by Guy Antibes
The Sleeping God
Disinherited Prince Series
Book Four
By
Guy Antibes
Table of Contents
Map of the continent of Volia
Chapter One
South Parsimol
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Botarra
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
The Shards
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Fistyra
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bossom
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gekelmar
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Teriland
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Duchary
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Excerpt From Demeron: A Horse’s Tale
Copyright Page
Author’s Note
A Bit About Guy
Books by Guy Antibes
The Sleeping God
Copyright ©2017 Guy Antibes. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.
~
This is a work of fiction. There are no real locations used in the book, the people, settings and specific places are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons, locations, or places are purely coincidental.
Published by CasiePress LLC in Salt Lake City, UT, February, 2017.
www.casiepress.com
Cover & Book Design: Kenneth Cassell
~
Createspace ISBNs
ISBN-13: 978-1543178920
ISBN-10: 1543178928
AUTHOR’S NOTE
~
Pol gets to go on a ‘vacation’ to seek out his roots in northern Volia. He and his closest friends head to Fassin and the Cathedral of the Sleeping God. The way is anything but easy.
I enjoyed writing book four because the kernel for the entire Disinherited Prince series came from a short story that I wrote that encompasses Pol’s time in Fassin. Names have changed, locations have changed, but the basic outline has remained pretty much the same.
I’d like to thank Judy and Ken for contributions on this episode and my wife Bev, who helped along the way
You might be wonderimg whatever happened to Demeron, Pol’s Shinkyan stallion. He has his own story documented in an upcoming novella. I’ve included an excerpt at the end of The Sleeping God.
— Guy Antibes
In the world of Phairoon
Map of the continent of Volia
(Contact Guy for a clearer map at www.guyantibes.com)
The Sleeping God
Chapter One
~
Shira, the Shinkyan Seeker, looked from the stern of the ship. Her straight, short black hair flitted this way and that in the cold ocean breeze. “I’ve grown to hate waves and whitecaps,” she said.
“You wanted to sail on the ocean,” Pol Cissert said. He wore a knit cap, bought from a sailor to cover his light silvery-blond hair.
“But not for two-and-a-half weeks,” she said. Pol followed her as she turned around to gaze at the port city of Molla, rising up from the approaching docks. “Do you have any idea where we are going?”
“The Penchappy Mountains,” Pol said. “Part of my family comes from there,” he shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll have to do some Seeking to find them.”
“Once that’s done, I’m anticipating a leisurely trip across all of Volia on our way back to Eastril,” Shira said. “I’m up for it. We’ll have a vacation, just like the adults.” She slid her arm through Pol’s.
“Adults?” Pol asked.
She nodded. “In Shinkya, the adults go on vacations, or maybe you might call them retreats, where they learn new things or meditate. Meditation is big in Shinkya. You and I need a rest.”
Pol smiled at the thought of a pleasant diversion just as the ship shuddered, sliding along the pier.
“Pol Cissert?” A man called out from the dock. He looked vaguely familiar. He was tall and looked very fit. Pol searched his memory to recall where he had seen him before. Then he remembered meeting Valiso Gasibli for the first time with another man in Malden Gastoria’s chambers in Borstall Castle. It seemed like ages ago.
“Namion Threshell?” Pol called out.
“Ah, I’m glad to see you. I have a message from Emperor Hazett III of the Empire of Baccusol.” Namion motioned that Pol come to him.
Pol was surprised at that. He made his way through the sailors, busy securing the ship, and ran down the makeshift gangplank they had to fashion after Pol destroyed the old one back in Borstall while fleeing the city to evade South Salvan invaders.
“You look surprised,” Namion said. “Birds take a week or so to make the passage. The Emperor sends four or five, and usually three or more arrive. I have good news.”
“Wait for my companions,” Pol said.
It didn’t take long for Paki Horstel, Kell Digbee, Horker, Shira, and Queen Isa to cluster around the messenger.
“The Emperor arrived two days after you fled. His magicians had devised a way to eliminate the Tesnan spells, which reduced the fighting. I guess you know what they are; it isn’t mentioned in the message. Grostin will be King, and the Emperor invites Queen Isa to return on this same ship to assume the throne of South Salvan.” He turned and bowed to Queen Isa. “Actually, I made up the invite part. You are commanded to do so. South Salvan and the Empire need you, My Queen.”
“My husband?”
“Executed. That’s all the message says.”
“I guess we will all turn around and go back.” The Queen raised her hands and let them drop.
“Not me,” Pol said. “I’m going to tour Volia with Shira.”
“Kell and I will come along,” Paki said.
“So will I,” Horker said.
“No, you won’t,” Queen Isa grabbed the former Tesnan monk by his ear. “I need a guard among all those love-starved sailors. You’re coming with me. That’s a royal command.”
Horker looked helplessly at Pol.
“She needs someone to fetch and carry, Horker,” Pol said, remembering that was the reason why Horker had brought Shira and him along, as his little retinue when they left the Tesnan monastery.
Shira giggled. “Pol’s right.”
Horker bowed to Queen Isa. “My Queen.”
“That’s better.” She looked at Pol. “You deserve more than being restored to your previous title. As Queen of South Salvan, I will make you a Duke, with enough lands set aside for a modest dukedom within South Salvan. I am sure Onkar’s estate is empty. He had no family, so don’t worry about displaced heirs.” She took Pol’s hand. “I’ll have it supervised for you. Please make sure you spend some time at your estate from time to time, D
uke Pol, on your way to visit me.”
Pol shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I am Queen. Don’t talk back!” she said. “I would literally be dead without you.”
“I know,” Pol said. He brightened up. “Kelso will be heading to Yastan without a real destination. Give him the estate. He’s a relation of yours, anyway. I won’t need it in Volia.”
Isa nodded. “I’ll give him some other title and have him manage your properties, as well. Will that be acceptable?”
“Very,” Pol said. He knew he couldn’t win against the Queen.
Shira squeezed his arm. “Can I sweep the floors of your new manor, Duke Pol?” she said with a playful whine in her voice. “I’ve become an expert at fetching and carrying.” She looked at Horker and playfully narrowed her already narrow eyes.
Pol put his hand on hers and squeezed back. “We have a continent to tour with two other friends. We will need chaperones. One I trust and the other…” Pol looked at Paki, who couldn’t help but grin.
Namion looked amused at their conversation. “You anticipated the Emperor very well. Since Hazett III knew it would be awkward for you to return to North Salvan, he has commanded me to escort you through Volia. He thinks it would be an excellent idea for you to have an understanding of this continent. I promise to be a good guide, as I am not without capability.” He bowed again to Queen Isa. “I am sorry I won’t be accompanying you.”
Pol had a good idea of Namion’s capabilities. “You will teach the four of us a few Seeker tricks?”
“Tricks?” Namion said, feigning confusion. “You are all Seekers? Of course, I’ll be happy to be your guide since I know five of the major languages spoken in Volia.” Namion spoke with pride in his voice.
“Languages?” Shira said.
“There are seven spoken on the continent. You will allow me to accompany you? Please do. I’d rather not be punished for ignoring an Imperial directive,” Namion said. He didn’t look serious, but Pol would not expect the man to ignore an order from his Emperor.
Pol looked at his friends. Queen Isa actually looked a little disappointed, and Horker looked very put out.
“We will,” Pol said in behalf of them all, “but before the Queen leaves us and before the ship changes cargo, my first request, Guide Namion, is to find us a good place to eat and drink. The shipboard food was awful.”
~~~
South Parsimol
Chapter Two
~
Pol wondered if his drive to visit Fassin had put too much of a burden on the three friends who stood by his side watching Queen Isa and Horker wave to them from the stern of the departing vessel that had brought them to Volia and the country of South Parsimol.
At their meal, prepared with the sweet relishes that Namion had claimed common in the country, the Seeker pointed out that their journey north would take two or three months. There would be no quick return to Shinkya for Shira, but Paki and Kell seemed to look forward to the adventure after sticking it out in Borstall and spending uncomfortable days sailing on the ocean.
Queen Isa’s departing ship slipped into a fog bank and disappeared.
“A night in Port Molla,” Namion said. “Then I’ve arranged for horses and supplies right after breakfast. Let’s get settled in so you can explore the city.”
Paki and Kell nodded enthusiastically.
Shira squeezed Pol’s arm and looked up at him. Pol must have grown a bit, since he had always had the impression they were the same height. “We can explore together, you and I, eh?” She turned to Namion. “Is the port dangerous?”
“From what you told me over our meal, you two can probably handle whatever comes your way. I’ve still got some arrangements to make. Just stay in the main thoroughfares, and there won’t be a problem,” Namion said. He turned and walked off the dock. The four of them followed like obedient ducklings, lugging their belongings.
Namion took care of their lodgings. He spoke Parsimolian to the innkeeper. Pol could catch a word or two of Eastrilian, the language used within the Baccusol Empire on the continent of Eastril, from which they had just fled.
“Most of the shopkeepers will speak a smattering of our language,” Namion said. “Just don’t buy anything expensive. Consider that any transaction will be much more costly once the merchant quickly discovers you are from the Empire.”
Pol nodded, and the others followed. “When do we meet back here?”
“Everyone returns at dusk.” Namion gave a key to Shira and one to Pol. “Kell will sleep in my room. Paki and Pol share, and Shira,” Namion gave her a little bow, “gets her privacy.”
She lifted an eyebrow. There had been little privacy for her since she showed up at Tesna Monastery months ago. “I’ll put my things in the room,” she said.
The others did the same. Paki left Pol examining the condition of his things. Pol heard a knock on the door to his room.
“Ready?” Shira poked her head in.
He smiled at her and nodded. “I let Paki leave first,” he said. “Where do you want to go?”
“I’ve seen enough of the ocean to avoid the dock area. Maybe we can find a bookseller that has something on languages. I have learned that I don’t like not knowing the language,” Shira said.
Pol chuckled. “I had the same thought downstairs when Namion talked to us about being taken advantage of while shopping.”
They soon walked through the streets of Port Molla. The town was larger than Pol first thought, with more flat land between the sea and the rising hills that led to the interior of South Parsimol.
Shira tugged on Pol’s sleeve and pointed to what looked like a bookstore on the other side of a square. This far away from the docks, the buildings gave them a better view of how different this country looked from Borstall. The shops had smaller windows, and the stone used for the buildings seemed to be crumbling. Most of the painted surfaces were peeling. The streets were dirtier, and the city’s denizens matched the streets. Even the nicer areas weren’t much different from the poorer sections of Borstall.
They walked into the bookstore. Actually, it looked more like a scroll library. Three skinny shelves contained books, and scroll cubbies filled the rest of the space.
“Do you speak Eastrilian?” Shira said.
The only other person in the store slept on a long wooden bench. A wadded up coat served as a pillow. The old man lifted a single eye.
“I do, young lady.” He opened both eyes and sat up. “Shinkyan?”
Shira nodded. “My friend and I are taking a tour of Volia and are looking for some books to help us with the language.”
“Languages,” the man said. He blinked his eyes tightly a few times and yawned. He looked like a scrawny chicken when he did so. Pol struggled not to mimic him, but Shira couldn’t resist. “There are seven spoken in Volia. Where are you going?”
Shira looked at Pol and shrugged her shoulders.
“We are headed to Fassin to see the Cathedral of the Sleeping God,” Pol said.
“I don’t suggest that you go through North Parsimol, Wessak, and Teriland.” The man shivered as if subjected to a shock of frigid air. “That would mean a grand tour of South Parsimol, Botarra, and then up through Fistyra, Bossom, the jewel of Volia, and then to Gekelmar. Fassin is the capital.”
“Do you have anything that will help us with the language?” Pol said, repeating Shira’s request.
The old man shuffled to one of the bookshelves and pulled out two of the same books. There were four more left. “One for each of you. They are the same. Basic phrases and comments. An Eastrilian wrote the book. I’ve sold a lot of these.”
“How much?” Shira said. She put out her hand for a book and opened it. Pages fluttered out. “This isn’t even bound!”
“Not much is bound in Volia, except in Bossom, I’m afraid,” the man said. “The pages are numbered, so you won’t have too much trouble putting them right. A silver coin each.”
“Highway
—” Shira put her hand over Pol’s mouth.
“Cheap at half the price,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. She glared at Pol, handed over two silvers from her own purse, and dragged Pol out of the shop after she took the second book from the owner.
“Why did you do that? These aren’t worth three coppers,” Pol said.
Namion stood in front of the shop. “Did you buy language books?” he said. The Seeker didn’t look very pleased. “I passed by and knew exactly what the bookstore owner did.”
“Why did you want us out of the shop?”
“Did you look in the books?” Namion said.
Shira shook her head, but Pol took one and looked at the pages. “What is all this scribbling? It isn’t even in Eastrilian.”
Namion nodded. “This is Parsimolian script. If you look at the signs in the city, they are in both languages. How do you expect to learn a language when you can’t read your primer? These books aren’t even bound.”
“The bookseller said most books weren’t in Volia,” Shira said.
Namion put his fists on his hips. “He lied. I was trying to get your attention before you bought them. Once you’ve made a deal in South Parsimol, it can’t be undone.” Namion still looked annoyed.
“How was I to know?” Shira said. She looked at a handful of pages. “I didn’t even think to look at the pages. The man said the book was written by an Eastrilian.”
“Maybe written by one, but not in the Eastrilian language. Do you believe everything someone tells you?” Namion said.
“No,” Shira said.
Namion nodded his head. “When in Volia, you can’t take anyone’s word for granted, no one’s. Good people don’t take offense at your verifying their words—”
“And bad people?” Pol said.
“Bad people will take offense regardless of what you do.”
Pol thought about Namion’s words. He’d had some experience in dealing with bad people, and he’d found what the Seeker said was generally true, but not entirely.