by Derek Barton
Like dousing a torch, the last of the panicked crowd froze in their tracks as the rumbling of the building quieted. Sergeant Blackstaff put the youth over her shoulder as she climbed through the ice.
"Ah, Taihven! Why have you done this? Why?" The king moaned. He collapsed to his knees and fell backward in a heap at a guard's boots.
Letandra was also past her limit and sobbed in Devin’s arms.
The Royalguards lifted their fallen monarch from the ground. Demetryce spun around and pointed at Sergeant Blackstaff. "I do not want to see him again! Bury him in the deepest cell of our dungeon! This time he has gone too far!"
A youth with blond stringy hair rushed through a side door, “Help! Help me! The stables are on fire!”
For King Haedrec's family, the day had started with ugly drama and it ended in an inferno.
#3
Posted on the wall next to the Dungeonguard’s table, a candle clock had melted down to the eleventh hour. The smells of death and rot expelled from the dungeon cells were overwhelming. Letandra heard Taihven gag for the third time since they dropped him onto the greasy dirt. There was no light source within the square stone room. The hallway itself possessed a pair of torches and a single, small stool.
A heavyset guard at the end of the hall nervously watched Letandra as she sat on a stool next to Taihven’s cell. He made her anxious as well and she clutched at her blanket tighter as the damp seeped into her bones. She knew being there was pointless; he remained unconscious and lost in his latest episode. However, if he did awake, she wanted to be here for him.
Only one other prisoner occupied the other dungeon cells at this level. He had been brought in about two hours after Taihven was dumped in the dark and mud. Dungeonguards escorted a bald, tanned man dressed in black, studded leather armor and scuffed hide boots. When the group entered the dungeon hallway, the bald man spotted the princess and shot her a wide, toothy grin.
A Camiyaan! She realized. The prisoner had the common Camiyaan traits of no eyebrows, no eyelashes or facial hair.
As they shoved and locked away the new prisoner into his cell, another Wyvernguard much younger and thinner than the others appeared and crossed over to her. He nodded and handed her a rolled up parchment. “Sergeant Devin said you were asking for this.”
She unfurled the report.
~~Abriddine 21, 521 JJa
To the Artadeus Court and Throne
Witnessed and Report prepared by:
Sergeant Renald Devin and Sergeant Deliah Blackstaff
This evening after Eightbells, a blaze erupted in Old Charners Hall of Saints Square. While the fire was contained, the majority of Charners Hall has been burnt to the ground. The brick kitchen area did fair the best.
Five actors, two citizens required minor Mending at the site and one actor remains in the Castle Infirmary. The stables to the Hall were also destroyed along with eight horses.
Demena and Korten Penma, owners of the Old Charners Hall, have made an official claim for compensation from the Artadeus Throne for damages.
No estimation of the loss has been determined yet.
At present, Prince Taihven has been detained while further investigations occur.
She wanted to crumble the parchment in her hands, but doing so would not make this horror disappear. While the actual costs of the hall would be minimal, the damage to the family’s reputation was immeasurable.
Guilt gripped her over her indecision. The princess knew she should be with her father. This might be the last chance to talk with her father. Yet, it was impossible for her to leave Taihven like this. She had no idea how long he would endure in this state or would be under arrest. Her world was upside down and inverted in chaos.
***
Moon rays shone down through the cracks in the pit’s roof and splashed across the walls. In that brief moment, Taihven saw wiry movement along several barrel-thick roots in his cell. Hundreds of worm tentacles groped along the stone-like tree, soaking up the remnant light. The prince edged away from the walls and into the center. He shivered, remembering the light-form centipede attack he had lived through the week before.
He was confined in some sort of organic cage, carved from a petrified tree. An hour before, he had woken up to footsteps above where his captors stood guard. Taihven nicknamed them the Green Ones. The three-foot tall humanoids were lime-colored reptilians with elongated, fishlike heads with three golden eyes. Raspy barks came from insect-like pets the Green Ones kept on leashes near their sides.
Once he had spotted a number of the Green Ones as he hid behind a row of hedge bushes. The voracious small pack of the lizards were chasing a herd of these six-legged creatures into their ambush. They swarmed over a pair of the unlucky targets, slashing with claws and spearing with stone javelins. Even after the wooly beasts succumbed to their injuries, the Green Ones mutilated and tore at the bodies in gory glee. The little carnivores fed off the hunt and killed for more than the flesh of the bodies.
A few years back, an episode had deposited him into a forest near their campsites. As he was making a campfire of his own, a scouting party found him. They doggedly chased after him for over an hour. He only managed to escape when his episode ended and he found himself in his bed at Adventdawn. Letandra had counted and mended at least seven open gashes.
Slipping into his episodes, he occasionally found familiar settings or creatures that he had seen before. However, his destinations and experiences were always random and the lands themselves changed sporadically. Even time jumped forward or would slow to an infinite crawl. Once he spent most of a month in “this world” but lost half a day in Tayneva.
When he had drifted to sleep at Old Charners Hall, he dreamed he heard faint whispers. These wispy voices spoke only inside his head and signaled a crossover to this chaos realm. The boy learned at an early age to not fight the episode. He did not have any say.
He developed tricks to mask some of the outward physical signs that he was entering an episode like twitching fingers, slack jaw and lazy, unfocused eyes. But within every episode, he had no control or memory of events that happened in true reality. Sometimes, he would try to hide himself or let Letandra know so she could help cover for him. As he grew older, the crossovers grew frequent and took control faster. Taihven had to be isolated and aloof from children his own age. While his mental condition plagued and complicated his life, it also gave him an observant, analytical mindset.
This time the episode grabbed him without warning and the crossover had dropped Taihven next to a wide, frothy river. Twice as broad as the Nestemaryn River of Tayneva, this river sprawled inside a forest of Redleaf pines, tangles of thorn vines and petrified ancient oaks that towered into the clouds. Not up for any real travel, he had decided to make a small fire.
That was his mistake — he should have scouted the area first to see if it was a safe area. The smoke had signaled his presence. The Green Ones had his makeshift camp surrounded and they attempted to overwhelm him in numbers. Taihven used his Ice Spikes to break free of them. Casting Fire Bolts had helped to clear the trails ahead of him and Earthquake spells had toppled trees behind him which gave him an escape route. These tricks had worked well at first. He started to even enjoy the battle, using his skills to hinder their chase.
His stone path had abruptly ended in a towering gorge. There were no exits out and the rock walls were smooth. Their prey realized too late that they had expertly hunted and herded him into the chasm with no way out much like the wooly beasts from before. Fear coalesced and panic seeped into his core. Something deep within him switched, evolved. A beast of indignant rage roared to life and a primal darkness overthrew his consciousness. He fought by reflex and animal instinct.
The prince awoke much later, imprisoned in the pit. Taihven had no idea how they overtook him or where they brought him. Hungry and bleeding from a gash on his lips, he found that his hands were bound behind his back and he had no recollection of how he got there. Taih
ven was miserable and impatient for his stay to end and return to home. Above all, he wanted to leave before the Green Ones had acted on whatever plans they had for him.
#4
A hand brushed back Letandra’s black locks from her face. She snatched the arm, but eased up seeing it was her mother and not the paunchy guard. Flush with embarrassment, she said, “Sorry, you startled me. I did not hear you.”
“That is alright, dear. Come! I think it is time for you to be with your family.” Queen Demetryce said calmly. Her tone was pleasant, but the night’s events played heavily upon her: dark circles under her eyes, her hair disheveled.
Letandra steeled her jaw, resisted speaking out and continued to keep her vigil on the stool.
“I understand your loyalty. I do! But your father needs you right now. When Taihven awakes, the guard has strict instruction to let us know.”
The young Princess lingered and remained stubborn; a flaw inherited from her father. She stared back at her mother, not answering.
“I want you to know how grateful I am for your discretion about what we discussed today. You have become quite the strong young woman I have hoped you would be. I know I have not always given you the right impression, but I am very proud of you and how you handle yourself… in most situations.”
She paused and yawned. “But now, I really need to rely on you and need your support. No matter how, I will do everything in my power to keep this family strong and if need be, I will need you to be a leader for this country.”
The young woman gasped at the implications to that remark. Could tonight be a horrible twist of circumstances that could lead to her father’s death and an outcome in which her brother never leaves the dungeon? Stability to the nation would require justice. Justice would demand public execution. And the queen and daughter would have to rule in an unprecedented fashion in an unprecedented war.
“He nearly killed dozens, Letandra!” Demetryce could perceive the girl’s inner dialogue. “We got lucky. But we cannot appear to be above the law. At this time, especially now, we need the favor and the faith of the people. I do not have any choice, but to have him down here. For his safety and ours and the citizens we swore to serve.”
The queen stopped again and wiped away a tear of frustration and pain. “Your father is very ill; this disease is definitely taking a toll on him. But Brother Reaul is working hard on his Mending. So… We will speak with your father when he awakes.” She held out her hand to help Letandra up from the stool. Reluctantly, the princess accepted the offering.
They walked out of the dungeon without speaking a word.
***
A loud crash above startled the young mage awake. The Green Ones removed the pit’s cover and hazy sunlight warmed up the hole. They peered down at him with rock javelins and long, forked metal rods in hand. It was apparent that they were as nervous about him as he was about them.
One squealed and gestured at him before throwing down a twine ladder along the side. Taihven got to his feet, but the Green Ones barked and clamored at the movement so he sat back down. Dual wooden ladders were dropped and the creatures climbed in, looking over their shoulders at their prisoner.
They stood huddled, ready and alert and approached him together – he gave them no resistance. While a Green One held a rod to his throat, another worked at his rope cuffs. Another guard approached and draped a cloth sack over his head. He went along with their treatment. Again, a metal rod prodded him in the direction of the ladder where he climbed out and into the daylight above.
Taihven was not sure when this episode would elapse and hoped his diplomacy training would help bide him time. The sounds beyond the sack varied from the wild outdoors to a tight corridor to another open chamber. He sensed a lot of eyes upon him and picked out whispered grunts. Something hissed and some sort of wet, snapping sound could be heard above the crowd.
After being shoved to his knees, the sack was roughly removed. Immediately he was sickened at the scene sprawled out before him. Over two dozen of the limey green, pale bodies laid out in rough rows. Orange liquid pooled around them and seeped from open wounds. A smoky, putrid cloud wafted above the bodies.
These were his kills.
Sitting on a series of wooden boxes set like a tower was one of the Greens. The creature’s robes and demeanor signaled that this was a leader. Wrapped all about the tower was a pair of menacing vine-like, red-horned serpents. Taihven looked away from the Leader to the dead. His eyes focused on a small hunter with burn wounds all over. It had to be a child or at least a youth.
Guilt wracked him. He blinked back tears as the echo of his father’s voice spoke from a childhood memory, “You do not have to fear what is inside your head, boy. Your dreams are just that: dreams! Some are more like nightmares, but it is all in your head.” However, this was the first time that he “hurt” anyone here and the prince was not sure what this all meant.
The Leader barked and admonished him from the tower; his words were unintelligible, but his meaning and intent clear. The enormous numbers behind them was hostile and on the verge of violence, but they remained back. His thoughts raced and his heartbeat quickened. How do you use diplomacy to defend murder? How do you plead your side when you cannot speak their language? It was a case of self-defense but his rage made it a massacre.
The Leader growled and pointed its clawed fingers at the prince. It snarled and glanced down at one of the mammoth serpents.
“Ckarkii abole ti ambe GRE’ADJA!”
The last word was taken up in chant by the mob behind the youth.
GRE’ADJA!! GRE’ADJA!! GRE’ADJA!!
“Wha-what?” Taihven stuttered up at the Leader.
Guards were on either side of him. One spun and smashed Taihven on the temple with a bone club. As he crumbled into a heap, holding his throbbing head, the room darkened, sounds faded, whispers started...
PART III — A SON’S WORD:
Foremorn of Abriddine 22nd~
#1
…blistering silvery light filtered through low-hanging clouds and blinded him as he lay in white sands. The whispers in his head faded away.
He brought up an arm to cover his eyes, coughed and spat out a spot of blood onto his tunic. Every muscle in his body felt sore and a dull ache burrowed deep into his bones. A gash upon his temple was not deep, but he could feel blood weeping out. A wave of vertigo washed over him and made him nauseated. The prince dug his fingers into the sands trying to hold onto the earth. All he could muster for several moments was to breathe heavily and not vomit.
Taihven knew he had escaped the Green Ones’ court, but instinct told him he was definitely not home. Cracks of thin, red-line lightning snapped a few feet over his head. Other bolts of lightning ran in parallel lines along miniature dunes. This was an unknown plain. Nothing from his past explorations came remotely close to this.
Another revelation occurred to him: he never had back-to-back episodes! It unnerved him. Despite the pain that wracked him, he rose up on his elbows and inspected his current surroundings further.
For many arpents around him, all he could see were valleys of white sands, bristling with blue, crystal formations and stunted tree husks. Nothing moved; just the overcast clouds, patches of sunrays and the occasional streak of electricity. Using a tree limb he got to his feet and shook his head clear of cobwebs.
Along the horizon, a flash like a beacon blinked and caught his eye. Another spark of light signaled left of the first flash. Whatever flashed continued its pattern along a line. A trinity of sparkles in a field of grey. Something about the lights were calling to him, drawing him.
After the last episodes, Taihven felt insecure and hesitated on acting at all. Perhaps it would be better to lay low a while and he would surely return home soon. However, his resistance to the lure of the flashes dwindled.
Due to the thick cloud cover, he could not make out the suns’ placements. Even in the patches of sunlight, the temperature had started to drop significant
ly – it was important to find shelter for the time being at least. The prince stretched out his arms gingerly, the cramps in his side and shoulders persisted. Taihven wondered if he had fallen from some height when he appeared here. Weary with frustration, he shrugged his shoulders. He started his trek unknowingly heading north, north toward those horizon lights.
Hours transpired, but only more desert stretched out in front and all around him. There were no abandoned structures or any encountered cave openings. Taihven did not detect any trace of life at all. He doubted the Green Ones would exist anywhere near here.
After traveling several versts, the soft sands inclined and he struggled his way up a sprawling dune mount. As he ascended to a rounded crest, he spotted the source of the flashing lights. In a broad valley below, a dark brooding lake sat, fed by a thin river. At the heart of the lake on a tiny patch of desert sands were three reddish metal pyramids, each topped with slowly rotating metal boxes. They spun at slow, individual speeds. The flashes were beams of light reflecting off the cubes. In spite of no shelter around them, the youth increased his pace on the path down. His curiosity overtook his fears.
By the time he entered the lake valley, the suns had slipped away completely. A frost soon coated the crystal towers. He jogged in order to keep warm and although, he could no longer see the flashes, the youth was fairly certain of the boxes’ locations.
A humming echoed along the valley grounds and the crystal clusters resonated with it. A faint luminescent aura glowed beneath the sands. It barely illuminated the path that weaved among the tree husks.
The humming intensified as he got closer to the cubes. In spite of the chill crisp air and the possible hard journey ahead, he strode without hesitation into the flowing river waters. He fought against the strong currents and waded through chest-high water in the middle. On the other side, he caught his breath and sat shivering on a snapped tree trunk. His breathing had become labored. The ebony lake was lifeless and smooth.