The Unblessed Child

by R J Kaldanis

  “I am.” Though confusion spread through her mind, she had watched this woman die after giving birth, watched as the baby was snatched away, watched as the woman turned to stone, the jewels, gifts and flowers her mourners had thrown over the caste of her body.

  “They cannot silence us any longer, you must unite them, Aardriyah.” The woman said, now passing the newborn baby to Aardriyah. She looked down at the babe she cradled in her arms; she was startled as the reflection that looked back was her own.

  Kit jumped up on the stone the table that held the now shattered remains of the woman's caste body, seeing Aardriyah’s eyes still lost in the waking dream, he swallowed his fear, kissed her cheek gently and launched his body towards the robed figure. His canine eyes allowing him to see a little more than the humans around him. His teeth grabbed the amethyst amulet, he snatched it from the Jivan whose laughter suddenly turned to a scream of despair.

  Aardriyah looked down at the baby, while listening in to the mother.

  “You, Aardriyah of Veros, must find my baby.” She said.

  “But how?” She asked, sure that this Rovikian queen had lived centuries ago and that any child she bore was well and truly dead by now.

  “By using your power. After all, you must know who you are, the power you possess. You must know that you are - ”

  Kit leapt back up to where his owner still stood, eyes closed. With a single chomp of his sharp canine teeth, he shattered the amulet into a thousand amethyst shards. The Jivan screamed a final awful cry, a shrill pierce that swept the tomb and the miles of tunnels. It was followed shortly by a single, loud, echoing thud. As the body hit the ground, Aardriyah’s eyes suddenly opened. In that moment Aardriyah knew she was and always had been a blessed child.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  rovikian queen

  In the pitch-black tomb of the once great queen of Rovik, Aardriyah found the clarity she had been so longing for. Since the dreams started, since the robed figures began hunting her, since all the madness had erupted into her once simple and meaningless life. She knew she couldn’t go back to that simplicity, to accepting she was nothing more than an unblessed daughter of Veros. No, now she had to accept that she was something much more, something much greater and had finally began to understand the power she had always held within her. In the silence, she found herself questioning where she would begin this new life, how she would find the strength to let go of simple desires and simple dreams. Although part of her felt alive for the first time in the last eighteen, almost nineteen years, she mourned for the part of her innocence she now had to let go of. After all, the weakness of it was completely useless now and would only serve to hinder her journey forth, wherever that may take her.

  A single tear rolled down her cheek, making the slightest of noises as it hit the stone slab in front of her where the once great queen’s caste had been shattered only moments earlier. As if in response, a loud churning noise began to rumble beneath the ground. The darkness of the room suddenly cast aside as Rachida took both of her palms and rose them in the air, creating large balls of firey light. Aardriyah stepped backwards, before realising that Kit was on the stone slab before her. As she reached to grab him, yelling his name in warning, the churning grew so loud, no other noise could be heard. The entire room was now shaking, debris and rocks falling free and covering them all in a layer of dust. Her eyes widened as she noticed the slab rising into the air, turning in an anti-clockwise motion as it did, pushed up by what now appeared to be several other black slabs creating a spiral staircase.

  Old Man Teme reached forth and grabbed Aardriyah, holding her close to him as she screamed and reached tirelessly for Kit. There was no way he was going to make it, the spiral staircase was now almost at the ceiling. Yet, at that exact time as she felt sure her canine companion was destined for a crushing death, a large slit opened up, harsh sunset now streaming through to the below chamber.

  Kit barked down to the party below, as if letting them know that he was safe and to follow him. Aardriyah looked at Rachida and Ven,

  “Are you ok?” She asked timidly. Ven swallowed deeply before triumphantly responding,

  “Completely fine!” Causing both Rachida and Aardriyah to snigger and smile in turn. Aardriyah finally found the strength to look at Old Man Teme, who had been watching over her silently by her side.

  “And you?” She asked. He nodded without saying a word in response.

  Kit barked again, as if in an effort to speed them up.

  Once they all reached the top of the staircase, they found themselves within what appeared to be an old throne room. It was decrepit, uninhabited for years as cobwebs made intricate patterns over every surface and dust covered tapestry in thick layers. At least, to Ven, Teme and Rachida this is how the room appeared. Aardriyah on the other hand wandered the room, mouth aghast as to the beauty of it. There were two thrones, both in immaculate condition shining silver with deep purple velvet pinback cushioning. She gasped as she made her way over to a table with an array of food laid upon it.

  “What are you doing?” Rachida whispered in a stern voice as she watched Aardriyah seemingly pick up something from a dust ridden table and place it into her mouth. Aardriyah turned, looked at Rachida in confusion and through a mouthful said,

  “Aren’t you hungry?” as she motioned towards the table of food before her. Rachida, Ven and Old Man Teme all looked on now utterly confused. Before they had a chance to question her further, a lady suddenly appeared behind them. She pulled the large black doors of the throne room shut and walked over to the party of confused travellers. She was a middle-aged lady, dressed from head to toe in a deep violet gown. Her hair was greyed and neatly tucked into a low bun at the nape of her neck. She bowed her head to Aardriyah and simply said,

  “Welcome.”

  With a quick motion of her hands, the masquerade that had made the throne room appear dishevelled and unkempt, suddenly disappeared, revealing to Old Man Teme, Rachida and Ven the truly opulent surroundings. Rachida gasped, unsure where to look as the magnificent room lit with a thousand crystal chandeliers. Ven was too busy eyeing the food that he could now see Aardriyah was stuffing into her face. Old Man Teme hesitated with the new surroundings, cautiously watching over the woman.

  “Who are you?” He tentatively asked.

  “Ismelda, keeper of the castle.” She responded, as she held out a hand to Old Man Teme. Rachida turned to face the woman,

  “What is this place?”

  Ismelda smiled, blissful appreciation spreading her face as she looked upon the room. Even though she had seen it a thousand times, it still managed to amaze her each time the veil was lifted.

  “Why not ask your friend, she has been here before.” She responded, gesturing towards Aardriyah. “Why, she even wears the crown of our late Queen Ljubitsa.”

  Aardriyah suddenly realised she had left the crown on her head, and after hastily wiping her food covered hands on her shirt, she managed to remove it. She made her way over to Ismelda, holding the crown in front of her.

  “Keep it. The queen led you to it for a reason.” She smiled, before guiding the company towards an area of decadent lounging chairs. Aardriyah looked around and realised she had in fact been here before, in a dream. The very same dream in which she watched the babe of the late queen ripped from her, taken away before the mother had a chance to even hold it.

  “I have been here, or dreamt of here at least.” Aardriyah quietly said.

  Ismelda sighed deeply and sat upon one of the gilded chairs. She looked over Aardriyah and continued,

  “There are many names for what you are. Dream stalker, mind manipulator, soul controller, elemental thief, memory poisoner. Regardless of what they call you, it’s all the same.” The woman, who was beautifully aged and graceful in her composure, glanced over the crown.

  “She was one of them, Queen Ljubitsa, the last true queen of Rovik. This was their home, their castle where t
hey hoped to raise their child.” She looked forlorn over at the thrones.

  “Before she turned to stone for having an affair with the earth king, right?” Rachida excitedly chimed in, clearly still determined to prove Sekher wrong. Ismelda looked at Rachida and smiled through pursed lips, before nodding slightly.

  “Well, I’m glad to see the rumours are still as strong as intended.”

  Ven finally chimed in,

  “Oh I’m also one of those… mind manipulator people, or … whatever you call them.”

  Ismelda raised an eyebrow,

  “Now that is interesting.” She said.

  “I mean, not the same as Aardriyah though. I can get inside people’s heads, or minds I suppose.”

  Ismelda shook her head.

  “It’s all the same. It might begin to manifest in different ways, but it is all the same magical blessing. You simply need training to be able to master the various different facets of it, most of which have been lost to history along with the demise of our once great kingdom. You see, it was Queen Ljubitsa and her husband, Nayram, who saw the destruction of their own kingdom, for the sake of their people. They started those very rumours your friend just recanted, though of course there is no truth in them.”

  Rachida grunted, frustrated that she was apparently wrong.

  “So then, what did happen?” She pressed Ismelda.

  “The Rovikians, as you might know, were some of the most skilled diplomats and forged strong bonds with many blessed kingdoms and empires. We were wealthy, had an incredible fortress and an impeccable history of soothing any arising conflict before it escalated to war. Unfortunately, our king and queen became aware of spies within their court who were trying to uncover how a seemingly unblessed kingdom could be so fruitful and prosperous. While the royal family had known for a long time that they possessed an unnamed blessing, it was hidden from the outside world, for fear that it would corrupt those not strong willed enough to stick to an impeccable moral code. So when it became obvious that outsiders had discovered this unnamed blessing, the king and queen manipulated history a little. They began those rumours, you see, and put a cloak over the whole kingdom to hide it and all the citizens inside from any outside forces.”

  Ismelda sighed, rubbing her temple as she recalled the story she had been taught since birth. She had always hoped she’d be the keeper to welcome the first outside mind blessed within the castle. Now that she was sitting here, she felt an overwhelming pressure to tell the story perfectly, to ensure every last detail was passed on with utmost care.

  “Aardriyah, that dream the queen showed you, it wasn’t just a dream. It was a chapter of history, her last days in this realm. Though, it didn’t necessarily happen the way she showed you. If you can go back into that dream, you might be able to see something that you missed the first time.” Ismelda rose from her chair and walked towards a large bookshelf, scanning it for a book that might assist in her retelling.

  The rest of the party looked over to Aardriyah, so she gave in and closed her eyes trying to go back to that dream that seemed a lifetime ago. She narrated as it came back to life within her mind.

  “It’s the tomb, the tomb we were in before and the queen is struggling, crying, screaming. Right, she’s giving birth…” She clenched her eyes harder, plugged her ears with her fingers and tried to concentrate all her effort into this vision.

  “There’s a person. An Abolotionist of Yatha, they’re administering the crystal test with a… a purple crystal.” She continued, “and then, well they take the baby. That’s it.” She opened her eyes and looked at the confused onlookers. Nothing about this story was suddenly revolutionary. Ismelda spoke from the bookcase,

  “Push harder, Aardriyah, push beyond the cloak of darkness.”

  Aardriyah shook her head, unsure what she was meant to do. If the queen wanted her to see something, she should just point it out – make it obvious instead of making Aardriyah try to recall a memory that wasn’t even hers to begin with.

  Aardriyah tried to return to the dream, the moment before the baby was removed from the room. She willed her ethereal body back to the room, to the tomb, but now tried to move to the other side of the Abolotionist. She tried to peer under the hooded cloak and noticed white frizzed hair and features she would recognise anywhere in the world.

  “Teme” she whispered.

  Ismelda now returned from the bookshelf, a large faded leather book in her arms. Old Man Teme sighed as Aardriyah broke from her dream and glared into his eyes.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Aardriyah furiously rasped at him. He didn’t respond, instead he reached a hand to Ven Digo and simply said,

  “Wander my mind and give her the truth as you find it.”

  Ven Digo gulped before placing a hesitant hand on Old Man Teme’s. He crumpled his forehead as he closed his eyes and tried to search the memory of Old Man Teme for the right place and time.

  “You took the baby and… killed –” He gasped, as his eyes flung open and he rose his hands to his forehead, yelling in pain.

  “This, is why I didn’t say anything. My memory is as you’ve seen, as far as I am aware I killed the baby, the last prince of Rovik. In that very tomb below. But somehow, someone has altered my memory, put a defence in there so I cannot see beyond raising the knife above the baby’s chest. I’m not sure if what I remember is real, or if it is –”

  “A manipulation of history.” Ismelda finished for him.

  “Prince Sudbina was born in the tomb below, but he did not die there.” Ismelda opened the book she was holding and after flipping a few pages, she found the truth behind this otherwise lost part of history.

  “The queen took her own life after holding her baby, after she kissed it

  once, both for the first and last time. As this book dictates, Queen Ljubitsa manipulated the Abolotionist’s mind into believing he was stabbing the prince, but in fact, he stabbed his knife made of bone, into our queen’s heart.” The room turned to Teme, the sadness and regret was so plainly showing across his face now. As the secrets and lies kept piling up, Aardriyah doubted she could ever forgive or trust him again. She tried to refocus on the facts, tried to put aside the ongoing doubt she had about the man she once considered her dearest friend.

  “So where did the prince go?” Aardriyah asked, remembering the final request the Rovikian queen made of her. Ismelda shook her head,

  “No one knows. The handmaiden escaped with him at his parent’s begging. It was a secret too great to tell anyone, even the handmaiden knew this and took her life once she was sure the prince was safe. His identity, his location and anything that became of him was essentially lost to history.”

  “Great, so now what?” Rachida rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed that this seemingly knowledgeable woman only knew bits and pieces of such an important key to Aardriyah’s identity. However, Ismelda wasn’t unnerved by the sarcasm Rachida displayed and looked to Aardriyah and Ven.

  “So now, we train you both, offer you all the knowledge and skill we have honed over centuries of learning from some of the purest mind blessed lineages, just as our king did for my ancestors. It would seem that our queen has deemed you worthy.” She nodded towards the crown Aardriyah was still tightly holding in her hands.

  “And then? How long is this going to take? Five years like The Arcane Academy?” Rachida grunted. Aardriyah looked at the crown, the purple crystals shimmering in the candlelight of the chandeliers and remembered the last words the queen spoke to her.

  “And then, we find the last prince of Rovik.”

  TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK TWO OF

  THE CHRONICLES OF THE BLESSED

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Bel, thank you for believing me and starting me on this journey. Your friendship is second to none and am forever grateful to have you in my life to push me forward.

  To Tiana, thank you for providing me the whirlwind adventure that heavily inspired the ad
ventures within these pages and for getting me back into reading.

  To my family who constantly provide inspiration from all our crazy adventures. As chaotic and hard as life gets, I know we will always have each other and that’s all that matters.

  To my husband, thank you for putting up with the mess in the house, the mess of my brain and the mess of my heart while writing this story. You forever ground me and give me the best blessing of all, love.

  Last but not least, thank you to Josie and Spectre who spent hours sitting with me while I wrote, giving up play time at the river.

  I hope Kit does you both justice.