The Ageless Giant

by B K Suitter

  There were tall, man-made waterfalls that were built for meditation purposes, and it was at one of these waterfalls that Aliha first saw Yamen. As she walked by with the group of twenty in the tour, she couldn’t help but stare at the bare-chested boy sitting with his legs crossed and his arms out to the side and palms up while meditating under the splashing waters. As she walked by, the strange boy opened an eye, winked, and then closed it again, making her blush and hurry on her way. As Aliha followed the tour, they came across another tall waterfall, and under the falling waters, sitting bare-chested and meditating, was the same boy she saw earlier, and once again he opened an eye, winked, and then closed it. Aliha stared at the boy, noticing his muscular frame, strong jaw line, and jet-black hair that fell straight as the waters splashed over his head and face.

  The guided tour meandered up a small grassy hill and at the top of the rise was the tallest waterfall thus far. It stood an incredible seventy feet high with huge boulders stacked on top of each other in precise cut angles. Up the back of the tall structure were large buckets that pulled water from a stream and traveled up a belt-system to deliver the cold liquid to the top where it would cascade down onto a flat basin made of stone. Once again, the boy sat bare-chested in the waterfall, and once again he winked. This time, however, Aliha pretended not to notice, and as the group rounded the next corner, Aliha dove out of sight behind a large bush and waited for the boy to sprint past on his way to the next waterfall. Aliha sat quiet and unmoving, and just when she was about to give up and resume the tour in disappointment, a voice startled her from behind.

  “Who are we hiding from?” asked Yamen the Darkhorse.

  Aliha jumped and slapped the boy hard in the face as she turned around, then she sprinted off with embarrassment to find her tour group.

  The next few days she spent with her father and her future betrothed, Prince Allenmar. She would get glimpses of the Dishoni boy as they walked the seemingly endless paths that ribboned throughout the temple complex. He would be showing-off doing a handstand on a small ledge at the top of the highest bell tower, and then would be seen meditating in the center of a small pathway. As she strolled by him with her prince, the boy just sat there with his eyes closed and Aliha watched and expected him to open an eye and wink, and when he didn’t, it bothered her ardently. That night, she snuck out of her small bed chamber and roamed the temple grounds until the young monk found her.

  “What is your name?” the boy asked as he circled her slowly, and he spoke the answer at the same time she did.

  “Aliha,” they said together, and she smiled and gave the boy a funny look. She was complimented by the fact that he knew her name.

  “What is your name?” Aliha asked.

  “Darkhorse,” the boy replied and the two sat on a stone bench and talked for the rest of the night.

  Aliha snuck out to meet the strange boy each night after, and the two grew closer as they shared their ideas and conversed about nothing. There was never a break in the dialogue, and never an awkward moment, until it was time for her to leave the grand temple complex and return to Arani City. Aliha cried as she told Yamen of her destiny and how she was being groomed to marry Prince Allenmar and one day be queen of the Eastern Kingdom. It broke her heart and terrified her to say the words and she sat there in tears and explained her unfortunate situation, not daring to look him in the eyes.

  “It’s ok, Princess. One day you will join me on a spirit cloud high above the mountains of my ancestors,” said Yamen. “One day we will be together,” and they shared a smile and a quick, but everlasting kiss.

  Aliha sat with her new husband, King Uriah, and watched as Yamen the Darkhorse defeated each man easily to gain the right to be head of the Queen’s Guard. Uriah watched in annoyance as the famous Dishoni monk easily bested all his finest men. Not one was a match for Yamen, and so by right, the Dishoni monk was named Captain of the Queen’s Gaurd.

  Yamen would be with Aliha – always.

  As Simeon finished his tale, he threw back another mouthful of ale and called for another round. He could tell the crowd was pleased with his story, but there were a few that disputed the tale and said their love affair was only a rumor.

  “Then why does Prince Hadias resemble Yamen more than that pig Uriah?” The bosomy tavern wench called out in dispute, and they all argued until another man called for another tale.

  “The story of when Yamen and Daphaxian both battled against the ruthless highwaymen,” called out a large man with a thick brown beard.

  “Who’s Daphaxian?” asked Tye as he tipped his mug back to take another drink of ale.

  “Boy!” yelled Simeon, and he again smacked the thin young man upside the head, causing Tye to spill his drink all down his already soaked shirt. “Daphaxian is the most conniving, deceptive, arrogant scoundrel in all of Asaria. He’s the kind of man that would sell his own mother to a slaver!”

  The crowd around him all yelled out in agreement as Tye grabbed at his wet shirt and tried to wring the dark ale from it.

  “If fact,” Simeon replied after the crowd quieted down, “I would be willing to bet that Daphaxian is in Snowflake for The Ice Pack, and he is right now stealing coppers from a blind man’s cup!” and the crowd around him once more roared with laughter.

  The next morning the group of Riverwatchers set out with a steady determined pace. They were not too far from the Timberlands, and from there the journey to Eight would take only a few days. Simeon told stories as the men rode east towards the ever-growing horizon of trees, and at mid-day, they encountered a rider coming from the direction they were heading. The messenger had been pushing his mount hard and when he stopped to speak with Simeon, the horse was wet and its breathing labored.

  “I am Commander Redsword of the Riverwatchers,” hailed Simeon with authority. “What news from the Timberlands?”

  “Prince Hadias and a large force have been razing the frontier towns all throughout the forest,” the rider spoke urgently. “Castle Sunflower has sent out a large force to investigate the claims and join a smaller army from Starcrest already stationed at one of the towns. I ride for Redrose!” the rider yelled as he kicked on the sides of his mount and sped off down the trail. Simeon and the other Riverwatchers all gave each other nervous looks.

  “It looks like we will be in for a little adventure. What do you say, boy?” Simeon said to Tye as the young man sat atop his horse and glanced around nervously. “One day I will be sitting around a campfire telling this very story to another young recruit long after you’re dead,” and Simeon roared with laughter as he shook the reins of his large charger and headed towards the tree line.

  21

  Year of the Frost Horn 2318 A.A.

  Aliha opened her eyes as she lay in bed thinking about the strange dream. She had had that same dream once before, but it was when she was a small girl and it seemed more like a fairy tale brought on by the stories her mother and father told her at bedtime. This dream, however, seemed all too real and had the feel of a distant memory – not a bedtime story.

  She got out of her bed and moved across the cold wood floor of her tiny room on bare feet to a window glazed with frost and iced over around the edges. She thought of the man known as Yamen the Darkhorse, and though she had never met him before, she felt a strange attraction to him, but most likely it was just a silly girl’s fantasy.

  She had heard the sad tale of Yamen, and how he fought bravely to recover Castle Lamourne for her mother, Queen Aliha, but when the battle was over, Aliha and Gideon were gone. People whispered that Yamen spent the next eighteen years searching for his queen, and to this day scours the world endlessly.

  Why didn’t he just go to the temple where she was at? Surely, he would have looked there, Aliha thought the question for the first time and it rocked her back on her heels. Certainly, he would have gone there at some point.

  Suddenly, shouts from the dark street below caused her to rub the frost from the cold window with her fingers
and look out. There were torches lighting the street corners that offered light to the crowds that wandered about below.

  Aliha stayed at a large inn known as The Cold Bear with Gideon and the rest of her group. Gretta shared a room with Bearok while Shanks and Daphaxian each had rooms across from her. Gideon and Prince Allenmar’s rooms were just down the hall.

  Aliha put her face to the window and saw a man running out of a dark alley and knocking a poor blind man to the ground and then dashing off into the press of people that made their way from one gambling tavern to the next.

  Then, as she continued to stare out the window, another man in warm furs came bolting around the corner, jumping over the blind man that knelt on the cold road and dashing on down the street. Two more men came sprinting around the corner as well and they gracefully dodged the poor man, and it was apparent that the three men were chasing the first through the crowded streets of Snowflake.

  Aliha turned from the window and quickly went back to the warm furs that covered her wide bed. She stretched out underneath their heavy weight as she tried to drift her way back to sleep, hoping to once again dream of the mysterious stranger, Yamen the Darkhorse.

  **************************

  Daphaxian sprinted down a cold street in the northern district of Snowflake with loud cries following in his wake. It was early in the morning and he quickly turned down a narrow alley and dashed to the other end where he darted around the corner and ran square into a blind beggar, sending him hard to the street and throwing his beggar cup and coppers high into the air. Daphaxian was able to snatch four of the coins as he continued to dash on down the crowded road, twisting and turning through the throng of people that wandered the cold street.

  Three Dishoni warriors dressed in light warm furs came charging around the corner after him and they leapt around the blind man that was still on his knees in the road.

  Daphaxian ran through the open doors of a Northern bistro and quickly made his way to the kitchen and then out the back door. He flew down a dark alley, and then sped across a wide street and into a crowded gambling tavern, and then swiftly out the back and into another dark alley.

  Just a little farther, Daphaxian thought to himself as he ran down the snow-packed lane. When he reached the end of the street, he quickly rounded the corner and an iron pole hit him square across the face and leveled him to the cold snowy street and into a sea of darkness.

  The three Dishoni warriors came dashing around the corner to find a small band of Northmen unloading a wagon full of merchandise to an old street vendor.

  “The Southern Princess scurried that way,” said one of the large Northmen in a deep voice and he pointed down the lane. Immediately, the three Dishoni men took off in the direction given and the Northmen pressed on with their business.

  ***************************

  The dark Prince Hadias turned to the beautiful Kneeamara as she stood with eyes closed, standing still in a forest clearing while the sun threw its warming rays down upon them. He was worried that he was becoming obsessed with the witch, and often wondered if she had put a spell on him.

  The eerie Asarian general known as Dread walked into the clearing where the prince and General Kneeamara stood.

  “The troops are on the move,” he said in a cold raspy voice.

  “Good,” replied Prince Hadias. “Make sure they move far enough around the town’s perimeter – I do not want any skirmishes. Keep them moving towards Eight. We will join you soon enough.”

  “Understood,” rasped Dread and he left the clearing.

  Prince Hadias turned to his alluring general and found her with eyes open, staring after Dread as he disappeared into the forest. She had a look of disgust twisting her beautiful features, but when she turned to look at him, she immediately smiled and her eyes sparkled.

  “You do not like Dread?” Prince Hadias asked with amusement.

  “Nor do I like your dog, Semik,” replied Kneeamara. “I await his efforts on capturing a simple band of runaway townsfolk, a simple enough task that will see him dead if he fails to bring them to me.”

  “I need Semik; he is a good dog,” Prince Hadias said with a smile.

  “You need me more,” Kneeamara replied with a seductive grin. She moved close to the prince and gently ran her long fingers across his cheek while gazing into his eyes. The ruthless prince stood frozen and was lost in her stare, his mind going blank of all thoughts other than those obsessing over her.

  “Prince Hadias,” said Harn Cross as he went to a knee after coming into the forest clearing. Kneeamara looked over at the scout and he immediately lowered his eyes to the forest floor, not daring to look the witch in the face.

  “Report,” Prince Hadias replied as he slowly shook the cobwebs from his mind.

  “Sergeant Semik has been found,” replied Harn as he stood.

  “Good, have him and his men meet up with Dread–” started Prince Hadias.

  “He is alone,” the scout dared to interrupt, silencing the dark prince for a moment.

  “What do you mean?” Kneeamara asked.

  “Well, more or less,” Harn Cross replied and Kneeamara gave him a questioning glare.

  ************************

  Aliha narrowed her eyes as bright rays from an early sun washed over her wakening form. She quickly pulled her warm furs up over her head and seriously considered going back to sleep when another knock pounded on her door. This time it was followed by a loud but feminine voice.

  “Aliha,” called Gretta, “may I come in?”

  No, thought Aliha, but that wouldn’t be very princess-like and Gretta would not tolerate that behavior from one of the Three Princesses of Asaria. Gretta was quite serious about being a princess and talked often about the legendary three princesses from the past. Aliha had heard whispers while in Snowflake about the Northern Princess beheading a good man simply for making a lewd comment about Rhayne – the famous princess from the Eastern Kingdom’s past.

  Aliha groaned and threw back her thick warm covers and got out of bed. She scampered across the frigid floorboards to the door and threw back the bolt then quickly dashed back into her bed.

  “Come in, Gretta,” Aliha called out.

  Gretta opened the door and came in with an air of excitement.

  “Aliha, you must get up and get ready,” said the large Northern woman as she moved to the edge of the bed and began pulling off the furs.

  Aliha covered herself up and sunk deeper into the covers and squealed a muffled, “No!”

  Gretta stood up tall and put her hands on her hips. She wore a beautiful, full-length gown of soft blue with patterns of diamond ice crystals decorating the long transparent sleeves. Her hair was done up and she wore a thin tiara made from the rarest of metals and gems, and she did indeed look like a princess of the North.

  “Aliha,” Gretta said again, sounding just a little irritated. “You must wake right now and get ready. My father is waiting in the town square for us and,” the woman from the North hesitated until Aliha peeked out from beneath the mound of furs. “And I have a big surprise for you!” Gretta burst with excitement.

  Aliha dove back underneath the furs and cried out another, “No!” She knew that Gretta’s surprises were rarely good, and when the Northern princess began to scold her and tear the furs from her large bed, Aliha laughed loudly and tried to get away.

  “C’mon,” urged Gretta, “you must get out of bed. Spirit Wind and two other teams have been spotted racing neck and neck from out of the pass and they will be here just before the sun’s apex. The bird arrived early this morning so you mustn’t waist time.”

  Later, after much persuasion, Aliha found herself in the king’s lavish suite at the large gambling inn known as The Ice Palace. She was given to the primping handmaidens brought from Castle Coldstorm for the sole purpose of attending Gretta and the other princesses.

  King Ironheart had arrived early in the morning aboard his imperial Iron Horse and was not happy
to hear of the brothers’ fight. He quickly called off all bets made on the brawl and reminded Bearok that as a Shadow, he could not engage in such events.

  After Aliha was made to look as an Imperial Princess of Asaria and dressed in a long ruby colored gown with a tiara of gold placed in her hair, she was escorted through the cold, snowy streets and ushered towards the town square. She wore a light shawl around her elegant dress and it did nothing against the cold. She was forced to wear high heeled boots that were as fancy as her dress and as she slipped in the snow and almost fell for a third time, she began to feel irritated and found the whole notion of dressing up like a princess quite impractical for the conditions at Snowflake.

  Then she turned the corner and realized why Gretta was making such a big fuss. Princess Sunfire had arrived and was standing like an imperial statue next to Gretta and King Ironheart.

  “Princess Aliha!” Gretta called out, and Princess Sunfire turned to watch her amble towards them. Aliha could see it in the Dishoni woman’s dark eyes and on the smirk that edged her perfectly formed lips – she was being measured, judged, and ridiculed.

  “Princess Aliha,” Gretta said with a large smile, “this is Princess Sunfire – daughter to Chief Wind of Change.”

  “It is wonderful to finally meet you, Princess Aliha,” Sunfire said and she gave Aliha the awkwardest of hugs.

  “It is nice to meet you, Princess Sunfire,” Aliha replied. Sunfire stood elegant in a dress made of fine dazzling silks that had been brought back from Quing – a distant land in another part of the world. She had straight black hair that fell to her waistline and it was decorated with feathers from a red eagle.

  “So, you are the Southern Princess that everyone seems so enamored with, as of late,” Sunfire spoke with an air of authority that was sprinkled with sarcasm and jealousy. “They say you are as beautiful as your mother was.”