heaven.”
Creed was too shocked to speak. It was as if he was being given a second chance. Maybe it was his destiny after all to rule the universe. “Is there a way for me to borrow some of the boy’s powers?” he asked.
Drahim nodded. “There is an ancient ritual, one that allows powers to be passed between blood relations.”
“Can that ritual be performed with me and the boy?”
Drahim took a while to answer the question. He paused hesitantly. “We have trained you for years in the arts of dark magic and allowed you to stay with us when Balthasar forced you to leave your own kingdom.”
Creed nodded. “I remember, and I give you my word that no harm shall come to you if you tell me the truth.”
“The ritual is very painful,” continued Drahim. “Powers are part of one’s body. They are a part of the being, and when forcefully removed, the body fights back. It will fight to keep the power within itself. It will be the same when the power is entered into you; your body will fight to keep it out, because the power does not belong to you. It will be very unpleasant.”
“You think I am afraid of a little pain?”
“No, Creed, I am afraid the prince, in such a nascent state, may not survive the pain. His young body is not mature enough to handle such pain.”
Creed paced in his chamber, his long robe sweeping the stone floor. This could not be happening to him. He had waited far too long to go th
rough those gates. Every time he seemed to find a way of reaching it, fate took it away from him. But this time, he would cheat fate. He would finally get his wish, his dream. He had to do what was best for him. It was his only chance. “Will the child die before or after the power is passed into my body?”
Drahim raised his eyes in shock and stayed silent for a while.
“I asked,” said Creed, coming closer to Drahim, “will the child die before or after the power is passed into my body?”
“The power can be passed into your body before he dies.”
Creed nodded slowly. That is all he needed to hear. He would only require the boy until the power was transferred into him. “Very well then. On the night of the full moon, I shall arrange a ceremony in this palace. I expect you to come and perform the ritual.”
The sage nodded. “You know we will do anything for you. Your father exiled us into the eastern forests, where nothing grows but shrubs and berries. You saved us; you brought us back to our land and gave us homes. We are in your debt, Creed. But I do not understand why you wish to kill your own son. He is your son, the heir to your throne. Surely, you want your lineage to continue.”
Creed’s laughter sounded like a thunderstorm in the chamber. “Once I go through those gates and reach the other worlds, I will capture them. In each world I will seed many sons, and we will all rule together. One must learn to sacrifice for the greater good, and all will know the boy’s sacrifice. I shall teach that to all my children in all the worlds. The boy will be known for the life he gifted to all his brothers and sisters.”
“But what about the queen?” asked Drahim in concern.
Creed’s eyes blazed red, and a black smoke swirled around his hand at the mention of Elora. Had it not been for Drahim’s visions of the future, he would have never met Elora. During their days in the eastern forests, Drahim had mentioned a young warrior whom Creed would meet during his seize of Taelk. Drahim had seen in Elora in his visions, birthing Creed’s son, a boy whose powers would be equal to that of Balthasar, with an ability to go through the gates of heaven. Creed had been overjoyed, even though Drahim warned him that his vision was not complete, that even he could not see everything that would happen in the future. But Creed had dismissed his concerns. What would happen to a powerful king such as him? All he wanted was that child, who would take him through the gates of heaven.
During the battle of Taelk, Creed had found Elora, fighting alongside her father to protect the king and the palace. After winning the battle, Creed had captured Elora as a spoil of war. Her father had begged him not to take her away, had offered him his own life and loyalty in return, but Creed had taken a liking to her. Her glowing skin, her fierce nature, her long shapely legs, and her anger had drawn him to her while she fought like a warrior against his army. He knew then he had to own her.
He promised safety for her family if she agreed to be his queen, and after several days of imprisonment in a dark dungeon without food, Elora agreed. It had made Creed very happy. Having a warrior as the queen would be good for him; she could fight with him, win more wars, and maybe even travel to the worlds outside the gates. But none of that happened.
Elora never considered him her husband. She fought with him at every turn and chose never to perform her wifely duties. He had almost killed her once, but the dark sages, led by Drahim, had intervened. You have sown your seed; now let the fruit of your labor take birth.
Creed left her alone after that, as Elora was not his only queen. He had several others whom he held in different chambers. He had placed his seed in many others just like Elora. He realized soon that he did not even like Elora much anymore. If it were not for Drahim’s visions, he would never have married her but killed her in war.
“Elora will do as I say,” he said, anger coursing through him.
“Elora is not only your wife and queen. She is also a mother. One cannot take a cub from a lioness, let alone a Taelk-raised hearty woman warrior.”
“Elora is a queen because I made her so, Drahim. She has no powers other than the ones I allow her. She knows her place in this palace. I make sure of that. She knows what I will do to her family, if she were to go against me. Her family is too precious to her.”
Drahim considered Creed’s words. “Then we shall keep her in darkness until the full moon and until the prince’s powers are passed on to you.”
As the events of the past ceased in his memory, Creed looked up towards the thundering clouds enclosing his kingdom. He raised his hands, and a black smoke swirled its way from his palm towards the clouds. It entered the dark clouds, splitting them and pushing them apart, revealing the dim glow of a full Myrthian moon.
Townsfolk gathered outside the gates of the palace and peered inside to watch the procession near the north tower. Thousands of lights lit up the north tower of the castle, where guards and aristocrats rode on their horses, raising their swords to salute the emperor as they marched past the tower where Creed stood. They lined up their horses in three sets to face the tower.
Each horse was adorned with an intricately designed velvet clothing, carrying the crest of the emperor that was woven in silk with specs of gold glittering on it. The horns and drum rolls ceased for a moment as the guards and the townsfolk bowed in front of the emperor. Creed felt the jolt of power rise within him as he raised his hand. A black swirl of smoke emerged from the center of his palm, rose in the air above him, and swirled to form a cloud above the tower. He enjoyed displaying his power; he savored the fear he saw in people’s eyes.
This year, for the birth of his son, he had sent thousands of invitations to the aristocrats in his kingdom. Tonight they would witness Creed’s rise to ultimate power. Tonight, the dark sages would perform the ritual and grant him his wish, and everyone would watch Creed receiving powers from his son, Neelahaim. Finally, he would cross the enchanted forests, go through the gates, and proceed to see the worlds beyond.
“The procession has started, my lord. You are required in the court.” Walahal, his head of soldiers, and a guard bowed their heads at the entrance of his chamber. A slave walked inside and crouched near Creed’s foot, with a shoe in his hand. He waited with his eyes on the ground.
The man was short, his head at Creed’s knee, with large ears and a crooked nose. They were called ‘Ghimsh’ and were found mostly in Taelk. When Creed captured the kingdom of Taelk, he had ordered all the Ghimshs in the kingdom to be killed. He hated how they looked and smelled, but Walahal, his head of soldiers, had shown him their hands. Their hands emitted a gum, which enabled them to stick themselves to walls and trees, and Walahal convinced Creed of how useful they could be in wars. Reluctantly, Creed had allowed them to live.
Creed looked towards the slave in disgust as he held Creed’s shoe in a glove-covered hand to keep the shoe from sticking. Creed slipped his feet into his shoes, one after the other, and flicked his hands for the slave to leave.
“Have the dark sages arrived?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord. They are waiting for you.”
“Is the boy well prepared for the ceremony?”
“Yes, my lord. The prince is fed and asleep in the crib. The chambermaid will bring him to the ceremony when called upon.”
Creed nodded. The day had finally arrived, the day when his lifelong dream would be fulfilled. He would finally be able to cross the gates of heaven and maybe someday he would take over the gods themselves.
CHAPTER THREE
Elora
“My queen, may I ask why you wear that ugly bracelet every year for the royal celebration?” Biliyam scrunched her nose with distaste at the pale gold, ruby-encrusted bracelet that dangled off the queen’s hand, even as she ran a finger over it with gentle reverence.
“It belonged to someone I knew,” said Elora with a distant look on her face as the procession passed below her window. Aristocrats from all over Tireol had gathered to celebrate the prince’s birth.
“It was your mother, wasn’t it?” Biliyam ask
ed. “I can see it in your eyes when you speak of her.”
Elora nodded. “Yes, the bracelet is the only thing I have of hers. Creed took away everything else that reminded me of my family.” Many women would marvel at the chamber Elora lived in, the massive room, high ceilings, and large four-poster bed with the silken sheets fit for an entire family of five. But for Elora, it was her prison, where she’d been banished to for the rest of her life. The paintings on the wall mocked her and the jewelry she wore felt like chains holding her in the prison. She wanted to be free, but she had no choice. This was the life she was given; this was what the gods had intended for her.
Biliyam came close to her and whispered in her ear. “Bless the holy spirits, my queen; the king hasn’t come to these chambers in a long time. It may do you well to stay on his good side. It is better than losing your head, my queen. Your family will be safe as long as you stay loyal to him.”
Elora’s memory flooded with only a glimpse of her family—her father dressed in his armor, her mother dressed in the most beautiful shade of sky blue, and her eyes moist with tears as Elora left her home and her family to fight for the kingdom of Taelk alongside her father. Her heart had thudded with a feeling that she would never see them again.
“We will be back,” she had said to calm her weeping mother. “We will be victorious.”
However, when the battle began, Creed’s soldiers entered the palace in disguise and attacked from the inside while his other soldiers surrounded the kingdom of Taelk. Elora followed her father through the western gate, through a secret entrance. Her father proceeded to protect the king, while she stayed at the western gate to safeguard their frontier.
That was when she met Creed. He watched her fight with his soldiers as she tore through their hearts, sliced their necks and stabbed in their backs. She broke through all the men that stood before him, but when she reached him and raised her sword to strike, Creed spoke in an ancient tongue, a language she did not understand. Her hand immediately froze above her, held by an unknown force. While she fought to free her hand, black swirls of smoke, like ropes made of air, encircled her, lifting her off the ground, tightening around her, until she released her sword. She had never seen anything like that before in her life. She had heard stories of Balthasar’s powers, but he had never used them on other beings. It was known that very few had seen his powers.