by R. R. King
The court lets out a silent shriek.
The Harpist plays.
I elevate off the floor even more.
The Harpist plays again.
I elevate higher and higher, almost at the King’s level. I can draw a straight line between our distant eyes.
The soldiers are ready for war.
“What in the name of…” Dragan scoffs down there on the ground.
I can hear the dragon’s heavy breathing behind me. A man who elevates this high is a threat to them.
The King claps two hands. Ever so slowly.
“I accept your proof,” he says. “For you could not have learned the scarce Art of Elevation and not defeated Rodmordt.”
Part III
Land Beyond the Dark
“Shadow is to man what truth is to lies.”
~ The Quest for Light is a Journey into Darkness by Lucian de Lore
26
Black & White
A few heartbeats later, I am standing inside a royal chamber, luxuriously designed with black and gold columns spiraling up to an arched ceiling painted in amber. A work of art more than a guest house. The maid behind me bows with respect and hands me a triangular bell that I should be ringing in case I needed her for anything. She has not only offered me food and shelter and wine, but also a woman to spend the night with me if I so wished.
I deny myself the pleasure of a beautiful young woman as a gift from King Thorn. Not only do I not prefer not to touch a woman he probably has before me, but I am also worried about her being a spy.
The maid closes the heavily gated door behind her and leaves me to myself.
Paranoid, I walk slowly, looking around. It’s hard to believe the King believed my story. It’s even harder to fully understand what just happened. I came here for a reason I dare not confess to myself — at least not now — and he is a mystery I can’t solve.
The scene of my Elevation in his court seems like a dream. My mother would have been proud. I have passed the Steps of Days. The first step, to be precise.
Six steps left.
I sit next to a vaulted window, watching the King’s empire from inside out. No Lurker has ever been so close. I am the first of my kind. It’s still a long road.
Something vibrates under my hood. A secret pocket only I know about. I reach inside and pull out an orb. Small and black, you would mistake it for a stone. It is a precious stone of some Dark Magic and is usually paired with a white one, the same exact size and curvature and texture.
The white one is in Dragan’s pocket. I planted it as he grudgingly walked me to my chamber. He doesn’t know about it.
The vibration is an Indication of Allowance. I can now overhear his conversation with King Thorn. All until Dragan realizes he has a small stone in his pocket and throws it away, wondering how it got inside.
“Do you believe him, my King?” Dragan’s voice is bitter with defeat.
“He convinced us, didn’t he?” The King sounds as if chewing on a fruit.
“No, he didn’t,” Dragan growls. “Well…” His words slow down as if he is losing speech. “I can’t explain how he elevated himself, but that still doesn’t show he killed Rodmordt.”
“It is proof enough to me,” King Thorn bites on his fruit again.
“If I may ask, why aren’t you worried, my King? This man intends to come as close to you as possible so he can kill you. I have no doubts.”
“You have no doubts but have no proof. Shadow has proof. Didn’t you see the look on my soldiers, staring at a man who can almost fly?”
“I did, but…”
“It’s hard to believe, but we all saw it. Imagine what my army learning such a power. We will be invincible in the battlefield.”
“So you’re hosting the Lurker because of his powers, not because he convinced you he kill Rodtmordt?”
“To tell you the truth, Dragan, I am not sure. But I am not killing Shadow, not tonight,” King Thorn says. It occurs to me that the King considers Dragan more than a guard. The way they speak is as if they were friends. “Also, don’t forget that Shadow fits the fortune teller’s predictions.”
“Who?” Dragan snorts. “Delight of the Dark?”
“Yes. Didn’t she predict that only a man named Shadow can oppose and change the prophecy by killing the Six Giants before they kill me?”
“If I may say, my King, she is only your wife’s teller, and she can not be trusted.”
“How about the fact that she predicted Shadow’s arrival to the Season of Snow after three years of my attempted assassination?“
“I am in loss for words, my King. I don’t believe the Lurker is the real Shadow — if there ever was a man by that name. And I don’t believe the Lurker’s stories. It seems he has mastered the art of telling a story that you are…”
“I am what…?”
“Pardon my impoliteness, but I think you are infatuated by the Lurker.”
“Indeed, I am,” King Thorn says. ”No one has entertained me this much for a long, long time.”
“So he is an entertainer?”
“And a Warrior.”
“This frustrates me, my King. Never have I met an educated warrior like him, or an entertaining warrior like him. This isn’t good, and I fear for you.”
“You can’t fear for me. I can kill Shadow whenever I want. At the time, I am intrigued by his mystery and who he is. If he is an honest warrior who is here for an exchange of food for a kill. If he turns out to be a liar with meticulous intentions of some sorts, I shall…”
“Kill him.” Dragan says.
“No, Dragan. I will not kill a man like him unless I know what he wants. Don’t you understand? Let alone the fact that I need to learn his talent first.”
There is a long period of silence. A peculiar silence. I can hear Dragan’s infrequent breathing, showing his distress and confusion. A lot of ego is involved as well. Then there is the King’s steadily calm breathing. An unshakable man. Nothing is worrying him — which worries me a lot.
In my mind, this is the closest I got to King Thorn so far. If not close enough to look into his eyes, but enough to hear him breathing. Not only does own a powerful voice, but a mysterious one. I can’t tell for sure what his intentions are, not with the fruit he is eating, ever so nonchalantly.
Right now, I could have used Elurian Magic with the white rock in Dragan’s pocket and killed them both. It would have been a Poisonous Elixir or the like. But I am not here to kill the King. Killing won’t do it.
I am curious about him as much as he is about me. Sometimes I feel like he knows me. Who I am. What I have done. And what I am about to do. But that is impossible.
Then again, why is he so calm? Why does believe the unbelievable things I say — not that all my words are lies, far from it, but some are.
“Dragan,” the King says. “Tomorrow I want you to declare the death of my brother, Rodmordt.”
“What in the name of…?”
“Do not interrupt me. Let the word spread, and let the people react.”
“Is this a tactic?”
“Do it.” The King’s words were firm, a little overreacting this time.
“As you wish, my King. What about the Lurker?”
“Make sure he spends a good night. And that he sleeps well. Tomorrow I want him to tell me about the Season of Words, and how killed its ruler.”
“You will hear another story?”
“Six more if he makes it. As long as I believe him, he can tell me stories.”
“This means you will let him closer and closer.”
The King laughs. A resonating, confident laugh. So much I find myself laughing back at the black stone in my hand. “You cannot imagine my undivided desire to look into Shadow’s eyes.”
27
Beautiful Lies
Dragan visits me in my room and recites the King’s orders. I pretend I haven’t heard them, but I show no emotion. The old warrior leaves, and I am alone again.
&nb
sp; Tonight I will sleep. I have a story to tell tomorrow, but before I do, I remember my mother. I remember the Well of Willows. My eyelids are heavy, proposing a long night’s sleep. Exhausted, I see my mother’s image in my mind’s eye. A blurry image from an old memory. She is talking to me…
“Soon you will be a man, Shadow,” she says. I am in the bottom of the well again. Her voice is deep and assuring but it’s not echoing against the damp walls. “Soon you will fulfill your destiny.”
I nod with respect. I am on my knees, wearing my cloak, head down, hands laced in front of me. My hands are chained.
“Do you know what your destiny is?”
I nod again, obediently. “To meet the King and—”
“That’s enough,” she shushes me. “A secret frequently remembered is no secret, remember?”
“I know, mother.”
“Now tell me, Shadow, do you know how to tell a beautiful lie?”
“Beautiful?” I grimace underneath the cloak.
“Only a good lie is beautiful,” she says. “People think they can tell lies but they are wrong. They tell ugly lies, blunt, and easy to detect.”
I say nothing. I am listening.
“A beautiful lie is one that lasts, sometimes for decades, even forever. You know how many lies these books have told you?” She points the pile of books on the wet floor.
I am confused. I say nothing.
“Historian tell the most beautiful lies, Shadow. Do you know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because telling a lie is like weaving a beautiful carpet,” she says. “To make your lie believable, to make it last, you have to weave it within the fabric of truth.”
I am thinking.
“Remember that blade you found when we were outside yesterday?” She says.
“I do.”
“When you show it to someone, don’t just show it,” she says. I neglect the fallacy of her example, since I hardly meet anyone but her and my stepfather. “Tell me a story about it. A grand epic, enchanting, and emotional story. One that has as much truth in it as lies. Make things up, but make them up beautiful. Have the listener gripped and chained by your mysterious story. Let them beg for more. Confuse them. Not all storylines have to find conclusions, as long as you present another one that is as interesting and emotional.”
I raise my head and meet her eyes. “Would that make them want to listen more?”
She nods with a smile, “As long as you weave fact into fiction,” she pats my shoulder. “And then, when the time is right, when the listener is hypnotized by your tale, tell them about your fascinating blade. Tell them about the blade that helped you win all those battles you explained earlier. That magic blade, however old and rusty and blunt and ordinary, will seem like a treasure to the listener. That’s the moment when you can sell it to them. By sell, I mean sell them the lie. Do you understand?”
“Not quite, mother.” I say. “Is this the kind of lies I will tell the king?”
She laughs and shakes my head in her hands. “I am so proud of you. You’re one of a kind, Shadow. You will fulfill the prophecy, I believe that.”
My eyes are rainbows in a golden sky. My soul is the sum of birds fluttering outside my well. My heart is a perpetual song of mirth. Being told that I am the one is what keeps me sane. It’s what helps me tolerate the isolation in the bottom of the well. The pain. The Sorrow. It’s all for a reason. And the reason is that I am special.
My mother unchains me for being a good boy, and hands me a book that will forever be my friend. The Quest for Light is a Journey into Darkness by Lucian de Lore.
As she leaves the room, I find myself counting the days to meet with King Thorn. Not only will it fulfill my destiny and allow me to save the Lurkers in the Land Beyond the Light and Land beyond the Dark, but most of all, I can’t wait to leave this damned well.
Drops of water are trickling down the wall behind me.
I open the first page and see my mother has written a dedication. I am surprised she has written it in her name, which she rarely uses. It reads:
To my Shadow,
in light and night,
in serenity and sin,
in spark and dark.
Your mother, Delight of the Dark
THE END
Shadow will be back in
The Shadow of Words (The Seven Seasons Book 2)
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Please turn the page and read my Author Notes. It means a lot to me.
Robert’s Author Notes
Thank you for reading my little book until the end. I cannot express my appreciation enough and could not be happier.
Ever since I was in elementary school, I loved to read. I have to admit that sheer aloneness and repeated grounding increased my desire to lose myself into other worlds of fiction.
I got grounded often, which is something I am ironically grateful for. Otherwise, I doubt my reading experience would have become so intense and enjoyable. It’s hard to imagine my life without books now.
I wasn’t popular in school. Far from it. It didn’t mean I was lonely though. I made friends with hundreds of characters from books. My imagination ran wild everyday.
I still read everyday, to disengage from the world, to entertain myself, and to make more friends. I am a professional escapist :)
I love a mystery. A world different from ours. Unlike most, I like characters that are unbelievable. I have no use for a believable character whose motives are crystal clear. I love the hero who rises up from the ashes and discovers who he is in the journey.
Like everyone else, I’ve been reading a lot of fantasy. Though I am enamored by the genre, I am also fed up with the repetitive use of the same battles and races in most of the books. I do have tremendous respect for magic system though.
I am not sure if the Shadow of the Blade is a fantasy. All I know is that in my mind I wanted to write a story based on two ideas I had.
The first was a conversation between a king and a peasant of sorts. The king sits high in his throne and peasant wants to reach for him. Why? We shall know soon, if you will give book 2 a chance.
The second idea was the use of made up quotes from books that existed in this universe only. Why? I have no idea. You will have to ask the monkey in my head.
When I started writing I suddenly realized who Shadow was and what he wanted from the King. I also realized who the king was and what he wanted from Shadow. With those two elements clear to me, I felt free to tell a lush story the way I imagined it.
Shadow still has a lot on his plate. A few more stories to tell, especially what happened in the Season of Words. He also needs to find peace with his past, and find solace in the future. He may come across as an underdeveloped character but hey, Shadow is a mystery, even to himself. The truth will unfold as the story continues, the way our destinies do as life goes by.
But then again, who am I to say. I am just a dude writing stuff, far from being on top of my craft (not even average) but only sharing what I have. I don’t even have the guts to call myself an ‘author’. I would prefer Storyteller, or even better ‘that dude who thinks he can tell a story’.
Please, if you enjoyed this book give it a rating on Amazon. Your kind words and encouragement help any author. I will continue to the next story whether you provide an outstanding review or not. However, it might get done a bit faster with the encouragement.
Want to follow Shadow in his journey, even share your thoughts about him and what he is after? Want to know more about the Seven Seasons? Why seven, not four? How did seasons scatter across the lands? Is the Season of Snow actually Winter? If so, which one is summer, spring, and fall? What is the history of this world? What is the Break of Days? And why is there a Season missing?
Copyright © R. R. King & Cameron Jace 2017
All Rights Reserved
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