The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal)

by Beam, Brian

  Max let out a deep sigh. “As I mentioned, Raijom was ambitious. He was always looking for ways to expand his abilities. Nearly every spare moment he possessed was spent researching different forms of magic. Sometimes we would even do research and experiments together. In fact, it was during those times that I discovered the process of soul transference which, as you have witnessed, has allowed me to live when I should have died.

  “One day, Raijom called me down to his private study. He sent me a message saying he had discovered something incredible, something that would have untold implications for magic usage. I remember the feeling of excitement as I went to meet him.” Max dropped his head, closing his eyes. “If only I had known what I was about to learn.”

  “Max . . .”

  Max silenced me with a shake of his head. “Raijom was ecstatic about his discovery. He had identified a new form of magic energy, a form that could only be drawn from a human body at its precise moment of death. He had discovered negative energy.”

  “Wait, wouldn’t that make him a murderer?” I cut in, unable to restrain myself. I couldn’t suppress the biting anger in my voice. My heart was slamming into my ribs, my face heating. “Why would Raijom have been allowed to serve under my father when he was a murderer?”

  Max had once explained to me that negative energy could only be drawn from beings of intellect at the exact moment of their death. The caveat was that the death had to be at the hands of the one drawing the energy. If Raijom had figured out how to employ negative energy, then he must’ve killed another human to do so.

  Max eyes snapped up to me, concerned. I then realized that I had been screaming at him. I lowered my eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. “I’m sorry, Max.”

  Max nodded slowly, eyeing me a moment longer before speaking as if to make sure I was okay. “I should explain. The first Prime Sovereign firmly believed in the execution of criminals who took the lives of others. These executions were, and continue to be, performed by wizards.”

  “Why wizards?”

  “Although magic energy is prevalent in Paigea’s environment, it can still be drawn directly from living beings through direct physical contact, though doing so is outlawed. As I have told you, all organic sources in Paigea, including humans, emanate magic energy in infinitesimal amounts. All of those infinitesimal amounts add up to near-infinite levels. Therefore, there is no need to ever draw magic energy directly from a living source.

  “Drawing magic energy from sentient beings in Paigea works the same as it does here in Amirand, with the risk of destroying the source’s sense of self or even killing them. Wizards perform the executions by doing just that. The magic energy drawn from their bodies is then used to either aid the families of their victims or the general population. This aid can take many forms such as forging magic items to be sold in order to compensate the families or providing healing to those who cannot afford it. Given that magic energy is always readily available in Paigea, the entire process is merely symbolic. However, it is a gesture that helps to provide comfort and closure to anyone negatively affected by those executed.”

  As strange as the whole concept was, it made sense. Kind of. It was system of balance, bringing forth a measure of good from something undeniably evil.

  “In time, Raijom requested to participate in some of these executions.” Max continued. “For him, it was purely academic, a means of learning more about the utilization of magic energy. He wished to discover if there were any differences between magic energy drawn directly from humans and that drawn from the general environment. Approaching the executions as a matter of research, he went about drawing out the magic energy methodically, and that is how he eventually discovered what he termed negative energy.”

  A sudden chill ripped through my body, though it had nothing to do with the cold of the night. Pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, I braced myself for what I expected to come next in Max’s story.

  “Raijom, of course, wanted to experiment with the negative energy. At the time, I knew nothing of what the energy was, but it had cast a sense of wrongness over Raijom, a sensation you have felt yourself around eldrhims and Prexwin. I knew that there was something dark about it. Something evil. I refused to assist him in any way and advised that he refrain from researching the negative energy. My words went unheeded, though.

  “For months after his discovery, Raijom remained silent about his research, but I could feel negative energy radiating from him any time he was near. Around this time, your mother announced that she was with child, hers and your father’s first. That child was you, Korin. I wish I could explain to you the happiness you brought them before you were even born.” Max’s raspy voice was touched by sadness. “Your mother had a glow about her that increased daily. Your father did not go a single day without expressing his excitement.”

  My lips pulled up into a smile, my earlier anger completely forgotten. Having never known my birth parents, Max’s words provided me with a connection to their love. Before this moment, all I’d known of my parents had come from fragments of memories reflected in my dreams. I caught Max smiling as well, his glistening eyes staring blankly as if looking into the past.

  Then Max’s smile dropped. “Then came your mother’s Blessing Day . . .” Max trailed off, seeming to notice my confusion. “I nearly forgot that the Blessing Day is not celebrated here. In Paigea, the first day of the fifth moon cycle during pregnancy is known as the Blessing Day. From that point forward, the child’s life is deemed viable. On the Blessing Day, a priest visits to issue a prayer for Loranis to watch over the child’s life so that he or she may grow to live out a long and prosperous life. The priest then bestows his own blessing upon the mother and child.”

  The whole problem with my mouth having a mind of its own once again came to light as my typical religious cynicism bubbled to the surface. “So they’re kind of crazy with the whole god and goddess worship thing in Paigea, too, huh?” Given the gravity of our conversation and my vacillating emotions, maybe my subconscious was just trying to lighten the mood.

  Max was not amused. “Actually, Mr. Cannot Follow Max’s One Simple Rule, in Paigea, Loranis is the only god widely worshipped. Though my time in Amirand has dulled my beliefs with the inane worship of gods like Phrangastus, the almighty god of gambling, I still hold to the recorded history of Loranis and Rizear.”

  The recorded history that Max had mentioned was the general lore that Loranis had created the world, walking the land in human form until Rizear attempted to plague his creation with fire, pain, and death. Loranis, wanting to preserve the lives he’d created, gave up his power, imbuing it into the land and its people. Doing so protected the world from Rizear, keeping the god of death and his eldrhims eternally separated from it. Or so preach those that believe in such things.

  Anyway, countless gods and goddesses were supposedly born from the dispersion of Loranis’s power, dedicating themselves to watching over every aspect of Loranis’s creation. That’s the reason for the absurd number and types of gods and goddesses worshipped in Amirand. From what Max had just told me, it appeared Paigea had left out this part. I was liking this other world already.

  Sorry. I digress.

  “May I continue without any other stupid questions?” Max inquired, standing with his arms crossed over his fuzzy chest. Properly chagrined, I nodded. Max moved on.

  “Raijom was supposed to be present on your mother’s Blessing Day. When he did not show, I went to check on him immediately after the ceremony. He was not in his bedchamber, so I went to his private study where he performed the majoirty of his research and experiments. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found.”

  Max visibly swallowed, his pointy teeth biting his lower lip. “There was blood everywhere. Furniture was broken and splintered. Shattered glass and ripped parchment littered the floor. Irregular holes dotted the carpet, sinking a hand’s depth into the floor as if something had melted away the stone. The sense of wr
ongness that accompanies negative energy permeated the room, more strongly than I had ever felt before. There was no immediate sign of Raijom, and I received no answer when I called his name. I feared for the worst.

  “I called out an alarm, not knowing if there was a danger present in the castle or if Raijom had simply fallen victim to an experiment gone wrong. As the castle guards were undoubtedly taking your parents to safety, I frantically searched the room, sure that I would find Raijom’s dead body. I finally found him beneath an overturned desk, covered with debris.

  “He held to life by a thread, his body mangled, broken, and torn. His robes were shredded, exposing his vicious injuries. For the most part, his skin had been eaten away to muscle and bone. His face was nearly unrecognizable. He should have been dead. No human body can take that much abuse, lose that much blood, and still live.” Max turned to me sharply. “No one.”

  Max’s grave tone sent a shudder through my body. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, knowing what had truly happened to Raijom, but allowing Max to reveal it in his own words.

  “Even with magic, it took weeks to fully heal Raijom’s body. Despite healing his physical injuries, he remained comatose. A full month passed before he awoke.” Max fell silent.

  “Max?” I prompted.

  Max slowly lifted his attention to me. “I was the one at Raijom’s bedside when he first spoke. Even in his weakened state, his eyes flared with excitement. With a fierce smile, one that did not fit the prophet I had always known, he told me what had happened. I was the first to hear that Raijom had discovered how to summon eldrhims.”

  Chapter 33

  Prophecy’s Birth, Max’s Death

  Some things just can't be properly processed by the human mind. Like when a child first learns of death, for example. The first time they experience the death of someone close to them, their mind can’t fully grasp the concept of what has happened. They can’t comprehend why their mother no longer tucks them in at night or why their best friend doesn’t come over to play Knights and Dragons anymore.

  When Max explained Raijom’s admission of eldrhim summoning, I felt much the same way. My mind couldn’t make sense of why anyone would commit such a vile act. Even if the summoning had been an accident, Raijom had been happy about what he’d done! And having been nearly killed by eldrhims on several occasions by this point, I was pretty sure that Raijom hadn’t stopped his usage of negative energy after this one instance.

  Max had gone silent again. I placed my hand on his back to rouse him, yearning to hear more. “Max?”

  Max started with a twitch, breaking from his reverie. “I am sorry. I was just . . .” He dropped his head. “I cannot help but wonder if I could have done something back then, if you would still be with your parents if I had.”

  I saw no need for Max to dwell on what could’ve been. The past was the past, and it couldn’t be changed. As Chasus had once told me, “Life is a constant journey, one that requires us to keep moving forward. If we spend all our time looking over our shoulders, we’ll do nothing but twist our ankles.”

  “You couldn’t have known how everything would turn out,” I stressed.

  “No, Korin, but I should have recognized the sickness that had wormed through Raijom’s mind,” Max insisted.

  Before I could argue, Max moved on. “Your father forbade Raijom from participating in further executions and ordered him to cease his research on negative energy. Whatever had happened in Raijom’s study was not something that your father wanted repeated. He requested that Raijom take a short leave from service to fully recover.

  “Of course, your father did not believe that Raijom had actually summoned an eldrhim; none who knew of what happened did. We simply assumed that Raijom’s claims were attributed to exhaustion and the effects of the negative energy. After all, eldrhims are viewed as a myth in Paigea just as they are here.

  “After a week, Raijom returned to your father’s service. He apologized for his actions, claiming he had overworked himself before, that he had not been in his right mind when professing to have summoned eldrhims. He vowed to respect your father’s wishes to abstain from researching negative energy. Everything was ostensibly back to the way it had been. Sadly, that was not to last long.”

  Max looked back to me. “And this is where you come into the story,” he said with a wistful smile and a twitch of his black nose. “I remember when the announcement was sent through the land that Ingran Zachary Lemweir, the next Prime Sovereign, had been born. I was speaking on your father’s behalf in a nearby city when I heard the news, your father having refused to leave the castle during the final days leading up to your birth. He would not allow anything to prevent him from witnessing your entry into the world.”

  Warmth spread through my veins and tears burned at the corners of my eyes. There was no reason to have such a strong emotional attachment to the parents I’d never known, but I was deeply affected nonetheless.

  At the same time, the realization that I’d been born the Prime Sovereign’s heir finally struck me, assaulting my mind with a tumultuous onslaught of feelings. I’d grown up on a simple farm, learning to care for animals and crops, while my birth father would’ve likely been teaching me to oversee an empire. Still, I’d been brought up with unconditional love, raised to become a good man. I hadn’t missed out on a thing.

  “I rushed back to Lantrim, the capital city of Paigea and home to the Prime Sovereign’s seat of power,” Max recalled. “When I arrived, I was told that Raijom and I had been summoned to the nursery to see you. You see, when a new life comes into the world, it brings with it a sense of magic, one that can invoke visions in prophets such as Raijom as to what the future may hold for it. In the case of royalty, both in Paigea and in Amirand, having a prophet divine whether or not their progeny will grow to live full, healthy lives is a common practice.

  “When I met with Raijom, I could tell something was wrong. His eyes were sunken and dark, and he spoke few words. There was no direct sensation of negative energy around him, but something felt off, as if there were something I should have been seeing that had been purposely hidden from my eyes. Excited to see you for the first time, however, I ignored my misgivings about Raijom’s condition.” Max flashed me a sad smile.

  “When we arrived, Galvin and Kailyth welcomed us with the raidant glow and smiles of proud new parents. I could already see much of your mother in you. Every time I see your eyes, I still think of her.” Max turned his eyes up to the sky. I followed his gaze to see the first fat snowflakes of the first legitimate snowfall of winter. They danced lazily in the balmy breeze, majestically shining in the lantern’s light before melting upon contact with the ground.

  Max stepped forward to the edge of the outcropping, watching the snowflakes drift to the lake below. “The instant Raijom saw you, he clutched his face in his hands and let out a horrible cry as if the sight of you had set his mind aflame. I had seen Raijom have strange reactions when prophesying before, but this was different. He fell to the ground, his body jerking fiercely.

  “Your father and I had to combine our efforts in order to restrain Raijom’s violent thrashing. Once he stilled, he stared directly into your father’s eyes. Then he told your father the prophecy I have told you of, the one that led to your ousting from Paigea.” Max paused, his eyes sliding closed. “The one that has Raijom wanting you dead.”

  My entire body froze. It was difficult to draw air into my lungs.

  Max turned his attention to me, apparently noticing that I was shocked to the point of paralysis. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  “Max,” I began, dropping my legs over the outcropping’s edge once more, “I know you feel the prophecy should be left to be played out, that it could be disrupted by telling me of its contents—”

  Max chuckled wryly. “All I have given you are selfish excuses,” he admitted. “Prophecies happen or they do not; nothing is ever definite. Besides, Raijom has already done—is still doing—mor
e to disrupt his prophecy than you ever could.”

  “Nonetheless,” I continued dryly, “I need to hear it.”

  “Okay,” Max replied softly, the lantern’s light flickering fitfully across his face. “Raijom’s words are burned into my memory as surely as my own name. Raijom told your father, ‘This child will bring about your end, my king. He will willingly release a radiant fury upon you, ending your life and your reign. All that you have worked for, all that you have built, will crumble to ashes in the flames of what this boy will engender.’” Max stopped, gauging my reaction.

  Frankly, I was just numb, both inside and out. It was difficult to hear that I’d been prophesied to kill my own father, destroying the very good he’d achieved. Even more difficult was finding myself accepting that it could be true.

  “Max, if my father’s in Gualain, if he’s behind this war,” I whispered, my constricting throat prohibiting me from speaking any louder, “then maybe the prophecy is true. Maybe I will have to kill him to end this war.”

  Releasing those words brought the weight of burden upon me, pressing down on my shoulders as if trying to drive me through the rock below. All this time, I’d suspected that the prophecy had involved me stopping Raijom, but not in this way. Not by killing my own father.

  The world seemed to spin in my vision, a literal translation of how my life was spiraling out of control. I was just a simple boy from a simple farm. How could I be the estranged heir of an entire land? How could I be prophesied to kill my own father? Could the outcome of a war against the magically enslaved living and dead rest upon my actions?

  “Korin,” Max snapped, bringing my attention back into focus. “Do not go down that path just yet. I still believe that your father is not behind Gualain’s war. He is a good man.”

  “All you know is that my father was a good man.” My words came out harsher than intended. “What if Raijom has corrupted him?” I asked, wiping the wetness from my face. Surely it was from the snow, not tears.