Elementalist: The New Inheritance

by Seever, Tyler

  Lenthean wiped more tears away. The boy gently clasped onto his fallen uncle’s hand and wrapped the fingers around his. He could still feel the thickness that was all too reminiscent of a different time—a time when his uncle walked him to school, hand in hand. But it was all different now.

  “I just hope you know how much you meant to me,” the boy sobbed. “You were the father I never had. You were always there for me. And I wish I had never run away from home that day. But know this, Uncle. Know that your life was not given in vain.” Lenthean pulled Zuthar’s hand to his own forehead. After gaining some composure over his emotions, he lightly kissed his uncle’s knuckles and eventually set it the hand from his grip. He felt the warmth of the hand left in his palm.

  He carefully slipped the hand back underneath some rubble, placing various stones over the exposed gap.

  The boy generated an idea. He whipped his head back and forth, looking for a building that had come to his mind. He darted quickly from Zuthar’s resting place and poked his head quickly into many reduced structures in the area. The boy finally found a building with what he had been looking for—a white apron. Lenthean hustled back to Zuthar and dropped to his knees. The boy hastily tugged at the neck-strap of the apron and pulled it free from itself. He draped the apron over the rubble and separately tied a knot with the strap. He was no expert at tying knots, but he felt this would do.

  A flower.

  He gently tucked the knot-flower into the rubble with its head free for the world to see. The boy rose to his feet and bowed. “Rest in peace, my uncle.”

  He wanted to stay longer at his uncle’s resting place but knew he could not. He had one more person to see before he would move on. Valdorath. The boy remembered how he had struck Valdorath with a force he could not even comprehend. The guilt and absolute shame for what he had done was overwhelming. There was no way a body remained of Valdorath. Valdorath’s had to be gone.

  The boy decided then and there to hoist himself up the crumbling walls of the church building he stood beside. Bricks tumbled as he began. With every gap in the bricks, he placed a hand then a foot. Slowly he made his way up the crumbled tower. He was roughly three stories up when the tower was unnaturally stunted. The boy stood in his Elementalist armor and looked to the sunlight. It beamed down on him. The air, while still clouded, was thinner up here. Various rays of the sun beckoned Lenthean’s exhausted body. He stood with arms outstretched, feeling the sun’s warmth pooling over his face. Lenthean began to speak in his head.

  Valdorath, I am so grateful for you to have taken part in my life. It was an absolute honor learning from you, the Old Inheritance. I wonder when I will be considered the Old Inheritance. Whenever another Elementalist is born I suppose.

  The light grew and grew, and the air continued to settle the dust particles around Lenthean.

  I know we didn’t have the easiest time together. But without you, I would not be where I am today. You saved a measly kid that ran away from home. I just hope you know, I loved you as a friend. My mentor. My teacher. And I thank you for that. Be at peace. Be at peace with your daughter, Emma.

  Birds chirped in the sky. The sun beamed in full force down on Lenthean. The boy smiled and let his arms fall beside him.

  The midst of the ruins of Der’ Tanel. The world was much more lively now, people from both sides aiding one another. There were his mother and Gael, both under the assistance of Der’ Tanel civilians. A change from their extremist ideologies, the boy knew that for sure. But that was not the concern to him; he was thrilled to see the world helping one another and uniting after the conflict. The color of one’s banner was not of importance now, but life was. And that made the boy smile.

  The boy came to his mother once more, and she embraced him in her warm grip. “I love you, my son. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, Momma, everything is fine now.”

  She wiped tears away from her own eyes. “It’s over,” she said with joy. “You did it, my son, you did it!” His mother started to clap. Prince Gael joined in the collaboration. Then a citizen, then another and another. The applause spread like wildfire. Even in their weakened state in the rubble of their own city, the Der’ Tanellian citizens celebrated for Lenthean’s service to free them from Erendar’s soul grip. Lenthean took in the applause, but not for long. The sound waves faded into silence as he nodded his head in thanks for their acknowledgment. He felt uncomfortable.

  In the end, the boy wanted none of it. In the end, he didn’t feel like he was able to make a difference in the world. In the end, he didn’t have the feeling he was searching for all along. But why?

  NEIGH! A horse cried out from afar. The boy turned his head quickly. His heart lept from his chest when he realized it was Lucy—the old white mare that belonged to Valdorath. The boy quickly ran down the rubbled road directly toward the trotting horse. The boy wrapped his arms around her and lightly patted her mane. The horse clacked her hooves on the ground and whipped her tail left and right when she made contact with Lenthean.

  “What do you say, girl, how would you like to come on a journey with me?” the boy whispered to the mare. She snorted and nudged him with her nose. He ran his fingers through her thin, white coat. It nearly tickled with every stray piece of grass or leaf caught in her fur. The boy knew she needed an owner, and it was all that was left of the original trio. And for Valdorath—well, Lenthean felt he had to at least care for Lucy for him. It’s what he would have wanted.

  “Embark on a journey, you say?” Lenthean’s mother asked. The boy shot around to see his mother eye to eye. “Are you going to check with your mother before you run away from home this time?” She smiled. He chuckled, but did not smile. For Lenthean felt hollow.

  Lenthean looked at Lucy. “There is so much more to see. But then again, I really do miss my little cot back home. But I just . . .” He smiled.

  “You just what, Lenthean?” Ayla pressed him.

  “I don’t feel as if I did what I needed to do. I wanted to make a difference in the world . . . in a positive way.”

  “Well, surely you did, honey . . . Just look at all these people. You freed them!”

  The boy exhaled, frustrated at his emotions.

  She grinned and walked up to him. “Well, I would love to have you home. But just know you have my support if you chose to continue traveling the world. You would have Zuthar’s support too.” Her voice nearly choked up. “May he rest in peace.”

  “He is, Mom. He is resting in peace for sure.” Lenthean comforted her with a hand on her shoulder. “Momma, I am coming home.”

  Her eyes lit up wide like blinds to an exposed window, and she wrapped him up in her arms. The boy was squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe.

  “But first—” The boy stopped his mother in her tracks. “There is someone I must see.”

  ---

  Weeks had passed. Tension and conflicts between nations seemed to have simmered but not disappeared. The toppled Der’ Tanel Brotherhood seemed to have alleviated a lot of the stress of surrounding nations. The combined spirit the boy had witnessed at Der’ Tanel, the people selectively coming together as one whole to help one another, continued in the absence of their government. The spirit of people of any nation is strong, and it showed now more than ever. The boy was happy to be there to witness such an event take place.

  But now, here they were. Lenthean and Lucy. At it again on a long-distance journey. Lucy slowly made her way through the various city alleys of Darthia. It had been many months since Lenthean’s time with the humans of Darthia. He had been living in Der’ Tanel with the Der’ Tanellians for so long, he had practically forgotten what it was like living with humans in the monarchy state of Darthia. Lenthean tipped his hooded robe at the waving citizens. The boy did not say anything, even with many of them thanking him or celebrating at the sight of him.

  “My, my, my, very great Shadow Elementalist! Thank you for being here!” an old man said.

  Another citizen s
aid, “Thank you, Shadow Elementalist; you are our idol here. You have stopped the war from continuing. We can never repay you!”

  Lenthean did not acknowledge comments like this. All Lenthean wanted was to thank the very person who helped him the most when he thought there was no hope at all: Nana. The old sage in Darthia. He wanted to tell her all about his travels and what he did since they last met. Still, to this day, the boy remembered vividly the night in her small cottage home. The cabbage soup, the warm blankets, the friendly spirit. He wanted to thank her after all was said and done. She had truly changed his life that night.

  Traveling up the corridor while hugging the city wall, the boy turned a sharp left to eventually find that huddled spot he once slept in during that rainy night. He could still see the imprint in the mud of where he slept that rainy night many months earlier. The boy felt his lips long for a smile at the sight of her home, only to find it sink deep into a frown.

  What was all of the commotion? Tens of men were carrying boxes from Nana’s old cobblestone house into carriages to be taken off by donkey and horse. Lenthean clicked his heels into Lucy to get a better idea of what they were doing at Nana’s place. He pulled on the reigns as he said, “Somebody, tell me what’s going on here! What business do you have here?”

  A larger man in a dirtied shirt came to him with a scroll in hand. “Ah! It’s the New Inheritance, Lenthean. How are you today, sir?”

  Lenthean raised an eyebrow, “Good,” he replied. “What are you doing with this woman’s belongings? Why are you rushing them to be shipped off this way?”

  “Ah, this explains the parchment,” the man seemed to reply to himself. He whistled loudly and motioned for an assistant to rush over at once. He held in his hand a piece of paper with scribbles on it.

  “Lad,” the man continued. “I take it you haven’t heard—Mrs. Nancy passed away, not more than five days ago.”

  Lenthean’s soul fell, and his heart stopped beating. “Wait, she’s gone?”

  “Unfortunately, that seems to be the case! But not all is bad news, Shadow Elementalist! Turns out she was expecting you to return at some time.”

  Lenthean was genuinely confused. “How do you mean?” Lenthean pressed for more.

  “Only days before she passed, she informed her neighbors to gift this parchment to a young man by the name of Lenthean Argerod. What I found peculiar about her note . . . It states this message is to be delivered to . . . Young Man. She wrote Lenthean Argerod only as a subtitle to your name. I presume that is you, the Shadow Elementalist. Am I correct in this assumption?”

  Lenthean almost giggled at the report this man provided him. “Uh, yes, it most certainly is.”

  “Well, here you go, then.” The man extended his hairy arm out with the paper in hand for Lenthean to take. The boy took it, and eyed the care with which the knot had been tied around it in orange yarn. He let the end of it tickle his index finger before grasping it with a pinch. He gently pulled on it and set it free. Unfolding the paper note, he began to read.

  I write this in my bed awaiting my journey home. What a pleasure it has been to see the world we all know. I write in particular to the young man that seemed so lost and alone. What a joy you were. Such promise in you. I have lived alone in that rugged old house in the dark corner street for the last thirty years with not a single guest to have come by. Not one, until I met you. What a kind young man indeed. So humble. While you did not see promise in yourself, I saw it all in you. The young man the world didn’t know it needed. It was a blessing to meet you before the end . . . before the beginning. You are a wondrous young man, so I am compelled to impart with you my final words here on this earth in which we both live. Stay strong and true to who you are. It will guide you through all the many challenges you will face in your endeavors. Lastly, Young Man, you must know—with more than eighty years on this earth, I can assuredly say you changed my life more than anyone else could have.

  Young Man, you were the light in what was the darkest time of my life.

  Epilogue: Incinerated

  Months had passed since the falling of their dear leaders. The man of Der’ Tanel stumbled through the remains of what was once home. He wheezed on the thick air and struggled to maintain his footing. He could feel the smog sticking to his skin and on the roof of his mouth. The man became weak and fell, catching himself on the charred-black countertop where he once shared meals with his family. The man started to breathe again then lifted his palm to his eyes—it was coated in black now. He growled at this and climbed back to his feet from his knees. He glanced around the burned home at all of the memories—all of his family’s life—incinerated.

  A single tear fell, so he made his way outside his collapsed home. All around him was the aftermath of this . . . this purging by flames. What was once a town on the outskirts of Der’ Tanel the man used to call home was razed, sizzling with embers and smoke. The air was so thick the man could barely breathe. He called for someone, anyone, but no one answered his call of emotional duress. His family, his friends, his neighbors were all gone now.

  He made way to where he had once labored, not more than ten minutes’ walk from his Der’ Tanellian village. He stood fast on the trail he had regularly frequented—only this time, the pine trees were without leaves, bark blackened and shape withered. He fumbled his way through the darkened wood until he arrived at the clearing of the passage he had always seen. He beheld the mountain, the Dragon’s Peak, and the massive mine he used to work at each day of his life.

  The clearing of trees brought nothing but more sorrow for the man. It was there he realized the grim reality he faced. There at his feet, a crisp corpse of one of his own. A hand outstretched to the sky, a cry for help all too late. He continued making his way to the mine. Another corpse, then another and another. The air was full of stench from rotting and cooked flesh. He was careful now not to step on any of his beloved colleagues. All seemed to be without hope at the sight of this horror until the teary-eyed Der’ Tanellian man heard an echoed mumble from the base of the mountain’s massive cave.

  The man immediately rushed to find who it was in need of assistance. He traveled so quickly, in fact, that his feet made contact with several of the dead around him, severing limbs or breaking ribs as he blew by them. The voice moaned again, and he could finally locate its origin. The Der’ Tanellian fell to his knees next to the man lying among the many burnt corpses.

  The man too was Der’ Tanellian, but only one of his pointed ears remained; the other had been burned off, along with half his face. His hair was gone and his body was cooked. The man on the ground kept an elevated arm in the air as he called out to the man who now knelt by his side. He could not move his joints, for his skin was practically leather. The man on his knees demanded to know, “What happened here? Please, you must inform me!”

  The crippled man only coughed hard. His face was terrified, unblinking and still.

  “Please, you must tell! Allow me to avenge you, to avenge all of us! Please!”

  Still nothing.

  “Are the fables true? Is there a Dragon in this peak?”

  The man on the ground coughed more. “No . . . Dragon”

  “What then—what?”

  The weakened man choked out what he could. “We . . . found . . . it . . .”

  The man continued to hear him out.

  “Orb . . . in the mine . . .”

  The man on his knees shook with eyes of terror.

  “Der’ Tanellian . . . One . . . of . . . us . . .”

  “Elementalist.”

  ARTWORK BY THE AUTHOR

  ERENDAR, SOUL ELEMENTALIST

  KETHAR, BOUNTY HUNTER

  VALDORATH, LIGHT ELEMENTALIST

  (The Old Inheritance)

  ARROGAN, GOD OF SHADOWS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  TYLER SEEVER

  I was born in Merced, California, and raised in Mesa, Arizona, but lived in many places as an adult, from Tacoma, Washington, to Tulsa,
Oklahoma. Tolkien is an inspiration to my work, as he is to most folks writing in the fantasy genre.

  The story of Lenthean stems back to early 2006, when the earliest version of the story began. At the young age of thirteen, I began to craft the universe of the Elementalist series. It began with nearly the same characters, towns, and cities as the story you are experiencing at the moment in the modern version of Elementalist—The Legend of Lenthean. The original title was Shadow Caster: The Legend of Lenthean. The story was never completed, and it came to a halt at 333 pages in length during the year of 2009.

  Life continued, and as I aged into adulthood, I always wondered about that story—about this world full of characters and lore. What a waste. . . I always thought. What a waste that I never shared the finished product with the world. Those thoughts prompted me to take a dive into the old story—and, by golly, it was a grammatical mess. Its story went here and there, clearly written by someone who was thirteen years old. What was great, however, was the story’s characters and lore.