Council of Kings

By Seth Giolle

Prince Sevrin has grown into a world of wonder. They’re building new hybrid buildings that’ll stand the test of time; shipyards are going strong; and their new aqueduct has found a reassuring beginning. The people prosper under his father’s fair rule. There is room for social change, but on the whole, there is peace and prosperity.
But his nightmares persist, and a new race of traveller has been seen on their borders, a new race of rider from the South. Or so some believe. And the Kingdoms are threatened with civil war as old monarchs near death with no heirs to continue their line. All moments of peace know an end. More pressing, there is a darkness lurking in the past, an enemy thought destroyed – an enemy forgotten to all but a few.
As evil rises, heroes must answer the call.
Or watch their world burn.
The three enchanted blades of legends have been awakened, but who will they select as bearers? And how well will they fare against this new threat?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365532771

Seth Giolle

Seth Giolle was born on a small, rural farm in southeast Ontario. After Travelling throughout Canada in all its splendour, he once again makes Ontario his home.

Book preview

otherWorksByAuthor5

Chapter One

Rebirth

The cold seeped in though Prince Sevrin’s off-white ruffled shirt and thin leather vest. His shirt, vest, light brown pants, and suede boots were covered in dirt and cobweb. His long curly brown hair was a mess as well. He turned back to the cave-in again. He could hear the picks and hammers working on the other side, dull echoes upon the fallen debris; yet the rock remained, refusing to give, and looking back around at the cavern he’d fallen into, he felt real dread.

This cavern didn’t want to be found.

And again, he felt the beat. It was a pulse moving through the rough earth and stone at his feet. The place was alive, and it was far older than the rest of the dig they’d uncovered so far. And it breathed. Did the grey walls have eyes? Looking around, he felt them watching him. Had he been there before?

Yes, but when?

Before him, the cavern fell down into a broken bowl with boulders and small pools. In that stale darkness, there was little life, yet, still, he felt it, and looking up, he knew its source, and he took a wary step back.

No, not again. Not this dream again.

They hung above him suspended between the thin stalactites - swaying innocently from their thick white threads. There was wonder in that subtle movement and menace in their presence. Those cocoons were the source of the dreadful pulse, the broken breath, and that watchful gaze. Why? Why was it happening again!?

They started to bob more purposefully. Prince Sevrin stumbled quickly further back as the cocoons slowly descended one by one. He looked left and right, frantically pushing himself up against the rock at his back, but there was no use.

There was no getting out.

The air turned sweet, and the breeze stopped dead. Sevrin could feel beads of sweat gather on his brow, his throat turning dry and sore. The pulse around and under him quickened, and Sevrin shook his head more erratically. He was watching in horror as light blue fingers pried their way through the outer silken skin of the nearest cocoon.

sunIcon

Prince Sevrin bolted awake.

He quickly checked his stomach and throat. He could swear he could feel those fingers on his skin, and those bright blue eyes - they followed him even into the waking world. Working to slow his breathing, his forehead and nightshirt soaked with sweat, he glanced around proving to himself it was just a dream.

His four-poster bed, heavy oak with thick cotton trim, sat between two open shuttered windows. Paintings hung every four feet between the ornate wood-panelled walls, tasteful oak and cedar chests and tables lining his walls. A wide hearth with mantle was built into the wall facing the foot of his bed with small ivory statues resting along its top. To his left was his private lavatory. To his right were two thick wooden doors. Looking around, moonlight showing the yellows, greens, whites, and blues in dappled hues, he swallowed long.

The two thick, wooden doors burst open.

Two servants rushed in, bowing quickly. Sevrin took in their bent forms for a moment; then, he swallowed. Damn. How long had he been screaming this time? He swallowed a few more times and cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

My liege, a soldier in plate armour said, barely a step behind the two servants. His right hand rested upon the hilt of his sword, and his right gripped just above his dagger. Two younger soldiers appeared behind him, searching the room for any possible intruders.

Koli was easily forty with a greying black moustache and beard. He made a quick, thorough scan with his one good, left eye. He then bowed forward slightly. He’d served the royal family since he was young, like his father, and his father before him. He was trusted beyond doubt and faithful beyond the call.

We heard commotion, your majesty. We wanted to make sure you were alright.

I’m fine, Prince Sevrin replied, clearing some curls from his forehead. Now, please leave.

Our apologies for intruding. He ushered the servants and other soldiers out, bowing again and closing the doors as he left.

Sevrin cringed. The shame would last longer than any length of dry throat. It couldn’t just be taken away with water. He was eighteen - a young master, but there he was, screaming in the night from a bad dream like a small child. He was suffering a memory that stalked him mercilessly. Why did they scare him so much? Why did they also inspire him so?

Why, when he was the only person who’d seen the creatures, when there were so many reasons to believe them to be just a delusion created by the fall and mixed gasses - why, with all that, did he still believe they existed? And why, with all the terror they’d brought him, did he long to find, with all his heart, those same creatures again?

Slipping from the covers, Sevrin wiped more hair back behind his ears and pulled a dark red robe on. He secured himself a drink and stood like so many times in the last month before the right-most window. He took a careful sip of his water and slowly shook his head.

Even in the waking world, he could see the hand that reached for him. He could feel its fingers on his skin - that cold, clammy, numbing touch. It had only been one touch. No matter what anyone else said, no matter what they’d found when they’d broken through, they’d been there. He’d seen them.

Before he’d passed out.

From somewhere in the wide green courtyard below, possibly beyond the castle walls and deep in the slumbering city, the soft pickings from a lute reached his ears carried on a cool wind. It was beautiful.

The city was a sea of white wooden trim and light brown roof tops. Mixed in were the stone spires and carven arches, and it all flowed across to the light purple Tchronin Mountains in the east.

Alongside the melody came the sound of hammers hitting iron and cart wheels clattering on loose cobblestone. Not everyone slept on the same schedule. While most of Davergen slept, some were awake and went about their business. Still, it was a peaceful sight and sound with most of the city asleep, and Sevrin didn’t mind the sound of hammers. They added a nice rhythmic touch. Also on that wind, the fragrant scent of the gardens below met his nose, and there was a faint distant smell of water.

A soft, beautiful voice, singing along with the lute, added to the sombre scene.

       "When the road is long and the day draws in,

       May you find your head and heart Alynn.

       When the road gets long, don’t forget:

       Your home is where you belong.

       Your path may take you far away.

       Your feet will wear and your mind will sway.

       When the road gets long, don’t forget:

       Your home is where you belong.

       I watch you grow my little one.

      Grow up strong my special son.

      When the road gets long, don’t forget:

      Your home is where you belong."

Sevrin smiled. Looking up, he picked out two moons amid the blue. Off to the right, he could see the cathedral they were building - the newest hybrid of stone, wood, and metal. It would be stronger than anything they’d built yet. He’d been watching it grow from foundation up, and he nodded.

The shipyards were growing nicely, and with any hope, the aqueduct they’d started would help bring water further inland. Their kingdom was well taken care of, but there were farms further out and neighbouring kingdoms that weren’t so lucky. Still, trade prospered, songs were sung in the street, artists were celebrated, and the city grew up proud and strong. It was a good time to be alive with the promise of a whole lot of better things to come.

Sevrin frowned and leaned on his window sill. With all that peace, there was still work to do, and sleep was clearly not an option. Perhaps, he’d start early again. Two dragons flew overhead. Long jointed wings carrying them lazily though the sky, long spiked tails swaying left and right with ease. And their Riders wearing the golden emblem of Ammoll peered attentively around as they passed. The dragons and their Riders faded into the furthest sun.

Yes, there was work to be done. This time, maybe, he’d learn what he was looking for.

bookIcon

Prince Sevrin. It’s good to see you again.

Prince Sevrin frowned. He switched feet where he propped them up on the edge of a dull red, finely crafted curved desk. Around him, five thick tomes were stacked with another open across his lap. He turned a few pages. The starched dark brown parchment complained against the tight binding. Small black writing raced across each page with curls and dots accentuating each line, and the words filled every inch of parchment before his eyes.

Is this the latest batch, Thelmot? he asked. It’s all I could find.

Yes, my Prince, Thelmot returned, bowing with a flourish. The scribes finished drying them just last night before calling it a day. Are they not to your liking?

They are full of … full of details and great knowledge, but little that interests me today. You have yet to find me their roots. The creatures must have come from something. They must have shown up in some text or scroll over the years. What point is there in collecting those moth-eaten, tattered old bits of knowledge and rebinding it all if it doesn’t account to anything?!

Sevrin had tried to keep his frustration from his words, but he knew he’d failed.

Thelmot smiled. Wispy white hair covered his head with an equally white beard running down his chest. His robes were a deep blue, and soft black shoes covered his feet. He adjusted the text under his right arm, a tome almost half the size of the one Prince Sevrin was methodically picking through.

You know you don’t mean that, he replied, striding through his study and up onto the raised stage that took over half of the room. That stage started at his desk, which the Prince now inhabited, and up to the far wall and five large arched windows that looked out onto the fountains, benches, and bright, colourful flowerbeds of the courtyard below. Standing there, he gestured around the octagonal, high-ceilinged room.

Take a look around, he urged, his voice warm and inviting. Our searching, our delving has created all this! I know we’ve yet to find you news of those creatures, your majesty, but we have found so much more.

The Prince cast a scrutinizing glance around, grudgingly acknowledging the light brown wooden shelving filling the walls. They were full to the brim with hundreds of leather texts of various sizes and colours, and easels were set up before them in places showing anatomical drawings of animals, stencilled wing designs, and abstract art.

To Thelmot’s left was his telescope, a thin black and silver tube with four eye holes so a person could control how close a look they got at something.

In the far corner was Sevrin’s old phonograph, one he’d been given as a child. Thelmot had offered to repair it, but in the last few months, he’d chosen to tinker as well as repair, claiming it could be improved.

And beside the telescope was Rotarn, the large yellow bird they’d discovered some years back. Its cage sat far enough from the shelves that feathers didn’t fall against the books, but it was close enough that anyone who visited, watching Rotarn’s big black eyes peruse the shelves, would almost think the bird was reading.

Sevrin’s gaze finally lifted, moving over the planet, three moons, three suns, and stars hanging on thin near-invisible lines, connecting to the arched wooden beams above. Brass rings ran through the suns and moons keeping them rotating around their central planet. The stars just hung there, unmoving. They did pick up the suns’ light from the windows and twinkled where they turned.

It is something, Sevrin admitted, grudgingly. Thelmot grinned, resting his tome on the table to his right before stepping up to the shelving to his left and running loving fingers along the leather backs there.

It’s more than that, he breathed, taking in a thought. We’ve been able, thanks to your efforts to uncover so much of the past - so much that was once lost, and it’s given us our identity. We never would have known of our history, he said, pointing towards one section to his left, if it weren’t for all this. We would never have known the names our land once bore. We would know nothing of the lost animals, peoples, and religions of this world, he added, pointing to separate sections with each word. We’ve uncovered great songs and poems that were otherwise lost to time, and we’ve learned the old myths of the stars and moons, and through them, we’ve learned amazing truths!

Sevrin sighed, looking around again.

Thelmot nodded. I know you’re looking for one particular bit of information, and I hope we find it for you, your majesty, but don’t discount what we’ve learned otherwise. The skills and designs, for example, he quickly noted, gesturing towards the wooden models on the desk, then out the window towards the cathedral people were working on. A heavy coloured window was being lifted into place as he spoke. The secrets of the coloured glass were uncovered in our searches, and the old ways of building and reinforcing have pushed our architecture ahead by giant leaps. They’ve brought on so many more ideas! And their art - their art is magnificent. It inspires us even more so.

I’m not going to stop funding the digs, Sevrin pointed out, shrugging sluggishly. I just find it hard to believe that, with all the scrolls, tablets, and scripts they find in those digs, that there’s nothing about a cocoon creature race. They can’t have merely been hiding, unseen for centuries. It’s maddening to be the only man who believes they exist.

Thelmot silently nodded. For what it’s worth, your majesty, you have my support. It makes sense they’d have been seen before, and citing of blue-skinned humanoid creatures would have been found, even if only in the myths we’ve been collecting. I imagine they would have looked different in the past, so we must be vigilant in our search. Sevrin looked to the section Thelmot had dedicated to the collected myths they’d unearthed.

Unfortunately, Thelmot continued with a short wince, I was not there at the cave in, and so, the King, your father, will take my support for little.

Sevrin nodded knowingly.

I know, and I thank you, but that’s the problem. No matter how many people choose to believe me, I was the only one who saw them. When the others broke through, they found nothing but broken webbing, and they burned that. My father is convinced the threat is over or never really was.

Thelmot sighed, resting his hands behind his back. Sevrin closed the tome he’d been reading and set the book back on the desk. Standing, he made a quick tour of the room, pausing to pick up a small, wooden catapult from beside the phonograph.

Are you done with my toys yet, professor?

Thelmot laughed. The old man motioned to where four other, similar toys sat beside the telescope. Their simplicity, he explained, has suggested to me truths our overly-complicated masons ignore. Take the dragon toy for example, he noted, walking over to the stencilled wing design and taking it in with reverence. It showed me the hinges and possibilities one might use, and from that simple beginning, I’ve theorized actual flight, using the design of a real dragon’s wing of course.

Sevrin looked from one wooden toy to the next, finally replacing the catapult in his hand and shaking his head.

I take it you haven’t told my father of any of this?

No, no, Thelmot moaned, frowning. He does not fully support our work at building a written library. I won’t suggest to him I’m considering exploring actual human flight. He’ll think I’m mad.

Sevrin shrugged. He already does. Thelmot’s eyes went wide, the Prince laughing. Don’t worry. It isn’t a question of your mind. He thinks you’re mad to consider such things as worthy of the gold that goes into it, no matter what knowledge and gains come out.

Well, then, Thelmot declared, resting his hands behind his back again, I’m doubly, if not more so glad this movement has your support. Sevrin bowed playfully, Thelmot sighing pensively. Has there been any more word, your majesty? he asked, taking in a breath as he spoke. About the gallery?

Sevrin shook his head. No. With the talk of opening a library for the common person, the Council has been in an uproar. From what my father has told me, they don’t mind libraries and texts being created for their uses, and with that in mind, they’ve given their support and coins to our ends, but the suggestion of opening common libraries has sparked great fear and resentment from the other Kings.

They must see how it would benefit the common man, my liege.

Sevrin shrugged. He walked up to the closest window and peered outside. They fear it will empower the common man, he corrected. To have such libraries would require learning. The common man would need to learn to read, and with that, the Kings and nobles fear rebellious thoughts would grow. They’re worried the people would decide they don’t need kings and princes anymore. They’re worried that same common man would bring down the known structure and chaos would rule.

Thelmot almost spoke, but he decided to cough and hold his head high instead. Seeing this, Sevrin smiled. They’re worried they’ll lose their power, and with serious threat, they promised to remove their support should we open public libraries here in Ammoll. Thelmot nodded glumly. I must admit that I see some of their concern. Thelmot made to reply, but the Prince held up his hand, and the professor closed his mouth again.

I agree with what we’re doing, even if I learn little of my quest, but I see their concern. If it’s done too quickly, change can be damaging. The common person, man or woman, could become confused and want more control than they can handle – more than they’re truly ready for, but in time, carefully taught and trained, I believe the people can be educated. They can maybe even govern themselves.

Thelmot remained quiet, Sevrin pacing along the windows for a moment.

I love where we’re at as a people, professor. Just as much as I recognize the days ahead. This is an age of change. I believe the masses need guidance, but I stopped looking on them as mindless workers a long time ago, and I do not yearn to see the royalty removed, but I do believe that a great number of our laws, if they’re to be just and effective, need to be, in part, written by the people they affect directly. Of course, my father thinks I’m mad. Waking up at night screaming in terror doesn’t help my case any."

He has done much for this kingdom, your father. With his ability to work with the other Kings, he has done much for all of Milloshel. Sevrin nodded, Thelmot nodding as well. I take it the suggestion of public galleries goes along the same argument?

Yes it does. The Prince turned from the window and stepped down beside the professor, looking around wistfully. They fear art for and by the people will spur untamed emotion that the masses can’t control. Give me time. My father, as you say, has done much for this kingdom, for this world even, and he is open to some change - albeit slow adjustments. With his help, we may convince the Council to accept this change, and then, Ammoll, even the whole world, Milloshel might move forward, truly accepting what must be done for everyone’s sake. We must trust to time.

Thelmot turned to a knock at his door. Come in, he instructed. A page, robed in a thick green tunic entered and bowed. Speak.

His majesty, King Detrow requests an audience with his majesty, Prince Sevrin.

Sevrin nodded. Tell him I’ll be right there. The page bowed again and left, Thelmot looking to the Prince, his eyes only now taking in the Prince’s attire. He slowly shook his head.

Isn’t that the clothing from your dream, my liege?

Sevrin looked to the ruffles and leather. They taunt me, so I taunt them. I decided this morning, looking out onto Davergen, soaking up what calm it could give me, that if they would have me cowering in these clothes, in any clothes, I’ll show them what I’m made of. I turn their darkness against them and stand tall.

Thelmot smiled and bowed.

Sevrin returned the gesture before leaving. It wouldn’t do to make the King, his father wait. He did take one final look around the study before closing the door and making his way through the corridor towards the heart of the castle.

He did like the Thelmot’s study so much.

castle3

Windows filled the white stone walls closer in to the throne room as well as those in several smaller chambers along the way such that sunlight filled near every corner. There were places in the castle where torches were needed, but even then, they’d begun using crystals and mirrors to reflect light around, to fill the darkness where the sun normally couldn’t reach. When a person wanted darkness, they could adjust the mirror or turn the crystal. The mirrors had been Elder King Ellec’s idea. The crystals were far older from before the Second Darkening.

According to the texts they’d found, the old ages had been working with the coloured glass, crystal refractions, and aqueduct. The coming of that Second Darkening had slowed them down. The Second Darkening had, more accurately, completely destroyed so much advancement, but with Elder King Ellec’s help, they’d pulled through, and after much work, so many separate dig attempts, the old castles and cities had been uncovered.

The old secrets had been restored. Sevrin admitted that even if they never found anything about his creatures, he did feel it was a great thing they were doing, and he mourned what stories and details they’d lost to the centuries of ignorance and neglect.

Castle Frol, his home, was rather circular in its design. The studies, laboratories, and chapels were all placed along the outside. Brightly lit corridors ran inward like spokes to the wheel with storage rooms, armouries, guard chambers, and lavatories between those spokes. Those more specialized chambers were reached by way of smaller corridors, off-shoots that wound around in a myriad of intricately designed paths.

Further in, the heart of the castle, was where the Entrance Hall, Grand Hall, and Throne Room were situated surrounded by separate chambers, each one an elaborate display - each one set up for its own particular purpose: meetings of state, dinners of state, entertaining guests, deep prayer, or quiet contemplation.

Below, going down three floors, were the cisterns, boiler rooms, metal works, and the like. Piping took over whole corners on some levels. The existing systems had been developed long ago to better move water about the castle and to carry waste out from it, and it all worked though Prince Sevrin had no clue how. He just knew the seals needed constant care and attention, and the sealant smelled bad. Above were the dance halls and larger banquet halls. And their sleeping chambers of course.

Once and a while, Sevrin would walk along one of the balconies that wound their way around the exterior of Castle Frol, looking out upon the city of Davergen, lost in thought. Still, other times, though he didn’t love heights, he might climb to the very top of the castle and its highest window, and he’d step out and take a deep look at all he could see. From that height, he had his kingdom of Ammoll opened up before him. He could see pieces of Tentefor, Nellot, and Qilosh. On a clear day, he could even make out the forested borders of Teshellon.

Of the kingdoms, Ammoll was the largest, and on those occasions when he had that view in sight, he’d soak it up and feel rejuvenated.

Prince Sevrin found his father, King Detrow, in the Grand Hall. The Entrance Hall boasted pennants and statues. It had one more intricately-carven wall - a battle scene of old with horses and men in full battle array with their lances, swords, and bows held high.

The Grand Hall was a larger version of the same set up in two levels. The lower level boasted a large meeting area. The second level, a balcony to the first was only half the size. All throughout, the pillars in the Hall showed men and women in battle, some walking or standing by a hill.

The pennants in the Grand Hall were wider. Their gold trim showed off the silver and blue, all brilliantly displayed against the smooth ivory walls. Streams of light came in through long thin windows in each corner.

The Grand Hall did boast its own carven wall. In this case, the wall was taken over by a wooden image detailing dragon riders converging towards a central point. At that central point were three sword bearers, and those dragons seemed to almost hold those three people in reverence.

Sevrin had always felt at awe before the image. The swords the three bore, holding back the carven flame, looked so real. The runes carved onto their blades and the carvings along each hilt were so authentic that every time he looked at those blades, he wanted to reach out and touch them - to see how real those three swords actually were.

Which was against custom and rule.

Protocol held his hand but didn’t stop him from wondering.

The marble flooring had a thin black and red carpet running from the room’s double doors with interwoven bits of white making their way around its edges.

Sevrin found King Detrow in his ornate throne against the low wall that separated the two levels, between the two stairs that led up and down - his Queen at his side.

Seeing his son enter, Detrow beckoned him forward.

Reaching the trio of thrones, Prince Sevrin kneeled.

Father. It’s good to see you. The King smiled, silently nodding. Mother, Sevrin added, kissing Queen Eskian’s outstretched hand. His mother smiled politely. Seeing this, Prince Sevrin returned his gaze to his father and bowed once more.

I see I was right in where you’d be, King Detrow groaned, or it would have taken you longer to respond.

Sevrin conceded a short nod making sure to keep his posture formal.

There were in fact three thrones along that wall. King Detrow, a thin golden crown atop grey-streaked dark brown hair, sat in the central seat. His large frame was nearly too large to fit. He was robed in brown with a furred collar trimming his silken cape.

Queen Eskian wore a bright blue dress. White and silver lace criss-crossed up