The Awakening Read online

“Enough, the two of you. I have tolerated your bickering for far too long now. Kalon, speak no longer of my dear departed wife. Her death was sad enough and untimely too. Your mother, my Queen, would not wish you to speak unkindly of her predecessor,” he admonished his son. “And you, dear Alemar,” he spoke sternly, turning to his firstborn. “You know better than to suggest that we become involved with the world outside of our kingdom. You are right to suspect that your mother would have felt the rumblings of one such as the Dark Lord, but she would never have risked our safety by involving us in matters that do not directly affect us. She would have reinforced our boundaries and made certain that no forces of a kind not our own would have been able to enter here.”

  He rose from his silver throne and stepped slowly off the dais. Whitestar was an old man now, far older than he appeared to be. He loved Alemar’s mother more than anyone could ever know. He also loved and respected his second wife, Kalon’s mother, Emerial. She was a good woman too, although she did tend to baby her son too much. Kalon was not the man Whitestar hoped he would be. But he was young still. He was not a bad boy, just an immature one. He was a better statesman than he was a warrior, a better talker than he was a bow-man and he did have a tendency to seek safety rather than conflict. Except when it came to his half-sister, that was. Whenever the two of them spent more than five minutes together, the result was always the same. It was not that he disdained her, but rather he recognized certain characteristics in her that he was immensely jealous of. He envied her courage in the face of his own lack thereof. And he envied their father’s love for her. The rivalry grew stronger in his mind as he grew older and it began to eat at his heart more and more. His outbursts masked a deeper contempt the likes of which neither the King nor his Princess suspected.

  Alemar on the other hand, was mature, intelligent, insightful, sensitive and highly charged. She could warm his heart at almost anytime and she could also cause his blood to boil with her persistence and stubbornness. She had an impulsive nature, just like her mother. She was born of the earth and when she was a child, Whitestar truly believed that she would be a Chosen of the trees as well. Alas though, no new trees burgeoned and her dreams went unrealized. Perhaps that caused her restlessness and her need to reach beyond her own borders for fulfillment. He was uncertain, but he knew that he could not contain her forever.

  The Chosen she befriended was an honorable man. Whitestar knew that the moment he met Robyn dar Tamarand. He was also a powerful one. But nevertheless, the King did not wish to be lured into a struggle that did not involve them. Caeltin’s reach was broad, but not so broad as to touch Eleutheria.

  “I sincerely wish the two of you would learn to get along with each other. It grieves me so to hear you argue constantly. It is unbecoming. Besides, it makes it impossible for me to concentrate upon the issues when you carry on so,” he finally said.

  Alemar turned her beautiful face toward the King.

  “I apologize, father. And I apologize to you too, Kalon,” she said in a tone of voice that sounded sincere.

  Kalon scoffed under his breath and looked down at his shoes impatiently.

  “But, father? How can we not at least make an attempt to gather more information? Would it not be prudent at the least to know what is happening around us?” she asked, unwilling to give up the cause.

  “I have never had the desire that you have, dear daughter, to know anything about the world outside of Eleutheria. I do not even inquire as to the well being of my own brothers and cousins. I have always believed that in order to remain pure and healthy, we must remain isolated. I have never wavered from that conviction. We cannot allow the corruption to infiltrate our realm.”

  “But father, there is much good in the rest of the world as well. What of the trees, the Lalas? Are they not bountiful and kind and wise beyond measure? Were they not born of the outside world?” she asked. “Does ours not communicate still with others without our realm?”

  “The tree belongs to us all. We do not need to fraternize with humans to communicate with our tree,” he answered.

  “But Robyn tells me that they are dying, father. The trees are dying. What power could be so great as to kill a Lalas? Have you spoken to Crea? Has he told you anything about what is happening?”

  “Crea has never discoursed with me. As you know Alemar, when he was chosen he withdrew from us all. It is not for me to question the ways of a Lalas and its Chosen.”

  “May I approach him, father? May I ask him if what Robyn tells me is cause for us to be concerned?” she pleaded.

  “If he will speak with you my child, then I give you my permission to ask whatever you wish, if that will satisfy your hunger for knowledge,” he said reluctantly. “But it will not change my belief that we must remain aloof from the ways of the world if we are to survive. That was my father’s opinion and his father’s before him. Their ways have served us well all these tiels, have they not daughter?”

  She could barely contain her glee at the prospect of approaching Crea, the Chosen and his majestic tree, Wayfair.

  “Thank you father. Thank you so much. They will talk to me, I know they will,” she said confidently. “But promise me that you will at least listen to what they say,” she entreated.

  “Why do you think a tree will talk to you? You still believe your childish fantasy that your birthmark is a sign of something?” Kalon stung her with his questions. “Just because some rascal Chosen from the world of humans fancies you are a pretty trophy to add to his shelf, you think that our Crea will honor you too? Do not be heartbroken sister, if they ignore your appeals. It is time you face the fact that you are as ordinary as the rest of us and climb down off your haughty, high horse.”

  “You really are vicious, you know? Do you enjoy hurting me, brother? At least I will have tried something, Kalon. That is certainly more than you can claim. If I were you…”

  “Enough— Do you two never grow bored with this prattle?” Whitestar interrupted. “Go now and for the First’s sake, leave each other be,” he said as he shooed them both out of his chambers.

  As Kalon was walking down the broad hall, his back to the two of them, the King said quietly to his daughter, “Alemar, I will listen to you when you return, but I make no promises.”

  With that, he sighed a tired sigh and shut the heavy door behind them.

  Chapter Three

  “Relax, my darling. There is no need for you to rise this early. I will take care of the emissary. Take another sip of the tea, it will ease the pain.”

  “You are too good to me, Margot. I really am very tired,” he sighed as he half-closed his eyes and reclined upon the enormous bed, resting his head atop the soft, down pillows. “Another hour or so and I will be fine though. I just need a little more time,” Kettin Dumas, the new Duke of Talamar, said while the woman dutifully prepared his tea and brought the steaming liquid to his lips.

  “Drink now, my love,” she urged, tipping the mug so that he could sip the brew.

  When she was satisfied that he had enough, she pulled up the heavy feather quilts, smoothed them under his chin and tucked him in as she would have done for a small child. The raven-haired woman then gently kissed him on the forehead and departed the room.

  From the half open doorway, she leaned her broad face in. “Now don’t you move an inch,” she admonished the young Lord. “I will be very angry with you if you disobey me,” the woman chided him, causing Kettin to smile sheepishly from beneath the heavy blankets.

  “Whatever you say, my love. Just promise me you will return before the hour is up,” he replied, and he drifted once more into the dreamless sleep he so enjoyed.

  “I will be back as soon as I can, dearest Kettin. You would not want me to insult your friend from Marathar now, would you? He came all this way to negotiate a trade agreement with us and we should really not keep him waiting any longer. I must hasten to his side and be your representative as best as I am able, with your royal permission of course.”


  “He wants the oil? Will he pay the price for it?” Kettin inquired.

  “He will pay whatever we ask, beloved. After all, there is no other source of Polong oil but ours. What choice does he have if he wishes the lights in Marathar to burn throughout their dark winters?” she replied blithely.

  “Yes, he will, I am sure. Definitely negotiate for me pet. I am far too weary. But have we enough for him and our allies as well?” he inquired.

  “Allies? Who are our allies? Do you really know, Kettin? We must forge new friendships now that your parents are gone. Trust in me, darling. I would never do anything to hurt you. Have I not proven that to you already?” she asked him, her voice literally dripping with sincerity.

  “I do trust you, my love. You have been here for me since that terrible moment. You are the only one that I trust,” he replied, and he laid his head down once more upon the soft pillows.

  Immediately after Duke Leonardo and his wife Dorothea died in that terrible fire, Margot arrived. Kettin never bothered to question wherefrom she came. He was satisfied just to have someone to comfort him and guide him. He, in truth, did not want to make all the decisions himself, and Margot was happy to make them for him. But unlike the others, Fobush and his father, she did not judge him. She was more like his mother in that respect and she loved him too. That was certain. She behaved as if she had been there for him his entire life. No one else treated him with such respect. Margot protected him. She made him feel safe.

  His father’s friends and aides all, to the one, looked down their noses at him. They never gave him the esteem he deserved. And they were so jealous of Margot. He could not understand why they sneered and scoffed whenever he mentioned the rift with Pardatha and Lord Baladar. He had done everything he could have under the circumstances. Margot was right; he did not know who his friends were. But surely, they did not reside in Pardatha. And perhaps not in Talamar either.

  After all, he thought, I did what I had to do, having been insulted so blatantly in that foreign court so many months ago. And to have arrived home from the long and tedious journey on the very same day that my parents become trapped in the castle’s study and burn to death before my very eyes. Where was Fobush then? Why did he not save them? And have they no sympathy for a grieving son? Only Margot. She is the only one who respects me, he sighed, and closed his heavy eyelids once more, barely able to remain awake he was just so tired.

  Chapter Four

  Crimson fire streaked from his fingers in violent bursts, igniting all in its path. He swayed, trance-like from left to right, and unleashed red ribbons of death indiscriminately in all directions. As if in response, the parched soil erupted near and far, spewing viscous streams of seething fluid which clung to every object that they touched, disintegrating the lot almost instantaneously. Not a living thing lingered upon the plains of desolation surrounding his former home. What little still remained standing of Castle Sedahar was glowing a deep crimson in the twilight hours, silhouetted vividly against the setting sun. Afire from within and without, he watched with a wicked satisfaction as it slowly crumbled upon itself, reduced to nothing more than a great pile of molten sand, sanguine and without form.

  Colton dar Agonthea stood upon a small precipice and lashed out with demonic purpose. He was determined to continue until nothing lingered that would be remotely recognizable in his former home. He wished the memories to be extinguished forever and he would not cease until his evil soul was sated. The skies were heavy with death and the stench of it assaulted the very fiber of life that yet abided deep within the soil of this forsaken place. His arms flew from side to side, his long fingers were outstretched and pulsating as he hurled his red and raging fire at whatever entered his field of vision. The heavens churned in response, the earth trembled and what little water still ran or gathered in tepid pools upon this plain of quietus, turned to steam and dissipated into the air, already thick with the debris of his fury.

  He would continue his tirade unabated well into the early morning hours of that terrible day. His furor was unbridled and it would not be satiated by the mere destruction of Sedahar. Never before had he been so humiliated. His armies watched him fail and they ran away, surely with the memories of his defeat etched upon their minds’ eyes. They were all cowards. And their understanding of his desires, of his advocacy, was minimal. Dissolution was his goal, his craving and need, and they were merely pawns in his plan. He required them nevertheless, and now he would need to recruit once more and to train and arm and create, and worst of all, again suffer the associations that would be demanded of him if he hoped to find the boy and kill him.

  His power was enormous, surely far greater than that of any other man or woman. Yet still, he could not defeat his opponents by himself and the frustration that this knowledge caused him was almost unbearable. The trees still wielded their might and the earth responded to them in spite of everything. The heir was yet alive somewhere, waiting to be trained and brought to his full power. And worst of all, the First surely perceived his approach. Colton always sensed the presence of this, the greatest of the trees, upon the planet, shielded by a darkening he could not pierce. He felt its power and he could almost see the purity of the Gem, pulsating and emanating from within its heart. There was an unexplainable tie binding the two of them together. They felt one another from within and he would locate it yet. He was destined to destroy the wellspring of power that dominated all that he opposed, the First, the protector of the Gem, the fount of all the energy that caused him so much enduring and excruciating pain. He would once and for all put out the light that illuminated this accursed planet, that kept it alive

  Even when he was young, the First was a source of conflicted joy. Colton felt its power at all times and he yearned to be near it. Yet, the light that nourished and rejuvenated the other Six, hurt him in a way he could not explain. His yearning matured into a self-absorbed covetousness that excluded all others. He did not wish to share the light, even though his exposure to it became more and more difficult to withstand. Nevertheless, he could neither relax in its warmth and revel in its beauty, nor attain the heights of satisfaction and elation that the others did when its brilliance graced them. He suffered instead, and that misery grew with time until it was unbearable for him to be exposed to the purity and whiteness of the Gem. This wretchedness matured into hatred, until he could think of nothing but destroying the First entirely, and with its demise, hopefully he would extinguish the Gem’s light forever.

  Initially, he kept this animosity and loathing secret from his companions, fearing that there was something terribly wrong with him to cause him to respond in that manner. The others experienced no such reaction to the light of the Gem and they avidly absorbed its radiance. He on the other hand, soon cringed at the prospect of being exposed to its power. It eventually caused him only pain and mental anguish, and he grew bitter and resentful of everyone around him for this situation. The Six gloried in their proximity to the potency, while he reviled it.

  At one time he confided in Calista, but he regretted his admission immediately and never spoke of it again. She was sympathetic, but she could not begin to understand the depths of his misery. She encouraged him to open his heart to the power, but when he did, it seared him to the bone resulting in an unimaginable amount of agony, the extent of which none could comprehend. He felt his memories being stolen, and though he longed for the peace only dissolution could bring, he couldn’’t bear being the victim of this theft. Pain without memory! Without reason. Without cause. And from that moment on, Calista pitied him. He saw it in her eyes every time she gazed upon his face and he felt it in her soul. That was almost as difficult to endure as the suffering itself.

  A tremendous burst of blue fire shot from his outstretched hand, shearing off the top of a large, promontory boulder in the near distance. As it came crashing to the ground, Colton focused his concentration upon the remaining piece and obliterated it with one delicate gesture. He trampled the very soul of the la
nd beneath his malignant feet until it was unrecognizable, reduced to a mass of blackened rubble that would never again accommodate life of any kind. When he was done, when there was nothing left to destroy upon the ground, he raised his arms to the sky and let loose a volley of terrible fire upon the heavens the likes of which the world had not seen since its creation. The noise was deafening, as the skies exploded in billows of emanating death that engulfed the air itself and annihilated even that, leaving a lifeless vacuum in its wake.

  Colton dar Agonthea dropped to his knees and lay his blackened palms upon the ruined soil. He searched deep within the earth for any sign of lingering life and as expected, he found none. His eyes scanned the horizon in a slow and sweeping arc and they witnessed no movement, no life whatsoever. He had accomplished his task.

  He gazed across the valley, behind him to the site that once was castle Sedahar and before him into the barren gorge. He observed nothing but a tablet void of all markings, a barren canvas erased thoroughly and completely by his power, sterile and without features. He would write new words upon the wall of today, his wall.

  As he contemplated the future, he lay his head down and closed his weary eyes upon the new day. But, a yearning crept into his cold heart and would not dissipate regardless of his efforts to curtail it. It took hold of his spirit and he writhed in anguish from the pain, unable to rest even for a moment. He fought with the feelings until he could fight no longer.

  “I will find you and destroy you,” he screamed into the desolate heavens while propping himself up upon his two arms. “My time has come and yours is almost at an end. The fabric unravels faster than you can mend it. Soon, I will be free of you forever and you will no longer cause me any pain.”

  He rose to his knees with an agonizing effort once more and opened his hideous mouth wide. From that gaping hole, a sound issued forth that was so frightening, so horrible, so totally inhuman that it could have sundered the spirit of the greatest of warriors instantly if he or she had been near enough to hear it. Only the First would have recognized the sorrowful lament for what it truly was. The ghastly wail hung thickly upon the dead air, and then finally faded with the slowly emerging morning sun that seemed to be rising so tentatively in the eastern sky.