Elementalist: The New Inheritance

by Seever, Tyler

  As the boy walked, he saw a side to the city he hadn’t seen before. Kids dressed in lowly rags jumped in puddles to play. An old dirtied man sat against the side of a stone home with a tin cup in hand, begging for change. Poorly kept donkeys and horses grazed on bundles of dirty, wet hay. A campfire steamed and sizzled under the rain with a pot of stew cooked over it for a family that huddled near it for warmth.

  Lenthean was alone—nowhere to go, no one to be with. It was in this moment, this moment of loneliness in the rain, that he missed it all. He missed Fredrickstown. He missed Zuthar. He missed Zuthar’s meat shop. He missed home. He missed that slanted wooden ceiling in his tiny bedroom. He even missed the bullies that bullied him in school. He somehow found the memory of them to be pleasant compared to his current situation. He missed the warm desert sun. And now here he was, shivering in the cold rain. No one on his side.

  Lenthean fumbled through his pockets, as these were relatively new clothes he had acquired. He found a folded, torn piece of paper. Lenthean sheltered it from the rain the best he could. The boy asked a man working in a booth for a quill and ink. The man agreed, so Lenthean leaned against the wall and began to write home. He began to write to his mother. He scribbled with as much meaning and intent as he could under the pouring rain.

  Mom,

  Oh, how I was wrong. I should have listened to you. I’m so sorry for all the pain I may have caused you. I love you and Zuthar so very much, and I hope you forgive me some day. Right now, war is on the horizon with Darthia. And I don’t know what to do. If I fight, who do I even fight for? If I flee, where would I flee to? This is all so much. I’m sorry for everything, Mother. Please forgive me.

  I lov—

  As he attempted to conclude his message with “I love you,” a large drop of water fell from his hood onto the word love. The ink dispersed across the wrinkled paper into a desaturated black nothingness, increasingly corrupting the letter with water. Lenthean folded the message back into his pocket. He then curled up into a ball against a barrel full of old rotting vegetables. The rain came down harder and harder, and his blankets became more and more wet. He fell into a deep sleep with the sound of pattering rain crashing down everywhere around him.

  17: The Old Sage

  Lenthean woke. It was pitch-black out, and somehow, the rain was even harder. But he realized a cold and gentle hand had placed itself underneath his chin. The hand gently tipped his chin up. An elderly woman was there. She spoke, “Come, young one. Let’s get you out of this rain. Hmm?”

  Lenthean was shivering, cold, and soaking wet. Even his leather shoes somehow had puddles on their insides. Lenthean put his palm down into the mud to stand up and speak back to the old woman. “Thank you, but I can’t . . .” Lenthean truly wanted to go with the woman he didn’t know, for her offer was warm and kind. Ultimately, he felt it wouldn’t be wise.

  “Aww . . .” the old woman said. Her short height required that she stretch her arm to gently caress his face with her cold fingers. “You’re going to get ill, darling. I won’t have this; you must come with me.”

  Lenthean realized he was absolutely famished—and soaking wet. This alone was enough to persuade him the second time she requested that he accompany her. They took a few steps around some barrels and there was her front door—she had noticed him sleeping against her stone home. He stepped inside and felt the immediate warmth of the home. He was dripping all over her fur rug at her doorway and he continued to shiver. She slowly shut the door behind him and began foraging through her cluttered home.

  “Let me see here, where do I keep those blankets . . . Hmm?” The orange-lit fireplace made the light flicker throughout her tiny square home. There was a small table, some chairs, clutter all around the walls, and a pot of stew brewing over the fireplace—he could smell it.

  The woman was not fully visible to him, as she too was still draped in rain coverings. She managed to assemble some blankets and provided them to the young boy, then turned to tend to the stew over the fire. Her steps were small and fragile—a slow-moving woman. “I hope you don’t mind cabbage stew!” she exclaimed in her elderly voice.

  “Oh, not at all,” Lenthean said gratefully.

  Without turning to face the boy, she asked, “So how is an old woman like myself lucky enough to have one of the gods’ chosen on my doorstep, hmm?”

  Lenthean searched for words. He did not realize she noticed his Elementalist markings. “Uh—I’m sorry. . . I can leave if you don’t feel comfortable. . .”

  “Comfortable?!” the woman exclaimed. “Why would I not feel comfortable around a boy soaking in the rain?”

  “Because I’m the Shadow Elementalist,” Lenthean stated, as if she knew this information.

  “Young boy,” the old woman said, laughing, continuing to stir the pot. “That is not why I said you were one of the gods’ chosen.”

  Lenthean was baffled. “Oh . . . I . . .”

  “I said that because we are all of the gods’ chosen, are we not? Hmm?” she said, looking over at him. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She motioned for him to make haste. “Change out of those soaking rags; that’s why I’m tending to this stew, young man.”

  “Oh!” Lenthean was caught off guard by this elderly woman’s behavior. “Okay, yes. I will.” He hastily began to disrobe and slip on the dry clothes and blankets she provided him.

  “Would you like some tea with your stew this evening?”

  “I would love some,” Lenthean said, still getting changed out of the old woman’s view.

  “Good, because I have a pot ready to pour any minute now. Mmhmm.”

  The teapot began to whistle. “My, my, my, look at that timing, young man!” she said with a smile. She slowly walked over to the teapot and began serving the tea to the boy, who was now in dry clothes. The sounds of the rainstorm persisted on the roof and through the wooden door.

  The elderly woman handed the boy a tin bowl filled with freshly cooked stew. The stew was so hot he had to set the bowl down on the floor where he sat. He sipped the stew from his wooden spoon. It filled his empty stomach—he could feel the heat of it rush down into his abdomen, bringing a level of comfort to him. He carefully sipped the tea, too.

  “Young man,” she said, trying to capture his attention. Lenthean looked up confused. “You still haven’t told me what brings you here, or your name. What is your name, hmm?”

  “My name is Lenthean,” he replied.

  The old woman cupped her ear, as she couldn’t hear his name the first go.

  “Lenthean,” he said, speaking up.

  “Well, that is certainly a handsome name. I am Paulina. But I prefer it if you call me Nana,” she said with a gentle smile. She sipped her tea as she continued to chat with the boy of Fredrickstown.

  “Well, Nana . . . Where to begin?”

  “You tell me, young man,” she said, continuing to smile.

  “Well . . . I’m sixteen. I just discovered that I am the Shadow Elementalist. I am also the New Inheritance, which basically means I inherited my abilities from my parent. And they call it ‘new’ because I’m the most recent person to inherit Elementalist abilities from parents. Then I met the Old Inheritance, Valdorath. He was the last known person to inherit his abilities from his parents, turning him from the New Inheritance to the Old Inheritance. He is the Elementalist of Light. We traveled the lands together from Fredrickstown to Darthia, and now the whole world seems to want me gone. Even Valdorath, a man I considered my friend, wants nothing to do with me.”

  “Aww,” the old woman said. “That sounds like you’ve had a very rough day, young man.”

  “Yeah. It hasn’t been the easiest road, that’s for sure.”

  “But, you know what?”

  “What, Paulina?”

  “It’s Nana, young man.”

  “Oh, right. Nana.”

  She nodded and confirmed his statement. “When life gets you down, it is always for a reason. That is what the great goddess t
ells us!”

  “Well, I’m starting to think there isn’t a reason for this treacherous journey, Nana.”

  “There is always a reason, young man. You may not see it yet, but one day, I reckon you’ll remember this lovely conversation we are having. You’ll look back and say, Nana was right all along. What do you say to that, hmm?”

  Lenthean responded, “I say that would be nice if it happened that way.”

  “Young man, when life gets you down, you need to see the light. It’s obvious to me that you see the darkness now. There is always light in what is dark! Life is full of so many surprises,” she said with a smile, then sipped her tea some more.

  “Well, what do you call it when Darthia has war on the horizon with Der’ Tanel?” Lenthean asked.

  “Ah.” She paused. “I don’t think about those sort of things, young man. Worry is for the worrier, and happiness is for the happy. You are what you eat, hmm?” She motioned to his bowl of stew that had been untouched since his first spoonful.

  “Young man, when I saw you outside, what do you think I saw?”

  “A kid in the mud sleeping in the rain with nowhere to go?”

  “No! I saw, a light. A light that we all share. That’s what the goddess teaches, mmhmm. You may find yourself discouraged during troubling times. But no matter how dark things may be, the light will never let you go. I see it in you, young man. You’re a strong young man indeed.” She smiled some more.

  “But Nana, the whole world hates me. I’m living life on the run; the people of Darthia hate me. I’m not sure what Der’ Tanel will want of me. I can’t even return home to my old life because I was a buffoon back there! I revealed myself to the world when my mother and uncle tried to keep me safe from all of this. I made such a mistake.” Lenthean lowered his head.

  Nana reached her hand under his chin and lifted it once again.

  “Everything happens for a reason. You and I are both exactly where we are meant to be. In this moment, together, it is all intended.” Her smile was infectious. “Because this moment leads you to where you need to go. We all have a purpose in this life. And yours lies before you.”

  “What is my purpose, Nana? I want to save the world from death and wars . . . But I really couldn’t say how to do it. . . ”

  “That is for you to discover on your own, young man.” She smiled. “If a tree catches fire, the damage does not go away. But the trunk becomes hardened and thick. A sapling grows, but if a boulder stands in its way, the tree will grow around it. No one tree is identical to another, you see. Young man, any obstacle is an obstacle that we all face in our own way. We all grow past these obstacles; they make us who we are. This moment, you are a sapling in the face of a large boulder. But tomorrow, you will grow around it into the tree you were meant to be. Yep, yep.” She turned and poured more tea.

  Lenthean looked to the floor, processing the words she spoke. “While that may be true . . .” Lenthean said as Nana looked at him. “I have this—this curse. I deal with the God of Shadows. And his methods are sickening, mad, and delusional. It strikes fear into the hearts of all men. Why do I bear this burden?”

  “Does an earthworm choose to be an earthworm?” Nana countered.

  “No.”

  “Life is life, young man. Someone has to bear that burden. Without evil, there is no good. Without dark, there is no light. Without anger, there is no happiness. The world needs you, see? This may not be what you wanted for yourself, but the earthworm may not have wanted to be preyed upon by the pigeon. You, young man, are this person because the world needs you to be.” She smiled. “I see why the gods chose you to be this person. It takes someone strong to take on a responsibility such as yours.”

  Lenthean could not help but feel that Nana was right. He didn’t want her to be right, but he could feel so much wisdom in what she said. He began to feel better about his current situation. She grabbed his near-empty soup bowl and refilled it, this time with a piece of somewhat stale bread. But the boy was grateful, nonetheless.

  “Thank you for everything, Nana. The world needs more folks like you,” Lenthean complimented.

  “Oh, hush, young man.” She shooed at him as if his words were nonsense. “You’ve truly made my night. Ever since my son went off to fight in the war, I’ve needed some company. You are always welcome here, young man,” She said with a smile.

  The duo talked into the late hours of the night. They talked about her son. She hadn’t seen him in two years. No word if he was even alive, or what position he held in the Darthian army. They talked more about Lenthean’s home life—what he wanted to become, had he not embraced the life of the Elementalist.

  The rain continued throughout the night; the two hardly even noticed that it had stopped at some point in their conversation. The sun was still not up, but the early-morning birds began to chirp. Lenthean found his head bobbing back and forth from sleepiness, and Nana came to his aid and laid him down on a mat on the floor. He felt her gentle, frail hands lay his head down on the straw pillow. His eyes began to quiver shut when he felt the urge to ask her about one more thing.

  She too went to sleep, and the early morning emerged as Lenthean got one last bit of shuteye for the evening.

  18: A New Beginning

  The young prince sat by the windowsill under the moonlight. Five years had gone by since the Brotherhood had taken control of Der’ Tanel. Prince Gael thought about it every single night. The murder of the Der’ Tanel king. The Brotherhood’s self-proclaimed prophecies. Gael had been part of a campaign built around a grab for power.

  Once power was available to the brothers, they snatched it up—violently. Nearly every night since then, Gael could see storm clouds and lightning in the distance. His old friend Aderan had a new Orb of Power. His stomach was sick with how he, Gael, had helped them achieve ultimate control. The young prince wanted nothing more than what they had said they wanted—or at least what they claimed they wanted. He wanted to bring balance to the people of Der’ Tanel—to bring the lowly up and bring the arrogant down to an even plane where they belonged.

  But when the time came, the Brotherhood unveiled their true colors. And now Gael dealt with the horrors of what he knew he helped create. He had heard stories of how effective a military the Brotherhood had made for Der’ Tanel. Marching on other nation’s capitals, they were raiding village after village, town after town, city after city. Der’ Tanel had become the most effective military unit on earth. And Gael felt to blame for it.

  The three brothers were some of Gael’s best friends growing up. They met in their early teens. Gargonath, Aderan, and Erendar were immigrants in Darthia—naturally born of Der’ Tanel descent. He remembered when they were younger they never had these visions of a better world. They never had the intent to harm. They never had any of what they had become. What changed? Gael thought. What changed about my best friends? He searched his mind and was puzzled; there were no warning signs he could recall in his hindsight.

  He remembered when they started the gang. It started off as a club, only allowing certain members with minimal requirements. One must be willing to sacrifice. One must be willing to give unto another. They did charity work for the needy—a noble cause indeed. But, right under the prince’s nose, it had slowly begun to change. Their requirements heightened. You must be willing to sacrifice all you have at a moment’s notice in the name of the Brotherhood. You must be willing to put yourself down to boost another. Still a noble cause. Then you must swear an oath to deny the leadership of nations. You must act out against the laws of corruption. You must make the lowly have a voice. Make them heard.

  He remembered when the Der’ Tanellian brothers would reward those who stole the most wealth in a week’s time. They would reward one that stole from the most prestigious figure as well. They also would reward one who disrupted the system the most tremendously. The club turned into discrimination on anyone that sat “above” anyone else—with the exception of the three brothers, of course.r />
  He remembered taking part in intimidating, harassing, and even threatening others for the Brotherhood. To the peasants, the Brotherhood were heroes—which is what led Gael to believe that what they were doing was right. Beings that were too good to be true, they had to be legend. Nations around the world heard of their deeds as they fought the corrupt wealth system and monarchies of the world and gave their spoils to the peoples of Darthia, Denduthal, and their home nation of Der’ Tanel. Even foreign leaders acknowledged the Brotherhood’s presence in many of their city speeches, warning of the influence these Der’ Tanellians held over the people. The boys lived in alleyways and dark streets, mugging the wealthy; Prince Gael took part in secret.