A Story by Kevin Gallagher

The sun burned bright, not a cloud in the sky blocking the warm rays. A slight breeze offered minor relief from the heat as Helios strolled through the woods that surrounded the thatched cottage the lad called home. The teen stopped to stare into the sky, narrowing his blue eyes as the sun shone down on his clean-shaven face. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Helios continued down the path, kicking up dirt with his boots as he walked.

It was rare Helios took advantage of the weekly day off his mentor offered; he rather enjoyed working off his frustration during his training sessions. It had been over a decade since his father, the king of Saffraan, Jason Dactyls, sent him to train. Since then, only his mother, Queen Selene, had visited on a regular basis. The only interaction he received from his father had been that of his birthday gift. The most recent, for his eighteenth year, was the new training attire he wore: brown leather pants with a matching vest and bracers, along with a white tunic to wear underneath.

Helios approached a small cliff that offered an open view of the forest. He smiled as he approached the ledge, taking a deep breath, soaking in the fresh air and the complete quiet. He unsheathed his sword as he sat upon the cliff’s ledge, allowing his legs to dangle, and stared out at the vast scenery before him. The green of the tree tops stretched on as far as the eye could see, and beautiful fields of flora lay to the west. Arthican bluebirds, with azure feathers on their body—save for their torsos, where reddish-brown feathers could be seen—flew about.

As he sat, taking in all the beauty Saffraan offered, the heat brought on a thirst. Helios detached the cup from his waterskin and poured himself water. Before he could quench his thirst, he caught his reflection staring back at him. The smile had left his face as he thought of his brother.

I understand why father never visits, Helios thought to himself as looked down to his sword, but why not you, brother?

Almost identical, the only difference between him and his twin brother, Kevin, was their hair color—Kevin had long blond strands, while Helios’ was uncharacteristically white. Kevin was the first born by only a few minutes, but it was enough to make him the heir apparent to the throne. The other was left to be sent away for training to help protect the kingdom one day.

Helios winced and clicked his tongue.

Without realizing it, he had cut the palm of his hand with his blade. The wound wasn’t deep, but the blood still dripped. Helios placed his sword to his side and ripped a portion of his new shirt’s sleeve, smiling as he imagined his father’s disapproval. As he wrapped his hand to cover the wound, he looked to his left, thinking he had heard something.

When he didn’t hear anything further, he focused on his wound once more. The blood stained his makeshift bandage as he finished tying it off. He looked at the view before him once more, appreciating the beauty for which he did not take for granted—it was one of the few benefits to him living away from Argos, the country’s capital. A frown took over his face as he thought about his brother again.

“I’ve told you for years they don’t love you,” a strange voice said.

Helios grabbed his sword and jumped up, ready to defend himself. There was no one around as he circled the area.

“Where are you?” Helios asked loudly.

“At what point do you stop asking?” The voice sounded like it came from every direction.

“Show yourself, and I, Prince Helios Dactyls, will spare you.”

“When will you accept me as the only one who cares for you?”

“Cares for me? What are you talking about? I don’t know who or what you are!”

“You don’t? Think back. I’ve been with you since you were left at that old elf’s door.”

Helios took a moment and thought about what the mysterious voice said. It was only vaguely familiar, as he’d been hearing the whispers for the last few weeks. As time passed, the voice grew louder and clearer. The more he thought, the more he felt like something was very wrong.

Helios felt a stabbing pain and dropped his sword to clutch his head. Dropping to his knees, the lad saw a flood of memories from his past. Some he remembered, like the time he and his brother found their father’s sacred sword, while others were unfamiliar. Those were the most painful.

The pain dulled slightly when a single memory came into focus. Helios saw himself as a young boy being dropped off to Icarus’ house. His mother consoled the boy, visibly upset about his situation. His father put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze. Helios’ eyes teared up, and he touched his own shoulder, the same as his father.

When they walked away, Kevin approached and offered his hand. The boy took it, and as they shook, Kevin brought him close for a hug. When they separated, both boys had tears running down their faces. As the family walked away, the pain intensified in Helios’ head, and the memory morphed into an unfamiliar scene.

The same young boy sat in the very spot Helios writhed in pain. Not remembering the moment, he focused through the pain, staring at his younger self. The boy’s legs dangled over the cliff’s edge as he sobbed. Even though he wasn’t in that moment, Helios could feel the brisk evening air. The boy’s sadness was his sadness; the pain had left his head and gone straight to his heart.

“What kind of father just abandons his son?” the strange voice returned.

Before Helios could respond, he saw the boy react. The voice was part of the memory. Wiping tears away from his face, the boy looked to either side, as did Helios.

“Icarus? Is that you?” the boy asked.

There was only silence. Helios could feel how scared his younger self was and wanted to reach out and comfort the boy. There was a howl in the distance that caused the child to run. As he passed through Helios, the older lad returned to the cliff, on his knees with his sword by his side.

“I’ve been with you since the beginning,” the voice called out to Helios.

“Why?”

“A father doesn’t abandon his child. It’s time you claim what is rightfully yours.”

“A family reunion is in order.”

“There’s one last loose end to tie up.”

Helios stared out into the wilderness, towards the east—where Icarus’ home stood.

The post Short Story – Another Lazy Day appeared first on Tellest.

But back then, we happened upon Aaron Canton, who delivered to us a fantastic look at gnolls and kaja, and how they behaved with one another.  It was an awesome submission, and you could see that Aaron really paid attention to details as far as the world went, and we knew that we wanted to include his work in the Tales of Tellest collection, which will be releasing later this year.

Without any further adieu, please enjoy Aaron’s first story in the Tellest universe!

Practical Warrior
By Aaron Canton

Lothgar stoked the campfire and glanced at the captives huddling on its other side.  The tall lagano did not, as a rule, deal with living prisoners; enemy warriors were for killing on the battlefield and possibly eating if they were worthy enough.  But this was a special case, and a true warrior was nothing if not ruthlessly pragmatic.

The five kaja on the other side of the fire cringed into each other, each trying to put themselves in the center of the other four.  Three of them were mostly unadorned, but two were heavily pierced.  One of the latter, a tall female, was only looking mournfully up at the waning moon.  The other, a short, stocky male, turned to Lothgar.  “Please,” he mewled.  His voice sounded rough and scratchy; the amulet affixed to his neck let him speak and understand Common, but he clearly wasn’t used to it.  “We’ve done nothing to you.”

Lothgar shrugged and glanced behind the kaja, where a half-dozen knolls leaned on their spears and joked in their native tongue.  The leader broke off from the group and walked to the kaja that had spoken.  “Aw, relax,” he said in a coarse, yipping voice.  “We’re not gonna hurt you.  Cross our hearts.”

The speaker twisted to look at the gnoll, then immediately twisted away.  “We have given you everything!” he managed.  “We have left you our lands, our gems, our food stores –”

“But that’s what I’m saying!” said the gnoll captain, clapping the kaja on the back and almost knocking him into the fire.  “What’s the point?  We advance, you run away, we get a few shiny stones and a couple of huts.  I’m here to tell you – there’s a better way!”  His sneer straightened out into an approximation of a smile.  “Isn’t that something?”

Lothgar turned as Salzar, his assistant, slithered into the clearing.  “How’s it going?” asked Salzar in the lagano native tongue.

“They’re trying the ‘ask them nicely’ plan,” murmured Lothgar.

Salzar blinked.  “After capturing them and dragging them here?”

“I never said they were smart.”

The gnoll leader continued.  “See, right next to your lands is a human settlement.  Nice little place, cozy, and just loaded with these warehouses full of food and gems.  Problem is, they’ve got these big walls that we can’t break through.  But you kaja, I’ll bet you could use your claws to scale those walls like that!”  He snapped his fingers.  “You help us get in, and trust me, we’ll be most appreciative.  Why – I’ll even promise that our forces will just skip right past you and yours in the future.  No more running or hiding! How’s that sound for a deal?”

“But then the human armies would attack our cluster!  We can’t!”  The kaja’s voice was cracking.  “We’ll give you whatever you ask, but we can’t provoke the humans to go to war with us!”

The gnoll sighed heavily in Lothgar’s general direction.  “So unreasonable.  But Lothgar, my friend!”  He spread his arms wide.  “You have something that can help us, yes?”

Lothgar turned to Salzar.  “The mercenaries?”

“Waiting outside the clearing.”

“Good.”  He rose and withdrew a large bottle and four bowls from a sack by his tail.  He poured the contents of the bottle – a thick, black liquid – into the bowls, then put one each in front of four of the kaja.  Only the female with many piercings was exempted.  “Drink,” he ordered.

“But –” the pierced male began.

The gnoll leader’s hand shot out and grasped the pierced female by the neck.  “Oh, we insist.”

Slowly, the kaja that had spoken knelt and began to lap.  The others that had been offered the liquid followed suit.  For a moment, they made no sound.  And then the kaja began to hiss and growl, straining at their bonds and biting at each other.  The female who hadn’t drunken squeaked and tried to wriggle away but was caught fast as her companions yowled into the night sky.

Salzar left the clearing and returned a minute later with a quartet of humans wearing armor and carrying swords – mercenaries from Raleigh.  One of them looked around the clearing.  “Who’re we fighting?” he asked.

The gnoll leader cut the kaja’s bonds.  “Get them!” he roared, shoving them at the humans.  And the kaja – who no longer looked like they were scared or wary or even understood what was going on – screeched and screamed and leapt at the humans, slashing at them with their claws in mindless, bestial fury.

“Not bad,” said Salzar, watching the kaja fight.  One went down, decapitated by one of the human’s swords, but the others didn’t even seem to notice as they savaged the humans.  “My regards to the cleric.”

“I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear it.”

“One thing I don’t get.  Why are we doing this?  Who cares if the gnolls take the city from the humans and get the kaja blamed for it?”

Lothgar shrugged.  “Maybe the gnolls and kaja will drive humans out of the region.  Or maybe the humans will fight back and kill off the kaja and the gnoll armies.  Maybe they’ll wipe each other out.  No matter what happens, they’ll all be weaker.  Room for us to move in.”

The gnoll leader glanced at Lothgar as the last of the humans fell.  “They’ll do whatever I say?”

“They’re animals now.  They understand dominance, so as long as they know you’re stronger than them, they’ll follow orders.”

“Hmm.”  The gnoll leader grinned then grabbed the kaja that hadn’t been drugged and threw her at her former companions.  “Her too, then! Kill her!”

The kaja mewled in horror, but the others didn’t seem to notice.  They just set upon her with abandon.

When it was over, one of the kaja – the one who had spoken before – began to prowl towards the gnoll leader, but the gnoll flicked his arm forwards and bashed him over the head with his spear butt.  When the kaja got up, it didn’t attack again.  It just sat there, tail twitching, as the others joined it.  Their faces showed nothing but the rage of beasts – and the obedience of the most dutiful servants.

The captain laughed in glee.  “Exactly as promised.  Lothgar, friend, we should do this more often.”

“As long as you uphold your terms – half of all the land conquered using the drugged kaja – we’ll procure as much of the potion as you could want.”

“Deal.”  The captain turned to his soldiers.  “Let’s go!” he roared.  “New orders to all units – don’t kill captured kaja.  Bring them to me.  We’ll process them; in a week, I want an army of these things able to scale the walls of any human fortress in the country!”

When they were all gone, Lothgar helped Salzar put out the fire.  He sighed to himself as he moved.  This really wasn’t his kind of battle.  He preferred physical combat, battling with spear in hand against some other warrior, to all the shadowy dealings and manipulations he’d been tasked with later.  It was more real, somehow, to drive an enemy from the battlefield than to manipulate some third party to do it for them.

But, ultimately, it didn’t matter what he preferred.  He was a warrior, working tirelessly for the betterment of the lagano species.  And he would do whatever it took to meet his objections.

A true warrior, after all, was nothing if not practical.

The post Practical Warrior by Aaron Canton appeared first on Tellest.

Fallen

A cold zephyr stoked the flames that danced upon the candle wicks.  Like a whisper, it swept through the building, sneaking up the stone steps on either side of the wide hall.

The heavy oak door was thrust open for a moment, allowing the unexpected visitor to pass through.  Greaves and boots rattled against the hard, frigid floor in hushed tones.  The man was careful to mute his movements with slow and steady steps.

Alduin gently placed his hand against the door, pressing until he heard the telling click.  With only the meager light from the candles and chandeliers high above, the building somehow seemed more dismal.

His eyes rose, past the line of pews, and he gazed upon the effigy that stood at the rear of the temple.  Animus, the god of life, held a glass disc in his hands.  The brotherhood had taken to calling it the Lens of Truth, but Alduin knew better.  It was just an extra bit of flair that an overzealous sculptor had added to a commissioned piece.

Sighing, the weary man lifted the helmet from his head.  As that breath escaped his lips, it turned into steam before evaporating into the air.  He placed the helm upon the pommel of his sword, still in its scabbard on his belt.

With his vision still on that back wall, he peered out the window behind the statue.  Grey clouds kept the sun from casting down its warmth, yet the persistent snow let a drear haze press against the glass.  That blank canvas halted there, leaving the temple to its shadows.

Alduin turned to face the stone steps in the corner of the building.  As he passed by the rows of candles there, the snow on his fur cloak sparkled in protest.  He had already seen them though, and swept them off his shoulder.

The steps led into a spiraling staircase, all encased within the dark stone.  With narrowed eyes, he began his steady ascent.  More of those deeply colored wooden pews had been constructed on the second floor.  They sat angled toward Animus, as did a matching set on the opposite side.  He slid between two rows, his path deliberate and his pace quick.

As he reached the rear of the temple, Alduin heard steps resonating from down below.  He narrowed his eyes and remained focused ahead.  He shifted a standing candelabrum to the side.  A stone pillar jutted from the wall behind it, each brick tightly packed against each other.

He reached for his belt, producing a short knife, a subtle scrape humming into the air.  That blade was pressed against the masonry, casting one large stone aside.

Though the muted lights from the candles couldn’t pierce that dark shroud, the inside of the pillar seemed to glow.  There, at the center of the hollow, was a single red feather.  Alduin reached inside, his fingers curing beneath the magnificent plume.

“I had thought it too cold to see one offering prayers,” a stranger behind him spoke.

The visitor stared ahead at his prize, barely reacting to the sound.  “I offer no prayer, brother monk,” he griped.  “For there is no one who would hear it.”

“Ahh, the Fallen One has returned.”

Alduin turned then, pulling a pouch from his belt.  He used no discretion as he placed the roc’s feather in the small leather satchel.  Finally, he looked up, noticing the monk of his former order.

Clothed in flowing brown robes, the man’s weathered features managed to blend beneath the shadows.  His short, silvery hair was more visible, though not so striking as his dark eyebrows that furled at the sight of the dissident.

“I did not recognize your voice, Edgar,” Alduin mocked.  “It’s become weaker over this past year.”

“The cold will do that,” the monk conceded.  “But once the thaw comes, I will find my strength again.  As you did.  Animus works in wonderful ways.”

“You know as well as I that I am no longer a champion of that cause.”

Edgar nodded.  “That may be, but he has not forgotten you.”

Stepping forward, Alduin scowled at his former friend.  “I know what I saw.  When I fell beneath the floe, there was nothing.  Your Animus is a lie.  After this life, there is only darkness.  And I won’t let the frost take Iona without a fight.”

“I can’t let you leave with the feather,” Edgar insisted.  “There will be others that will need it.”

“They can have what remains,” Alduin snarled.

The old monk stood straight after hearing that comment.  He shook his head, his vision falling upon the floor.  “What happened to you?  What happened to the paladin we knew?  You used to uphold these laws.  You used to stand for justice.  What happened?”

With fierce eyes, Alduin stared ahead.  “I fell,” he spat.

Lifting his chin, the weathered warrior started forward.  Edgar held his ground, swallowing hard as his old friend advanced.

The heel of a hand landed against an armored chest.  A hefty thwack resonated into the temple, and the paladin was just barely aware that he had been pressed backward.  His countenance became even more frightening then as his eyes widened.  He dropped his shoulder and charged forth.

Both men struggled against the angled pews then.  Their contest of strength cracked wood and bruised flesh, and each felt the momentum of the battle toss and turn.  It was naught but a series of blurs, yet Alduin saw one thing clearly.  Edgar’s fingers wrapped around the leather pouch, and he tugged it from the warrior’s belt.

With no hesitation, the helmet flew from the pommel on Alduin’s hip.  It struck the monk in his jaw, spinning him around and away.

Crashing against the railing that overlooked the floor below, the monk shook his head, blinking his eyes furiously.

A cacophonous crack alerted both men to the consequences of their scuffle.  The railing snapped, and Edgar teetered backward.

Alduin leapt ahead, reaching for his former companion.

He only managed to retrieve his pouch once more.  Edgar tipped over, and a stunted scream was all that remained of him.

Stepping forward, the paladin looked down at the rows of pews.  The monk lay strewn across one of those wooden benches.  While the man lay broken, the pew stood strong.

Alduin sighed, but looked at his prize.  The pouch remained undamaged, barely a new crease upon it.  He shrugged and turned back toward the stone staircase.

As he proceeded on, he took more care to look at his surroundings.  He traced each intricacy of the stone with his fingers.  He breathed deeply when his boots made their muted thuds against the last step.  The aroma of the incense seemed more powerful then.  When he passed the candles on each side, he held his hand atop one of the wicks, snuffing out the flame.

Several more steps carried him to the door.  He steadied his hand against the sturdy frame.

“Goodbye,” he said.  “I don’t think I’ll be coming back this way again.”

When he pushed the door open, he was surprised to see that the sunlight was piercing through the clouds.  It scattered across the snow, leaving the man temporarily blinded.

Alduin turned then, guarding his eyes with his hand.  Looking back into the temple, he curled his fingers into a fist, steadying it against his chest.

The sunlight shone through the rear window of the building.  There, it was amplified by Animus’ Lens of Truth.  It radiated out upon the pews, leaving a halo around the lifeless body of the monk.

The leather pouch slipped from the paladin’s fingers.  He stared ahead for only a moment longer before his head bowed.

Alduin fell to his knees.

The post Fallen appeared first on Tellest.

Anyway, before I so rudely interrupted myself, we were working on the story Remembered in Gold.  I’d like to leave you off with the final part today, and I hope that you enjoy it.  Looking back, the story came out of nowhere for me, but I’m happy it did.  It let me venture away from the tried and true locales that I’ve already explored and gave me insights into other places in Tellest.  Cheers!

Remembered in Gold
Part Three

The pale gardens were hauntingly still in the setting sunlight.  No longer filled to the brim with people, Kunal’s journey back to the palace was quiet and lonesome.  It seemed that not a soul was awake, only the distant silhouettes of the palace guards clashing against that notion.

Kunal, dressed in black, walked ahead at his leisure.  In the darkness, the golden trim of his shirt was unperceivable.  As he drew closer toward the massive gates, he looked himself over again and again.

His heart beat furiously, and he found the only thing that steadied his breathing was the sight of the wildflowers, just illuminated by the multicolored abdomens of Lakmari’s lumibugs.  They danced about, leaving beacons of blue and violet in the air.  Some rested peacefully upon the statue of King Drupad, scattered halos of yellow upon his marble flesh.

The young man smiled as he considered that perch, where his life had been set to change.  Taking a deep breath, Kunal strode forward.

At the gate, two burly guards held firm grasps on their spears.  They said nothing as the visitor arrived, merely stepping aside to let him pass.  He hesitated for a moment there, observing the silent guardians.  Swallowing away his apprehension, he stepped inside the courtyard.

He halted again once inside, casting his gaze across the square.  Though the palace was close to his home, he had never seen beyond the walls.  Rows of golden statues lined the perimeter, their lustrous bodies catching the faint moonlight.  Those ranks of effigies led past the courtyard to the palace proper, which Kunal stood in awe of.

“Impressive, is it not?” he heard.  From the lighted entrance to the building, a tall broad silhouette gained clarity.  A lighter-skinned man with a full beard approached, his physique nothing less than imposing.  “When I first came to Lakmari, it left me with that same wide-eyed stare.”

As the man drew near, Kunal recalled where he recognized him from.  This man was one of the prince’s advisors, who stood beside him during the Gathering.

“I’ve lived in the city all my life,” Kunalsaid.  “But this is my first time seeing it this close.”

“It’s even more impressive on the inside.  Come, I am to lead you to Sazim.”  The man offered no time to reflect on that command.  He pivoted on his heel and began back into the palace proper.

Kunal fell into step beside the fellow and entered the building with him.  Despite the grandeur of the place, there were no guards beyond the pair at the main gates.  Kunal looked this way and that, attempting to discern if any sentinels lurked where the chandeliers’ lights could not reach.

“Something the matter?”

Shaking his head, Kunal cleared his throat.  “It’s very quiet in here.”

The stranger nodded.  “Prince Sazim prefers it that way.  Most days it’s just his highness, Cascadia, and me.  Ah, forgive me.  This lack of human contact has me forgetting to make my introductions.  I am Rohan.”  Though he kept walking, he held his hand out.  Kunal hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture.  The man squeezed, and the visitor nearly winced in reply.  Rohan’s grip was fierce, but he released it after only a moment.

They proceeded, passing by many tapestries and portraits and beneath ornate archways that all seemed different than the last.  To Kunal, it seemed they had walked for miles and in circles.  Finally, they arrived at a large feasting room, a long table filled with food before them.  From that distance, the room seemed otherwise empty, but as the two men approached, the chair on the far side of the table pressed out.  Sazim rose and clapped his hands together.

“Ah, you’ve arrived,” he exclaimed.  “I was worried Rohan had lost his way and we wouldn’t have a chance to give you a proper sendoff.”

The large man furled his brow at that notion but continued leading the young winner to the table.  He pulled a chair out for Kunal and walked along the length of the furniture until he reached the prince, who looked somewhat smaller standing directly beside his advisor.  Rohan leaned down and forward, speaking in hushed tones Kunal could not discern.  Finally, Sazim nodded, dismissing his companion.  In his absence, the prince took his seat once more.

“Let us proceed,” the prince bade.  He reached forward, grasping a glass goblet filled to the brim with crimson liquid.  “But first, a toast.  To the many adventures you’ve yet to go on, and the safety and prosperity you will bring to Lakmari.”  The prince spoke quickly, forcing Kunal to be prompt in finding his glass and lifting it before the toast ended.  He noticed his glass was considerably emptier than that of his host’s.  Despite that shift in the balance, Sazim finished the contents of his goblet before he placed it back upon the table.

His lips smacked together, and he brought his hands together in a hasty clap.  “Let’s get to it, shall we?” he asked.  Kunal nodded but nearly leapt from his seat when a pair of servants passed him on either side.  They carried silver trays that remained covered, but the overwhelming aromas snuck out beneath those shells.  “You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you, Kunal?” the prince asked, much less interested in the food than his guest.

After a brief pause, the young man cleared his throat and shook his attention from the trays of mystery food.  “Yes, my prince.  Since birth.”  As he spoke, another servant approached from one of the side chambers and brought a swollen wineskin to Sazim’s side.  Once again, his goblet was filled to the brim.

“Then you have likely been made blissfully unaware of the outside world,” the prince said.  “Lakmari is such a wonderful place because we have no worries.  Not a care in the world.  There is no fear of poverty.  We are one of the safest places on Tellest.  We never even have to worry about a shortage of food.”

At that, the servants who delivered the food returned and removed the covers from the trays.  The aroma nearly knocked Kunal from his chair.  Succulent white meats were stacked high on the largest trays, while exotic spices and vegetables lined the table’s perimeters.  Plates of rice and curry and fruits were placed between the main courses.  Kunal’s mouth watered at the sight of the spread.

Sazim flashed a weary grin.  “Eat, my friend.  Your task is not one I would want to endure on an empty stomach.”

The young man did not take that permission lightly.  At once, he reached forward, scooping the various delicacies onto his tray.  He reached as far as his seat would allow him.  Even then, heaps of food found their way to his plate.  He looked up at his host, who had accepted his servants’ offer to acquire his food for him.  Kunal swallowed, and as the scent of the fowl wafted into his nostrils, he swore he could taste the tender flesh.

“What many of the Lakmari people do not know,” Sazim said, peering past his servants, “is that we are not as safe as we appear.  There are bandits out on the roads.  Not some worriless rabble like you might expect, but experienced highwaymen that could easily topple an entire town.  This would cause great problems for our city, you understand.”

His mouth already full of food, Kunal could only nod in reply.  A loud, satisfied sigh escaped him, and he leaned back in his chair as if that could disguise it.  Though Sazim’s plate of delicacies was similarly arranged, he yet relied on his wine and nothing else.

“What if I told you we’ve found a way to keep the bandits content with their own territory?  What if I said we could stay their unruly tendencies and keep them at bay?”

Kunal took a moment and swallowed all his food at once, leaning forward to accommodate the large task.  “My lord, I am no great master of diplomacy or politics, but I would say that is a good path to tread upon.”

“Right you are, Kunal,” the prince said.  “The answer to our problems lies in the hands of a group of sellswords we’ve worked with for some time.  When one of our citizens leaves, it is to seek out these mercenaries.  They protect our borders, enforce our way of life outside the walls of Lakmari, and in a way, keep the peace.”

“Our people are joining the sellswords?” Kunal surmised.

After a brief pause, Sazim took a last swig of his wine.  “In a manner of speaking,” he finally said after a satisfied smack of his lips.  He rose from his seat, the chair pressing out so fast it nearly tipped.  The prince leaned upon the table with both hands, his eyes seeming to glare upon something quite distant.  “Please, allow me to show you something.”

As he lifted himself off the table, he moved with a renewed vigor.  Before Kunal rose from his seat to follow, Sazim was already on his way under one of the side arches.  It was quiet but for their footsteps and dancing flames upon the candles in the many chandeliers overhead.

Before long, the two men arrived at the throne room of the palace.  A darkselection of colors affronted Kunal, who was surprised to see the browns, auburns, and blacks about the room.  The throne was significantly brighter, with golden trim beneath a plush red fabric.

Just at the bottom of the steps leading to the throne, another golden statue, like those Kunal had seen outside, stood sentry.  Sazim turned to his guest with a wry grin upon his face.  For the first time, Kunal could see how young the prince was.  His highness must have only been several years his senior.

“Today you join among the ranks of all the men and women who have preceded you, including your father.”

As Kunal followed his prince, he neared that golden effigy and nearly tipped from his feet by the sight of it.

“Then this is your father, Johal?”

After steadying himself, Kunal took a deep breath and approached the statue.  He reached out and touched the effigy’s broad shoulder.  “In my mind, he’s so much older and greyer,” he laughed.  “It’s good to see him as he was when he left.”

“How long has it been?” Sazim asked.

A quiet chortle escaped Kunal’s lips.  “Sesha and I were much younger then.”

“Sesha?”

“My apologies, Your Highness.  Sesha is my sister,” Kunal said, looking back to the statue of his father.  “If what you say is true and I am to see these sellswords my father was sent to, he and I will be reunited soon.”

“Sooner than you might think.”

Both men turned to the throne then, and the antechamber behind it.  The fair blonde woman sauntered forward with grace and confidence.  She met eyes with Kunal, who found himself as entranced with her as before.

“Priestess Cascadia,” Sazim spoke, agitation clear in his throat.  “You are early.”

“The night grows long, my prince,” she returned.  “Perhaps you discussed things while you supped on dinner that you could have left aside.”

Cascadia passed behind Sazim, and Kunal could feel the tension in the room.  He looked again to the effigy of his father.

“We needn’t waste time here,” the priestess went on.  “Shyamal is not known for patience.  Neither are the rest of his men, including the one you call advisor.”

Their conversation went on in quiet, tense tones.  Kunal ignored it as best he could, focusing instead on the golden figure of Johal.  It looked so like his father, every nuance just as he remembered all those years ago.  The only thing that seemed at odds with the man he remembered was his eyes.  They appeared so full of concern, so wide and apprehensive.

Kunal felt the tender grasp on his hand and looked down.  Cascadia’s delicate fingers wrapped around his digits.  His eyes slowly lifted from her waist until he was caught in her hypnotic gaze once more.

Though he felt the shiver ripple down his spine, he could do nothing to shake it free.  The priestess had him locked in place, her eyes narrowed and a scowl set upon her face.

He tried to speak, but no words would come.  He tried to move but could not flex a muscle.  Cascadia lifted his arm, holding it out before him, and turned him toward the statue of his father.

“It is time,” the priestess said.

A regretful sigh escaped the prince as he approached his guest.  He set his hand upon Kunal’s outstretched arm.  “I’m sorry about this,” Sazim insisted.  “Truly I am.”

From his wrist, a burst of pain nearly shook Kunal to his core.  He could neither wince nor scold, only caught in Cascadia’s perpetual gaze.  But he could see, in his peripheral vision, the transformation that occurred.

His caramel-colored skin took on a new hue.  An inch at a time, Kunal turned to gold.  He could feel the pain coursing through his body and the change taking place.  As the enchantment surged up his arm, his body felt heavier.

Cascadia looked on with those spiteful eyes, but Sazim bowed his head as his power transformed his visitor.  The gold leeched past Kunal’s shoulder, festering in him like a plague.

He only wanted to howl out in pain, but his lips refused to budge.  Instead, as the magic moved up through his throat, he felt his breath slipping away.

Kunal saw his father in a new light then, even as he could feel his head growing heavy.

Johal had never left Lakmari.

And neither would he.

The post Remembered in Gold – Part Three appeared first on Tellest.

There are some potential links to follow-up material down the line if we find that people really dig Kunal’s story.

Remembered in Gold
Part Two

The journey back to his house was much more eventful than the one to the Gathering.  Countless citizens, even ones he was unfamiliar with, stopped Kunal in the streets to offer congratulations and advice.  All the while, Param was at his side.  When they finally did reach his home, the young men paused, hesitating to part.

“This is going to be the last time I see you, my friend,” Kunal said.

Param shrugged.  “It doesn’t have to be.  I’ve got nothing keeping me here.”

“I wouldn’t call your family nothing.”

“All older cousins who don’t even notice I’m around.  For all they know, I’m sleeping with the pigs.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Say no more,” Param insisted.  “I’ll even do the noble thing and leave them a letter.”

Kunal laughed and shook his head.  “You know much of this is kept in secrecy.  We’ve never seen one of the winners leave.  They’re always gone before sunrise.”

“And when the sun does rise, you can find me at Nordakai Falls.  I’ll be there all day tomorrow waiting for you.  Whatever mission the prince sends you on, you won’t be alone.”

A bright smile curled Kunal’s lips upward.  “Thank you, my friend.”  Both men stepped forward into a warm embrace for a moment.  “I shall see you in the light of the morning.”

Param clapped his friend on the shoulder and moved on.  Kunal watched his friend depart for a moment before pushing the door to his house open.

The sound of fitful sobbing was stifled abruptly.  When the young man closed the door behind him, he was surprised at the darkness of the abode.  The curtains had been drawn in the living area, and he could see the rest of the house had been similarly shrouded.  Still, dim shadows were cast upon the wall of the kitchen, their presence leading him there.

His mother sat upon one of the chairs surrounding their petite wooden table.  Her daughter had collapsed against her, buried within the folds of her sari.  Garati, his mother, looked up as Kunal entered the room, a weak grin appearing on her face.

“Why does Sesha cry, Mother?” he asked.

Garati shook her head.  “She knows you are leaving, child.”  The older woman gently patted her daughter’s head before allowing her hand to weave a gentle path through her dark hair.

“Sister,” Kunal said, “this is a great honor.  I go to follow in father’s footsteps – to find glory for our people.”

“You go to leave us alone,” Sesha cried.  She spun toward him, staring at her brother through tears.  The dark lines beneath her eyes had faded and run down her cheeks, and her mocha-colored skin was flushed.  She rose before her family realized and sped out of the room past her brother.

“What could be expected of me?” Kunal asked, sinking into a seat on the opposite side of the table from his mother.  “I am to tell the prince I decline?”

“Nonsense,” Garati said, waving her hand to dispel that notion.  “But your sister is right, you know.  Once you are gone, we two will have to fend for ourselves.  This house is too big for two women – too expensive.  Your father’s cousins will likely purchase it from us, and we’ll have to work their fields.”

“I won’t let that happen, Muhma.  I’ll send back whatever I can.”

“And your sister,” Garati went on.  “She is already an outcast.  With you gone, she will wither away in the shadows.”

“Sesha is growing up to be a beautiful woman,” Kunal contended.  “Why should she hide?”

The matriarch cast a sidelong glance toward her son.  “You know there is more to that girl than just a pretty face.  When the other children her age look into her eyes, they see the darkness there.”

“They’d be wise to steer clear of her then.”  Kunal stood again, placing his knuckles against the table.  “If Sesha doesn’t put them in their place, I’ll hear of it and return to exact my revenge.”

A sigh shook Garati’s weary frame.  “There’s no need for empty boasts, my son.  You and I both know none of the chosen have ever returned.”

Kunal circled the table and grasped his mother’s hand.  “I will, Muhma,” he said, lowering to his knees.  “I will do all in my power to make sure you are taken care of.  Sesha, too.”

Garati gave a gentle tug, pulling away from her son.  With her hand liberated, she tapped several times on his forearm.  “Better prepare yourself.  Wouldn’t want to show up to the prince in rags and smelling of sheep dung.  Go clean yourself in the river.”  She rose from her seat, tousling the boy’s hair as she followed in Sesha’s footsteps.

He could watch his mother depart for but a moment.  Kunal bowed his head.

Continue to Part Three

The post Remembered in Gold – Part Two appeared first on Tellest.