A Coronation of Kings

by Samuel Stokes

  As they were leaving, Sven made his way around the table to where Tristan was still sitting and began patiently working his blade out of table, taking great care not to damage the blade. ‘That is a fine blade, Sven,’ Tristan spoke, breaking the silence, ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘I made it myself,’ Sven responded.

  ‘Then I am doubly sorry for having thus handled it. I hope that you will forgive me.’

  ‘How did you do that? Grab the knife out of the air. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,’ Sven asked in wonderment.

  ‘I saw your aim was true. Once I knew where the blade would be, I just needed to ensure I caught the shaft rather than the blade.’

  ‘You make it sound easy.’

  ‘It’s simpler than you would think.’

  ‘Will you teach me?’

  ‘If you will fight with me, with the same energy that you fought against me today, I’ll teach you that and more.’

  ‘As long as you fight the Wolf, consider my blade and other skills at your disposal.’

  ‘You do more for the Underman then make knives don’t you?’

  ‘That, Tristan, is a discussion for another day.’ Sven responded before withdrawing from the chamber, leaving Tristan alone in his thoughts.

  Chapter 8

  Amidst the peace of the Eternal Mountains.

  Untold miles away from the chaos unfolding in the heart of Valaar, Syrion Listar sat in peaceful meditation. Lying in the heart of the Eternal Mountains, Tolanis was a city that had stood for millennia untouched by the troubles and squabbles of men.

  The trek through the mountains had stymied the advance of more than one would-be conqueror through the ages. Even should one succeed in making it through the treacherous mountains, they would have the impossible task of laying siege to Tolanis. A towering city almost completely surrounded by a freshwater lake, it is unapproachable by foot, except for a narrow neck of land that leads to its impressive gates.

  The lake also provided a constant source of fresh water, meaning besieging forces would have to endure long winters before the defenders ever had to fear a shortage of food or water. It provided an enduring respite from the cares and prying eyes of the world.

  It was this sanctuary that Elaina Listar had sought for her son as she fled that fateful night eighteen years earlier. The people of Tolanis lived in harmony with the Dragon Host who made their nests in the peaks of the Eternal Mountains. The two groups lived in a symbiotic relationship, both prospered and protected by the other. Over the years the people of Tolanis drifted apart from their distant kin on the plains below.

  Throughout the ages, champions of the Valaar seeking glory would journey into the mountains in an attempt to slay one of the great beasts. Such a sin could barely be comprehended by the Tolan and would not be countenanced. Those travelling the mountain paths with any malice in their heart were soon ushered hastily into the next life as the Tolan zealously guarded their Draconian allies.

  Syrion knew little of how he and his mother had come to live amongst the Tolan. As far as his research had discovered, they were the first people in over a century to be permitted entrance to the great city. When the last Valaaran King perished and war broke out between the remaining kingdoms, the Tolan shut their gates to the world. His mother had travelled here when he was yet a babe and whether it was mercy or curiosity, compassion or something else entirely, the Elders of the city had given Elaina and Syrion a place within the city to call their own.

  Here, far above the world, Syrion sat in contemplation, resting on top of a boulder. In the forests of the Eternal Mountains, he was at peace. The younger son of Marcus and Elaina Listar, he was of a slighter build than his brother- his dark hair was kept short offsetting his sharp features and grey-green eyes. Where Tristan could grow a beard easily, his twin brother had no need to shave whatsoever. In spite of their differences, the familial resemblance was unmistakable.

  Syrion could feel the elements coursing around him as he rested -the water burbling down a nearby stream; the wind as it whistled through the woods; and the life force of the forest in the form of thousands of creatures as they hurried to and fro. He had always been able to sense these things, but as he’d grown older the feelings had intensified.

  One day he had been camping in the woods when night came. He was resting by the fire as darkness fell when he sensed them coming - a pack of timber wolves moving through the wooded hills. Syrion could feel their hunger as they moved towards the camp fire; winter had been harsh on their pack. Syrion sensed at least four of them, but it was hard to tell as they darted and circled back and forth in the darkness.

  Syrion pulled a burning timber out of the fire and prepared to defend himself. Soon the first wolf was visible as it advanced menacingly towards him. Teeth bared as the wolf growled in low but audible tones. Syrion brandished the torch before himself in an attempt to drive the creature back, only to realise it was a distraction - he sensed two more wolves sneaking up behind him. They thought as one, the consummate hunters and Syrion wondered just how many others had fallen prey to the same trick.

  Desperation started to settle in as they advanced steadily upon him. He could only hold off one at a time, he thought. No matter how feverishly he swung the torch there was always going to be two other wolves at his back. Syrion looked around for an avenue of escape but there was none. He was isolated and alone. The only thing keeping the wolves at bay was the fire. I need more fire, Tristan thought desperately. Perhaps then only one wolf would be able to advance at a time.

  Syrion startled at a sound behind him and turned to see his humble camp fire had whipped itself into a conflagration spreading behind him. ‘How?’ Syrion wondered. As if in response, he felt the familiar sensation; it was almost as though the fire was responding to his need.

  There was no other explanation, his back now protected from the wolves, he turned to face the pack leader. Determined and hungry, the wolf stalked towards him teeth bared, saliva dripping from its open maw.

  Syrion decided to test his theory. Holding the torch before him he, cleared his mind and focused on the flames flickering before him. It felt different now. Not only could he sense the fire, but he could feel it, as if it were part of him. Without further thought, Syrion willed the fire onwards.

  Flames leapt from the torch towards the wolf, quickly billowing outwards. The timber wolf leapt back in fear before fleeing back into the forest. The prospect of a meal now outweighed by the danger of the strange man, and his supernatural fire.

  Syrion sat down in disbelief and the fire returned to its former size, the ramifications of his experience flooded through his mind. Is it just fire? He wondered or will other elements bend to my will as well? Lying down by the fire Syrion tried to make himself more comfortable, but it seemed no matter which way he moved, there was a stone poking him in the back. Thinking about the source of his discomfort, he wished for a smoother surface on wish to rest. To his surprise and delight he felt the stone melt into the ground. Syrion’s smile widened as he contentedly nodded off to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  As dawn came, it found Syrion running through the streets of Tolanis. As he reached his home he burst through the door. ‘Mother,’ he shouted as he raced into the kitchen. He found Elaina baking bread. ‘Mother, you aren’t going to believe what happened to me, there were timber wolves... and the fire exploded and...’ Syrion struggled to explain himself and catch his breath at the same time.

  ‘Take your time, Son, we have all the time in the world.’ Elaina put down the dough she was kneading and sat down. Syrion inherited much of his looks from his mother. The Lady Elaina was tall and slender - her regal features were sharp with deep almond-coloured eyes and long flowing tresses as dark as the night sky. Her lithe body was strong, showing no signs of aging. In fact, throughout Syrion’s entire life, his mother had not seemed to age a day.

  At length, Syrion related his experience, his mother hanging on every word. As he fin
ished his experience he looked to his mother only to find her grinning from ear to ear. ‘Why are you smiling? I’m not crazy. I actually controlled the fire!’ Syrion exclaimed, thoroughly confused.

  ‘I know that you’re not crazy, Syrion. I have been waiting for this day for many years -amongst our people, the first time a child touches the elements, it is a cause for great celebration.’

  ‘Our people? You mean you knew this would happen? How?’ The questions came in rapid succession. His mother Elaina paused, as if searching for an answer. After a few moments she reached her hand out over the wash basin and after a few moments a globe of water rose out of the sink and coalesced above her outstretched hand, turning to face Syrion she smiled ‘Because I am your mother,’ flicking her wrist she hurled the ball of water. It sailed out of the window and slammed into the house next door.

  Closing the window, Elaina turned to her son. ‘It’s time you knew more about who you really are.’ Sitting down next to her son, Elaina began to share the burden she had carried alone all these years.

  ‘Syrion, we are of an ancient race, we are the Astarii, first amongst the Children of the Gods. In us they vested great power over their other creations. We served them as Caretakers of Creation, their vast dominion throughout the stars. In time some of the Astarii sought greater power than what they had been given, seeking to rule Creation rather than care for it. The proud Astarii rose up against their masters.

  As penance for their blind ambition, they were banished from the presence of the gods. Our powers weakened as the distance between us grew, some lost their powers all together and became mortal -the first humans to walk the stars. Other Astarii managed to retain their powers and formed communities where they seek to reclaim their birthright. They long for a place at the feet of the gods once more and hope to reclaim it by faithfully carrying out their first charge, that of Caretakers of Creation.

  I was one such, watching over this world when I met your father, I saw him defend a lone traveler against a band of robbers. Hopelessly outnumbered, your father refused to abandon the poor man. He slew a dozen of them before they finally overwhelmed him. They robbed him, beat him and left him to die.

  As I saw him laying there I could not stand idly by so against all the laws of our people, I intervened and healed them both. The stranger went on his way grateful but confused as to what had transpired. After he left, I travelled home with your father to Listarii because we fell in love. I paid a price for that love and was exiled from my people. In spite of that, I found a new home in Listarii, its people were kind to me and I used my powers to help our people and for the first time in my long life I had somewhere I felt I truly belonged.

  When you were born we knew that you would have my gifts so I bought you here. The people of Listarii love your father and I, but we could never be sure how and when your powers would be manifest.

  Astarii can be quite dangerous and unpredictable in their youth. For your protection, we brought you here. Humans have always been wary of magic, and whilst I can understand their fears, if they had raised a hand against you I would have laid waste to them all. Gifted Astarii children are a rarity amongst our kind; I could not lose you to fear or superstition. To avoid the inevitable, I brought you here and left your father to raise your brother Tristan.

  Syrion’s eyes glazed over, ‘I have a brother?’

  ‘You do, a twin brother. In time we will return to see them, but now that your powers have manifested themselves, we must teach you to control them quickly or the consequences could be dire.’

  Syrion looked at his mother in bewilderment. ‘Dire?’

  ‘There is a tale told amongst our kind of a petulant Astarii youth named Alvar who destroyed an entire world.’

  ‘What, how?’ Tristan asked incredulously.

  ‘Alvar was young and as he stood watch over a world, he foolishly tried to befriend some of the youths on the planet’s surface, but when they realized that he was different, they mocked him incessantly. First he was hurt, then he was angry. As his blood boiled so did the molten core of that poor world and before any of us realized what was happening, the planet tore itself apart and Alvar perished, along with every soul who called it home. That tragedy must never be repeated.’

  ‘Okay,’ Syrion answered filled with wonder and terror in equal measure. ‘Destroying worlds is bad so how do we avoid that?’

  ‘Your training begins today,’ Elaina responded firmly.

  Chapter 10

  Syrion and Elaina left town at noon and ventured into the mountains surrounding Tolanis. They sought somewhere secluded where Syrion could begin learning to control his new found powers - somewhere free from worry or concern for innocents who might pass by.

  Deep within the forested peaks, Elaina led her son to a glade and took a seat on one of the many stones in the clearing. Elaina gestured for him to follow and Syrion took a seat on a nearby rock and waited attentively.

  ‘Syrion,’ his mother began, ‘in the universe there are two forces, those that act and those that are acted upon. The powers of the Astarii allow us to exert influence over the elements, they are that which are acted upon. Any sentient being or creature that has capacity that can think or act for itself is outside your sphere of control, you may attempt to compel it with your use of the other elements, but you cannot control it directly. From your experience last night, you know that you could scare or burn the wolves with fire, but you could not directly compel them to withdraw.’

  ‘Why one and not the other?’ Syrion asked.

  ‘The Allfather sought caretakers for his Creation, not overseers. We guide, seek, and counsel. Should the mortals fail to heed our counsel, it remains for the Allfather to determine their fate.’

  ‘May I ask another question?’

  ‘Absolutely secrets between us will hinder you, not help you.’

  ‘Then what does this really mean?’ Standing up and turning away from his mother, he pulled his tunic off revealing his back, bare with the exception of a great golden dragon that moved lazily across his back. The image moved as if a tattoo had been given life.

  ‘That is your mark, Syrion. Every Astarii has one, though not all move as your does. It normally shows a special affinity or gift for a particular portion of creation, a dragon-marked Astarii has not been born in my living memory. I imagine time will grant us a better understanding of its meaning.’

  Changing tack Syrion asked curiously, ‘What is your mark?’

  Elaina held her palm up in front of her son’s face. ‘Mine is more easily concealed, you will need to look closely,’ Syrion obeyed; as he stared at her outstretched palm Syrion could make out lines and swirls moving across his mother’s hand. ‘It is the wind,’ Elaina answered in response to Syrion’s unasked question. ‘I am an Astarii of the Wind; I can call it or command it as if it were an extension of my very being.’

  Syrion wondered how that differed from anything a gifted Astarii could already do when a howling wind came rushing though the trees. As it tore through the trees, Elaina’s robes billowed and snapped in the relentless wind. Syrion struggled to keep his eyes fixed on his mother. Without warning she disappeared completely.

  Syrion whirled about in the tempest searching for her, as suddenly as it began the wind ceased and Elaina materialised on top of a nearby boulder. ‘I am the embodiment of the wind, Syrion, I can call it forth and control it, I can become one with it. I can call forth a storm or silence a cyclone

  ‘I see... does that mean I could become a Dragon?’ asked Syrion inquisitively.

  ‘It is possible, but as I said, the mark of the Dragon is very rare thus little is known of your gift and less still of what can be expected. Let us focus first on your mastery of the elements and with time, you will master your own mark.’

  ‘Okay, where do we begin?’

  ‘Sit down and open your mind to the elements, you will feel them all around you. Awareness is the key. If you can feel, it you can command it. Exercise patience and t
hink before you act. Do not become complacent -those who do tend to discover too late that they have lost control of their powers and that foolishness will tear them asunder. Let us begin with something simple.’

  Raising a hand, she gestured at a pile of sticks and leaves in the clearing and in an instant they erupted in flames. ‘Now, Syrion, control the fire, feel the flames. Can you cause them to grow?’

  Syrion focused intently on the blaze. He could feel the fire as it crackled and burned through the dead foliage. Focusing on the flames, Syrion focused on the first thought that came to mind, without consideration he issued the command, Conflagrate. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then he was snapped from his reverie. The flames before him roared in intensity, quickly doubling and then tripling in size, threatening to set fire to the forest itself.

  ‘Syrion, put it out!’ his mother shouted over the roaring fire.

  Hastily Syrion moved to obey - sweeping a hand across the scene, Syrion willed the flames to extinguish. In seconds, the flames ceased completely, leaving only burnt coals where sticks and shrubbery had once been, the charcoaled remains the only sign that seconds earlier a fire had been raging in the clearing.

  ‘You are impressively powerful, my son, but you need to work on your control.Using your powers will bring fatigue, which brings us to lesson two. Do not use a catapult to kill a mosquito,’ censured his mother, citing an old proverb. ‘We will spend the remainder of the day exercising your powers by degree. Once you are comfortable, you can continue to practice on your own. Mastery will only come with time and great effort on your part.’

  ‘Okay,’ Syrion, responded taking the correction in his stride. ‘I will get this yet.’ The remainder of the day passed quickly as mother and son practiced channeling the elements. Syrion slowly became accustomed to the flow of energy as it coursed through his body. With each new spell he could feel his horizons expanding; his world that had at once seemed confined and isolated in the heart of the Eternal Mountains now seemed to offer limitless potential.