The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1)

by David F. Farris

  Supido stopped slurping his noodles, which hung into his soup. Damian’s face clouded with embarrassment.

  “I guess that’s a matter of perspective,” the Adren King said.

  “I’m sorry, Supido,” Vitio said. “That was thoughtless of me.”

  Supido wiped his mouth. “No worries. In due time, I will get to experience the joy of what I hear parents complain about so often. And if not simply for the enjoyment of being a parent, then for the necessity of having someone who can carry on the Adren royal blood.” The lanky king looked at Vitio and Damian with appealing eyes. “Is that odd—caring more about the joy of raising a strong child than making sure your royal bloodline doesn’t die out?”

  “No, not at all,” Vitio assured him.

  Supido held his fellow king’s stare for a moment before changing subjects. “Where is Itta?”

  Damian shrugged, and Vitio voiced his agreement: “That about sums up what I know too.”

  “Bastard better be here,” Supido threatened. “We’re trying to help him. We could have swarmed the Dev Kingdom by now.”

  The door abruptly slammed open at the hands of a dirty blond–haired man in burgundy. It was Marcus, the truth extractor Vitio had given to Damian five years ago. However, something was wrong. Marcus was distraught and his eyes were bouncing violently. Spirit Queen Apsa peered anxiously over his shoulder.

  “Someone is hacking into my broadcast ability!” Marcus shouted.

  A holographic display appeared on the opposite wall. The four royal heads stood speechless as they looked on in awe. Pictured in the display was the answer for King Itta’s absence.

  The man with charcoal black hair, who was seated to the left, gave a delighted grin. “Greetings, royal heads and citizens of the Light Realm. Most of you know me as King Storshae of the Dev Kingdom, but those with proper sense call me its prince. I believe that my esteemed colleague needs no introduction.” He looked at Itta and laughed.

  Stunned looks were plastered on almost every face in the room. The exception was Adren King Supido. He was fuming.

  “It pains me deeply that I can’t see your faces right now, but hacking into someone’s recording ability is too difficult for even my Bewahr,” Storshae continued. “However, this broadcast is going out to every major city in the Light Realm.”

  “Is that true?” Supido barked at Marcus.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. The presence felt strangely powerful. That it’s a Gefal behind this makes perfect sense.”

  “I know a lot of you are possibly confused, but we have answers,” Storshae said. He smiled as he turned to look at his ally. “Itta, inform your realm of your traitorous deeds.”

  The Archaic King looked directly at the recorder. “Six months ago, I contacted Prince Storshae with an offer to unite arms against the Intel Kingdom.”

  “Unbelievable,” Vitio muttered to himself as an uproar from outside the palace could be heard.

  Queen Apsa opened the wooden shutters in order to see the streets below. Three holographic displays hovered in the night sky as crowds of angry people swarmed underneath, yelling at the two men in the broadcast.

  “So much for a century of peace,” she said gravely.

  “As most are aware, the Archaic and Dev kingdoms have been cruelly abused by the Intel Kingdom for centuries, so this alliance was clearly to the benefit of our peoples,” Itta said. “If anything, it should have been made a long time ago.

  “Ultimately, Prince Storshae accepted my offer, and we devised a plan to be set in motion. We had a chance to sever the head of the Intel Kingdom at the Generals’ Battle, but this was not successful. And revelation of Vitio’s unexpected trump card—an intelligence officer he had stolen from Storshae’s kingdom nearly two decades ago—has prompted me to announce our alliance publicly. Here are our conditions, all of them which must be met or we will declare war—”

  The broadcast abruptly cut to a different view as Itta’s sentence was replaced by gagging sounds. His face filled the image as a pair of hands strangled him. Bewahr Fonos had teleported from the opposite side of the tent and was choking the Archaic King to death.

  The image panned to Prince Storshae. His grin was gone, and his eyes were enveloped in the dark shadows of his forehead and eyebrows. “Now, I have an announcement of my own. This King Itta was a pathetic fool. He told me one Jestivan would be at the Generals’ Battle, Olivia, a girl he intended on capturing. However, there were a total of six Jestivan in those stands. And not only that, there were four Energy Directors. We entered a battle we had lost before it started.”

  Itta’s gasps for air could still be heard in the background. “So here is my announcement to the Light Realm. This short-lived alliance is over. Do what you like with the Archaic Kingdom. And do what you like with its dim-witted king.”

  The image panned back to Itta, who was now lying limply on the ground. A boot kicked him in the face, smashing the Archaic King’s crown to splinters. “I will keep him alive for you. He’ll be here waiting.”

  Fonos tied up the balding king as Storshae continued: “But I suggest you be quick. He’ll die of thirst if you don’t get here in time. With that said, it’s time to head back home … It’s time to return my father—our proper king—to power, and there is no more Mendac to frustrate the resumption of his reign.”

  With that, the broadcast cut out, leaving the people in every major city of the Light Realm floored.

  ***

  Storshae was preparing for departure of the campgrounds when, somehow, Itta managed to muster up a few words. “You’re a fool if you think you’re getting away with this,” he slurred through broken teeth.

  “I am the Prince of the Dev Kingdom. Although a bit dated, what is the other name my kingdom is known by, Mr. Itta?” He paused before answering it himself. “The Dark Knowledge Kingdom. Everything I do is highly calculated. Now, I must leave before your darling son hunts me down. I’d rather avoid meeting a Branian tonight.” Storshae pulled back the curtain that was behind his desk.

  Itta’s eyes widened. The Jestivan girl was bound to a chair. Her violet hair was covered in so much dirt that it was on the verge of being brown. Her face was unrecognizable from the bruises, but he still knew who she was. The kitten hat sitting askew on her head told it all.

  The Dev Prince instructed Ossen and Fonos to follow him out of the tent. It was time to enter the battle happening outside between the Dev and Archaic soldiers. With Bewahr Fonos entering the fray, massacring the enemy was going to be quick work.

  ***

  Phesaw’s campus glowed in gold as the intelights and lanterns illuminated the evening atmosphere. A large crowd of exuberant students gathered at Wealth’s Crossroads, all with one goal in mind: meeting the Jestivan.

  Eight Jestivan were seated at a long table that had been set up outside of the Lilac Suites. Each of them had a bottle of ink in front of them and a quill in their hand as masses of students approached their favorite members for an autograph. On a normal day, these students would refrain from hassling the Jestivan with star-struck eyes and diarrhea of the mouth. But at this event, that sort of behavior was invited with open arms.

  As Bryson signed autograph upon autograph, he still found it odd how he and his fellow teammates were looked at as idols on campus. It may have become routine to walk through a hallway and see kids stare before turning to their friends with awe-inspired smiles, but when he would lie down at the end of the day and think back on it, it truly was bizarre.

  A young girl, who looked to be around the age of nine, approached Bryson with a nervous smile. One of her adult front teeth had yet to grow in. Her skin was dark like Adren Director Buredo’s, and her hair was straight and deep black.

  “Hey there, young lady,” Bryson said with a smile.

  “Hello, Zana Bryson,” she replied quietly.

  He took a glance at what was in her hands. “What are the running shoes for?” he asked.

  “Sign them! I want to run l
ike you when I’m sixteen.”

  Bryson stared at the silver leather shoes. He couldn’t believe he inspired someone so young in an area he found himself cursing most of the time. As he grabbed his quill and began signing the side of them, he asked, “And what kingdom are you from?”

  “Adren,” she responded.

  A member of the Adren Kingdom envying my speed? Bryson was at a loss for words as, all of a sudden, his appreciation for Debo’s training throughout the years grew a little bit.

  “You skipped two Jestivan from your kingdom to come to me?” he asked.

  She smiled. “I’m going to visit Lita Yama and Zana Toshik too! But I wanted to meet you first.”

  The little girl stuck out her hand for a handshake, which Bryson humorously accepted. She then looked at a young boy with red hair who was standing behind him, and asked, “Who is he?”

  Bryson turned to look at his friend and said, “This is Simon, and one day, the two of you will be the next big things on this campus.”

  As the other Jestivan calmly signed autographs, Jilly stood at the far end of the table, giving high-fives and enthusiastic bear hugs to her fans. Some challenged her to arm wrestling and thumb war competitions, which she accepted without hesitation. In fact, the students were having so much fun with her that they’d walk away without even realizing they forgot to get an autograph.

  A huge cluster of girls waited impatiently to reach the Jestivan’s heartthrob, Toshik. Two young women, who both swore they were next, got into a scuffle, tearing at the dresses and elegant hairstyles they’d worn to impress the handsome Jestivan.

  “You’re not deserving of attention like that,” said the snowy-haired boy sitting to his right while continuing to absent-mindedly sign his autographs. “You’re a disgusting man.”

  Toshik laughed. “I enjoy it.”

  Tashami shook his head in disbelief.

  To nobody’s surprise, Lilu had drawn the biggest crowd. Not only was she a Jestivan, she was a royal. She had status, money, fame, beauty, and power. She encompassed everything. She was an elegant and benevolent flower, but at the same time, a powerful and assertive avalanche of unyielding rocks that could crush said flower when needed.

  As always, her posture was perfectly upright. Her smile was sweet and pearly. Nothing was fabricated. She truly loved this sort of thing. She loved knowing that so many people looked up to her.

  Sitting next to Lilu was Yama, who seemed to be just going through the motions. Unlike Lilu, there was no flower present in Yama’s soul—just rocks. But this was what people expected from her. So when she’d give a disinterested greeting with a staged smile as she signed whatever was in front of her, nobody was upset. They were just happy to walk away with their heads still attached to their bodies.

  Since Agnos was no fighter, he was mostly left alone. The few exceptions were his fellow Archaic students. Most of them were more interested in picking his mind than getting his autograph. A small handful of students huddled in front of him, debating Kuki Sphaira’s origins, the existence of consciousness, and many other things.

  The Energy Directors mingled behind the Jestivan, doing their best to not talk about work and enjoy themselves for once. But their small talk was cut short when a vast holographic display lit up the night sky—its source somewhere beyond the trees of Phesaw Park. The students stopped and looked up. Some put their hands to their open mouths in shock as murmurs crept through the crowd. They recognized Archaic King Itta. However, the other man was a mystery to most. When he finally introduced himself as Dev Prince Storshae, Wealth’s Crossroads was bathed in a frightened silence. Then there were gasps as King Itta announced his alliance, and still more when he was strangled.

  When the broadcast finished and disappeared from the sky, Bryson darted toward Debo. “That’s who took Olivia!” he shouted. “That teleporter. It has to be. No one else would have been a match for her.”

  The Intel Director looked at Bryson with sad eyes. “You must stay within yourself,” he said.

  “Let’s go get her!” Bryson shouted above the din behind him—a cacophony of fear and rage. “Who knows what happened to Grand Director Poicus. Your idea didn’t work. It’s time to send us!”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Debo replied.

  “Why don’t you care?!”

  “I’M NOT LOSING YOU!”

  Bryson had never seen Debo erupt like this, but he didn’t miss a beat. “AND I’M NOT LOSING HER!”

  It wasn’t anger that was animating his voice. It was desperation. Bryson had no mother, no father, no siblings. The man who had raised him could no longer be completely trusted. And that trust was dwindling even further as Debo denied his pleas to save his best friend.

  Debo’s face softened as he stared down into Bryson’s blue eyes. “You hate me. That’s fine, but you are not going to search for her,” he said softly. He shook his head as he walked past Bryson and toward the school.

  As Bryson stared blankly into the middle distance, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He didn’t turn to see who it was. He didn’t care. Lilu stepped in front of him, but he still gazed through her. She embraced him, and Bryson took a deep breath of her begonia’s scent—the same flower she’d worn in her hair when they first met so many months ago.

  While standing limp in her arms, a cool wind blew past—a wind he had felt before. Something caught his attention on the roof of the Lilac Suites … a black silhouette of a graceful body and a dress blowing in the wind. Then it disappeared and a message carried through the wind once again …

  “Which is almost in sight …”

  22

  A Familiar Face

  The Energy Directors gathered inside of Phesaw’s judgment room, the site of students’ trials and punishments. With the commotion calmed outside and an early curfew for the night put into effect, it was time to focus on business. A long, curved table that was raised high above the rest of the floor on a platform occupied one side of the room. The rest was vast floor space where a student would typically stand at the center. Tonight, however, it was a Dev servant—their connection to Grand Director Poicus.

  Intel Director Debo sat at the center of the table. “Check to see whether it’s safe to contact Director Poicus.”

  The man closed his eyes for a minute before reopening them. “He’s ready.”

  “Start it up,” Debo commanded.

  A hologram appeared. “For you to contact me so soon after already talking with me this morning, something must have happened,” Poicus said, dispensing with any greetings.

  “We’ve learned why you’ve had no success the past month,” Debo said.

  His hairy eyebrow rose. “Do tell.”

  “She’s in the Archaic Kingdom, held captive by King Itta. Or was. Storshae may have taken her back to his realm with them.”

  “What?” Poicus stammered. “But none of the Dev intruders have returned.”

  “They’re on their way now. They’ve been hiding in the Archaic Kingdom for the past several weeks. Itta had allied with the Dev Kingdom, and he escorted Storshae’s army into the Intel Kingdom.”

  “I guess I’m coming back,” Poicus said. “I’m assuming everyone will be sending armies to occupy Itta’s land.”

  “I think you can still prove useful down there,” Debo said.

  The other Energy Directors eyed him suspiciously. “What more can he do down there?” Archaic Director Senex asked. “Even if Storshae has Olivia, Poicus can’t handle a Gefal.”

  “You haven’t heard the last thing that Storshae said,” Debo continued, ignoring Senex. “‘It’s time to return my father—our proper king—to power, and there is no more Mendac to frustrate the resumption of his reign.’”

  “So he’s still alive,” Poicus concluded.

  “Correct. Since you’re already in the Dev Kingdom, and because of your ability, I ask of you to find Rehn’s grave—if there even is one.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t a petty matter?”
Passion Director Venustas asked. “Everyone agrees that Mendac obviously killed him.”

  Poicus thought for a moment, twirling the tail of an eyebrow. “King Rehn was never a petty matter in the past, so we will not treat him like one now … even if he’s supposedly dead. I will investigate. And I’ll be back before you know it.”

  ***

  “It’s a disgrace that you can’t use your Intel Energy,” Princess Shelly scolded as she threw an electric ball at a rubber target in the palace’s courtyard.

  Bryson wasn’t offended. “I agree.” Shelly looked surprised by his acceptance of her insult.

  “Why didn’t you go with your father to the realm meeting?” Bryson asked. “You went to the first one.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to go to that one either. If a kingdom’s royal head must leave the capital for whatever reason, the successor is obliged to stay.”

  “Then how did you get away with it?”

  She smirked. “One of the soldiers who had a boyish crush on me snuck me into a carriage.”

  “And you got away with that?” Bryson asked in disbelief.

  “Oh, we were found out, of course. The soldier was court-martialed. I believe he shovels manure in the stables now. Luckily for me, my father doesn’t know how to properly discipline a daughter, so I received only a half-hearted lecture.”

  “So why was it so important for you to go?”

  “To visit a cemetery. Don’t judge me,” she added with a laugh.

  “You’re one of the last people I’d expect to see in a cemetery.”

  “That whole idea was Suadade’s.”

  Bryson’s interest was piqued. “What does your Branian want with a graveyard?”

  Shelly’s lips pursed. “To visit his grave. To be reminded that he has died already before, that he doesn’t need to be scared of anything else.”

  Bryson decided to not push the topic further, and Shelly reverted to what they were supposed to be discussing.