---
"We have to do something, your boy is only three and carving the eye! The same eye marking Quynn had, Ayla!" Zuthar pronounced.
"I KNOW!" Ayla shouted, rubbing her face.
"This is NOT what Quynn would have wanted. We need to protect Lenthean. I think our fire idea will justify covering his markings," Zuthar suggested.
"It's just so hard, Zuthar. Why does it have to be this way?" Ayla said, beginning to cry.
"We must protect your child." Zuthar placed his large hand on her shoulder, attempting to comfort her. "Even though Quynn is gone, I will always be here for you. Always."
Zuthar broke away, then said, "We need to make this believable. The boy will receive his markings soon. They're already becoming visible. He has clearly inherited his father's abilities."
"I hate this idea, Zuthar. It's not fair!" Ayla proclaimed.
"What other ideas do you have then, huh?! Do you want your boy to go around with those markings? He is even getting the line on his eye! You know, the marking that will tell EVERYONE that he inherited the Shadow Elementalist's abilities? The last known Shadow Elementalist was Quynn—do you really want him to get murdered like his father?!"
Ayla, in a fit of tears and rage, grabbed the two buckets of tar and bolted outside.
"Ayla!" Zuthar exclaimed, following after her, realizing he had said too much. She began drenching her house in the flammable material, screaming as she did so. Maintaining his distance, Zuthar cried, "Ayla! You’re out of control! Pull yourself together, woman!”
“I’m done with this, Zuthar! I’ve had it! I’m burning this house to the ground!”
“Ayla, your son is inside! Stop!" Zuthar shouted at her.
She could not hear him, for her mind was broken. Screaming, she emptied both buckets and tossed the lit torch onto the home.
"AYLA!" Zuthar pushed her to the ground, defending her from the now-exploding flames. He ran inside the home, the structure already lit ablaze.
---
Lenthean still had not broken his gaze with them, becoming more and more upset with what he was hearing. Now the story lined up with what were some of his first memories.
---
Lenthean, a young boy, woke to intense heat by his bedside; his slanted ceiling was ember-orange and excruciatingly hot. He began to scream and fell from his bed. Sparks and flaming wood were falling from the roof. Lenthean began to cry.
"LENTHEAN!" he heard a familiar voice call his name amongst the chaos.
Zuthar's face emerged from the ladder with an extended hand. "COME ON, MY BOY! We need to go!" Lenthean ran to the safety of his uncle's arms. In comparison, Lenthean was a mouse to him.
Zuthar slung Lenthean over his shoulders and rushed outside and placed him beside his mother; both sat in the dirt. The people of Fredrickstown came to the aid with buckets of water to put the fire out in the dead of night. Lenthean watched the home diminish from a building wreathed in flames to one of smoldering embers while sitting in his mother's arms.
---
Lenthean saw it all again. The smoke, the flames, the lies. He was infuriated by the news.
"Honey, you need to understand the circumstances. We love you. . . " She motioned to Zuthar.
"My boy, your father. He was one of the famed Elementalists. The Shadow Elementalist. You inherited his traits. It really is one of the most rare occurrences known to mankind. It's an awesome responsibility. . . "
Lenthean's heart was racing with ferocity and anxiety. Adrenaline fueled his emotion. "You said my father was a drunk," he growled.
"We—We had to do what was necessary. . . " Ayla stammered.
"You told me, MY FATHER WAS A DRUNK. And you told me that you left him! You said you left the abusive drunk behind!" Lenthean was roaring at them now.
Zuthar stepped forward, "Easy, my boy. . . Easy."
"NO. Zuthar. YOU were involved with this 'fire'?!"
"Lenthean, you need to understand we did this to protect you. They'll kill you if they find out! Or worse, enslave you for them!" Zuthar attempted to calm the boy down.
"What difference is it to me?!" Lenthean shouted. "KILL ME for all I care. Enslave me for all I care. I don't even know who THEY are!"
"Look, Lenthean, the rulers of Der' Tanel are always hunting for those with the power of the gods. We had no choice! We had to protect you!"
Lenthean picked up the wooden chair beside him and slammed it into the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. "You don’t think I could have handled this information?! What am I to you two? AN IMBECILE?"
"Lenthean. . . " Ayla tried.
"NO!" he shouted. "You both lied to me! My whole life has been a lie. An absolute lie. You FORCED me to wear. . . THESE THINGS!" In a frantic rage, Lenthean lifted his arms to acknowledge his arm coverings, then threw them down to his side as he continued yelling.
"I’ve been bullied because of these coverings, I’ve had no friends! This… This sheltered half-life! And FOR WHAT?!"
"Your safety, my boy!" Zuthar claimed.
"Do NOT call me, ‘your boy.’ You are NOT my father!" Lenthean cried. The house began to shake, rumble, tremble, creak, and moan. All became dark as Lenthean began to lose control of his emotion. His voice deepened, and eyes changed to a dark, glowing red.
"Both of you have betrayed me—lied to me. Both of you."
"Lenthean!" Zuthar shouted. "You're losing control! You don't know what can happen!"
A demonic laugh now possessed Lenthean. Within his mind, Lenthean was terrified. He had never seen such rage come over him. He watched from within his mind as he lost total control to his rage and anger, and something else spoke on his behalf.
The shadows of all furniture in the home inched up the legs of chairs, benches, and counters, engulfing all in sight with blackness—and it began to pull. Pulling down and down and down… toward the earth… crushing it. The wooden furniture was cracking and breaking, being pulled into the foundation of the home. To the left, a chair exploded into the floor due to sheer force applied downward. At the right, the table shattered.
Zuthar and Ayla watched in disbelief as the items in the home around them were crushed and smashed to the floor by their own shadows. Fearful that they would be next, they backed into the corner and witnessed as everything around them exploded with loud smashing and popping sounds.
Lenthean was out of control but was entirely aware of it. Feeling absolutely furious, yet terrified at the same time, he noticed his feet weren't on the ground. He was levitating.
Shortly after noticing this, he immediately dropped to the floor. The exploding furniture ceased, the room grew with light again, and he slowly felt control resume. The boy regained his temperament. He raised his eyes at his uncle and mother huddled in the corner, fearing for their life. It was in this moment, the boy realized, he had no one. No friends… No purpose… Now… A family terrified of who he was. He darted from the house without looking back, taking off up the mountain toward the neighboring city of Denduthal. He heard the distant shouts of his mother and uncle requesting he turn around. But the boy did not. All he left behind were a trail of tears.
Unfortunately for Lenthean, in these moments of rage and grief, he did not realize the neighboring city was conquered by the very people Zuthar and Ayla fought so hard for years to hide him from. The boy finally reached the summit of the small mountain. This was all too much for him. He felt the breeze meet his face and the shrubs by his feet brush up against him. The cool air splashed against his face, cooling his temporary emotional displacement. Before him lay the city at the bottom of the overpass. A city with a thick, white marble wall. A city with thousands of blue, green, and brown stone roofs. A city with an epicenter of a massive staircase, leading to the throne room towering a hundred floors above all other structures. The city before him was the once proud city of Denduthal.
5: The New Inheritance
Lenthean had never seen the city in real life before. The staircase was abso
lutely massive, soaring a mountain’s worth higher above the city—connecting it to the capital building with massive marble pillars. The breeze rushed up the hillside, cool amid the desert climate. From here he had a view of all of the topography.
Denduthal was in the center, with leftward origin. Backside of the city pressed into a small hill-mountainside. The landscape was relatively arid, with few trees and mainly shrubs, dry dirt, and yellow grass. Across the gap was the opposing mountain range, connected to the opposing side of Denduthal. Through this gap, to Lenthean’s left, were the gates of Denduthal. To the right were the open plain-lands. Just around the corner of the very mountains he stood on were the front gates of his home, Fredrickstown.
His arms and eye felt barren, since he had left his coverings at home. His right arm and left eye had never felt the outside air or sun. He felt exposed like this, and slowly he felt full control resume from his outburst just moments earlier.
He thought, I lost my cool back there. They were just trying to protect me. Thinking about it, he actually felt his madness step back into play. He felt his fists clenching. That’s when Lenthean decided to march down the hill, to explore this new surrounding area he had never seen before, even though it was against his better judgment.
Lenthean marched down the switchbacks of the steep hillside, weaving left and right. He noticed some troops behind the shadow of the wall emerging from a door built in the rocky cliffside. Lenthean gasped and quickly fell back on his hands. Thankfully, these troops were only just now emerging, and they were hundreds of feet below him, marching the same switchbacks he was. But he knew he had to hide, and he had to hide quickly.
Realizing he had made a mistake hiking down the mountain, he ran back up to hill to slide his back up against a large boulder so he could hide from the soldiers’ vision. He felt the jaggedness of the rock press into the skin of his shoulders; the heat of the sun had clearly been absorbed by the rock, rendering the rather cool air useless. He placed his hands on the gravel beneath him and slid his butt down to the surface; he carefully peeked over the edge to see what the soldiers were doing. He could hear the sound of their march of uniform footsteps. It appeared to Lenthean as if the soldiers were marching around the towering wall to the front gates of Denduthal. He leaned back to relax against the rock.
They hadn’t seen him. However, the marching footsteps never seemed to fade away, regardless of the fact that they were getting farther and farther away from him. He thought this was odd; perhaps it was an echo. Just then a flag-bearing soldier turned the very corner of the switchback he had just come from. At first glance, Lenthean’s heart lept in his chest. The soldier had no idea there was a boy right in front of his path of march. Several soldiers followed suit, and that’s when their march halted and they saw him: Lenthean, the sixteen-year-old boy with black tattoos. The flag-bearer nearly dropped his flag at the sight, then passed it to a man standing behind him. He quickly paced over to Lenthean, still on the ground, and folded his arms behind his back. You could hear the ring mail underneath his silver-plated body armor rubbing against itself.
“And who might you be?” the soldier questioned.
“I—” Lenthean stuttered. He almost said, “I’m a boy from Fredrickstown,” but he didn’t want to give anything away that could jeopardize his family’s safety.
“I’m Lenthean.”
“Lenthean. Hmph. Where are you from, Lenthean?” The soldier’s voice was incredibly deep and intimidating. He leaned forward at the hips, keeping his legs straight but getting eye-level with Lenthean.
“I—I have never had a home. I’m a wanderer.”
“Your markings,” is all the man said.
Lenthean’s heart was racing. The boy nervously swallowed a big gulp of air.
“What are those?” Before Lenthean could react, the man swiftly lunged forward and grabbed the boy’s hand, nearly crushing it. Lenthean could feel his skin being pinched and squeezed by the folds of the armor in the soldier’s glove. The soldier removed his helmet with his spare hand and stepped closer to better analyze the eye on Lenthean’s right forearm. The man was large in stature. His head was bald and large and had many scars on it.
“Ow,” Lenthean murmured. But no matter; the man was checking for something.
“Rendall!” the flag-bearer called to his squadron. A soldier hastily emerged from the crowd. He had on nearly the same armor, including a red feather at the top of his helmet, while the flag-bearer’s was blue.
“Yes, Kethar?” the soldier Rendall responded.
“We’ve done it,” Kethar assured. Rendall smiled from under his helmet and stepped forward.
“We have found the gifted,” Kethar continued. He turned and began to rouse his troops. “WE DID IT!” He lifted Lenthean’s hand as he held it. They all began chanting and cheering. Lenthean began to panic at the commotion.
Kethar turned to face Lenthean again and stated, “We found the New Inheritance.” He placed his other massive hand on Lenthean’s face; it felt to Lenthean like he was crushing it. Lenthean grabbed the soldier’s wrist, trying to remove his grip, but he continued to squeeze harder. Lenthean let out a yelp as Kethar laughed and mocked him. He then threw Lenthean to the ground.
“Tie him up; we’re taking him in. We’re all going to be rich, and I’m giving all of you a share!” Kethar turned around, throwing up his arms in victory. All Lenthean could see was the silhouette of Kethar under the harsh sunlight. As all the men chanted and roared with excitement. They suddenly fell quiet when they heard, “YOU, THERE!”
“Huh?” Kethar’s deep questioning echoed through the mountains. He whipped around, and Lenthean turned from the ground to see who had said that from the bottom of the zig-zag mountain trail. It was someone in brown robes using a white walking stick. The figure continued to hike up the mountain.
“What do you think you’re doing with that boy?” the figured barked.
“What is it to you?” Kethar shot back, unafraid. He drew his massive two-handed claymore at the figure.
“That boy does not belong to you. Not to you, not to Der’ Tanel, not to even the Shadow God himself.” The voice was unwavering.
Kethar snarled. “I see you are here to turn him in, too. I’ll have you know that the Brotherhood will reward me with unknown riches for the New Inheritance. So I will not turn him over so easily to you.”
As the figure stepped closer and closer to their location, details began to form. He was a hooded man of Caucasian skin, carried a pure-white walking stick, and… What was this? Lenthean thought. He also had a line on his right arm. Only his markings… his were white, the whitest white one can imagine. His started from his middle finger, just like Lenthean’s black line did. His forearm vanished into his brown robe, so he could not make out any more details.
The figure continued to pace forward, unrelenting. He then threw his hood back, revealing his face. His messy hair was almost glowing, it was so white. White eyebrows; white, thin, string-like mustache; light grey eyes; and, most notably, the same straight line marking on his left eye that Lenthean shared. Only his was white. Not black.
All of the men shuddered in fear, scrambling backward, as Kethar maintained his ground with sword drawn. “My—MY LIEGE!” Rendall shouted, falling backward and trying to convince Kethar to fall back.
“If it isn’t the Light Elementalist, showing up to fetch the dark one,” Kethar’s deep voice boomed.
Kethar looked to Lenthean, then back up to the approaching man. “Oh… and they both have the mark of the inherited. The Old Inheritance and the New Inheritance in one place… Why are we so lucky, Rendall?”
Rendall, now on the ground, muttered, “S—Sire…”
Rendall then lowered his voice to speak under his breath, “Don’t do anything rash, we can all die… I can’t lose you, Kethar!”
“No Elementalist will stop me this day!” Kethar barked. He ripped Lenthean from the ground and held him up by his shirt with one arm. Lenthean squi
rmed and struggled. The man in brown stopped.
“Let him go, Kethar,” the man in brown commanded. “Go ahead and try to stop me, Light Elementalist. I must admit, I am flattered you know me by name.”
“How could I not? You hunted down that boy’s father.”
Lenthean stopped squirming and met eyes with Kethar, who grinned directly at Lenthean. Lenthean noted his bald head, his light-brown complexion, the scars lashed across his scalp, and his dark, menacing eyes.
“I won’t let you step in my way, Elementalist,” Kethar shouted at the man. “I will get my reward for capturing the Shadow Elementalist. And you will not snatch it up.”
It was a tense stand-off. No one was speaking; no one was moving.
Elementalist: The New Inheritance Page 3