Rise of the Darekian's, The

by Wood, Andrew

  Tapping gently on the door, before letting himself in to notice his son was still up and little surprised to find him reading. Seating himself beside him, "You know why I have come Luken" the man said, but not waiting for a reply of any sort, he continued, "I hear you have taken in a young urchin off the street, I am not sure what you hope to achieve by doing this." Luken looked up from his book, although he loved his father dearly, he always felt distanced from him, "Father, before you tell me to take him to the orphanage, do not bother wasting your breath. I will not, the poor child has been neglected all his life and I am in a position to help him." His father scoffed, "I will not argue Luken; I have too much on my mind at the moment to be told by you, what you will or will not do. You will take the boy to the orphanage by tomorrow noon or I will have the guards do so, it is up to you."

  Luken had never really stood up to his father in his life, spending so little time together inevitably meant they had few occasions to disagree, "I will not, and neither will the guards" he said in a firm tone, surprising himself at how he sounded.

  The two looked at each other, Luken spoke again "The urchin as you refer to, is called Taylor, and he is sleeping, so it would please me if you kept your voice down. Father if anyone so much as tries to harm or attempt to take him, then they will have to go through me. I have given a young boy a chance of a good life; I can and will not see him mistreated anymore." His father, looking rather abashed, stood to leave, "I have said my piece Luken, please do not disobey me, remember I am not only your father but your king," he added as he walked towards the door. As he opened it Luken spoke once more, "and I have said mine father, and I ask you as a son and a citizen to search you heart, you know what I am doing is for the good," he left it at that and watched rather annoyed as the door closed.

  Chapter 5.

  Caldar and his men had reached Berston a few days previous. Before they even reached the outlaying areas of the town, they had been called into action immediately. On approaching the town, his scouting party had run into a raiding troop consisting of approximately fifty Besemian soldiers. Somewhat unfortunately for them, they had given chase to the scouts, and ran straight into the entire cohort travelling behind it. The ensuing battle was little more than a formality, suffering just one dead and three injured, the overwhelming numbers made short work of the raiders. There were no survivors on the Besemian side. The corpses had been piled up and burnt, the prince hoped, as a warning sign to any others in the area to see sense and leave.

  Reports of the local area indicated that large numbers of Besemian soldiers were amassing and seemingly heading his direction. Berston was the largest of the border towns; unfortunately, it had no walls surrounding it, and hence, been easy pickings for any large groups of raiders. When the town had been built, it had always been deemed not necessary for it to have any form of fortifications, not only was the border with an ally, it was thought having such would only give the impression of mistrust between the two nations.

  Caldar had set his men to work immediately, felling trees by the hundreds in an attempt to give the place some protection. A wooden palisade was not ideal, but hoped would deter all but the most determined aggressor. As well as the necessary protection for the town, he ordered the construction of several watchtowers; these were to be spaced out between Berston and its smaller neighbour, the town of Casham, a mile or so to the south. These towers would, when built be permanently manned and each would have a bell to be rung when any intruding force was spotted. This way, he hoped to gain an advantage, of having at least some time to prepare his lines of defence when needed.

  The cohort of soldiers had set camp a little to the south of Berston so it was positioned between the two towns, doing so, he could quickly assist and help protect both. Casham being an older town did have the benefit of some stone walling, though this did not encircle the entire perimeter, and was only around twelve feet in height, and probably originally built more for protection against wild animals than enemy soldiers. It did mean though, it meant less work in constructing a palisade around the remainder. Once the required palisades and towers were finished, he wanted further protection by means of ditches dug around them; this would give the short walls a greater height. Splitting his cohort into thirds, one working, one guarding and one resting then rotating them, hoping all along, he was not attacked by any large force before all the work was completed. To help in the construction, both towns had rallied the populace to assist, and although many had other jobs, each gave their spare hours to help in the work.

  The men and older boys helped felling the trees, as well as driving the logs into the ground. The woman were utilised in camp, doing laundry and cooking for the soldiers, as well as distributing refreshments throughout the day to those on guard duties. Even the younger children were given a task; these had the job of finding suitable sticks from the felled trees for the purpose of manufacturing arrows, as well as collating feathers from geese, not only those slaughtered for food but any found lying around. Some of the older residents sat in small groups tasked with that very job, and whilst chatting away whittled and smoothed down the wooden arrow shafts. These where then passed to the next group, who glued the feathers, and then finally to the last, to have the arrow heads attached and bound, before being distributed and stock piled around the camp and two towns.

  Father Dagon trotted his horse southwards out of the city gate, before turning off the main road onto a smaller mud track. He had been sent on an errand by his master, Sandred. A mile or so down the track he was to find a small wooden cabin. Here, there resided an even older man than Dagon. More importantly this man held in his possession, a small red book. He was to retrieve it, return to the city, and when the moment arose, to hand it to the person, to whom it concerned. The contents of the book, were supposed to be a kind of explanation and instruction on the use of elemental magic, a very old and unique tome. Sandred had placed it in the care of the old man's grandfather, and in turn, each generation had continued with the task, and taken care of it until such time someone was sent to collect it.

  Luken awoke as had become habit, to the sight of Taylor standing proudly at the side of his bed, having managed to dress himself and get his shoes on the correct feet. The young boy always had a warm smile for Luken each morning, and had even set out some clothes for him to wear, though not always good colour choices in matching trousers to shirt. After dressing, the two of them went as had become the norm, down to the dining room for breakfast, Taylor skipping happily at the front, but still always checking back occasionally just for reassurance that Luken was close behind. Entering the dining room, which usually was empty aside from the serving staff that awaited them, the pair seemed shocked to see both the king and queen already eating.

  Taylor shied away slightly at the sight of the portly looking king, not helped by the deep harshness to his voice, "Good morning Luken, and good morning young man, please join us," he said on noticing them enter. Luken knew this was going to be bad; the only reasoning for his mother and father to be up and waiting for him, was the subject of Taylor. Having argued with his father the previous night on the very subject, he had not anticipated this meeting, he had hoped instead, that the man would have forgotten about them, having more serious matters at hand to deal with than them.

  Gingerly, Luken sat, and Taylor did likewise beside him, "what would you like young sir?" the serving girl asked the boy. No longer asking for just bread, he had, over the days of his stay tried a variety of breakfasts, from porridge with honey, to toasted bread with preserve, to various types of fruit. "May I have some melon please, and a glass of milk if I may," he answered in what he hoped sounded a most polite way.

  Lukens father waited for his son and guest to start eating before he spoke again, "I assume you know why we are here this morning son?" he asked. Nodding slightly to his father, he had guessed correctly, and could already feel his heart beating faster in anticipation of what was coming next. He had lain awake for part of the nig
ht, confirming his stance on not letting the young boy be thrown back onto the streets, or sent to the orphanage. His father paused, just glaring at his son then at the young boy quietly eating, "Your mother tells me you have become quite the fatherly figure to this young man", again Luken nodded, not quite so sure where this conversation was now going. "I stand by what I said last night Luken; we cannot have some random child you found on the streets, living with the royal family. Before we know it, we would have every poor mother in the city dropping their children off at our doorstep to take them in." He had to concede that had been a fair point of argument his father made, and Luken had not considered the knock on effect, his taking Taylor in might have.

  Glancing over to the young boy, who looked up from eating to smile at him, Luken turned to his father, he was not sure what he was going to say, but his father spoke before he had the chance. "I can see the boy thinks the world of you, and you have made it quite clear to me after our words last night how you feel about him. Therefore, I will offer you this one chance. Your mother and I have been discussing the matter, and we have a proposition for you," Luken looked up and watched his mother smile. She had quite obviously fought his corner on this matter, and quite often had the ability to make her husband come round to her way of thinking. A glimmer of hope appeared in Lukens eyes, as he listened.

  "As the boy is an orphan, he should be in the orphanage," not this conversation again he thought. That flicker of hope quickly disappeared, "however, I will allow for you to adopt him as your own. He would be your responsibility, think about it, this is not something about which you can change your mind. If you accept, the boy will be your son, if not he goes to the orphanage as I said." Luken was so shocked; he sat with his mouth gaping open. Adopt; he was surely too young to be a father, more so to a boy he had only known a short time. He was still trying to get his head around the offer but his father continued, "Naturally he would have no claim to the throne. He would not be of royal blood. He would be legally yours, all you have to do is say, and I shall make a decree stating so, his name would be recorded down and registered as your son."

  Taylor, who by now had finished eating, sat contently, quietly looking and smiling at the young man beside him. Luken glanced over to the boy, and he knew the answer, no doubt in his mind, "I agree father, and I understand my responsibilities to him." His father looked at him for a while as if trying to judge his reasoning; he appeared almost shocked by Lukens answer and the decisive way in which it had come. It dawned on Luken then, that his father had made the offer as a gesture, probably to appease both him and his mother. Thinking almost certainly, that his son would not even contemplate such a thing as him adopting the boy, how wrong he was. Therefore, with some element of reluctance in his voice, "then as from this day I decree it so, and to you young ..." looking to his wife, "Taylor" she whispered, "ah yes, young Taylor, I welcome you to the family. Just promise me you will not make a habit of this Luken." The prince was so happy at that moment, though the very idea of him having a son had not really sunk in, "Don't worry father I won't." Then quickly thinking, "You realise now father that you and mother are grandparents; well sort of." The queen laughed, "oh so we are, Sethin what does it feel like to be an old Grandfather", to which her husband grimaced, "bloody hell" he muttered, "I had not thought of that."

  Luken decided to take Taylor out to the garden, where it was quiet, so he could explain what had just happened at the breakfast table. It was another warm morning, and the two sat together on the lush green grass that was kept neatly trimmed and tidy by the palace gardeners. Luken was not quite certain how to start telling a six year old, he was now his legal father. "Taylor, you know last night you called me father...well how would you like it if I was, you know...well I could never be your real one, but the king has said I can adopt you and that would make you my son and me your father, well sort of." He realised he was babbling and knew that Taylor had no chance of making sense of anything he had just said; he was not even sure himself. The young boy looked at him quizzically, as if actually understanding the General idea, of what had been so badly explained to him, "you will be my Father?" he asked, "forever and ever?" he added. With a big beaming smile from ear to ear Luken nodded, "Yes Taylor forever and ever; that is if you want me to be." The youngster leapt up and wrapped his arms around his new fathers neck, with tears of joy in his big brown eyes, "I would like that" he sniffed.

  Luken knew it was not going to be easy, he was after all not yet eighteen years himself, and having a son of six would be hard work. He did feel a touch of anxiety at the thought, though deep down he was so happy, not just for himself, but knowing the young child before him, would have the chance to grow up without having to crawl the streets looking for discarded scraps, or live in dirt and filth. Now with a loving parent, who would care for him, and guide him, and if all worked out, to grow up a decent young man. He had a little chuckle to himself, 'wait till Caldar hears about this' he thought. Then, thinking about his brother bought about a sudden sadness, he hoped with all his heart he was well and had not gotten himself into trouble. As strange as the idea sounded, something inside told him Caldar was still well, he could not reason why, nor even begin to contemplate explaining it, but he knew, a feeling or sense of some sort telling him, he knew Caldar was fine, for now at least.

  By lunchtime, the decree had been passed, and signed. Officially, according to the registers, Taylor was now the legal son of Luken, Prince of Corlan. The Queen took great pleasure in handing over the official paper while at the dinner table. "Mother, I would like to thank you, I know you must have persuaded Father to change his mind," she smiled at her son, "it was no problem; I could see the two of you have become inseparable." Taking a sip from his glass, once more mimicked by the young boy sat beside him, "father did not think under any circumstances I would agree did he?" Luken asked. His mother shook her head, "no dear, but I was certain you would, he thought by offering you the choice, you would see sense as he saw it and agree for..." she paused at the thought, "my grandson there to be put into care." Taylor looked up at the queen, and gave her a big grin, "ooh isn't he adorable" she laughed, and Luken thought his mother, although she had not said as much, was also quite glad to be having his son around. Since his arrival, many of the staff had taken quite a shine to their newest family member, often roughing his hair or bringing him little gifts and treats.

  By afternoon, however, the head pains he suffered had returned with such a vengeance, having been reasonably well of late they now appeared to be making up for lost time. Forcing himself to his bed, to close his eyes and rest, explaining to his son best he could he did not feel very well. After taking a tonic mixed by the royal physician, and feeling drowsy from the effects he unsurprisingly fell asleep. Taylor made sure the quilt on his father's bed was pulled up enough to keep him warm, and settled alongside him in a bedside vigil. By late afternoon, the prince was still asleep and his new son having done likewise was alongside him whilst the rest of the city continued as normal. This normality was interrupted when without warning strange lights appeared in the skies above.

  People stopped what they were doing to gaze upwards, as waves of red, blue, yellow and green light rippled across the clear sky above, like party streamers swaying above them. Shopkeepers left their stores, workers downed their tools, children stopped their play, and even the palace staff, king, and queen were drawn by this strange phenomenon. Nothing like this had ever been seen before, and as more people watched the brighter, the colours appeared to become, the reds and yellows overlapping to give new waves of orange then that itself gave forth other shades. This show of lights captivating and entrancing all those that gazed upon it, once seen it appeared to keep the viewer hooked, as fish would be on a line, unable to escape. For over half an hour the waves swung across the sky, colours fluctuating in the most awesome lightshow ever seen.

  Overlord of Darekia, Fenlor, stood over a large burning fire. Encircled around were his twelve most powerful priests,
all kneeling, and chanting. Taking his dagger, he made a large incision down the inside of his lower arm, letting the fresh blood drip down into the flames. Each of his priests, in turn, placed a fresh human heart into the flames. Once the circle had completed Fenlor once more drizzled his own life force onto the fire, before the circle of priests repeated their procedure.

  A single red circle of light eventually appeared seemingly drawing in all the other waves, and whilst enlarging it lowered itself over the city. Perpetually entranced, the people still looked in awe at this remarkable spectacle, unable to pull themselves away. The red circle continued to grow in size, still pulling in all the other waves of light from around it and still giving the impression it was lowering itself, spreading itself over the buildings below, as if a giant shroud of red light was hovering just above. Once at about a hundred feet, the huge red circle started pulsing, like the appearance of a beating heart, and still the citizens of Hamalin stood below, unmoving in their delight at what they were witnessing. Appearing as if everything in time paused for a few seconds, the light fell across the city covering the entire area, strangely not extending past the walls, but just within them. Then with a bright burst and explosion of luminosity, it vanished.

  As the chanting grew louder, reaching its crescendo, Fenlor felt weakened by the loss of his own blood. Drawing his dagger out once more, he walked behind each priest in turn. Slashing each of them across the throat and pushing them forward into the flames, giving their lives to his cause. As the last throat was cut, and the last body slumped forward, a huge cloud of red smoke shot upwards, and Fenlor slumped to the ground. The deed was done.