Sea of Secrets Anthology

by J E Feldman

  The headsman came out of the castle. However, he bore a strong rope instead of the axe, one of its ends tightened to form a noose. A collective gasp of sighs echoed through the arena. At least, their kind had some courtesy not to take off the head of those who were revered next to the gods. Nonetheless, their sadness knew no bounds. They knew what the punishment was—death by hanging. They prayed for the god-man to be saved; to give their king some sense.

  Whispers ran among the crowd. The king, however, did not listen. His eyes were fixated on the injured ascetic, who stared back at him with disdain and tried to shake the chains off him. “O Great King, who was once pious and holy, now you have stumbled into folly by bringing me thus in chains,” the ascetic shouted for all to hear. “You have proved that you have lost all allegiance to the gods. Faithless have you become and you show disrespect to the boon I gave you. A son you shall meet, brave and magnificent, handsome, and powerful—that I promised you. Know this, O Fallen King, that I spoke with the word of gods and those words aren’t to be lightly taken or thrown aside for the winds to devour.”

  “What boon, Sage?” boomed the king’s voice. “That boon hasn’t yet come to fruition. It has given me nothing but a conflict of mind. The peace I sought has not been granted me. Even now, my wife sleeps weak on her bed, having miscarried another child. The healer tells me she shall not be able to bear another one, so tell me, Sage, how else is your boon going to work its wonder? All you did was give me hope, false as a cheater’s truth, when I had accepted the fact that perhaps I would never have an heir. When you blessed me, my hopes rose, but tonight they were vanquished, leaving me to languish in the halls of darkness, and even now, my mind duels the shadows that come along with it.”

  The king paused for a moment. “If you had not come and spoke in the voice of gods, as you say, none of this would have happened.”

  The ascetic laughed. “Patience does not become you, it seems to me. The boons we sages give are to deserving people. I only made the error of seeing you as one of those. So wrong was I and my judgment. But, you, my Lord, should learn the value of patience and that good things come to those who wait. But, from the look on your face, none of my wisdom shall truly enlighten your mind. You are bent on punishing me and setting an example before everyone so that people like me are not to be trusted and that we walk across leagues of lands, bandying our false propaganda for false hopes. You have muddied your own kingdom by your actions and you will muddy it still. Yet I will not question your decree now that you have set foot on the path that you deem your duty. I will not be the one to set you free of that path. That, I believe, is someone else’s duty. I will submit to the death you have veritably decreed me to have, but know this, O King, that by bringing me here thus chained will only invite the wrath of Gods. Things shall not look favorable on you or your subjects who have gathered here thus, afraid of speaking against your folly. The kingdom shall be put to the test and people shall question your judgments. The only person who will stand with you will be the heir who I blessed you with, but know this, that heir shall never be king.”

  The king shuddered at the words, but regained his stern composure. “Your boons have never come to pass; your words bear no meaning. Too much value has been given them already. No more, Sage. I do sentence you to your death. May your soul finally find its peace, even though you have failed to deliver mine.”

  He nodded to the headsman who moved toward the sage with the rope swinging in his hands. At that moment, the god-man saw death on the threads that made the rope, and knowing that he would meet his maker soon, closed his eyes, awaiting the time he would finally be with the gods.

  When the banter of words went on between the ascetic and the king in the great open space, none of the guards—even those who patrolled the walls—saw a tall young man emerge from the water of the river that flowed nearby. His dark hair flowed to his shoulders. The upper portion of his body was bare except for a necklace of large, beady pearls, and from waist to toe, he wore a white dhoti.

  With his light blue eyes, he saw afar and discerned the tension rising in the courtyards. His face wore a stern expressionless look. Determined that the king not commit the folly, he raised his left hand, which held a great, white bow of yew. He pulled the bowstring with the other hand up to his ears and moved his lips as if in incantation. Sparks of orange and yellow formed a sharp-tipped arrow that automatically attached itself to the string where he had his fingers. Pulling the string further for a moment more, he let the arrow fly loose, leaving behind nothing but a golden trail of dust.

  The headsman would have succeeded in binding the god-man to the altar had not a golden arrow come from above the walls and cut his rope into half before piercing the ground right in front of the king. Everyone turned their stares at the arrow and wondered who the archer was and whether he was in a right mind to challenge their king’s order. The king was especially curious to see who had dared to question his authority to save the ascetic. He searched the crowd, but could discern none with a bow in hand. He then turned at the ascetic, whose eyes stared at the feathers of the arrow. A smile, however weak, had made the ascetic’s lips curl.

  That smile made his blood boil.

  “Who is it that dares defy my orders!” he shouted.

  Silence permeated the crowd.

  “Come forth, come into the open. There’s no courage or glory in fighting from the shadows.”

  “Whether one fights from the shadows or in the light, courage is the same. It takes courage to kill or to maim or to fight. And I do not seek glory. I come only to request you not kill the god-man, which will put a sin of killing him upon your head.”

  The king looked hither and thither to surmise the direction of the voice. A moment later, he found a tall, young man walking with long strides toward the courtyard, a bow in his hands.

  “But the courage is greater, young man,” said the king, “when you fight in the open. Do you have that courage to fight me in the open?”

  “I come not here to fight, but to appeal to your senses that you let the sage go free into this world. You have already earned his blessing and then his curse. Why do you want to take upon the sin of killing him as well? Let him be, my Lord, and I shall lay myself at your feet and accept whatever punishment you grant me. Only, let this man go free.”

  The king laughed. “You truly do not know what you speak of, young man. This god-man, as you say, has spread falsehood in my kingdom and I shall not allow lies to spread amongst my people.”

  The young man bellowed with a laughter of his own. “Then what about that lie you tell yourself? Would you punish yourself?”

  “How dare you accuse me, the king, of being a liar?” said the king, fury gleaming on his face. “How dare you! For this, I will have your head also.”

  “My head is at your disposal, my Lord, but the condition I laid in the beginning still stands. Let the sage go free.”

  “You must be a madman then as well, just as this sage,” he roared, pointing at the bound ascetic. “You lay your head in favor of him, but refused to fight me on some humble principal. You refused a challenge, young man. Seeing that you have a bow in your hand and this display of archery, I assume you are of the warrior class. Have your teachers taught you to offer your head on platter?” he mocked.

  “No, my King, my teachers have taught me how to fight for the right purpose. I shall raise my weapons in a just fight. I only offered my head to free this god-man. If by my sacrifice his death is averted then I shall have done a good deed. Also, do know that it requires a special kind of courage to do just this. But you, my King, it seems, understand only the ways of the weapon. Too eager to clutch them; too arrogant to show the world your proficiency over them. But I am not you, my King. Hence, I beseech you again that you let the sage go free and in doing so, absolve yourself of the sin of even commanding such a death.”

  Murmurs ran among the crowd.

  “So you challenge me and stay your humble self at the same time.�
�� He laughed. “Well, then, young man, I will do you one good. Defeat me in battle and you shall leave this city with not only your head but this wretched ascetic as well. Lose and you shall forfeit both your lives.”

  “I came not here to make a gamble or fight a duel, my King, but to see your sensibilities change. Although, it does now look like a bleak prospect. You want a duel and if it is indeed the king’s desire, then I shall not be called rude in declining to fulfill it. After all, how dare anyone challenge the king’s orders?”

  Raising his bow high, the young man lifted his bow and sang, “I accept your challenge, my Lord.”

  “What’s your name?” the king asked him.

  Being a man of duty, he couldn’t help but answer anything thrown at him, whether it was a question or a weapon. “My name is Airasanda, O King,” he answered.

  “And what about your last name, Airasanda? How do you identify yourself?”

  He laughed. “My King, I identify myself by my bow and my deeds. Names have no significance until validated by deeds.” Saying, he raised his bow and held it tight, facing the king.

  Seeing him, the king retaliated by adapting a similar posture. “Very well, then!” remarked the king. “May the best warrior win!” He then let loose a silver-tipped arrow toward his challenger.

  Airasanda saw the arrow whoosh toward him and stood without a counter of his own. He thrust his bow aside and swerved to the right before catching the shaft of the arrow swiftly with his right hand. Swinging the arrow with one of his hands, he notched it to his bow and let it fly at the king, whose name he had held in honor once upon a time. The arrow fell to the ground, piercing the earth. A moment later, the king fired again, another arrow coming at him with a speed faster than the one before.

  He quickly conjured an arrow on his bow and let it counter the king’s. When they collided, they both vanished.

  Airasanda smiled.

  Raising his bow, he pulled another arrow out of his quiver and let it loose. The arrow flew high into the sky and just as it looked as though it would fall down to the ground soon, it changed shape into a mighty eagle. The eagle swooped down on the king with an intent to clutch him with its claws and throw him to the earth. But the king, Lord of Galacor, turned out to be smarter when he let loose his arrows, which turned into a multitude of venomous snakes that attacked the eagle from many directions. The eagle, knowing it was defeated, retreated into the sky before it vanished into a puff of black smoke.

  A blue funnel appeared on Airasanda’s bow as he pulled its string backward. From the point where his fingers touched the string, a line of black arrows leaped out toward his opponent, who countered it by conjuring a golden shield of his own. The arrows fell onto the shield and vanished, often with a loud bang. One, however, managed to penetrate the shield and cut the string of the king’s bow. With the focus disturbed, the shield vanished and black arrows flew at their intended victim.

  The king, however, managed to escape every arrow that was thrown at him until another bow appeared in his hands. He drew and countered Airasanda’s arrows with his own. Flashes of light blinded both the warriors as the arrows met and clashed against each other.

  Airasanda removed his hands from his eyes and stared at the king. He had always known the Lord of Galacor to be a formidable warrior, but he hadn’t known him to be a bow-master as well. Though Airasanda had learned from the best, it seemed that his play wasn’t enough to win him the duel. And he had to win if he wanted to keep the sage alive. He knew the ascetic was watching him from somewhere atop the great walls upon whose parapet the townsfolk had gathered to watch.

  When the king pulled the string of his bow back, a grunt escaped Airasanda’s mouth as he saw a thick strand of black smoke form. The king released whatever he had conjured. The black smoke soon turned into a huge dragon of similar color. The fire-breathing monster roared and stared at him with crimson eyes.

  Airasanda held his bow facing upward to the sky and knelt down on his left knee. Muttering an incantation, he pulled the bowstring downward until it reached the level of his rotund hips. A thin golden line appeared, which he let loose high into the sky. The line formed a wave in the wind, like a slithering snake. The snake opened its jaws wide open. With every movement, it increased in size until it was the same as the dragon. Its golden skin shimmered in the sunlight, blinding everyone in the vicinity except Airasanda, who stood below with his hands on his hips.

  The dragon roared and let out of a puff of orange fire.

  His weapon, though, conjured a watery shield that soon embraced the fire before vaporizing into steam. The snake hissed in return and spit out a green smoke that was nothing but venom. The dragon flew above the poison, which fell to the ground behind the king, killing every plant and shrub that grew there.

  While the dragon and the snake fought their battle in the sky, Airasanda threw a volley of arrows at the king, who retaliated with his own. Each arrow met its counterpart, resulting in a loud blast that sent tremors throughout the palace. Even the queen, who slept in the room, weak from her ordeals, woke in wonder of what had transpired. Her servants whispered of the curse that had struck Galacor. They told her rumors of how a warrior had challenged their king and was winning every battle.

  Outside, in the stretch of the field beside the river, the king and the young warrior fought, letting loose arrow after arrow. None won over the other and the duel continued on for hours without a result in sight. Even the people who looked on breathed sighs of impatience. They had never thought that a warrior would exist who could give their king a run for their kingdom’s gold. Many of them had sat where they were, watching the battle unfold through the little slits in the stone.

  The dragon and the snake battled above, the latter seemed as though it would soon bite the dragon into its death. A venom cloud covered it from head to tail and the dragon’s fire could not make a single dent in it. Whenever the fire would strike, the venom would boil and rise, its thin tendrils trying to get through the scales on the dragon’s skin.

  Airasanda had let loose another volley of arrows when a terrible roar rent the air above. The dragon fell, breathing enormous amounts of fire. He quickly conjured a shield around him. The fire swept around him, but he emerged unscathed. The dragon hit the ground and vanished into a huge puff of black smoke.

  The ordeal had thrown the king backward onto the ground and the venomous snake slithered to its enemy. Its fangs had protruded out to strike the fallen lord with its potent poison. It was near to killing him when a shield of water separated him from the snake. Even Airasanda looked in surprise at the sudden intervention. He had no idea who had the power to conjure a shield that was strong enough to hold off his snake.

  He breathed deep and muttered an incantation. The snake retreated into the sky and disappeared, leaving nothing but green trails in the sky. The water shield vanished too, allowing the king to slowly stand up. The great ruler looked tired. So was Airasanda.

  In that adrenaline of battle, he had forgotten what he was fighting for. If that shield had not appeared in time, his snake would have killed the king and he would have been the one to take on the sin of killing another man. He heaved a sigh of relief that someone’s intervention had protected him from such an act. All he had wanted was for the Galacorean ruler to see sense and forbid the killing of a respected sage. His eyes sought the one who had the power to cast such a shield. None appeared.

  Just when he turned to look at the king, he saw a figure appear out of thin air to his right. He smiled as he ran toward her. “Mother!” he cried. “I’m so glad you came!”

  The young man had called her “Mother?” His surprised eyes looked at the gracious womanly figure in front of him. He knew her, but if this young man had called her mother, that could only mean…?

  “It’s true, O King Adanas, that this young man is indeed your son,” the woman said.

  “Oh my dear Marina, if what you speak of is true then you have indeed given me a great gift. Thank you,
my dearest. You do not know how much I owe you.”

  Marina smiled. “What the Greentrees owe me cannot be counted, my Lord. You owe me your life for I saved you today. You owe me for bringing up your son. But you need not be filled with gratitude. I did what I deemed was my duty. And given that this man here is the product of our love, how could I not? If he had killed you today, he would have committed patricide, so in a way I have saved him too. What is it with you Greentrees and the debts you owe?” She laughed, which still bore the musical touch that had fallen in love with.

  “But you have done me a disservice, my Lord. I groomed him to be a prince and a king, but you have now rendered all of my efforts futile. You have incurred the sage’s curse out of your own frustration and chose the path that would have led you to commit the greatest sin of killing the whisperers of the gods.”

  “That sage, my lady Marina, raised my hopes by blessing me with a son, but then my queen never bore a child. If his blessings did not come to fruition, his curse won’t. So Airasanda has nothing to fear. He will be prince and when time is right, he will also be king.”

  “No, My Lord. I intended for the queen to adopt Airasanda as her own son. The sage’s blessing turned out to be a boon. Your son would have been protected from being declared an illegitimate son by virtue of that blessing alone. You see, you do not clearly remember the blessing the sage gave you. He blessed you that you would be meeting your son soon, not that your queen would be able to conceive one. So, my Lord, the sage’s blessing has come true, and so too will the curse that you have incurred with your actions. Now, because of the sage’s curse, he will not be a prince. And if he cannot be one, how can he be a king?”

  The king fell to the ground on his knees and started to weep. “All has gone to doom’s end. The Greentree family has no heir. All because of me.”