The Light Before the Dawn

[Decado]

If you've read my first novel then you may recognise some characters and events from this who pass over and play an intricate role, but it is not essential to have read it, for this begins a new tale with new characters, so you should not be at a disadvantage. I have deleted the first one from CB, unfortunately, for those interested.

The title also indicates the link between the two even though no one else besides me of course, knows the actual title for my first novel.

I'm glad those who spent the 1.5 years reading enjoyed it as much as they did, and I hope that I can meet your expectations for this one too, which will be a mighty task indeed I'm afraid, since it was years in the planning. ^_^;

*

I'd like to tribute this to two people in particular. One who I know in real life, who knows who he is, and another who I know through online means, who knows who she is.

Also to every reader, even those who commented briefly for my novel.
Thankyou, sincerely

Since I have decades ahead of me to hone my writing skills I may adopt a different style in this one, in case you felt it resonated differently to my novel.

Hope you enjoy.

[Decado]

The Light Before the Dawn

Prologue

Out of the crooked timber of humanity
Nothing straight can ever be made
- Immanuel Kant


The afternoon sunlight left Kozam’s gaunt face as he entered the stadium tunnels
behind the six guards, and his father the King. The cheering from the stadium
seats above brought a sneer to his face. Kozam gathered his blue cloak around
his thin frame. He was tense enough already, without having the noise of the
common drone filling his thoughts, for the crowd already packed the arena, the
competitors below these tunnels.

The arena fights are becoming too common, thought Kozam. Pretty soon they will
hold no significance at all.

Whatever. As long as they serve my purpose.

The dark tunnel into which they travelled was illuminated every few feet by
torches attached to the walls that bounced their light onto the beings travelling
forth, creating dancing shadows like vicious serpents across the rough concreted
walls. The dull roar of the crowd from above grew dimmer the further they
travelled. Kozam’s mouth was dry, his heart beating quickly. Anything could go
wrong now.

What if the King knew?

Kozam quelled his rising fear and focused on the swing of the red cape from his
father’s shoulders. He had forever seen their sway, from every achievement and
every disgrace, and had developed almost a bond with the cloak itself. He saw it
more than his father’s own face.

But the cloak had not held his hand. The cloak had not offered solace.

Kozam’s sneer turned almost into a smile. It mattered little. Within moments he
would have achieved something greater than a petty bond. He kept his eyes
focused on the King, noticing peripherally that the guards maintained their
proximity, keeping the specific distance at every step, even on bends and turns.
The torches’ flickering light glinted off the crown worn proudly upon his majesty’s
head, and from the armour of the guards and their spear tips.

Two of the guards had remained at the entrance of the passageway that was
marked with a paint splattered “One”. The arena for the adults. The entrance to
the children’s sector, marked “Two” was also accessible from within the
underground tunnels. The main rear entrance from which they had just entered
however, was guarded with a formidable iron gate that circled the courtyard,
more men stationed on the surrounding towers, sentry to all who travelled close
to the walls.

Kozam felt the sweat run down his face and he brushed it away through his long
burgundy hair, which was tied together by a blue ribbon, stretching from his
forehead to the back of his neck. Be calm, he assured himself. The King was as
arrogant as ever, he observed, watching his father’s proud walk, shoulders back
and head held high. He had love among the people, and his walk symbolised the
nation’s strength – and its foolish arrogance. But there was no one but the
guards who would bear witness to this final walk. And his son.

As anticipated, the King had come adorned with the ceremonial armour of old, the
red ankle length cloak tucked into the shoulder bladed armour. The armour was
easily unbuckled, but to ensure this further, Kozam had earlier had the strapping
loosened.

He had many followers. Others were bribed.

As always, Kozam’s eyes were drawn to the cloak, which seemed to glide behind
the King, seeming never to dirty itself upon the unworthy ground.

The guards were still edgy, despite Kozam’s reassurance that all was fine. Kozam
had earlier informed the captain of the guards, Zenoma, that Shoura had double-
checked exists, entrances and rooms below ground.

Kozam smiled to himself. Shoura would not be cocky as the noose was tied
around his brittle neck.

By the light before the dawn.

Kozam shook his head. The damn shaman’s words kept coming to him.

‘Tell me shaman!’ Kozam had screamed, grabbing the smaller man’s head by the
hair and wrenching it viciously.

‘I don’t know!’ the shaman, Shoura, had screamed. ‘I can’t see it!’

‘And you say you have visions? Fool!’ Kozam had tightened his grip on the man’s
hair, and slammed his head against the wall. ‘Tell me what you know!’

‘If Fal—’

‘He will not care! Who do you think told me of this, hmm? Tell me or I shall cut off
your manhood. Now!’

The man had whimpered, but could not offer anything. His head was slammed
against the wall again.

‘Now!’ A dagger was unsheathed.

‘Wait! Wait!’ Shoura had screamed, tears running down his face, merging with
the blood that dripped from his head. ‘All I know is the … the time, I think.’

Kozam had kneeled, his face so close that their foreheads almost touched.
‘When?’

‘I don’t know if it makes any sense… all that comes to me when I try to vision it, is
that it will be by the light before the dawn.’

‘What? How can there be light, before it is dawn? They say it is the darkest time.’

‘T-that is actually not true, sire. There is, actually, some light before the dawn.
The sun, since the earth spins, is able to disperse some rays across our vision
rendering that phrase false, but I still don’t think it actually—’

His head was slammed again. ‘I didn’t ask for lessons! You think me a fool? A
child? Tell me, how can you see this?’

The shaman had shaken his head in despair. ‘That is all that comes. Y-y-you do
not understand, the nature of visions. I-I can explain it to you.’

Kozam had thrown the man against the blood stained wall. ‘I don’t have time for
magik lessons.’ He had risen. ‘So this fool will seek to attack me before dawn?
Heh,’ he had grinned. ‘Then I am immortal at any other time of day. There is only
one time at which I need to be on my guard. That is good to know. Can you see
how many attack me?’

Shoura, already dizzy from the beating, had shaken his head feebly. ‘I…told you,’
he rasped. ‘All I see are those … that phrase.’

‘A very strange art indeed, you magikers,’ Kozam had spat. ‘Magikers. The very
business is abhorrent. It is an insult to the human race.’ He had turned away
when he heard another whimper from the shaman.

‘Disperse!’ came Zenoma’s voice.

Kozam blinked, snapping back to the present. The last whisper of words from the
shaman echoed in his mind. But he had to focus on the now. The guards finally
left the King’s side, moving to the various exit strategy locations, their spears
held at the ready. Zenoma remained next to his King. Kozam gave a thin smile,
showing the hilt of his blade. He could protect his father if need be, was the
message.

Zenoma seemed reluctant, but he could not deny the Prince. He glanced at his
King, who continued to walk on, not seeming the least bit concerned, and so
Zenoma gave a nod to Kozam, bowing away. Kozam quickened his pace to walk
alongside his father. He took a quick glance at the King. The monarch did not turn
his head, maintaining his forward gaze – as always, thought Kozam. Solemn of
face.

Kozam looked to the steps ahead to his left, the route to the King’s seat. Guards
stood on either side of the stairs. To the right, just prior to the King’s steps, a
tunnel branched off – the back entrance to Sector Two available only to Royalty:
The Children’s Arena.

‘Father,’ called Kozam, as they came alongside the tunnel to Sector Two. The King
paused to face Kozam, his back to the entrance of the branching tunnel. Kozam
looked over the King’s broad shoulders. He could see down the tunnel, far away,
sunlight bathing the small arena for day’s participating children.

They would be waiting.

‘Well, what is it?’ asked the King.

This is it, thought Kozam. ‘I thought you may want to see your prized pupil,’ the
words came more bitterly than hoped. Taking a silent breath he continued. ‘The
children asked to see you before their bouts. They are nervous.’

The King stared at his son through sharp blue eyes.

Kozam held his gaze. There was no longer any fear. ‘Mother agrees.’ The
confidence rose. ‘She says it would be good for their morale. Your Majesty,’ he
gave a showy bow. The King stared at the elaborate bow, then turned to face
the faraway arena at the end of the tunnel.

Kozam waited, still bowed.

‘What should I say to them?’ asked the King, without turning to face Kozam.

‘Just say you will watch them, Father.’

The King murmured, considering the words. A moment of silence followed
between them. Kozam’s eyes flicked to the left and right, now standing upright,
searching for guards. Anyone. Anyone to ruin it all. After coming so close …

‘Should I go?’ asked the King.

Kozam blinked. ‘Pardon, Father?’

The King still had his back towards Kozam. ‘Should I go?’ he repeated, more softly
this time. He half turned to face his son.

Kozam looked into the steel, penetrating gaze of the King’s eyes. The torchlight
further accentuated the scars of past wars, shadows dancing across the
features. Kozam hesitated a moment. ‘Of course, Father.’ A terrible panic flared in
Kozam’s chest. The King’s blue eyes rested on Kozam for a few seconds further,
the panic within Kozam at its zenith.

And then the King turned away, his red cloak curling behind him in the air as he
strode towards the entrance of Sector Two.

Kozam saw himself reach out to his father. But as always, he felt only the cold of
the red cloak brush over his hand.

And he watched his father the King walk down that tunnel, the light at the end of the tunnel beginning to engulf his frame.

[Yamamoto]

Some nice scenes you set up there. Some very good imagery, such as 'The torchlight
further accentuated the scars of past wars, shadows dancing across the
features.' Quite interesting the fact that there are children in an arena, makes me curious why.


Kozam saw himself reach out to his father. But as always, he felt only the cold of
the red cloak brush over his hand.

A powerful sentence. Excellent, this one resonated to me the most.

also if you don't mind, just a few little cnc's/thoughts-

The dark tunnel into which they travelled was illuminated every few feet by
torches attached to the walls that bounced their light onto the beings travelling
forth, creating dancing shadows like vicious serpents across the rough concrete.

Just my opinion but I felt that this line was too long and could have been broken apart into another sentence.

Kozam had earlier informed the captain of the guards, Zenoma, that Shoura had double-
checked exists, entrances and rooms below ground.

Small typo- exits ^^

‘I don’t have time for magik lessons.’

Is it meant to be magic or magick? I did a basic definition search in google and found magick is an alternate for magic, but not magik, which only yielded definitions that don't come close to magic. (Results included a comic book name and a programming language =/)

Although i assume you just want to use that term for your story's purposes ^^

[Decado]

Just my opinion but I felt that this line was too long and could have been broken apart into another sentence.
I broke it from multiple sentences into one whole. I wanted the reader to feel as out of breath in the tunnel as Kozam did without referencing him.

Also I did not want to use either magick or magic since they are both familiar. And if you've read of the fantasy side in my first novel, you'd see this form of "magic" differs from common themes.

Some nice scenes you set up there. Some very good imagery, such as 'The torchlight further accentuated the scars of past wars, shadows dancing across the features.'

Kozam saw himself reach out to his father. But as always, he felt only the cold of the red cloak brush over his hand.

A powerful sentence. Excellent, this one resonated to me the most.
Thanks, hope you continue to enjoy.

[Decado]

Btw, for anyone who takes the time to c&c, I thank you. As with my previous novel, I'm not actually looking for it because I will rewrite it from the beginning anyway (like I'm doing atm with the first). Especially because it results in conversations discussing style and grammar in the thread, which will blot out the actual story. A massive complaint (from Sess for example, who didn't get to read all of my first) was that he spent far too long early on looking through the thread for the chapters through the conversations. I will appreciate any c&c through PM though. The posting on CB is generally for others to read, and to gauge reactions to the story so far as to whether it is worthwhile, maintains interest, etc.

(readers of my earlier novel will know all of the above :))

[Icestorm]

Good job mate, I really loved the use of the cloak to signify Kozam's relationship with his father, really gave a nice touch to it. You've defiently sparked my interest and i'll keep reading.

(On a side note.. I love arena's in general :D)

[Decado]

Good job mate, I really loved the use of the cloak to signify Kozam's relationship with his father, really gave a nice touch to it. You've defiently sparked my interest and i'll keep reading.

(On a side note.. I love arena's in general :D)
Oh bugger. Then you definitely would've enjoyed an aspect of the first one.

Oh wait. You're an SMOD.

Go through Orig fics. You'll see the soft-deleted MB thread. You can still read it, even though the posts are deleted too (just hit view post - we can still see old posts.... though I think I hard-deleted some posts as well so grrr...)

Oh well. You can just follow this less awesome one then :p

Btw, thanks, glad it sparked interest.

[Mobius]

dancing shadows like vicious serpents across the rough concreted
walls

beautiful line man, ask me why when you see me.

newayz lovin the work i have 2 people that could be the red cloaked person 1 of whom is actually surprising :O

lovin it and keep it comin man.

[Ren]

At last, you posted it! \o/ Waited for this for a while now X3

Lol my first thoughts on this was actually “hmm, ish ‘he’ gonna be in this post? X3333”:kamina:

...creating dancing shadows like vicious serpents across the rough concreted
walls.
Love how u described the shadows. I have to say i like this part the best :3

Tell me or I shall cut off your manhood.
:Haha

Kozam gives a negative feeling to me already >:O

Read this last night and got to the end and I was like, “nooooo. Wanna read moarrrr” lol XD Was a bit short but it's just a prologue yea. Cant wait to read the 1st chap! X3333333

As expected from u D ;) :glomp

[WhyteDragon]

Oh Decado, I've been wondering when you'd get this going. With the way that you have started this one out I can feel then tension in Kozam as he walked, he has much on his mind and heart it seems.

This line gives me the feeling of a previous character from MB.
The King stared at his son through sharp blue eyes.


A deep fixation since all he see's is his back and this cloak.
But the cloak had not held his hand. The cloak had not offered solace.

You've done well on the start of this and I can't wait to see where this story leads us. A budding master of words with a way to paint the story in our minds. You have a way about you Dec. You really do.

[Decado]

Chapter One

Twenty-two years earlier


The horse’s hooves pounded the hardened earth, its rider racing to the top of the
mountain. Another horse trailed this one. It had not rained in weeks, allowing the
thud of the hooves to be heard across the valley. Birds did not fly in terror, aware
of the early morning rides. One of the riders, Rialis, pulled the reigns of his horse
to the right, cutting across the trailing rider, his cousin. There came a shout of
‘keluh, keluh!’, but it was in good humour. The men cantered further up the slope,
the trees around them fewer in number.

Rialis Charunov, sharing the surname of his ancestor who had named the land on
which he rode, brought his horse to a walk among the thinning number of trees.
He approached a ridge, the cliff face falling away to the forest below. Rialis,
breathing heavily from the excitement dismounted and patted his horse on the
neck with a smile. ‘Well done boy, you were brilliant.’ The horse was heaving,
short of breath, its flanks sweat streaked.

Rialis’ younger cousin, Teznik Charunov, brought his mare forward with a trot. As
Teznik approached Rialis turned to face him, the elder cousin’s hair swaying in the
morning breeze. Although the two were related, they were hardly identical. Both
did share some similarities, like the dark brown hair, although Teznik’s was fairer.
Where Teznik’s build was that of a nobleman – slim – his shoulders curved
forward from his daily clerical duties, Rialis was built heavier, with wider shoulders
and a strong stomach. He was not however, close to the size of the arena
wrestlers, thought Teznik. The balance between strength and agility. Although
his mind was filled with admiration, Teznik’s words, as always, dripped with what
some assumed, was wit. ‘How reckless,’ came the mutter from the younger man,
a smile upon his face. ‘A newly crowned King and husband really ought be more
careful, yes?’

‘The title itself demands such danger,’ smiled Rialis.

Teznik shook his head and brought his grey mare to a stop alongside the King’s
black steed on the edge of the precipice. ‘The view is breathtaking, is it not?’ he
whispered, gazing over the early morning valley. Trees stretched far and wide,
but at the moment a grey fog had settled. Sunlight however, was beginning to
streak across the land, the new rays greeting the dew of the grass. It had not
fully passed over the mountains. ‘And the smell…’ Teznik sucked in a deep breath
through his nostrils.

‘Truly refreshing,’ agreed Rialis, holding the reign of his horse. There was little
breeze, but the coolness of the air seemed to weed its way like fingers through
his hair, feeling his scalp and immersing within. The smells of pine, wood, wild
flowers and morning grass filled his senses. It was this land that he watched
over. Charunov. The land over which he protected and ruled.

They remained in silence for some time, Teznik atop his mount. To the east was
forest, disappearing further into outlying regions. To the west was their land and
its city. The outlying regions were filled with the villagers, who preferred to live in
isolation to the city. Very rarely were they seen mingling with the city folk. A bitter
rivalry that stretched back to a time no one could remember. Forcing them apart
with spite.

‘Your horse horses ought to rest,’ said Rialis. Teznik dismounted. ‘And I am not a
new King.’

Teznik unclipped a brush from his belt, sweeping it down the horse’s flanks. ‘Aye,
but two years is hardly anything to brag about,’ he grinned. He glanced at Rialis.
The King did not seem in a jesting mood. ‘What plagues you, cousin?’

Rialis’ eyes were held over the west. From this vantage point the distant clock
tower and the city seemed like play things. ‘The child has still not arrived.’

Teznik pursed his lips, continuing to brush down his mare. ‘The old hag said it
would be when?’

‘The hag,’ replied Rialis, ‘is a personal friend.’

‘Still a hag.’

Rialis let his eyes float across the valley and the slowly dissipating fog, the cold
entering his shirt. He did not wear a jacket, wanting to feel free in his morning
rides. Free from his armour, his servants, his guards, his enemies and his duties.
But there was one duty that he could not seem to achieve. It annoyed him
greatly, feeling de-masculinised after the years. His thoughts returned to the
ancient woman known as Riyala. He did not know how long she had lived. And he
did not want to know in all honesty. Such notions of witchcraft and magika were
obviously nonsense, but he had heard rumours that Riyala had been around for
centuries. It was her that had named him, Rialis realised with a shiver. The
meaning of his name, he had still not understood. All Riyala told him was the
translation.

‘Rialis?’ Teznik peered at his cousin, genuinely concerned.

‘She said within two years. It was two years, two days ago Teznik.’

Teznik could see the distress in Rialis’ dark ringed eyes. Or perhaps he had just
been awake too long at nights… Teznik shook the thought. Rialis seemed to have
noticed some notion of amusement on Teznik’s features because he turned
away, moving towards the trees.

‘Come now, cousin,’ called Teznik. ‘At least tether your steed.’

‘There is no point in conversing with you, court jester,’ muttered Rialis, turning to
lean against a tree. He sank to the earth.

‘What else did the hag say?’ asked Teznik, tying the horses to trees close by.

Rialis ignored him.

‘Really, cousin,’ pleaded Teznik, approaching the King.

Rialis ripped a handful of grass from the earth – his grass –and stared at it fall
through his fingers. ‘Riyala said my first son would possess power I could only
dream of.’

‘Ouch. Could her premonitions not be more insulting?’ Teznik asked, easing
himself next to Rialis.

‘She said it better, I don’t know,’ said Rialis. ‘You know her.’

Teznik nodded ‘A hag,’ he muttered, envisioning again her luminously white hair.

Rialis sighed and leaned his head against the tree. ‘She said he would be here
within two years, Teznik. The heir to the throne that would ensure longetivity to
our lands. And I am unable to produce him… the hope of our people.’

Teznik sat silently, both men deep in thought. ‘Perhaps Yana has conceived?’

‘She said he would be here by now,’ said Rialis. His closed his eyes. ‘I know not
what to do, cousin. This continent is not as large as we once thought. There have
been discoveries of more.’

Teznik nodded, deep in thought. ‘I have done readings which speak of many
lands. They spanned for many, many miles. And there were, apparently, ways to
travel between them’

‘By ship, yes. We have had contact with Azaad. Their wars are coming to a close.’

Teznik gave a light smile.

‘What is it?’

‘I feel privileged to talk of such things our people do not.’

‘Why is that?’

‘I am forever in their company, cousin. The Elders consider it wrong for me to
divulge information which may broaden minds.’

‘Then speak on.’

‘I meant not by ship. In the days of Old, they were able to fly to these distant
places.’

‘Oh?’

‘Aye.’

‘How?’

‘I am not sure. Giant birds, of a strange substance. Do you remember the Rage of
Manists?’

‘Of course. Many stars fell to the earth. It took a year to restabilize that
community.’

‘What came out of it was interesting indeed,’ said Teznik, his voice suddenly
excited. ‘Within these stars was a matter of which we do not frequently come
across. It was used in limitation and we have some in reserve of course, but the
substance was strong, cousin. Very strong. The craters also buried deep, and we
found traces of a substance the ancients used in our excavations.’

‘Do we have enough to use against the South?’

Teznik blinked, and then lowered his gaze. ‘No. Definitely not. Only for a dozen
people, maybe less.’

‘Then it is of no use.’

‘Yes, cousin, but think of what this means! The advances in our knowledge,
expertise and equipment. We could build better tools and—’

‘Teznik,’ came Rialis’ voice. ‘I will leave these things to you and my brother. What
matters to me is the safety and longetivity of my people. The Southerners and
the East are forever warring. It is in their nature to be destructive. And now I
hear of the Southerners producing beasts that fight against them in the arenas.
If they were utilise such creatures in a campaign it would devastate armies.’

Teznik sighed inwardly, leaning against the tree. All the great Kings ever thought
of was war. Weapons, not tools. Courage, not wisdom.

‘I know you may see me as one without wit,’ said Rialis, ‘but I must guard that
which is precious to me, with all the power I have.’ His blue eyes turned to face
Teznik. ‘Riyala told me it was vital for my son to be born, Teznik. Not just for
Charunov, or for all of Jaldøesh, but for those who we do not even know on other
continents. Riyala said … it would have such wide reaching consequences,
regarding the people we do not even know, that there would be no turning back.’

‘Riyala, Riyala…’ muttered Teznik. ‘She says lots of things, cousin. She warned you
to not fight, because she was certain you would die at the arena. But you
survived from that deadly wound in your final battle.’

‘She admitted her mistake.’

‘I don’t think she fully did. She was adamant you would die at the arena. She was
wrong, cousin.’

Rialis watched his cousin’s expression. He had turned sour. Perhaps it had been all the talk of war, but Teznik now did not even want to face him, staring broodingly at the ground instead.

‘I am sorry cousin,’ said Rialis, staring up at the sky, the light of the sun now
starting to break through the trees with vigour. ‘I have done everything in my life
to help, in every possible way. I was guaranteed the throne, and still I
endeavoured to fix my father’s mistakes. And yet, this one thing.’ He paused, the
sounds of the now awake animals echoing around them. ‘I had thought the most
difficult of all tasks would—.’

‘Wait, hush!’ hissed Teznik.

Rialis blinked. ‘What is it?’

‘Shh!’ urged Teznik. His expression was tight, trying to concentrate on whatever
he had sensed. ‘Do you hear that?’

Rialis too concentrated. They then exchanged glances, and surged to their feet.

‘Where is it coming from?’ cried Rialis.

‘If you shut up we can find it!’ snapped Teznik.

They raced through the trees; their ear leaned towards the ground. They
brushed aside branches and moved slowly past trees, until the sound became
more distinct.

‘Over here!’ hissed Rialis. Teznik sprinted towards Rialis. They were not far from
their horses, for the morning sounds of the crickets, birds and rustle of the trees
had caused them to move in slow circles to identify the noise.

As Teznik approached Rialis, he saw something that would forever stay with him.

There was a small incline ahead, a hill that fell away again into the trees. There
were no trees or bushes atop or very close to the hill. However, there was
something small on top of the peak, from where the whiny noise had emitted.
Rialis moved towards it. As he did, the sun’s rays crested the hilltop, bathing the
moving object within the bundle of blankets. Teznik approached the crouched
King, and inhaled sharply.

‘It is a child,’ whispered Rialis. He looked up at Teznik in disbelief. There was a
blend of fear and joy in his eyes. ‘An infant!’

Teznik could do nothing but nod as Rialis gathered up the blankets with the
crying baby, its little arms thrashing by its sides, its face tight with annoyance
and fear. Teznik looked around urgently. He thought he saw a branch move close
by, but it could just have been an animal within, or the wind. How long had the
child been here? It could have, or could, freeze to death! Teznik called out for
anyone close by to show themselves, but no one came.

And the King took the child in his arms.



*

[Decado]

Noticed some errors, like repeat words.

Nevermind. With CB's lagging if I try and Edit it will screw the whole thing up. Enjoy =)

[Mobius]

nice :)

azaad eh? seems like these people are gonna be dominated by someone known as the AWESOME PRINCE OF AWESOMENESS :O

[Decado]

*


Yana, the Queen of Charunov, leaned over the cot, holding out her finger to the
child. The infant stared back at her in wide-eyed wonder, and instinctually
reached out to grip her finger with both small hands, and then proceeded to put
it in his mouth. Yana smiled, her red hair falling over her face.

It had been almost a week since the child had been found. The first days had
been filled with heartache, for Yana and Rialis felt they had found the special one Riyala had prophesised. But even more so, they had found a son of their own.
Over the last two years, Yana had been rife with grief, unable to conceive for the
new King. She knew Rialis blamed himself, and she had blamed herself. All in all,
the stress hindered both parties.

However, the moment the child had been carried to her, crying and flailing, she
had felt a filling of the heart. A gap that had been opening for years, which she
did not realise, had grown so large. She had held the child close, when the
maidservants had snatched him from her. For his temperature was dropping, and
his health critical. There had been no telling how long the child was left
abandoned, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour, they reasoned.

Yana had been at the infant’s bedside every moment possible. She had remained
by his side the first few days sacrificing both food and water in her desperation to
see the child pull through, and it was only her husband the King that had
managed to pull her away, assuring her that he himself would stand by the
child’s side. Yana could not bear it. To come this close to having a son, and then
be denied moments later… it would shatter what resolve she had left in hope of a
child. She knew the servants did not understand it, her desire bordering on
madness.

The thought of adoption had previously never entered their minds, for it was
unseemly for a royal family to adopt one who was not of royal blood, and Riyala
had been sure that a child would be born unto them by this time, and they had
believed it to be their own.

‘She never said born,’ Rialis had suddenly said that night, when watching over
the infant. ‘Riyala never said he would be born to us. I recall, all she said was
that we would have a child around this time.’

‘You mean … the hag was right?’ Teznik had also stayed with the family the first
day, visiting everyday after. ‘This is the prophesised child?’ The weight of the
words made for a tension filled atmosphere, so much resting on a being that
could not as yet speak.

Yana did not care. All she wanted was a child of her own, and she knew this was
he. She could feel that this was her child, no matter that she did not share his
blood. And she had prayed for the child to live.

And the boy had recovered. The apothecary had been impressed. The child could
not have been more than two weeks old, and had survived conditions close to
pneumonia.

‘Well, he sure is a fighter,’ Rialis had beamed, patting a sceptical Teznik on the
back, with more power than intended. Regaining his balance, Teznik made to
speak when a servant had entered the room.

Riyala would be coming. To see the child.

Yana continued to play with the boy, not yet settling on a name. Rialis had been
adamant that they not name the child or claim it as their own unless Riyala was in
acquiescence.

‘She will name the child. A name full of meaning which she will translate. It is
tradition!’ Rialis had maintained.

It had annoyed Yana greatly, but she reminded herself of Riyala’s significance.
Yana could not however, shake the notion that Rialis appreciated the foreign
woman more than her at times. He seemed to confide his darkest secrets with
the mystic more than he did with his own wife. Her thoughts were interrupted by
another chill breeze. Yana looked to the maidservants folding clothes on the bed,
and asked for her to close the window. The light outside was bright, but the cool
wind made her fret for the infant. As the maidservant reached for the shutting
bar, an aroma filled the room.

It was so pleasant that both women forgot for a moment what they were doing.

‘What is that?’ asked the maidservant in wonder. ‘It smells of jasmine … like Lily
of the Valley.’ She looked towards the Queen’s expression. ‘Oh, I apologise, that
was the ancient term. We still use it in the villages,’ she gave a sheepish smile.
‘Like Vilana.’

It was not a strong smell, nor was it hard to sense. The perfume of jasmine just
… was.

But the Queen was not concerned about ancient names. ‘She is here,’ whispered
Yana. She took the child instinctively into her arms and stood to face the door.
The baby boy started to utter some cries, so she gently placed him on her
shoulder, patting his back. He quietened down, making bubbly noises instead.

The door opened, and Teznik, his face flushed, moved into the room, trailed by
two guards. He read the Queen’s expression and gave a nod. There came
footsteps from the stairway. Teznik and Yana waited with apprehension.

A shadow fell across the doorway, and Rialis entered with a smile. ‘She is here,’
he said, the excitement at seeing the mystic woman again apparent. He
approached his wife and looked to the child, kissing him on the forehead.

‘The hag takes her time,’ muttered Teznik. He suddenly smelt the scent, and his
heart suddenly longed for her sight.

‘You know she looks nothing past twenty,’ smiled Rialis. ‘Why keep calling her a
hag?’

Teznik saw in his mind again the small, soft, fair face of Riyala. Her blue-green
eyes, awash with wisdom beyond his years, and beyond those of her
appearance were burnt into his mind. And not only her gaze. Her long, straight
hair was so blonde, it looked white. Though in some light, Teznik had found, he
could see its blondeness. ‘Because that is what she is. An old hag, deceiving our
eyes.’

Rialis peered at his cousin. ‘And our minds. You say it only to rid yourself of her
thoughts.’

Teznik blinked, in shock. ‘An outrageous lie!’

‘Come now Teznik, your gaze never settles on her once when she is in your
presence.’

‘She is a magiker,’ he argued. ‘And less than five feet tall. Tiny. They are not to be
trusted. Magikers.’

‘She is not less than five feet tall. She is five feet tall. And she saved my Yana,’
whispered Rialis, moving closer to his cousin. ‘As I recall, my wife was dying from
some ingrown disease. Who was there to heal her, Teznik?’

Teznik muttered his apology. ‘Still. I think of her not at all.’

Rialis laughed. ‘I recall one summer evening when she paid our castle a visit. You
had led her to my quarters. Upon exiting –’

‘Now now.’

‘—you thought she would open the door herself. You are royalty after all. But
then you realised who she was.’

‘Rialis,’ hissed Teznik, seeing the growing smile on Yana’s face. ‘That’s enough.’

‘And you reached forward to open the door for her. Of course by the time you did,
she had already reached forth, and your fingers touched.’

Teznik closed his eyes.

‘Your face burned red for a month!’ laughed Rialis.

‘It was her sorcery.’

‘Upon such diminutive touch, never have I seen such embarrassment.’

‘Isn’t she coming about your boy?’ came the quick change of topic.

‘Your face is red,’ observed Rialis with a smile. Teznik placed his cold hands
against his burning face. ‘And she is here.’ They spun to the doorway.

Riyala entered gracefully, her brilliantly blonde-white hair gleaming in the
afternoon light. Teznik almost gasped. She took his breath away every time. She
was wearing a faded, short-sleeved yellow dress that flowed majestically to her
legs past her knees, so that her ankles were visible. Her feet were settled into
olden slippers. Teznik realised he was unintentionally staring at her legs and
quickly wrenched his gaze up, moving to her hair. He was never exactly sure
what colour her hair was. At times it seemed the lightest of blondes, at other
times, pure white. He did not care to entertain the idea of it changing. But his
gaze did not settle on her flowing hair for long, for it was quickly drawn to her
emerald-blue eyes. She did not face him, and he knew it was rude to stare, but
he could not remove his eyes from that gentle, fair face. She radiated harmony,
although his heart was racing at her sight. She truly seemed a goddess.

Even the King bowed to her. Rialis, not exactly the largest of men, was still more
than a whole head taller when he bowed. Riyala gave him a smile. ‘There is no
need to bow to me, Rialis.’ Her voice came to Teznik as a beautiful melody. She
curtseyed to both the King and Queen. Yana gave a tentative smile. Riyala’s eyes
then moved to the infant. ‘Place the child in the cot, please.’

Yana glanced towards Rialis, who nodded. The Queen hesitantly placed the
infant in the crib. Riyala moved forward and looked down at the child. ‘Curious
little thing,’ she said with a smile. She reached out with a finger, and the infant
tried to grasp at it, battering it around. She tenderly touched the top of his head,
stroking it smoothly.

‘What is she doing?’ whispered Yana, leaning into Rialis.

Rialis bade her to wait. They watched as Riyala closed her eyes and held her
hand over the child’s stomach, floating up towards the chest. It lasted for some
time. Teznik was watching only her hair, which swayed courtesy of the wind
whistling through the open window.

‘Well?’ asked Rialis, after she opened her eyes. ‘Is he the one of whom you
spoke?’ He thought he could see the hint of a frown upon Riyala’s delicate
features, but she faced him with a gentle smile.

‘Is he your child?’ she asked.

The question took Rialis by surprise. The sharp inhale of breath by the King was
noticed by Yana and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He would tell her
no. He would give away the child to this … witch.

‘Yes,’ cried Yana. ‘Of course he is ours.’

Riyala’s emerald-blue eyes settled on the queen a moment.

‘Blood of our blood.’

‘Very well.’ Riyala gave a smile that shone to her eyes. ‘Then he must be the one
of whom I spoke.’

Yana’s heart was beating wildly, and all she wanted was for the witch to leave
her castle so she could be alone with her child. She didn’t even care if the rumours were true, whether the girl could read her thoughts. She didn’t care.

I want you gone! screamed Yana from within. Riyala’s expression remained cool, a tranquil smile still apparent, which left Yana uncertain.

‘And the name?’ asked Rialis.

Riyala turned once more to the infant, and her hand floated over his body for a
moment. ‘He shall be named Revaelis – the light before the dawn.’


*

[Ren]

The infant stared back at her in wide-eyed wonder, and instinctually reached out to grip her finger with both small hands, and then proceeded to put it in his mouth.
Really adorable description x3I was in the bus today, and a lady carrying her baby girl was sitting next to me. The kids grab hold of my hand and i i instantly got reminded of this part of your story X3

And i like Teznik more in the latest update! :D he's funny :p

‘And less than five feet tall. Tiny. They are not to be trusted. Magikers.’
>:O
What has height got to do anything with it? <_<

'Is he your child?’ she asked.
...
Riyala’s emerald-blue eyes settled on the queen a moment.
Rar, better be careful there, Queen :lol

And i love how you ended this update! =DDD The name sounds good too >:3 I dont have nothing much to say about the 2nd one cos it's still pretty early into the story. But reading 1+2+3 again makes room for meh to speculate about future events lol :p

Well done D. Luv it! =D

[Icestorm]

Yay, I caught up with it now :)

I was so tired during the week that I must admit I couldnt get around to reading it, but I promised myself i'd catch up on the weekend :P

Well as usual your writing is great, I really enjoyed the ending of the latest chapter, it really connects the two stories together. For some reason it now makes me think that he is to be some sort of assassin.

[Decado]

Chapter Two



The four year olds’ heart was beating fast as he ran through the hallway.
Paintings lined the wall on each side, but this was of little significance to Revaelis,
as his little legs flew over the carpet. He turned a bend at top speed, almost
crashing into a maid. There was no gasp from her, as she had come to expect
this. She merely sidestepped as the boy flashed past. Then she quickly glanced
left and right. If the King had seen her ignore such dangerous behaviour from his
son, she would be out of a job within a second. Luckily, he was nowhere to be
seen.

Revaelis was terrified, but his face shone with happiness, a wide smile stretched
across his face as he tried to elude his uncle Teznik. Whenever father was away
on important matters – whatever they were, lost on the boy – Revaelis would
beg for his uncle to play in the castle. It had become almost routine lately.

Revaelis hid behind a wall, peering round the edge for his uncle. Safe. He heard
sounds of footsteps from behind, and bolted without a second glance.

The wind was in his hair, the sunlight bouncing off his skin as he ran by the tall
windows towards the next hall.

‘Got you!’ came a sudden cry.

Revaelis yelped, jumping in terror as Teznik emerged from the hall, sweeping the
four year old into his arms and swinging him above his head. The terror soon
turned to joy, and Revaelis laughed in delight as he was spun around his uncle’s
head.

‘Ok… ok,’ huffed Teznik, lowering the child to the floor, bending over in
exhaustion. ‘That’s enough, Revaelis.’

‘More! More!’ cried Revaelis, stretching his arms up, excitement in his eyes.

‘You sure take a lot out of me,’ smiled Teznik, still bent over, sweat glistening his
face.

‘What is all this noise…?’

Revaelis did not need to second-guess who this voice belonged to. It was low
and chilling. It reminded Revaelis of when his father would take him to the animal
shows. There were always ferocious beasts that would attempt to catch their
prey. They would first sneak up slowly, silent and determined. A low growl would
emerge, and then they would pounce, devouring their prey with ferocity. This
man reminded Revaelis of such beasts.

‘Greetings, cousin Falkane. Reva and I were just having some fun,’ gasped
Teznik, standing upright. ‘Yes, fun.’

Falkane Charunov, thirty-one, and younger brother of Rialis the King, peered
down at the boy with distaste, as a vulture would do to prey. ‘Reva?’

‘Revaelis,’ corrected Teznik. He sensed the man’s voice saturated with contempt.

Falkane smiled. ‘Ah yes. The name, given by the witch.’

‘She is not a witch!’ came Revaelis’ cry.

Teznik looked down at the boy. Anger filled the youth’s eyes. ‘There, there
Revaelis, uncle Falkane was just joking. Isn’t that right…?’

Falkane’s smile remained, with a raised brow, but he titled his head in
acknowledgment. ‘The boy seems fond of her.’

‘She visits when she can,’ replied Teznik.

‘And what exactly, is she so busy doing otherwise?’

‘I would not know. She spends her time in the mountains, with the villagers I
imagine.’

Falkane scoffed. ‘To place such trust on a woman who is not even around… my
own shaman would be of better use.’

‘Shoura? That is up to the King,’ replied Teznik. He didn’t feel as confident as he
sounded. Falkane always seemed to sense his unease, and ever since they were
boys, Teznik had never liked him. Where Rialis was warm and considerate,
Falkane was cold and selfish. At first, Teznik believed he was reading his cousin
wrong. But the years progressed, and the man became more consumed in his
own dealings. He had an extremely sharp mind and a tendency to act without
regard for others. Teznik was extremely thankful that it was Rialis who was King,
and not Falkane. The city would be a very different place…

Falkane had not even visited them when Revaelis was … found. They all knew
Falkane disproved of the boy’s adoption. They had been careful announcing it to
the public. The Queen was known for her visits of the city and town every few
weeks, so an earlier pregnancy could not be faked. They had instead pretended
the Queen had become pregnant, and kept her indoors during her ‘last months’.
When the time came, the fair Riyala acquired a child from the Charunov villages to
show to the city crowds. People had lined for days to touch the feet of the new
Prince, and Revaelis had been kept in his room with his uncle for the duration. The prince of course, grew within the castle, and after a year and a half, no one
questioned the age of the child upon the rare glance they had of him.

It was unfortunate that the villages of Charunov on the mountainsides, and the
city, were not on the best of terms. But it had been fortunate for them in this
instance, for the few villagers that were part of the fable, had a nice laugh at the
city folk being misled, touching and grovelling at the feet, no less, of a villager the
city folk so despised. The citizens of the city on the other hand, decided that since
most of the villages had not done the same, they did not consider the new prince
or their King worthy, and contempt grew further between the two.

Teznik had been taught of the feud between the two peoples, but he had of
course been given the Charunov’s perspective, lighting the villagers as the
vermin. It was actually the city dwellers of Charunov who were the invaders,
emerging from the south centuries ago to take by force the small community the
villagers held. The villagers had been massacred, and those that lay down their
arms were discarded to the mountainsides. Since Rialis had become king, he had
enacted laws where villagers could pass safely between city dwellers. The
opposite was still to be enacted by the village elders.

And they did not call themselves villagers either, recalled Teznik. They kept their
old name, and held their banner high with pride.

‘Where are your proper garments?’ came the sneer from Falkane.

Teznik blinked, then realised he was wearing merely a shirt and leggings of grey.
Falkane however, was as always, dressed impeccably in his royal garments of
purple silk. A long purple robe covered his purple loose fitting leggings. There was
a dark hilted sword tucked by his hip. His shirt was tinted in orange, and a puffed
arrangement apparent at his neck. His light brown hair was as usual, slick and
combed back. His opal eyes continued to drill at Teznik’s lack of an ensemble.

‘Well,’ started Teznik, ‘since Reva and I were—’

Falkane walked by him. ‘Rialis is coming. Best you get dressed, cousin.’

Teznik watched him go. ‘I noticed the sword,’ he called after Falkane.

The man stopped. ‘Did you not hear?’ he replied, without turning to face his
cousin. ‘The soldiers are having an exhibition duel in honour of his majesty’s
return. The greatest of our swordsman will do battle. The winner will have the
honour of a mock duel with the King.’ And he walked away.

Of course Teznik knew this tradition. The answer had merely been implied.

‘Does that mean uncle Falkane will be duelling too?’ asked Revaelis.

‘He said soldiers. But I assume that’s what he was implying.’ Teznik bit his lip. A
mock duel with Rialis for the winner. And Falkane was next in line to the throne. It
did not sit well with the nobleman. Anything could go … “wrong.”

Sure Rialis was a fine swordsman… but when trickery was involved, skills meant
little. Teznik knew he would have to be vigilant, and warn the royal guard to be
wary of treachery.

‘I hate him,’ said Revaelis, loudly.

‘Reva!’ hissed Teznik, aware that Falkane was in hearing distance. ‘He’ll hear you!’

‘Good!’ cried Revaelis, staring vindictively at the back of the man.

Teznik took a deep breath, scratching his head. Then he kneeled next to
Revaelis, holding him by the shoulders. ‘Hate is never good, Reva.’

‘It’s just how I feel. Nothing will change if I hate him.’

‘Nothing will change?’

‘It’s just my hate. It will not affect anything.’

Teznik suddenly grinned. ‘Although incorrect, you amaze me Reva.’

‘Why?’ pouted the boy. He felt that his uncle was just saying it to lift his bad
mood.

‘Because you are so much smarter than all the boys I know.’

The pout remained.

‘I do not think I ever spoke as you did when I was your age. You truly seem the
gifted one.’

‘I do not give you any good gifts.’

Teznik laughed. ‘Remind me to talk with you later, about your misconceptions.
Though I judge it is far too early for you to grasp these issues yet.’

A blank stare.

‘Go find your mother and get ready,’ smiled Teznik. ‘Your father is almost home.’

The news of his father instantly changed the boy’s expression, his face lighting
with excitement. He began jumping up and down, until Teznik shepherded him
towards the stairs, Revaelis cheering all the way up the stairs for his father’s
return. When he reached the top he looked down at Teznik, and spotted Falkane
some way to the right.

‘If you fight my father, he will bury you in the dust Falkane!’ screamed Revaelis
from the top of the stairs. ‘If not he, then I! If not I, then my brother!’

Teznik stared wide-eyed at the lack of respect from the boy in taking his uncle’s
given name. Rialis was hardly, if ever, harsh with him. The boy was confident,
bordering on cocky. He had heard Yana talking with Rialis of their son’s attitude.
Rialis had waved it away. It was almost as if the King desired his son to be as
such.

Teznik glanced back to the end of the hall, where the hawk-faced prince had no
doubt heard the threat, but continued on his way without pause.


*



In his uncomfortable, tight prim clothes, Revaelis watched his father the King
dismount from his horse. From this height, the horses and men around him
seemed like Gods. The sunlight gleamed brightly off their armour, and off his
father’s crown, his long red cape flowing behind him as he approached his son
with a smile.

Teznik stood in the assembled welcome line of nobility, alongside a few other
nobles, including Falkane. Revaelis stood in front of his pregnant mother. But the
King’s eyes did not land on Yana, the monarch looking straight at his son. He
bent on one knee, with a smile that warmed Teznik’s heart. Rialis exchanged a long hug with his son, and ruffled his hair. Yana brushed it back quickly.

‘Look, Reva,’ smiled Rialis, ‘I brought you a gift.’

‘A gift!’

Rialis reached into his robe, pulling out an ornamental dagger. He could see the
amazement in his son’s eyes, frantically moving over the design of the sheathe.
‘It is an ornamental piece from the South,’ smiled Rialis. ‘See these markings?
They mean things in an ancient language.’

‘Wow!’ gasped the boy. His eyes were filled with wonder as he took the dagger
from his father. ‘Can you read what it says Father?’

‘No, but I imagine you will, eventually. Teznik can maybe help you decipher the
symbols from his books. Look. The blade has the same design through the centre.’

‘Is it safe?’ asked Yana.

Rialis looked up at his wife for the first time. ‘Of course dear, the blade is blunt,’
he smiled.

Revaelis took a look at the blade as his father stood. Yana moved forward and
the two exchanged a hug. He looked down at her swollen belly with a smile. ‘I am
still in disbelief,’ he admitted with a laugh. He reached up to hold Yana’s face with
his hands, and kissed her on the forehead. After almost six years, they would
truly have a child that was blood of his blood. Once he had exchanged words
regarding her health and stay during his absence, he moved along the line,
embracing his brethren.

‘Twelve days longer than expected, my King,’ Falkane had uttered after their
short embrace.

‘There were extra matters to attend to, brother.’

‘I am sure we will hear about them in your report.’

‘Indeed you will.’

‘Odd though.’

‘What is?’ Rialis’ eyes had narrowed.

‘There were reports you went missing for a few days. Almost four of them, only to
be found sneaking about in one of the mountain villages close by. Yet you did not
return home at that time.’

Rialis stepped in close, his deep blue eyes burning into Falkane’s. They were
almost of equal height, but the King’s stature and figure made him seem a head
taller. ‘What are you implying, Falkane?’ came the rumble. ‘Through what right do
you have the audacity to question, nay, dispatch your men to trail me?’

Teznik very rarely saw this side of the King. But when it came, all knew to keep
their heads low. He remained silent, his breath held. For Falkane to use the
words ‘sneaking around’ could mean little else.

‘Just curious,’ replied Falkane.

An awkward silence followed from the audience, as Rialis held his gaze, his face
inches from Falkane’s. The King finally let out a deep breath and turned away. He
stared at the castle, his eyes unfocused for a moment. ‘Now, we should head to
the arena, I think,’ he finally said.

It was then that Yana cried out. For a moment Rialis feared the worst, but then
realised she held her belly. The next moments were a blur for Rialis as his wife
was rushed back into the castle, the arrival games put on hold.

The men outside the castle stood around, confused. Teznik stood with Revaelis.
There was an uncomfortable silence, no one quite sure what to do. Teznik found
it almost comical, seeing the men walk around their horses, kicking the dust,
flipping coins and chatting about remedial things, all the while looking towards
the castle.

A cold breeze swept by Teznik. He shivered, and turned to see Falkane approach.
Teznik instinctively pulled Revaelis towards him. He wasn’t sure why he did so.
Only later would he realise his instincts were on the mark.

‘Tell the boy to go inside,’ muttered Falkane, gazing towards the soldiers. ‘The
King will want to be by her bedside. We’ll tell them to convene for the games
tomorrow.’



*



Rialis’ heart swelled with an emotion he could not describe as he held his
newborn baby for the hundredth time that day. It transcended love and pride,
feeling as if his heart would burst.

This is my son, he thought. My son!

He wanted to cry, he wanted to laugh. A vast range of emotions clashed within
him. Never had he experienced such euphoria, even in life’s greatest pleasures.

My son. And one day, King.

That last thought left him confused. Revaelis. Rightfully, he was the eldest son.

For the moment he vanquished all thoughts from his mind, enjoying the closeness
of his child. Stroking the top of the boy’s head softly, pinching his nose, holding
him close. He looked to Yana, who was resting in bed. She smiled at his antics,
and laughed when he did not want to hand the infant to the maidservant.

‘Won’t you be late to your games?’ smiled Yana.

The games had been cancelled yesterday when it was announced to the city that
the Queen had given birth to another boy. Another prince for the masses to
cherish.

‘The games can wait,’ said Rialis, facing the long mirror to tighten his belt.

‘Be safe.’

‘There is nothing to fear, Yana,’ he gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Anything wrong?’
asked Rialis, noticing the look of discomfort on Yana’s face from the reflection.

‘Not keen on these events,’ she replied.

‘It is but a mock battle,’ smiled Rialis. ‘No one will be killed. Merely wounded, and
that too of not a severe degree.’

Yana did not reply. There came a knock at the door.

Teznik waited outside with Revaelis, both dressed in their dignified outfits,
alongside four guards. He heard Rialis respond, and waited a moment further.
The door opened eventually and the King stood, ready, in his ceremonial armour.
Teznik knew the armour he would fight in was already on the carriage, so he
gave a quick bow and stepped aside. Revaelis jumped into his father’s arms as
the King patted his cousin on the shoulder warmly and made his way down to the
carriage.

The sunlight blazed as they stepped out from the castle, towards the main
courtyard, fenced off by the gates. ‘Quite a warm noon,’ said Rialis. He noticed
Teznik was already pulling at his collar.

They boarded the carriage led by two horses, and the old driver slapped the
reigns. The carriage lurched and began to move slowly forward as the gates
were opened, revealing a line of carriages ahead, filled with more nobles and
their guards. The King’s carriage travelled alongside the stationary ones until
they passed the fifth. The line then began to move and the driver pulled the
King’s carriage into the line, between five on each side, to serve as protection
from both ends. Guards were upon horses on either side of the line, and further
to the rim were more guards, walking alongside, while another line on each side
stood in a tight line between the people and the parade.

Rialis smiled and gave brief waves to the people packed to the sides, next to the
houses and stalls that could not make it to the arena. He knew there would be
another parade shortly to celebrate the birth of his son. His eyes travelled to the
square rooftops of the buildings, concern for the welfare of his new son instantly
replacing thoughts of the tournament. There came a few waves from the rooftops
from the guards who saw their King’s glance. All areas seemed to have been
guarded correctly. He would have to give Zenoma, the commander of his safety,
special praise and perhaps another medal, if all went well with this parade, the
tournament, the ride back, and the next parade as well. Rialis suddenly smiled.
Zenoma had a lot on his plate for the next week.

‘What did you see father?’

Rialis looked down at Revaelis, and held him close. ‘Nothing, Revaelis. I was just
thinking of your brother.’

‘Does he have a name? I heard him crying. Why is he so loud?’

‘No name yet, Revaelis. That is for Riyala to decide.’

‘Did she give me my name?’

‘Yes. And mine,’ smiled Rialis. He saw wonder fill the boy’s eyes.

‘But… but Uncle Teznik says people go away after some time. Why doesn’t fairy
go away too?’

Rialis looked to Teznik, and they laughed nervously. ‘Well you see, Riyala, or as
you call her, fairy … well, it applies to people.’

‘Fairy isn’t people?’

‘Fairies are fairies,’ said Teznik quickly, unsure.

Revaelis frowned. ‘Fairy says I can call her fairy. But she said she not a fairy. She
said she a person, like you and father.’

Teznik scratched his head. ‘Well, I hear that the villagers call her a Wyrd.’

‘Wired?’ asked Revaelis.

‘Wyrd,’ repeated Teznik.

‘Word?’

‘Wyrd.’

‘Wurrr…d?’

‘I’ll be sure to ask her when next we meet,’ laughed Rialis, holding his son close.
He too had wondered about her essence. Her longetivity, though what she
claimed was not immortality, made her seem all the more less human. She just
seemed to age differently to those around her. It had to do with some of the
essence of magik that he knew very little about. The King stole a glance at
Teznik. His younger cousin was staring away at the crowd; his elbow leaned on
the edge of the carriage and his fingers trailing his lips, a sign of nervousness.
Perhaps at the thought of Riyala, thought Rialis. Or the crowd. Teznik had never
felt comfortable in the public eye. Rialis had always been the centre of attention,
that was a given. His speeches and public appearances gave him the popularity.
His actions for his people gave him his power. Teznik however, stayed in the
shadows, much like Falkane. Both worked behind the line of sight. But whereas
Falkane despised working alongside the common man’s “idiocy”, Teznik had a
longing to do so. Rialis had spied Teznik gazing out the windows, longing to be
among the crowd and the speeches and all the glory. Their upbringing had been
vastly different. While Rialis got all the attention of being the eldest, therefore
the next King, Teznik was a child among many. Neither important nor needed. His
parents were usually friendly, but an underlying sense of unfairness at being
second to the crown held to Teznik’s father, for he would forever be second, even
to the children of the main home, which bred itself into scorn misdirected.

It had weighed heavily on Rialis to see Teznik, a man so gracious and sincere, so
crippled from within.

Rialis had then made a vow to himself, to never become a man who would cripple
his children in such a manner. Yana had told him he was a wonderful man, who
could never be harsh to children. But he was not sure. He felt himself anger
readily. He had grown as the favourite and the superior. Slaves obeyed him. If
not they would be struck. The anger was a beast that had grown since he could
recall. He held it with chains, and it had taken much, just recently, to hold himself
from striking Falkane. The only thing that held him back were the years of
techniques at controlling his anger, for the sake of his son – because Revaelis
had been there at the time. Children of such young age he knew should not be
witness to violence, especially from someone they held in such regard. Had his
son not been there, Falkane could have very well been flat on the ground, a
sword at his neck.

Even thinking about it now he felt his anger rise, his fist closed tight and his teeth
grinding. What right did Falkane have to send men after him? What right did the
second in command have, of questioning his King!

Rialis looked down at Revaelis. The boy sat happy, merrily enjoying the breeze in
his hair. Rialis smiled, the tension flowing from him. He had let his son grow with
little constraint. Rialis decided he would not be the shadow lurking over his son,
that had his shoulders down and drowned his spirit.

‘We have arrived,’ came Teznik’s voice.

Rialis looked up as they entered the gates of the arena. Little Revaelis cheered.
Questions of Falkane’s allegiance melted from his mind. He realised it did not
matter. Not for the moment. What mattered was what was in his arms now.
Revaelis, his first son. No one would take that away from him. No one could ever
separate them.

Sadly, Rialis did not know how wrong he was.



*

[Ren]

Reva? Hmm, the name sounds close to someones name *.*

Just posting a short one, u know that i read this and i love it! :D

I have a speculation of how things would prolly go, i'll wait and see what happens next :kamina: This is absolutely awesome :Db

[WhyteDragon]

You have given such great work to this chapter. I felt as I read it, I was merlly watching something that I had to put the words to. Beautifully written and compossed. The details were all in the right areas to keep the reader reading, so ingrossed in the story, that it became a little reality within the minds eye.

I love how you can write to the point of being able to see what you are leading to.

I could see the soliders kicking the dust around and hear the mindless talk. This is one of your better chapters for the portrayal of everything.

The last paragraph and line have me thinking of some ways that is could go. Although I shall wait to see where you lead us.

Keep up the great writting Decado.

[Butter-Fly]

I love the way you have layed out the story, and the way in which you portray your characters. I have to agree with WhyteDragon, the details were in all the right places which kept me glued! lol