Bakkian Chronicles, Book I - The Prophecy

by Poole, Jeffrey

  “Non-Lentarians?” she repeated. “Did I hear ye correctly?”

  Taking a deep breath, Steve met the lady’s eyes. “Yes, ma’am. You heard correctly, we are not from this kingdom. If you ask me where we’re from, I doubt you’d believe me.”

  Looking at the two fidgeting people in front of her, the mystery lady smiled. Although, Steve thought, the smile did appear rather guarded.

  “Do not let that concern ye. I would know how two foreigners came to be in this castle. So,” she clasped her hands together and sat in a nearby seat. “Let us begin with yer names.” Waiting patiently, she stared expectantly at her captivated audience of two.

  Bemused by the odd nature on how this conversation was playing out, Steve and Sarah could only stare at the seated woman that was studying them, waiting patiently for an answer.

  “Ummm, okay, my name is Steve, and this is my wife, Sarah.”

  Those intimidating brown eyes shifted to his wife and held her gaze.

  Sarah gave a small wave and a quiet “hello”.

  “We come from, um, a far away land and are just looking for a way home. We were told that the king and queen would be able to help us find some way to do that.”

  The soft voice spoke again. “Find some way?” she repeated, frowing. “That implies that the two of ye do not know how to return home. What is the name of yer kingdom?”

  “Our land is called America. And no, you wouldn’t have heard of it,” Steve said, before their interviewer could ask where that particular kingdom was.

  “I see. Would ye be from the Land of Idaho in the Kingdom of America, then?”

  Shock registered in both of their eyes. How? How does she know where they’re from? There’s no way she could know that! Steve and Sarah looked at each other. What do they say now?

  The lady in gray simply held her hand up, surprising both Steve and Sarah into silence. Clapping her hands three times, a servant girl, the same from the corridor before, appeared out of the shadows of the room.

  “Please ask my husband to join me here.”

  The girl nodded, and disappeared back into the shadows.

  Sarah looked at the lady in gray, realization finally dawning on her. “You’re the queen, aren’t you?”

  Smiling, Ny’Callé nodded her head. “The two of ye intrigue me. I would hear yer story, but we will wait for my husband.”

  A few minutes later, Kri’Entu entered the Hall, striding up to his wife. He gave her a small smile and a nod before looking at the two strangers. The king appeared to be about five years older than his wife. His temples were graying, but his demeanor was energetic, seeming to electrify the room with his presence. There was a scrambling in the background as all the soldiers keeping a silent vigil snapped to attention.

  “Steve, Sarah, may I present my husband, Entu, King of Lentari.”

  The king nodded, measuring up Steve as a potential opponent. He and the stranger shared many physical traits with one another, Kri’Entu decided. They were the same height and roughly the same mass. Could this actually be who he thought it was? If so, then that means…

  “So ye are from the Land of Idaho? Kingdom of America? Are ye kin to the Scribes?”

  “Are you talking about my grandparents? Simon and Grace? Is that who you’re referring to?”

  The queen inhaled sharply. “Yer grandparents? They are safe then? We have not had any word from them for many fortnights.”

  Steve’s gaze fell, and the Kri’yans knew the answer before he could speak.

  As gently as she could, the queen asked what had happened. Relaying all that he knew about the accident, omitting anything that the Lentarians wouldn’t understand, Steve told them about his grandparents’ unfortunate demise.

  The king spoke up. “We are truly sorry for yer loss. Yer grandparents were respected members of our court.” He looked at his wife and shook his head. “I would not have thought to look at the kin of our Scribes for the answer.”

  Steve looked from the king to the queen. “The answer to what?”

  The queen suddenly came to life and leapt forward to embrace them both in a hug, as though they had known each other all their lives.

  “We are so thankful ye are finally here! I had suspected and hoped that I was looking at the Nohrin when I first saw the two of ye.”

  In unison, the two Americans said, “The what?”

  Kri’Entu smiled, clapping Steve on the back. “It is an ancient word. In the archaic tongue, it translates to ‘The Protectors.’”

  Chapter 8 – Prophecy

  Staring straight at the smiling king and queen, Steve slowly started patting himself down, trying to remember which pocket he had stuffed his grandfather’s journal into. Finally discovering the small book tucked away in his front jacket pock, he pulled out the leather diary and held it out for Sarah to take.

  “Babe, find that entry.”

  “What entry?”

  “The one that talked about those “Nohrin” people. There were several that mentioned them. Any one will do.”

  “You want to read about that now?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Scowling, Sarah flipped open the leather book and found one of the entries. “Okay, I have it here. Now what?”

  “Excuse me,” Kri’Entu interrupted, gesturing at the book Sarah held. “What book is that? There are only several true references to the Bakkian and the Nohrin, and that is not one of them.”

  Gesturing to the diary, Steve said, “That’s the journal that my grandfather kept. We found it in his house after we learned we inherited it. In my land, when a person dies, his effects, namely his property, goes to his family.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand,” the king said impatiently. “About the Nohrin, what is mentioned?”

  Not liking the king’s tone one bit, Sarah shoved the journal into her husband’s hands. Reading from the entry that she had found, he skimmed until he found the first occurrence of the word ‘Nohrin’.

  “It says here that they, my grandparents, had been tasked with identifying who the Nohrin are and helping facilitate their arrival.”

  “Yes,” Kri’Entu said, stroking his chin, “I do remember assigning that task. It was actually at my wife’s suggestion.”

  As one, Steve and Sarah looked at the queen.

  “The Scribes were very eager to please,” Ny’Callé explained. “It was my observation that they craved responsibility, a sense of purpose. Perhaps they felt they could not acquire this on yer world.”

  “Perhaps,” Steve agreed. To his shock and horror, he heard himself start babbling. “I just wish they would have taken a further interest in their own family. I didn’t even know them.” He looked into the queen’s compassionate brown eyes. Why did it feel as though he could confide his deepest, darkest secrets to her and not worry about it ever being disclosed to anyone? He actually felt compelled to keep talking. “Believe it or not, you actually know them better than I do, or better than anyone in my family does.”

  Sarah also felt the pull, the desire to convey nothing but honesty with their majesties. Well, she didn’t really feel the desire to confide with the king, just the queen. Wait a moment. Was this the queen’s jhorun then? Or some aspect of it?

  Taking the initiative to steer the conversation towards that which she was dying to know, Sarah said, “The diary mentioned it took thirty years for them to get their jhoruns. Did they over exaggerate or was that the truth?”

  Curious, Steve turned to his wife. What was she playing at? She knew full well the answer to that. Then he started nodding. She must want to hear it from their mouths. That had to be it.

  The Nayan spoke first. “Your grandparents, Steve, were first approached by Entu’s father, Fallun. After he observed a demonstration given by yer grandfather restoring an ancient text, he was asked to restore many of the tomes in our library that were woefully unpreserved. Determining the Scribes to be trustworthy, Kri’Fallun bestowed unto them their first task.”

  �
�To which they accomplished readily and skillfully,” Kri’Entu helpfully added.

  “Once they earned the king’s trust, he gave them more tasks, with increasing responsibility. We started referring to them as ‘The Scribes’, a term given to them with affection.”

  “It was not until many years had passed,” Kri’Entu interjected, “that we began to entertain the notion of presenting the Scribes with their own jhoruns.”

  “Ye have to understand, Steve,” the queen continued, “that to give an outsider a jhorun was unheard of. Kri’Fallun was strongly against it. It wasn’t until my husband ascended the throne did he make the first exception in the history of our kingdom.”

  “My grandparents were the first ones without a jhorun to ever receive one?”

  Kri’Entu nodded. “They were. I thought it best to reward them with a strong, practical jhorun, but, as I was informed later, it was quite difficult to gift someone with one. Our wizard, Shardwyn, had a very, very difficult time accomplishing it.

  Steve scoffed. “You call being able to make a pen write on its own accord strong?”

  “Steve!” Sarah scolded. “Don’t be an ass.”

  The queen swallowed a chuckle.

  “Fear not, lass, it takes more than that to raise my ire. Besides,” Kri’Entu said, waving his hand dismissively, “he is quite correct. I wanted something stronger, but that is what Shardwyn was able to give them. As I said, it is damn near impossible to gift a jhorun to a person.”

  “So you’re telling me,” Steve said slowly, “that you people think we’re the ‘Nohrin’? That we’re going to be babysitters to your son? You don’t even know us!”

  “It has long been predicted,” Ny’Callé began, as though she were lecturing a group of school children, “that there will come a time when the whole kingdom will be in danger. A child will be born with a special mark upon them, and that they must be kept safe at all times. My son, Mikal, has a mark just below his right shoulder, on the back of his arm. It resembles a griffin with one foreleg raised.”

  “The mark looks like a griffin?”

  “It is a griffin,” Kri’Entu declared. “The same mark that is on the Bakkian itself. Our son must be the one.”

  “Does ‘Bakkian’ also mean ‘prophecy’ in this ancient language of yours?” Sarah asked.

  “Aye,” Callé nodded, “it does. Does the journal mention that as well?”

  “A few times,” Sarah said. “Simon didn’t really mention what it was, though. Only that the prophecy in its entirety would finally be revealed. I just think you’re mistaken. We can’t possibly be the Nohrin.”

  “And why not?” Kri’Entu asked. “Ye are non-Lentarian. Yer jhoruns are - wait. What are yer jhoruns?”

  Steve smiled. “I heard it called by your own captain of the guard as being an ‘elemental’ jhorun. I can… What?”

  Both the king and queen had given a small jerk, a fact that did not go unnoticed by both of their guests.

  “Ye have power over one of the elements?” Callé whispered.

  Steve stared at the queen. “You’re the second person to do that to me. What’s the big deal? I know it’s an elemental jhorun, but I figure it can’t be that rare, can it?”

  “Which element do ye have control over?”

  “Um, well, if you want to know the truth, it’s fire.”

  Both the king and queen gasped. This news was far better than any could have guessed or hoped for. One of the Nohrin was a fire thrower! What better protection could they ask for?

  Callé laid her hand over his. “Steve, listen to me. The elemental jhoruns are the rarest of all, and the most powerful. Earth, air, water, and fire. And of these, fire is the most potent, the rarest of the rare. There have been no fire throwers for nearly two centuries!” She paused a moment to try and calm her nerves.

  Steve was panicking. The Kri’yans were acting as though he had just transformed lead into gold! It was just a jhorun. So it might be stronger than most, but could it really be that rare? Take the king, for example. His jhorun… What was his jhorun, anyway? Did he say?

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what jhoruns do the two of you have?”

  Still speechless, his mind forging ahead faster than a Bohani mountain dragon in flight, Kri’Entu opened his mouth, only no sounds were forthcoming. Ny’Callé stepped in for her husband to answer.

  “My husband’s jhorun is classified as a ‘wyverie’, which is rare, but not nearly as rare, or strong, as an elemental.”

  Sarah was unfamiliar with the word that the Nayan had uttered. What had she said? A ‘why vurry’? What was that?

  Seeing confusion on their guests’ faces, the queen explained. “A wyverie is a person that is immune to dragons. No dragons would do him harm, even if they wanted to.”

  Steve’s jaw clanged noisily on the ground. “Dragons! Really? Does that mean he can control them? Has he ever ridden one? What are they like up close? Do all of them fly? I have always wondered if there were land-bound dragons as well. Do they -”

  Sarah cut him off. “I’m sorry about my husband. He has always loved dragons. They exist only in our imaginations in our world.”

  Kri’Entu finally spoke. “There is no need to apologize. In the order ye asked, Steve, the answers are: no, no, intimidating, no, and there are.”

  “My own jhorun,” the queen continued, ignoring Steve’s outburst and her husband’s answers to the aforementioned outburst, “is veracity.”

  Sarah blinked. “Truth? Your jhorun makes you tell the truth?”

  Smiling, the queen shook her head. “I have the ability to cause others, in my presence, to speak the truth.”

  Steve was amazed. So that was why he had felt compelled to tell the queen all those things about his past and his family. That was a very powerful jhorun and a valuable one at that, considering her status.

  The Nayan looked at Sarah. “Did ye mention what jhorun ye possess or did I miss it?”

  Sarah shook her head. “You didn’t miss it as I haven’t mentioned it to anyone yet. I’m still learning to control mine. Steve has more control over his than I do. Mine appears to be teleportation.”

  Kri’Entu whistled. “A fire thrower and a teleporter. The Bakkian could not have predicted a stronger pair of jhoruns to protect our son.”

  Steve held up his hands in protest. “Now wait, just wait a damn minute. You haven’t even asked if we’re willing to take on the role of these Nohrin. You don’t know us, and we’re certainly not prepared to take care of a kid, let alone yours.”

  “There is no need. The Bakkian is unfolding right before our very eyes. Ye see, tension has been rising in the north, with Ylani,” the king explained. “The threat of physical harm to our son is greater than ever. Even abduction is a strong likelihood. As ye can imagine, I will do everything in my power to prevent that. So as elements of the Bakkian began to appear right before my very eyes, I had begun to wonder if it was time for the Nohrin to appear. Much to my delight, two foreigners appeared in our midst.”

  Steve snorted. “The two of us appeared because there’s some damn portal in my grandparents house that we accidentally activated, and now we’re here. I doubt very much we have anything to do with this ancient prophecy of yours.”

  The Kri’yans looked at each other and smiled, saying nothing.

  Steve was literally at a loss for words. How could he make them understand? They were American, not Lentarian. There’s no way the two of them could be mixed up in this. Struggling to come up with some other avenue to argue, Sarah stepped in.

  “Maybe you could tell us about this prophecy. Can we hear it? If this concerns us, as you believe it does, don’t you think it would be prudent to let those affected hear it for themselves?”

  Already liking this foreign woman immensely, Callé put a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. Kri’Entu appeared poised to argue as well, and she was getting a headache. With each of them desiring to steer their husbands away from imminent hostilities, t
he queen met Steve’s gaze and silenced him without saying a word.

  “Ye have no doubt travelled a great distance today, and probably have been doing so since arriving in our kingdom, of that I am certain. Have ye supped yet? Perhaps the two of ye would like to rest. We have much to discuss.” Without waiting for an answer, she looked at her husband. The king nodded. He had not fathomed this aspect of the prophecy, namely that the Nohrin would blindly stumble into their midst and be completely unaware of their own destinies. It was a lot to digest. Best to give them a while to come to terms with their newfound responsibilities.

  “Tristan.”

  A tall, bald soldier standing so quietly he was practically invisible in the shadows, stepped forward immediately. He bowed.

  “Sir.”

  “Please escort the Nohrin, er, our new guests, to a suitable chamber.”

  “Aye, sir.” The soldier bowed once more and held out an arm, directing them out of the Great Hall.

  “If ye feel up to it,” Ny’Callé called out after them, “return in an hour’s time. I’m sure the two of ye will have many questions.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Steve muttered.

  The husband was very direct, not masking his emotions well at all, Callé mused. This was someone she could trust her son with. “We will talk later, I promise ye, Steve. Ye deserve to know everything, and ye will.”

  Following the soldier from the Great Hall, they walked silently through the castle, passing bustling kitchen maids, servants, and soldiers patrolling the halls. Ascending a large spiral staircase, they came upon a wide hall with large archways, lit by torches on either side. Each archway had a large, wooden door recessed into the wall. Leading them past the first dozen or so doors, they finally came to the end of the hall. Two torches were lit, illuminating a large portico and an even larger wooden door.