“You know who, sister. Do you not listen to your dreams?”
“Yes, but I do not understand them,” sobbed Iolana.
“You do understand them. Do not be afraid to follow them. Your dreams simply attempt to give you the confidence to believe that you should do what you already know is right.”
“My dreams do not reveal anything about these tests. I do not even know what test has been given today.”
“It was a test for you. It was a test of humility. You helped those around you to become greater. You passed today’s test.”
“And this is all we are to do?” asked Iolana, ever more confused. “Simply continue being tested. For what reason? Why? What do we stand to gain?”
“You stand to gain everything,” replied Tallulah. “I know of your quest. I know of your dreams. He is the one, Sister. What you have thought was true, is true.”
“What of my love?” asked Iolana.
“You know where that belongs as well.”
“And of the prophecy?”
“All answers can only come with time. For now, go to Aella of the plains. Continue your quest.”
Tallulah smiled at her sister and then turned from her, silently walking back into the wall of water. As she disappeared, the tiny island rumbled and the water boiled and retreated, leaving Iolana as she had been before, staring at the surface of the ocean and waiting for Evercloud. Minutes passed, and soon a sopping Evercloud climbed back onto the sandy island.
“Nothing!” he barked, spitting water from his mouth, “absolutely nothing.” Evercloud shook the water from his body and then stopped, noticing that Iolana held an eagle feather in her hand, and there were the stains of tears upon her cheeks. “She came?” he asked.
Iolana nodded. “She told us to proceed to Aella of the plains. She told us we have to continue the quest.”
“Oh,” said Evercloud. “Well, that’s good…right?” Iolana nodded again and tried to muster a smile. “What’s wrong with Annie?” exclaimed Evercloud and rushed over to the girl who was now convulsing upon the sandy island.
Iolana turned in shock and knelt by the girl, placing her hands upon Annie’s chest as she writhed in the sand. Suddenly, the convulsions stopped and Annie’s eyes shot wide.
“Are you all right?” asked Evercloud.
“Falling rocks,” said Annie. “Falling rocks everywhere…and lightning.”
Chapter 31: Deep into Aplistia’s Chest
King Aplistia of Chreos sat alone in his throne room, waiting for the daily report to come to him. There were only two things Aplistia cared about any longer, his army and the updates on its progression. Aplistia’s room was vast, a room that could hold thousands. When it was full, it was a place of grand spectacle, the walls shimmered in their decadence and Aplistia could hear in his memories the great galas and monumental events that had been held here. He could hear music, he could hear laughter, he could smell feasts, and he could feel the warmth of Chreos within him.
But now…this vast and empty room was like the unused recesses of a stunted mind. It was bare, vacant, cold and repressed. It agitated Aplistia to no end.
I will fill this hall again. I will fill it with riches and glory or I will fill it with the blood of those who get in my way. Chreos is greater than all, and I am Chreos. The Holy came to me, after all.
King Aplistia looked down the length of his throne room as he sat like a toad, and watched as a speck of a man entered at the far side of the room and scurried his way toward him. The speck grew more rotund and more nervous as his distance shortened from the throne. My report, thought Aplistia.
“Give it, Reginald,” said the King, once a panting, pear shaped and piteous man reached the foot of Aplistia’s throne.
“Sire,” began the sweating and nervous piggy. “The army is ready to march.”
“Finally,” exclaimed Aplistia with clenched fist. “The flags of Chreos shall be held high. Tell the generals to await my command. Now go.”
“Yes, sire,” said the nervous man and scurried away as fast as he had arrived.
I will fill this hall again, Aplistia thought. All of Ephanlarea will be known as the New Chreos.
Aplistia closed his eyes and pictured the day when he would rule all of New Chreos, a massive kingdom, the greatest the world had ever seen. Even the fools in Felaqua would have to bow to Aplistia’s whims for fear of his power.
“My power,” said Aplistia with a grin upon his dreaming face.
“What of it?” asked a cynical voice.
Aplistia’s eyes snapped open and he jerked back in his seat, as he found a large man scowling in front of him. “Who are you?” demanded the King. “How did you get in here?”
“You were dreaming, and having fantasies about power. What power?”
“How dare you question me? Guards! Guards!”
“They won’t be coming,” said the man, cocking one coal-black eyebrow over one cold, blue eye.
Aplistia’s face dropped into a terrified stare. “Who are you?”
“I am Densa.”
“Pffftt,” scoffed the King and then laughed. “You are a madman who believes he is a character from The Book of the Holy.”
“I was told you were a man who believed in the power of the Holy. Are you telling me you can believe in him, but not in me?”
“Enough of this!” yelled Aplistia, and stood from his throne. “What do you want?”
“I want to know why a man charged with governing and protecting his people has decided to abuse them so?”
The King’s face twisted in rage. “I’ve had enough of your insolence!” he said, pulling a sword out from his robe. “That is something paid for with blood in my kingdom.”
Aplistia swung his golden blade at Densa who calmly raised a hand and caught the blade, as if it were a twig being brandished by a child. Blood came from Densa’s palm as it gripped Aplistia’s blade, and then, he wrenched it away from the King with ease. Aplistia’s face drained of color, and he began to shout.
“My Holy! My Holy! Save me! It is the evil one. He has come! Save me!”
“Odd how he does not answer when the need lies with you,” sneered Densa.
“What do you want with me, you demon?”
“I’ve told you, I want to know why a man with all of the advantages in the world needs more? I want to know why a man who has power over others, abuses it without conscience?”
“What matter is it? I do it because I can,” hissed Aplistia. “Who does not desire all the power in the world? Show me that man and I will show you a liar. No man is selfless. I am sure that you are not.”
“No, you are right. I am quite selfish. I always have been and I always will be. For instance, I have grown very tired of one particular thing, and I have decided that I will not tolerate it any longer. Abuse.”
“You think you are so righteous? You are not. Were you to have all the power that could be had, you would not speak so. What are the wants of the many in the face of the wants of the self? What matters all, when satisfied is I? If it is wrong that my power is greater than all others, then all others can do what they will to stop me. If they cannot, then I am right in my use of power.”
“You are wrong. Your mind is polluted. The self cannot thrive without the many. The more you abuse that which is around you, you only abuse yourself the more. What will you do when there is nothing left to serve you? What will you do when the world is naught but excrement under your shoe? The self can only reach its greatest height when it is surrounded by a world that has reached its greatest ability to support the self. You abuse everything that surrounds you. What does that make you?”
“It makes me King,” uttered Aplistia through gritted teeth.
“Then I must rid the world of kings,” said Densa, and thrust his fist deep into Aplistia’s chest.
Chapter 32: Pandemonium
“This is ridiculous! She’s just a child!”
“Please calm down, Mrs. Foster,” said the judge.
Cherice Foster stood in front of the Great Judge Superior of Nefas, doing everything in her power to plead her daughter’s case. The recent trial of the little girl had become a grand spectacle in the southern kingdom and there wasn’t a citizen around who didn’t have an opinion of it.
“It’s the Queen,” said one woman outside of the courthouse. “That little girl was completely out of line.”
“The mother should pay,” argued one man to anyone who would listen. “She needs to take responsibility for her child.”
It had only been a few weeks ago, but the trial had been rushed in front of the Great Judge Superior by demand of the Queen. The wicked Queen wanted justice, and she would have it quickly. It was intolerable that the little girl had called the Queen ugly. It threatened the very fabric of what Nefas stood for.
“Mrs. Foster,” continued the judge. “We understand that your daughter is too young to be punished and that is why you are here. As her mother, you are to be held responsible for her outburst. I have heard all of the facts and have decided upon your sentence. There is no argument.”
“This is insane!” yelled Foster. “Is the Queen so shallow that she cannot tolerate the words of a tiny child?”
The crowd inside the courtroom gasped, and the eyes of the judge grew wide before narrowing into hard slits.
“Now, I can see where your disgrace of a child gets her lack of control. Mrs. Cherice Foster, I sentence you to death for damages against the good name of Nefas and against our fair Queen Faedra. Guards, remove this woman from my presence.”
Two large guards converged upon Mrs. Foster and dragged her from the courtroom as she thrashed and yelled. Outside in the streets of Nefas, the guards tried to push the crowds away as they pelted Cherice with rotten fruit and vegetables. Word spread quickly through the crowd of what had happened in the courtroom, and the citizens of Nefas had become enraged.
“Let’s cut down this alley,” yelled one of the guards to the other. “We can’t push through all of these people.”
Another group of guards arrived and tried to prevent the citizens from following as Cherice Foster was ushered down an alley between two large buildings. The noise of the angry crowds subsided as the guards moved further down the alley.
“We should just dispatch her here,” suggested one of the guards. “We can always say that we were unable to hold the crowds back. I don’t feel like getting more trash thrown at me, once we get back out into view.”
“Good idea,” agreed the other guard.
An arrow zipped through the air and caught the first guard in the throat.
“What the–” said the second as he frantically looked around to find where the arrow had come from. As he looked up between the two buildings on either side of him, a man dropped down upon him, blotting out the sun. The man’s dagger flashed and dove at the guard with silent precision, and the guard fell in a heap to the ground. The man with the dagger pulled Cherice Foster to her feet.
“Come quickly,” said the man.
“Who are you?” asked Cherice.
“There’s no time. I’ll explain later. Quickly!”
Cherice and her rescuer ran down the alley, away from the bodies of the dead guards. Before they reached the end of the alley, the man ushered Cherice through a door in the building to the right, and then, immediately began to climb a stairwell. The sound of the angry crowd outside began to grow.
“They’re getting closer,” worried Cherice.
“They must have gotten past the guards who were keeping them from the alley. They’ll find those two dead guards soon, so we don’t have much time. We need to get to the roof as quickly as possible.”
Cherice nodded, and then they ran up the stairs as fast as they could. Five flights, then six, then seven, and finally they had reached the roof. Sunlight flooded down upon them as they burst forth from the door.
“Where are we supposed to go from here?” asked Cherice.
“We jump.”
“What?”
“From this roof to the one south. We have to go now.”
Cherice’s rescuer ran to the edge of the roof and leapt into the air, coming down hard on the rooftop of the building to the south. The man got up and brushed himself off, quickly looking back to see Cherice standing at the edge of the other roof.
“I can’t make it,” called Cherice.
“You have to!” yelled the rescuer. “Now, do it!”
Cherice Foster retreated to get a running start, and then, leapt across the gap between the buildings. She glided through the air with far more ease than the man had, and came to a much softer landing. Her rescuer looked at her oddly.
“I didn’t know it would be that easy,” she said.
Without pause, the man walked over to a large garbage chute upon the roof and pulled it open. “This is the garbage chute for this building, it leads down into the kingdom’s sewer system.”
“I know what it is,” said Cherice. “Why are you showing it to me?”
“Because you’re going to slide down it,” said the man. Cherice made an uneasy face. “When you get to the bottom, follow it until it leads you out of the kingdom. From there, head north and east until you come to a large mountain amid a forest. You will be stopped, and when you are, give them my name and you will be safe.”
“I can’t leave without my husband and daughter,” said Cherice.
“I’m going back for them.”
“I won’t leave without them!” shouted the woman.
“You don’t have a choice,” the man shouted back at her. “Everyone in this kingdom knows who you are. I won’t be able to save your family with you in tow. You have to leave now.”
Cherice Foster grimaced. She knew that this man was right, but it pained her at the thought of abandoning her family.
“Fine,” she blurted after much struggling. “Please, tell them I love them.”
“I will,” said the man and turned to leave.
“Wait,” said Cherice. “What is your name?”
“Everheart. Steven Everheart.”
•••
When the crowds had reached the slain guards, and the realization that Cherice Foster was on the loose sunk into the minds of the citizens of Nefas, the kingdom fell into full-scale riot. The truth was, that in Nefas, a very large subculture existed of citizens who were not happy with the Queen’s leadership. This group was assembled in no way and kept silent mostly, fearing the retribution of voicing their opinions. But when news swept Nefas that Cherice Foster had escaped, a great number of this repressed subculture took it as a call to arms. Of course there was still the vast majority who were terrified that Cherice Foster had escaped, and this fear manifested itself in the form of an angry mob committed to a manhunt. Both of these groups took to the streets of Nefas and the groups clashed against each other with almost instant violence. Fires were being lit, windows shattered, and blood spilled. As Queen Faedra received news of everything that had occurred, she trembled with anger, grit her teeth, and clenched her fists until her fingernails drew blood from her palms. She watched from her tower as her kingdom’s streets were flooded with violence and chaos, she watched and she boiled in her rage until she could take no more.
“Callderwallder!” she screamed at her guards. “Bring me Callderwallder! Now!”
Once the Queen’s broken brother had appeared, Faedra pointed violently to the terrible scene she was watching from her tower balcony. A tall chair was brought forth, and Callderwallder climbed to its perch, looking out over the Kingdom of Nefas.
“Pandemonium,” whispered the little man as his eyes bulged with excitement.
The Queen stared at him with fiery, bloodshot eyes, still gripped in the fits of anger. “Use your army, Brother. Bring the family of Cherice Foster to me, and stop this desecration. Stop these animals from destroying my kingdom.”
“Sister, my army was created for war. I doubt they will have the delicacy needed for civil matters.”
The Queen st
epped in front of her brother and placed one elegant hand upon his shoulder. At first, her touch was gentle, but then she gripped him like an angry snake. “I don’t care what you have to do,” she seethed, staring into his eyes. “Stop them… by any means necessary.”
“By any means necessary,” echoed Callderwallder as a twisted grin slithered over his lips. “As you wish.”
Chapter 33: What Do You Believe?
King Eveneye walked in the forest around Gray Mountain for the first night in many moons. This particular moon was a bright, white crescent that reminded the King of a happy and toothy smile. A smile he had not seen in ages; the smile of a small boy who knew him as father. The forest was quiet and Eveneye moved slowly in the darkness, making little noise. I hope you are all right, he thought as he pictured the grown man who had once been that smiling, little boy.
The nightmares had not stopped for King Eveneye and he had tried many different things to preoccupy himself through the long hours of the night. Nothing had brought peace to his mind. This, his first attempt at walking through the forest, did not seem to be working as he had hoped. Woodworking had not helped, doing any of his duties as King necessitated others to be awake, any physical activity such as Johnball presented the same issue, and caused far too much noise while others were sleeping. It was difficult to find things to do at night, and truth be told, Eveneye was really very tired, he just wasn’t able to sleep. It worried him further that the nightmares had not stopped for Goldenheart and Autumnbreeze either. For a while, the three bears had shared company through the long nights, but they were unable to come to a resolution concerning what should be done about the nightmares. It had begun to cause more uneasiness than was healthy, and so, they had decided to spend these hours alone until someone had a constructive plan. As of yet, no one had come up with anything.
As Eveneye walked on, he came across the stream where he and his best friend, Whiteclaw, had done their night fishing. The great bear sighed as he gazed at the stream, drifting and whispering its way through the forest. Eveneye had not been able to bring himself to visit this stream since Whiteclaw’s death. He assumed that in his sleepiness, he had wandered here from old habit. The moonlight twinkled upon the surface of the stream, and memories flashed through Eveneye’s mind.
Everflame: The Complete Series Page 70
