From Cygnet to Swan

By Mera Delwiche

“The Cygnet grows into a Swan...and the Falcon shall not hunt forever.”
Teenage Sheiji-Yueng is the youngest prince in the Imatsuran palace. Accustomed to complete freedom and being ignored by the rest of the palace inhabitants, he has little need—or desire—to grow up. When his father, on his deathbed, unexpectedly names him successor to the throne, Sheiji must cross the line from childhood into adulthood. Guided by the gentle hand of the late king’s advisor, Sheiji finds himself looking forward to the day he will rule Imatsuro. However, two jealous brothers stand in the way and won’t give up the kingdom without a fight.
Forced to flee for his life, Sheiji is suddenly driven into the outside world with little knowledge of its people or customs. As a pampered prince, Sheiji has never needed the skills his life now depends upon—quick thinking, innate instincts, even just the will to survive. Beginning to enjoy his new life a little too much, he must make a decision. Does he continue his carefree life as a street boy with his newfound soul mate, or return to his own people who are counting on their king to save them from a tyrannical usurper?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mera Delwiche
• Release date: Mar 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310041327

Mera Delwiche

Mera Delwiche grew up on a small farm, playing games of make-believe that became the basis for many of her stories. From 19th century pioneer journeys to medieval romances to adventures in a dozen different countries, she enjoys creating stories that will transport the reader to another world.When she is not writing, you could probably find her reading classics and historical fiction, spending time outside, or being with her family.

Book preview

Chapter 1

My Prince! Come quickly. Get up. King Kawa is dying! My Prince, hurry!

What? asked the princeling. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. My father?

Yes, yes, replied the man. Hurry, my Prince. Your father must name his heir!

The young prince rolled out of bed. Three servants ran to his side carrying his red silk tunic and matching velvet slippers. They dressed him hastily and soon he and the man were whisked off to the dying king’s side.

They stopped at the door of the Dying Room. The servants disappeared as quickly as they had come and the princeling and the man were alone in the hall.

Is he really dying, Fa-Ying? asked the young prince with a look that begged for Fa-Ying to say it was not so; that the king would recover and everything would remain unchanged.

Yes, my son, replied Fa-Ying.

He will choose one of my half brothers to be king because they are the eldest, said the prince with a shrug.

Perhaps, Fa-Ying replied simply. Or he may name you, Sheiji-Yueng.

No! declared the prince. I don’t want to be king. I’m only fourteen! How could I ever rule as well as my father?

Fa-Ying gave Sheiji a commiserative glance. They stopped beside a thick, oak door carved with strange symbols meant to ward off the spirits. The door squeaked as Fa-Ying pushed it open with his shoulder and guided Sheiji in. Four small candles supplied the only light in the windowless room and Sheiji could scarcely make out the thin figure lying on the hard, flat pallet, called the Death Bed. Anyone near death slept on that pallet. On the first day of each year the priests of Eiron, god of protection, blessed the pallet. The blessing, and thus the pallet, was supposed to ward off evil spirits who would come and occupy a weak and dying body. Sheiji knew that anyone who died with an evil spirit in his body was sent to wander the earth forever, haunting those who had failed to provide a sacred Death Bed in his time of need.

Sheiji’s mother, Yukoshi, the king’s first and most beloved wife, had died on this same pallet just one week after Sheiji’s birth. Two of his sisters, his only brother and countless other relatives had also died here. There was over a hundred years of death in this room.

Sheiji was all but invisible as he crept to the back of the crowd. As the youngest son of the king, he’d had a kind of freedom that his older brothers had never enjoyed. The chance that the youngest prince would become king was virtually nonexistent, so Sheiji had not been burdened with the responsibility of learning tedious lessons in how to rule a kingdom. Instead, he’d had a long and carefree childhood full of hide-and-seek with the servant children, swimming with the villagers, and playing other typical, boyish games.

As more people trickled into the room, Sheiji found himself hemmed in on all sides by brothers, uncles, cousins, nephews; all the king’s nearest male relatives. Sheiji hated the crowds. He hated the feeling of suffocation as the noise and smells and body heat of over fifty people all gathered together to hear the king declare his last wishes. He hated the feeling of nervous anticipation that buzzed through the room as audibly as the fifty voices speaking in hushed voices. Sheiji wanted to push his way back through the crowd to the door and escape to the solitude of his chambers. He would stay there until all this was over. What did it matter if he saw the naming of the king’s successor? It wouldn’t affect him.

Fa-Ying appeared at Sheiji’s side and prodded him forward, Go right to the front, Sheiji. Push if you have to, but get as close to your father as you can.

Sheiji squirmed and shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He was now standing between his half brothers Sui-Tsai and Tamé. His father was stripped of his splendor. Gone were his royal robes, the jewels on his fingers, the silk slippers on his feet, the crown on his graying hair. Gone was the kingly bearing that Sheiji loved. Now dressed only in his loincloth, he looked like any one of the thin, ghost-like beggars at the palace gates. His ribs were visible under his copper-brown skin, evidence that he had been unable to eat during the weeks of his illness.

The king lay motionless before the mass of men. He was neither asleep nor awake, neither dead nor alive, but somewhere in between. His mind was far away, but his body clung to life. How long he could hold on no one knew, but when Sheiji looked at him, he felt it would not be long.

Men talked in hushed tones to one another and the sibilant sound of whispered Tekelonnese, the language spoken in Imatsuro, made the room seem alive with serpents. But Sheiji remained silent, watching the form of his respected, almost godlike father twisted with the pain that had brought this strong and noble man down to his grave. It was this illness that had brought to an end the life of Kawa, the true and brave king. This sickness had finished his reign in an agonizingly slow manner.

Fa-Ying was at the king’s side, kneeling beside his master. He had been the king’s most trusted advisor and even a friend at times. He now must guard and guide the king’s successor.

Kawa, my king. I hope that I have served you well. If only I could go on serving you, Kawa, my friend. But now you must name your heir and I promise you I shall serve him as faithfully as I have served you. Fa-Ying took the king’s hand in his and removed the ring that marked his position as king.

The king lifted his head and grasped Fa-Ying’s hand for support. Fa-Ying took the king in his arms and lifted him until he half sat, half lay against Fa-Ying’s chest.

Sheiji saw his father wince in pain. The king began to speak in a dry, cracked voice. The whispers immediately subsided. Sh—, he began and put his hand to his stomach. He moaned and seemed to struggle for breath. The crowd leaned forward. The brothers, Sui-Tsai and Tamé, both knelt before the king to receive the ring they were sure one of them would receive. They had undergone years of training in expectation for this day.

Sh—, he began again and his voice cracked. Sheiji…Yueng.

For a moment, Sheiji scanned the room, waiting to see who would come forward to receive the new title. His brothers jumped up, hurt and angry that their youngest brother should take precedence over them. They whirled around to find him.

Fa-Ying’s free hand jumped to his side where he kept a dagger hidden and ready to protect his king. The princes saw the movement and glared at Fa-Ying. They stepped back and the crowd hid them from the warning frown of the heir’s protector.

At last, Sheiji realized that his father had spoken his name. He was to be king. He came forward hesitantly and knelt before his father. The king raised his hand and set it lightly on the young boy’s head. He let it slide down the smooth black hair, down the nut-brown cheek to the small rounded chin. He gazed at the boy’s small nose, the solemn red lips, usually so happy and smiling, and the almond-shaped, black eyes that were so different from the narrow eyes of the people of Imatsuro, Kawa’s country. It was the face of Kawa’s dear wife, down to the very tilt of his head and the sparkle of life in his eyes.

The king let his hand fall to his side. With his other hand he pushed the ring onto the prince’s thumb. It was much too large, but Sheiji felt his blood surge with the strength and bravery of his father. There seemed to be something almost magical in that ring, something that made Sheiji feel older than his fourteen years. The ring, and with it his father’s blessing, gave him the courage to face the immense task of ruling a kingdom as large as Imatsuro.

With his strength gone, the king lay back on his mat. His breathing had become slow and difficult, yet the king felt calm and at peace. He knew that now the Kingdom was in good hands. Though Sheiji was an untried, untrained boy, the king had faith that his son had what it took to be a just ruler.

His eyes fell upon his dear son’s face once more. He saw an innocent youth, easily shaped at this tender age for good or evil, but more than that, he saw a boy after his own heart: kind, gentle, but firm when the need arose. King Kawa knew that his advisor would teach this boy well. Fa-Ying would help Sheiji overcome his weakness and build on his strength.

"My son…will…rule well," he murmured. His eyes scanned the room in an instant, then rested once again on Sheiji. He smiled weakly. With a soft sigh, he breathed his last.

Chapter 2

My father! Sheiji cried and flung himself over the dead king. My father! My father!

"Come now, young Vua," Fa-Ying said soothingly, using the title of vua; king. We must let his spirit go in peace.

Sheiji would not move. He clung to his father, arms around the thin, lifeless body. The tears rained down the prince’s face and splashed onto the king’s bare chest. Yet no more than one small sob escaped his throat.

The death rituals began around him. The men pounded their chests and their thighs with their hands, stomped their feet, and wailed. They must carry the king’s spirit safely to Doi Doi Mãi Mãi, The Eternal Forever. Their clapping and stomping would scare away the spirits who would try one last time to snatch the dead man’s soul.

Now Kawa’s wives began to wail and pull their hair. Other women of the palace slipped into the room and they also took up the stomping and wailing.

Sheiji trembled in fear from the noise. This was the first death ceremony he had been allowed to attend. His tears had stopped and he clung to his father, his whole body quaking in fear and sorrow.

Come, Sheiji, Fa-Ying whispered gently in his ear. Sheiji allowed himself be dragged away from his father’s body at last. He stood shakily by Fa-Ying’s side in the far corner of the room.

Candles were being lit and placed in a ring around the king. The light would guide his soul to Doi Doi Mãi Mãi. Evil spirits were afraid of light, preferring the darkness where they could not be seen by the gods who would help the poor soul that the spirits were trying to ensnare.

The light from the candles threw ghostly shadows on the wall as Sheiji watched, making the dancing, screaming figures seem supernatural; like sinister monsters.

Fa-Ying put his arm around Sheiji’s shoulders and drew him close. It was a crime punishable by imprisonment or even death, to touch a king or queen, but Fa-Ying remembered a time when he had needed the comforting touch of a friend and had not received it. And so he comforted the sad and frightened boy.

Let’s go, said Fa-Ying gently. You’ve seen enough. He guided Sheiji by the shoulder. They pushed through the crowd toward the door.

Sheiji felt a hand squeeze his arm and gasped in pain. He turned his head and saw his brother Sui-Tsai glaring at him with narrowed eyes and holding his arm in a grip of iron. His expression was hideous and inhuman. "You…will never…be…king! Sui-Tsai threatened between clenched teeth. I will personally see to that."

Sheiji saw a small glimmer of metal and knew Fa-Ying had heard the prince’s words and had drawn his dagger. Sui-Tsai quickly released Sheiji and disappeared inside the Death Room.

Pay him no mind, Sheiji, Fa-Ying said.

Then they were in the hall. The door closed and the dancing and noises were locked inside the room. A sob escaped Sheiji’s throat as he thought of his father, of the ceremony and of his brother’s threat.

It has been a long night, my king, Fa-Ying said.

Soon Sheiji was back in his room. He undressed and climbed into bed. An armed servant sat nearby, under Fa-Ying’s orders to draw his dagger on anyone who tried to enter the room, but still Sheiji could not sleep. The whole scene of that night’s activities played before his eyes: the picture of his majestic father, lying helpless and weak on the Death Bed, the sound of the stomping and wailing and beating of chests, and Sui-Tsai’s threat.

He lay awake thinking until dawn when Fa-Ying returned to fetch him.

Chapter 3

Early in the morning two days after Kawa’s death, heralds were dispatched from the palace. They traveled through every city and town in Imatsuro with the news of the king’s death and issued this proclamation.

To the subjects of the Kingdom of Imatsuro:

In honor of our late king, Kawa-Matsu, and in memory of his prosperous rule, I issue the following decree: For seven days the Kingdom of Imatsuro will mourn. There shall be no celebrations during those seven days. It shall be a time of remembrance for our king.

At the end of the seven days of mourning shall be the coronation of our new king, Sheiji-Yueng, chosen by the late King Kawa as his heir and successor.

May you prosper in your homes and cities.

Advisor to the King

Fa-Ying

In the week following the king’s death, the whole kingdom went into mourning. King Kawa had been a kind and just king. He was generous and peace loving. His subjects were heartbroken at his death.

Many people shaved their heads as a symbol of their grief, and many others laid aside their colorful clothing and dressed in black or gray. Even the sky seemed to put on a dress of mourning and cried big drops of rain, though it was the dry season.

The day of Sheiji’s coronation drew near. Seamstresses busied themselves making new clothes for the fourteen-year-old king. The palace cooks planned and prepared a feast for the special day. Sheiji began the fasting and meditation that would purify him for his coronation.

At last, after much preparation, the day arrived. That morning, Sheiji woke early with a large knot in his stomach. He felt so nervous that he did not even notice the pinch of hunger.

He clapped twice and several servants came running from the next room, carrying his coronation regalia. The floor-length tunic was a rich, purple silk with silver dragons embroidered over its surface. The hem was embroidered in gold thread and the neckline was a pattern of jasmine blossoms. The shoes were of the same purple silk with gold tassels to match the hem and embroidery.

After much primping and altering, the royal dressers declared that Sheiji looked resplendent. A knock sounded at the door and Sheiji opened it himself.

Good morning, Sheiji.

Good morning, Fa-Ying, replied Sheiji.

You’re ready early, commented Fa-Ying.

I couldn’t sleep, Fa-Ying. I’m too nervous, Sheiji explained.

Do not worry, replied Fa-Ying with a gentle smile.

Sheiji sighed.

If you’re ready we’ll go. Already there is a crowd outside the balcony. Fa-Ying chuckled, Not many people get to see a coronation in their lifetime.

Sheiji nodded and swallowed hard. How many people will be watching me? he asked weakly.

You’ll do fine, said Fa-Ying.

They walked down the hall in a dignified manner. Two armed guards followed close behind them, with several servants bringing up the rear. The silk slippers and straw sandals of the servants and guards made a soft whoosh whoosh on the floor as they walked. Otherwise, the corridor was silent.

They stopped at a thick wooden door. It’s time, my king, said Fa-Ying as he pushed open the door. Fa-Ying, as protector and advisor to the young king, stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the city of Taiyunyi. The crowd threw up a cheer.

Fa-Ying raised his arms for silence. Good people of Imatsuro! he began when the noise had subsided. Good people of Imatsuro, today we are celebrating the coronation of our new king, Sheiji-Yueng!

The crowd cheered and waited for the new king to appear. They waited and waited, and slowly the cheering began to subside.

King Sheiji-Yueng! Fa-Ying said again. Sheiji did not appear. Poor boy, Fa-Ying said under his breath as he turned toward the door where Sheiji was supposed to make his entrance.

Sheiji? he said coming back into the palace. What are you doing? Your subjects are waiting for you!

I don’t want to, sobbed Sheiji. I don’t want to.

Why, Sheiji?

"There are