by Vaiya Books
“No,” replied Ian, trembling, hating this bad turns of events. First, he was nearly killed by the Elayan, then almost thrown into the dungeon, and now this? Whoever this Thargon guy was, he didn’t sound like somebody he’d want to meet in the back alley at night. “What happened?”
With the voice of a doomsday prophet, the prince stared at Ian and murmured, “He was deposed for murdering many prisoners by practicing his dark arts on them.”
Chimes of terror resounded within Ian. All these happy murals on the wall mocked him. His life was cursed and all he’d done was tell the truth--well, mostly. Taking a deep breath, he faced the prince, bewildered as to why he was suddenly so concerned for him. “And what’s this to you? Why do you care?”
Taishan’s eyes flickered for a moment as he cautiously looked around him--there was still nobody within earshot. Drawing nearer to Ian, he whispered, “I sense that there may be some good in you.”
“Like what?” Ian blurted out with astonishment, never expecting to hear something so positive from these elves.
“I do not know,” he murmured coolly. “But, nevertheless, I do not want you to die.”
Ian scrambled his brain for a response. “Ok, so what should I do then?”
“By the shade of the forest, beg the king’s mercy,” said Taishan. “Confess your lies and entreat him with your face against the ground.”
“Is that all I can do?” asked Ian mortified, as he felt a ponderous weight settle on his heart. Even if he did do this humiliating act, there was no way the king would be convinced and show favor to him. He had changed his story so many times that it was now set in stone. Unless the king actually saw the Elayans for himself, there was no hope for him.
“Yes, that is all,” Taishan replied thoughtfully. The elf stared blankly ahead. “Master Thargon has no feelings; his heart is as dead as a corpse.”
Images of buzzing carrion and decaying hearts soared through Ian’s mind. He leaned back against the wall to keep himself from staggering.
“Go back,” urged the prince, seriousness on his face. “You don’t have much time.”
But Ian just groaned in pain. As glad as he was that the prince had some compassion on him, it was already a lost cause. “I can’t,” he murmured, dread growing in his heart. “I already told him the truth and he won’t believe me if I tell him otherwise.”
A wave of staunch coldness suddenly drenched Taishan’s countenance, his kindness towards Ian vanishing like the fog after sunrise: “Then I cannot help you,” he murmured aloofly, flinging out his left arm to the side.
Nothing more was said. The prince led Ian to a door coated entirely emerald green. Leafy purple-green vines crawled up the door--sweet-scented tropical flowers of red, orange, and yellow, blossomed in various places on the door. In better circumstances, Ian would’ve carefully studied how the vines and flowers were growing without any soil, but he had no time for this now.
The prince inserted a bronze key into the door and turned it; he pushed open the door and signaled for Ian to enter. Without saying goodbye, the prince left silently and coldly as if Ian had just deeply insulted him.
Distressed, feeling as if he’d just lost a friend, however weak the friendship had been, Ian entered the room, closing the door behind him softly which locked into place as soon as it shut. The aroma of exotic flowers reached him about the same time that his eyes took in the beauty of the place. Forest green carpeting, resembling grass, overlaid the floor. Deep purple, pink and green, gold, and many other varieties of flowers grew out of the carpet near the walls. He was stunned.
Widening his vision, he saw giant leaves floating in a small stream, which flowed from one end of the room to the other. To his left, a painting of an archaic wooden ship battered by waves hung on the wall. Near to his right, four blue bushes grew, all of them two feet tall, emitting a strong cherry lilac scent.
Yet as impressive as this room was, it gave him little enjoyment. He’d likely not live another night. If Master Thargon didn’t kill him, the Elayans would find him again, or the fickle king would decide to execute him. He didn’t have a chance, and to think … his day had begun so normally.
Grieved at his terrible misfortune, he sunk down to the floor and buried his head in his knees, when suddenly, he heard a thud. Startled, he swung up his neck and scanned around him. He immediately noticed his cell phone sprawled on its side near his feet; it must have fallen out of his cloak pocket.
Picking it off the grassy carpet, he stared at it reverently, turning it around in his hands as if it were a priceless relic from the medieval ages. And to him, it was priceless--it was his last connection to earth; his gum hardly counted.
After a minute of gazing dreamily at his phone, Ian returned to himself. Maybe the phone would work now … maybe he could call Eddy again … maybe it would bring him back to his world. Flipping it open, breathless, his hopes energized, he stared at it … no! The screen was black; his phone was still dead.
Clenching his fists and scowling in blistering agony, he felt a sick dread, as despair cascaded into his heart. He’d do anything to be back in his world now. He’d be nicer to Eddy; he’d join Sandler’s team; he’d even treat his sister better.
Pressing his fingers against his temple and rubbing them, he squeezed his eyes shut. The party was probably still going on at Hazel’s house; everyone was most likely having a great time. Yet, here he was--a death sentence looming over his head. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t ask for this torture. Why couldn’t have this happened to someone else? Someone who deserved it more like Kenn?
In deep reflection, he arose from the grassy floor and saw a green pillow made out of flowers, cotton, and plant fibers lying on the bed in front of him. Walking over to it, through the trickling stream that came halfway up his boots, he touched it, feeling its softness and warmth; it reminded him of his own feather pillow at home, except it was much softer.
Murmuring to himself, too depressed to stay awake any longer or change into one of several thin nighttime robes that lay folded on top of a black shelf right beside his bed, he climbed into the bed, laid down, and rested his head on the silken pillow, wrapping a thick cotton blanket around his body.
Ominous thoughts swarming him like vampire bats, he descended into a troubled sleep, where enchanted dreams were the farthest thing from his mind.
Chapter 8
Rubbing his throbbing forehead, commanding Prince Saku to leave the room, King Kadeth waited restlessly, preparing himself for the unexpected visit from the Verandel ambassador. His mind was a tangle of emotions. Today had not been pleasant.
When he’d woken up this morning, the day had started rather normal. However, it had quickly changed at breakfast when he’d been served stringy Alaja vegetables, distasteful slimy buttered rolls, and half-cooked Sevanx fish imported from the Southern Isles. How his favorite rolls had became soft and even mushy was beyond him, and he didn’t even want to know who had cooked his vegetables and fish as it would only further aggravate him.
In any case, after eating only a few Alaja beans, some moist whipped pudding, and a lush black-purple cluster of Alamia grapes, as everything else was revolting to him, he’d shoved the rest away from him, his servants apologizing profusely, and had then gotten up, not wanting to dwell on it any longer.
But from thereon out, his day had only gotten worse. As he’d finished his breakfast and had just sat down on his throne to listen to his citizens’ complaints, petitions, and pleas, a captain, named Farille, had fallen down before him and hurriedly told him of how one of his trading ships, The Silver Maple, had just sunk in the Southern Isles near Tazik. Claiming vindictively that the dwarves were responsible, he demanded a quick retribution.
Already having denied Farille his request when the Whistling Wind had received damage by the dwarves several months ago, the king had no choice now but to oblige the captain’s request in spite of his own misgivings. Just last night, he’d told his wife that they stood on a razor’s edg
e with Odak Valduum, the dwarf lord, and that any action, however slight, could be cause enough for the dwarves to declare war against them.
Still, to refuse the captain’s request would be foolish and would make him appear spineless and weak. Besides, he was getting rather sick of the dwarves and their greedy attitudes, and believed they needed to be punished.
With those thoughts weighing heavily on his mind, he’d told Captain Farille that he had full permission to sink two dwarven vessels of his choice.
Upon having his request granted, the captain had exited the throne room, a grim smile on his face. No sooner had he left than a youthful elf named Fariam was ushered in by the guards. Upon reaching a suitable destination near the throne, the petitioner began to speak his request in such a nagging tone that it soon became impossible to endure. His complaint was simply that one of his guests, a young female elf, had broken an expensive window in his inn called the Crystal Lantern Inn and he wanted her to pay for it.
Seeing no point in wasting any time determining the exact amount that she owed him, Kadeth had casually motioned to his wife, who quickly pulled out a beautiful shining white gemstone from a small treasure box behind her and tossed it haphazardly at the young elf’s feet. This had become a common procedure for the king in quickly ending complaints, as paying off his citizens had saved him much time and effort--it was well worth the extra cost.
Watching the young elf pick it up and stare at it, the king had leaned back against his softly padded throne, waiting for him to thank him profusely and then leave as so many others had done in the past.
Unfortunately, however, Fariam had instead tossed the gem back to the queen, a wrathful gleam in his eyes, loudly protesting that he wanted the silver-haired elf and only her to pay for his broken window, and that he would not accept a thousand gemstones from the king.
Outraged by his ungrateful behavior, King Kadeth had tried to persuade him that he was being foolish and should just except the gemstone, when Fariam broke into outright hostility, shouting “Down with the king!” in a wild frenzy, and charged at him, his fists clenched tightly in the air.
Before he’d reached the king, however, the guards had intervened and seized the rebel, King Kadeth sharply ordering that they take him to the Nakar Dungeon, a fitting punishment for such a demented mind. How such a person had ever been the owner of a well-respected inn was more than he could figure out. In fact, now that he rethought the matter, if he were the young elf, he might have just broken all of the Crystal Lantern’s windows. Why stop with just one?
Amused by that thought, the king stared at a wonderfully detailed painting of a fortified tower in the city of Maravi, a painting his grandfather had made, and smiled faintly. Then he frowned again, as he thought back to the rest of his day.
An hour after Fariam had come in, a strange woman was ushered in all by herself, as elven law dictated. Though King Kadeth prided himself in knowing names and facts about people, he had continually racked his brain over the past several hours to try to think of her name, but couldn’t remember it. Neither could he think of her petition. All he could recall was that she had a set eye to steal the treasure box behind his wife’s throne.
His wife, Queen Jahla, who was not at her duties at the time as she had a frequent habit of leaving her throne at the most bizarre and inopportune moments, had claimed that she was tired and wanted to embroider some garments and read some elven history books until she was relaxed. Queen Jahla, although co-ruler with him, let, or rather made him do almost all of the royal duties, while she herself simply kept a warm smile on her face as she sat on her throne awaiting his decisions like a mindless deer.
This smile of hers, which his youngest son Saku seemed to have picked up all too eagerly, irked him. How she could be so happy when a war with the dwarves seemed imminent never ceased to amaze him.
But that wasn’t the point. The strange woman that had come into the palace had feigned intense boredom, and just when the king had gazed at her in annoyance thinking that she was about to fall asleep, she’d leapt ten feet into the air, disrespectfully landing on his wife’s empty throne, and had quickly grabbed the heavy treasure box on the table behind the throne like it were a box of feathers.
As she was just about to escape from the room though, Prince Taishan, who had a keen intellect and somehow happened to be there, jerked a dart out of his vest and quickly threw it at her, the dart lodging itself into her forearm, putting her immediately to sleep.
As she dozed off, just about to drop the treasure box onto the ground, Taishan had wisely grabbed it from her hands and put it back into its place.
Remembering the incident with horror, the king frowned deeply. She had singlehandedly swept up the treasure box as if it were a pillow, something even the strongest of his guards couldn’t boast of. How a young female elf had become so strong, he didn’t know. It deeply troubled him. He suspected that she might be involved in dark magic, though he couldn’t know for sure.
Whatever the case though, unfortunately, his terrible day didn’t end there. He’d had at least sixty other citizens to deal with, and though most weren’t half as vengeful as Captain Farille, a quarter as treasonous as Fariam, or a tenth as wicked as the young female elf, still, several of them managed to vex him with their outright stupidity and extremely trivial concerns.
One elf, in particular, named Tayin, had asked the king himself to help his mother find a pretty flower that he had somehow lost in the woods, a flower that had by no doubt shriveled up by now. Just thinking about it infuriated the king and made his blood boil. Who did the young elven boy think he was? One of his neighbors? his cousin? He had much better things to do with his time than go looking for dead flowers. If anything, this should be a job for Azadar the court herbalist.
Sighing deeply, as he stared at the dull stone walls in front of him, Kadeth silently wished himself to be ruling the Kingdom of Sarith instead of the Kingdom of Amalon, a thought both as unusual as it were heretical. Elves were the superior race as they had exceptional intellect and logic, extreme agility, expert archery skills, and even some rare magical talent; deny it if they could, every race knew it to be true. Why he wanted to rule an inferior kingdom seemed illogical and even foolish. But it did have some merits.
If he were King Ralin Taverak, he’d only have a few cases a day, as they had courts for the rest. Even though in the Kingdom of Amalon they had three to five judges presiding over each city, here, however, in the capital city of Pelian, he and his wife dealt with every case that came to them, which was at least forty a day, as they were the sole judges for the large city. Worse than that, no cases were even winnowed out, which explained the amount of utterly ridiculous and petty cases he heard daily.
Sighing in anger, Kadeth realized, as much as he hated to admit it, that the time had definitely come to give his sons more court responsibilities. Prince Taishan had already proven his wisdom and quick wit today by swiftly putting the elven thief to sleep. He’d definitely be able to handle some cases.
Prince Saku, though not as intelligent or serious as his older brother, could no doubt decide some of the simpler cases, that is, if he could ever stop questioning his citizens about their pastimes, adventures, and stories. It wouldn’t be easy, but Saku would have to learn to put his interests aside when he was to judge for the kingdom.
As for Princess Saeya, though she had a good heart, she was indecisive and inexperienced, saying nothing of her immaturity. If Captain Farille had come in today when she was judging, it would’ve take her a lifetime to come up with an answer, and that answer would’ve more than likely been premature and had tragic consequences. This was to say nothing of the other cases which he was sure would’ve ended in disaster had the princess presided over them. No, Princess Saeya could definitely not rule yet until she had some more experience and learned to control herself. He’d have to rely on his two sons. They could definitely rule, and with time might even be as good as him.
Still, the king
hesitated. Giving up his power felt wrong; no previous king of Amalon had ever relinquished such control to his children. Yet, could anything be worse than the day he’d had? could anything be more tiring and frustrating? Surely, for the sake of rest he could give up some authority. He had to, or he would go insane, just like Fariam.
Shuddering at the thought, his lips tightening, King Kadeth’s thoughts turned back to his royal herbalist Azadar Silverheart, a cold-hearted elf who continued to cause him much distress.
Azadar, one of his three royal herbalists, was not only entirely arrogant and savage, but also power-hungry. He was well known for his poor judgment and aversion for humans, qualities that made him very disliked in Amalon … and surely to the rest of the world as well.
Despite these major defects, however, Azadar had generally been trustworthy when it came to imprisoning pirates and other suspicious characters who caused much havoc wherever they went. Today, however, had been different. Speaking with his wife earlier today, who’d visited the “pirate”, Kadeth quickly realized that the young human Azadar had locked up was no crime lord, but rather a well-respected noble from Verandur who’d just happened to have been shipwrecked on the Kingdom of Amalon.
Once he’d found this out, he’d let the Verandel noble go with much apology and a rich gift, and then turned sharply on Azadar, intent on imprisoning the rash elf himself, especially since he’d arrived earlier than usual to the palace today, cutting his work short.
However, after a short consideration, he’d decided against it, as Azadar was much too valuable. Still, Azadar had wasted his time, and worse had actually been present for several cases despite being repeatedly told to leave, an incident that the king severely frowned upon.
Even though Azadar himself had never said a single word during the cases, he’d made many facial expressions, some of which were very unpleasant, and most of which were frighteningly hostile. The last thing the king wanted was to terrorize his subjects, and Azadar had done a great job making sure his citizens left entirely agitated and dispirited, even if they’d gotten what they’d hoped for.