by H A Tisdale
“That he was Bill’s father too,” Jedd finished my thought as he closed his eyes in discomfort.
I immediately reflected back to when Reina told me that Zedd and his family had mysteriously disappeared before the Master of Games took over. Never in my wildest imagination had I anticipated that the Master of Games belonged to that family.
“So what happened with all of you?” I asked, hoping I could get to the bottom of at least one mystery.
“It’s a tragic story,” Jedd warned.
“I’ve dealt with Tragedy before,” I assured him.
“Very well,” Jedd assented. “Bill and I were born to our father Zedd and our mother Caleeyah in the King’s Palace of Vera City. They named us Nedd and Jedd in line with our family’s tradition, but my brother always hated that name and wanted a new one. So we ended up calling him Bill for one reason or another. Anyway, Bill’s beryl birthstone was the first to come out of our mother before my moonstone birthstone followed unexpectedly a few days later, and Bill internalized the sequence of our birth, feeling he always had to come first in everything. This led to his deeply competitive nature which he brought to every aspect of his life.
“I didn’t mind his competitiveness much though. In fact, I admired Bill for his voracious spirit. He kept his eyes so focused on everything, especially people. Bill was always watching people so intently. I, on the other hand, had my sights set on the wind. I loved the wind growing up. I loved everything about it: the way it rustled the trees on Victory Hill as it blew their leaves down the mountain, the way it howled during storms as it pressed against the Palace, the way it cooled me off on the beach as it rippled the Sea of Surrender’s surface.
“So Bill and I both had our thing. I loved the wind, and he loved to win. This worked well for us as we spent all of our time playing games together outside in our breezy town, or as he liked to call it, Come Play City. And because he always won our games in Come Play City, I started calling him the Master of Games.”
“You came up with that name?” I asked as my eyebrows raised.
“Indeed, I did, and he loved it so much that he promised to return the favor one day. That day came when we were flying kites one afternoon, or I should really say when I was flying a kite one afternoon. For the life of him, Bill could not fly a kite,” Jedd laughed with a look of nostalgia. “I, however, could whip that thing wherever I wanted. I even let it soar as high as the cavernous ceiling. Bill could not believe it. And at some point, he put his hand on my shoulder and said to me, ‘Jedd, I officially declare you the Master of Wind.’ That was probably my favorite day in Vera City.”
Jedd’s countenance shifted to gloom. “But not everything was fun and games for Bill and me. As we got older, our parents put more and more pressure on us to live up to our potential. They looked to us for help with their impossible mission to escape the Pit, but we couldn’t do any more than our parents could. Just like them, we didn’t fully understand Father Edd’s dream.
“Thus, as time went by, the people became impatient with my father and our family. He was supposed to be the Glorious King after all, but he was not delivering to them the Gem of Life nor the Alchemist’s Armor. So the people began demanding answers, and when we had none to give, they started questioning our authority to rule over them. This fueled the tensions to escalate in our household as my father held firm to Father Edd’s dream, hoping he could bear the enormous responsibility that came with being the Glorious King.
“However, my father’s steadfast conviction drastically changed one day. I don’t know what it was exactly, but something convinced him without a doubt that he could not be the Glorious King. This realization just about destroyed him. But one night, he had his own dream. And when he later reported that dream to us, my father said he had heard a soft, majestic voice say to him that the Glorious King would come out of his genelixir. That meant Bill or I could potentially be the Glorious King, so my father left his crown in our room with the hope that one of us would one day wear it.”
My eyes widened at the thought of Jedd being the Glorious King, and as I stared into his calm, moonstone eyes, I wondered if I had found the one who had never been found. In its own way, the moon shines like the sun, so maybe his eyes revealed an answer to the mystery.
My internal excitement marinated as Jedd continued, “With that news, I feared that a competition to become the Glorious King would tear our relationship apart. But Bill had no intention to compete for the throne, for he did not believe the words of our father, the doubt flickering in his eyes as our father finished sharing his dream. In some explicable way, Bill’s birthstone completely hardened to the hope of Father Edd that day, and he ended up turning away from the dream that had lasted through the ages.
“Later that night, when it was just the two of us, Bill said to me in anger, ‘There is no Glorious King, Jedd, and there is no Alchemist.’ I questioned why he was making such brash claims, and he said, ‘Can’t you see it’s all just dreams and fairy tales, that it’s all just a sham, a game even.’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I no longer recognized my brother. He then said, ‘I’ve seen the kind of man our father is, who he really is, what he’s done in the shadows. He’ll do anything to stay in power. He’ll go to any length to win this made up game, even throw this fictional title upon his own sons. Well that’s it! I’ve had enough of this game,’ he said as he broke the crown, grabbed his sword, and rushed out of the room.
“I grabbed my own sword and ran to stop him, but I was too late. What I saw him do next, I will never forget, nor will I ever fully understand why he did it. I suppose one way or another, the pressures of our life cracked his birthstone beyond repair, for as I entered into the King’s Chambers after him, I witnessed my evil twin thrust a sword through our sleeping father’s chest.”
My mouth dropped. What possible motivation could the Master of Games have possessed to kill his own father? Was it a cruel wrath buried inside? An overwhelming anger that always seethed? Was it that fierce jealously which no man can stand before? Or was he just tired of Father Edd’s hope being deferred by the endless rock cycle? No reason seemed good enough for his mysterious madness, and just like Jedd, I stood there without an adequate theory for his unfathomable derangement.
“Out of pure instinct, I lunged forward to kill Bill, to take my own brother’s life. We sparred violently, evenly matched for once as my anger fueled my abilities. But Bill proved too fierce, and he disarmed me. I saw my life about to come to an end. And I surely would have died if it weren’t for my blessed mother who jumped in the way of my brother’s sword. Her sacrifice ended our duel. The fight was over, and Bill held our dead mother in his arms as he blamed me for her death. For that, he banished me, ordering me to leave Vera City forever, so I did.” Jedd paused to wipe the tears from his face.
“I’m so sorry,” was all I could say in the painful silence.
“It was a long time ago,” Jedd breathed. “That’s why you’ve got to enjoy the breeze while it lasts, my friend.”
“So what did you do after you left?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Well, when I left Vera City, I had nothing. I was no one. My father had relayed his dream that I might be the Glorious King, yet that meant nothing to me as I wandered the Pit alone.
“But then I found a circle of wind followers where I embraced my love for the wind. I was a natural on the windcycle, and I soon became their Windcatcher, riding faster than any before me. I led hundreds and thousands of them on the wildest excursions throughout the Pit, and I really started to believe I was the Glorious King as I shined under the cavernous ceiling. But with my great success, I became arrogant, and one day, I lost sight of the wind and crashed my windcycle into a giant rock. The hard rock injured my leg so severely that I could no longer ride as their Windcatcher.
“I had fallen far from my glory, for the wind followers no longer followed me. Unable to even keep up with them anymore, I found myself deserted in the Sands of Suffer
ing. And there, I would have perished if Kokoma had not arrived with the Domikos.”
“The Domikos?” I questioned, remembering the words written in stone around the fountain.
Jedd breathed in deeply as his moonstone eyes lit up. “The Domikos is the wind you can actually catch, the breeze that stays,” he stated matter of factly as if I could understand his bizarre explanation.
I looked at him quizzically. “Is that supposed to be some sort of riddle?” I asked a little irritated with the emergence of another mystery.
“Look,” Jedd said, pointing to a mural of the Alchemist breathing wind into the puddle which held his two most precious gems. “My wife Kokoma comes from a special circle of wind followers that follow an internal wind instead of an external wind. That inner wind is known as the Domikos, and the Alchemist blew that inner wind into the ancestors’ gems to bring them to life. So when the ancestors fell into the Pit, they lost the Alchemist’s inner wind, but Kokoma showed me that if you seek the Domikos with all of your birthstone, you can regain the elixir that was lost to the ancestors. Your birthstone can reconnect to the love of the one who created us. That’s what Kokoma brought to me when I was at rock bottom, and together, we walked through the Pit with the Domikos as our guide.
“Replenished with new life, I married my beautiful bride who showed me the true beauties and pleasures of the Pit. Most tenderly, Kokoma shared with me her love for the flowers. I had never really appreciated their beauty in Vera City or when I would race by them on my windcycle. But Kokoma unveiled to me each flower by name, and I soon learned every scent. So out of gratitude for her love, I built my sweet wife this house where we’ve strived to live in the glory of the Good Gale.”
I did not understand all that Jedd had said about the Domikos, but as his eyes and face shined when he spoke, I could not help but conclude he was indeed the Glorious King.
“You really are the Glorious King,” I confirmed my thoughts out loud, taking confidence in my title as the Sunseer.
“Trust me, Benjamin, through my arrogance as the Windcatcher, I learned just like my father that I am no Glorious King.”
“But what about your father’s dream?” I rebutted with persistence.
“That’s all it was, just a dream,” Jedd dismally dismissed my hypothesis.
“But what if it wasn’t just a dream?” I pressed, refusing to accept his denial of destiny. “You would have to be the Glorious King! Who else could it be?”
“Nobody,” Jedd insisted with irritation. “There is no Glorious King, and that’s the end of it.”
“That can’t be true,” I protested. “After everything I’ve seen and heard, after everything you’ve told me, you’ve got to be him! Your moonstone eyes are shining like the sun for Pit’s sake.”
“Benjamin,” Jedd snapped sternly, “NO.”
I stared at him incredulously, wondering what had triggered him to respond with such vehement resistance.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized gently, running both hands through his hair this time. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be alone right now.”
Jedd walked away and left me by the murals in a state of confusion. As soon as this random dream seemed to be making more sense, my conjectures had been completely shut down. Not knowing what to do, I just sat on the cold marble floor for a long time, gazing at the larger than life images: the Alchemist breathing life into his gems; the ancestors falling into the Pit; the wind followers running around Lake Shale; Zedd standing majestically under the beam of sun.
At one point, I noticed a new painting: the Master of Games thrusting a sword through Zedd’s chest. As a consequence, I began to contemplate what kind of dark world this could be where a man would intentionally kill his own father and accidentally kill his own mother in an attempt to kill his own brother. Dream or no dream, this story had become way too twisted, and I felt very alone in it all.
A little bit later, I heard the footsteps of a little animal scampering toward me. “Hey, Kairou,” I greeted the galaxy-eyed dog as she licked my face and plopped on my lap. Nuzzling her head on my leg, Kairou looked very sleepy and closed her eyes to take an adorable nap. So I pet her soft fur with much affection, marveling at the dog’s stateliness even as she slept.
Not too long after Kairou’s arrival, Kokoma entered the room and approached me by the murals. “Hey, Benjamin, mind if I sit with you?” she asked softly.
“Sure,” I stated lackadaisically, feeling powerless over the strange string of events.
She sat down and waited a moment before she remarked, “Jedd told me what happened.”
“Oh yeah?” I responded without looking up.
“Yeah, he feels really bad about it and wasn’t sure you’d want to speak with him again.”
“I guess I’m just confused why he got so upset over the very real possibility that he’s the Glorious King,” I admitted, looking up to find the compassion in her zircon eyes.
Kokoma stared at me with sorrow. “It’s just that Jedd can’t bear to share a certain detail about our life, but I don’t mind sharing it with you,” she replied solemnly. “You see, after Jedd built me Kokomanor, I gave birth to our beautiful son. And as we gazed at his glorious ruby eyes, we decided on the fitting name Redd. Jedd loved Redd immensely and once again had hope that his father’s dream could come true, believing that Redd could live the noble life that he couldn’t.
“But when Redd became a man, he fell in love with a wind follower whose circle was camping nearby our estate. He greatly desired to run off with the girl and become the Windcatcher just like his father. But Jedd did not want to see Redd take the same windy path that he had taken. So he warned Redd not to go, that the wind-following life was too wild and dangerous. Redd, however, did not heed his father’s warning and took off with the wind one night without saying goodbye.
“Unable to let him go off with the wind followers on his own, Jedd pulled out his old windcycle and chased after him, desperate to find our only son. And after days of endless searching, Jedd finally found Redd, beaten to death in the Sands of Suffering,” Kokoma uttered weakly, letting a bitter tear run down her cheek as she covered her mouth.
Sensing her grief, Kairou perked up from my lap and transferred herself to Kokoma’s instead where she curled up in a bundle. As for me, I felt my own eyes watering as I heard yet another evil event that unfolded in the Pit.
“I’m so sorry,” again was all I could say.
“Thanks, Benjamin,” she replied with a scratchy throat. “I try to take comfort knowing it must have happened for a reason.”
In that miserable moment, I could think of no good reason for someone to lose their only son, though at this juncture in the story, I could only see a portion of the full picture, as if looking in a dim mirror. “Did you ever figure out what happened?” I asked to help pass yet another painful silence.
Kokoma breathed to regain her composure. “According to a man who defected from that circle of wind followers, the girl Redd ran off with had just recently married the current Windcatcher at that time, some thug named Hive.”
At the sound of his name, my heart froze, terrified by this crazy connection. Wary to disclose my shameful story at a time like this, I figured it best not to share my own adulterous account, especially since I was more fortunate to make it out with my life. So I tried to hide my recognition of Hive’s name with another question. “How did you and Jedd handle finding that out?”
“Well, after the funeral, Jedd vowed to seek revenge. Often, he would leave Kokomanor in search for the man who killed our son. But Jedd would always return to our estate with some poor soul he had found lost somewhere in the Pit, and eventually it occurred to me, Jedd was never searching for Hive. Jedd was searching for his only son, forever lost to him in the Sands of Suffering.”
Kokoma’s tears streamed down her face at this point as I looked down at my feet in response to what she said. “So that’s what Jedd was doing when he found me?” I speculated out loud
as a salty tear made its way to my lips.
“Exactly, Benjamin. In his own way, Jedd’s still searching for his Glorious King.”
I sat at a loss for words, pondering the heartbreaking weight of what Kokoma had shared with me.
“Well, I think that’s certainly enough sad memories for the day,” Kokoma said with a deep breath as she wiped away the remnant of her tears. “Can I interest you in a cup of afternoon tea?”
“Nah, that’s okay,” I declined, needing some time to process everything. “I think I’ll just hang out by the murals a little longer.”
“You sure?” she asked warmheartedly, stroking Kairou’s sweet head.
“Yeah,” I replied with a heavy heart, “just need some time alone I think.”
“Take all the time you need, Benjamin,” she encouraged me softly with a deep kindness in her zircon eyes as she rested her hand on my arm. And after a few seconds, she and Kairou slowly rose and departed, leaving me to myself in the room full of art.
So as I tried to wrap my head around my thoughts, I wondered how I could keep dealing with this heart-wrenching adventure, but before I could delve too deep in reflection, Kairou came prancing back into the room. The majestic dog walked straight up to me where she delicately placed her paw on my cheek. My heart melted from the canine’s cuddly arrival, so I stroked her head sweetly like Kokoma had. She then rolled over on her back, and as I proceeded to rub the soft fur on her belly, I did not feel quite as lonely in the Pit.
Chapter 12
Dreams in the Stream
Before the inevitable could occur, I sat in the spacious room for a long time while Kairou took a little nap cozied next to me. And as I stroked her soft fur, I intently studied the many murals of the Pit. My heart greatly ached in contemplation over the cruel conditions of this nefarious nightmare, which I feared I may never escape.
At some point, my eyes focused on the painting of the ancestors living in the Haven in complete bliss, beloved by the Alchemist. This turned my mind to what Jedd had said when he referred to the mural of the Alchemist breathing his inner wind into the ancestors: Your birthstone can reconnect to the love of the one who created us.