The Story of Sha'el: A Crestahn Kingdom Prequel, #1

By Dartanyan Johnson

Long ago, the land's life energy was absorbed and used for the sorcerers' magic. Trees withered and wildlife perished. To prevent the world's destruction, the land created magical monsters to kill the sorcerers and their people. A war ensued. The sorcerers lost.

Referred to as sages now, the former sorcerers lead their people by way of foresight. When two of the sages see their own dead bodies, they know the start of a new era is upon them. They know a battle against an unknown enemy will be fought and won… and a hero will be born.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dartanyan Johnson
• Release date: Sep 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781952948039

Dartanyan Johnson

Tears will be shed.Hearts will be broken.The weak will not survive this journey.

Book preview

Prologue

Sha’ella (Shah-el-la) awoke to an empty bed. Given the dull stream of light seeping into the room through the balcony’s open drapes, she surmised it had to be mid-morning.

Lying on her side, she pushed onto an elbow and rolled off the bed and onto her feet. She yawned as she gazed across the bedroom, rubbing her stomach in a circular motion. The baby, finally awake, ran a limb underneath the hand in response. Sha’ella smiled and hummed a tune.

Wobbling to the bedroom door, she opened it wide before passing through, nudging a small toy robot out of her path that faced her in a battle stance. Its eyes glowed, but without a paired robot to battle with, it was relatively harmless—unless stepped on.

The toy belonged to her son, and it was one of many that Tekula (Teh-koo-la) left scattered around the royal suite as part of his garrison. Sighing, she stepped into the kitchen and peered at the culprit, sitting at the table, eating as usual.

Good morning, my son, she greeted.

He grinned at her, swallowed the food in his puffed-up cheeks, opened his mouth as if to say something, and shoveled more food into the gaping hole. His following smile couldn’t fully develop on his lips given the massive amount of food he inhaled, but it reached his eyes.

Are you ready for today’s training?

Tekula nodded vigorously, then pushed away from the table. Standing, he drew his sword as if ready to go to war right there in the kitchen.

Not here. Let us make our way to the banquet hall.

Tekula nodded, accepting the change of location, and sheathed his weapon.

Give me a moment to change clothes, she said.

He replied with an elongated, monster growling, Oookaaay, then marched into his room, probably to squeeze in a quick robot battle.

Minutes later, they headed down the imperial staircase in the lobby, where four Royal Guards stood post. The leader of the group grinned at the queen, then looked warily at the prince.

Good morning, Majesty, T’esh (Tee-esh) said, averting his attention away from the prince. The rest of the Royal Guards held up a salute.

Good morning, T’esh, Sha’ella answered. Good morning, men.

And where are we going this fine day? T’esh asked.

To the banquet hall to spend a little quality time with my son.

T’esh ruffled the prince’s hair as he passed, and the young royal whipped around and gave him a convincing mock scowl.

Why d’you do that, T’esh? he asked, hand on the hilt of his blade, preparing to draw.

T’esh held up his hands in surrender. I apologize, Prince. No need for that here.

The prince nodded, obviously pleased by the concession, released the hilt of his training sword, and walked off in triumphant fashion toward the banquet hall without looking back.

That one is going to be a handful, T’esh noted.

Why aren’t you with my husband? Sha’ella asked, pausing before the guards.

He went to the city for an emergency meeting with the mayor.

Sha’ella raised questioning eyebrows. When the king departed the palace grounds, a Royal Guard was supposed to accompany him.

"Both of the generals, along with Lord Moriq (Mo-reek), traveled with him, T’esh explained. The king said my services would be best used here."

She looked at each man, then back at T’esh. Very well, she said eventually. If someone other than my husband comes looking for me, tell them I’m busy. She followed her son’s path.

Indeed, My Queen, T’esh said to her back.

Behind the bottom of the imperial staircase lay the Hallway of Kings—a wide corridor where each of the past twenty-three kings, stretching over 3,000 years, lined either wall in tribute, forever ingrained in history as life-sized holographic images. She spotted her son staring up at the very first image—the founder of Crestahn Kingdom, and her namesake.

That is Sha’el, she told him, and he stepped back to get a better view of the giant. That is the man who became the first Crestonian king of this land.

Tekula looked at her, eager to learn more.

Have I ever told you the story of Sha’el? she asked.

When he responded with a headshake, she placed a hand on his back and led him toward their intended destination at the end of the corridor.

Sha’el was the son of a farmer and a dressmaker, she continued, but he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. After much deliberation, he became a blacksmith.

Sha’ella opened the door to the banquet hall, and the prince stepped in. The room was brightly lit via the overhead lights and seemed even grander with the tables and chairs put into storage. The banquet hall was not only enormous, but since it was only used for special occasions, they could train from sunup to sundown with no disturbances. With that much open space, she could work her son to the bone.

She shuffled down the few steps and continued her labored walk until she reached the center of the floor. When she stopped, her silent tail halted.

Draw your sword, she ordered.

He obliged.

While you train, I’ll relay the story of Sha’el. Sound fair?

He nodded, then twirled his sword in one hand, mimicking her usual preparatory gesture before her own training sessions.

Nice. Thrust, pivot, parry, thrust, she instructed.

Tekula executed the moves with near perfection.

Again, she said, and he repeated the moves. Without further encouragement, he continued the combination.

Sha’ella was silent for a while, assessing his strikes and footwork with the keenest of detail. The three sages of Sha’el’s tribe were concerned with the frigid weather ruining the vegetation and forcing the wildlife to venture into warmer regions of the planet. They had managed to settle in one place for generations, but the time for relocation was upon them.

Chapter 1

Burkis Caythar flew through the sky, peering down on the land. Spotting a line of travelers through the haze of falling snow, he decided to take a closer look. As he closed in on the group, a tugging sensation emanated from the carriage in the front of the line. Unable to resist its pull, he flew toward the vehicle. The shutters on the carriage burst open, and he took that as an invitation. It wasn’t until he saw what was in the carriage that he realized he was having another vision.

Well, that’s not very encouraging, he uttered as he stood on the chest of his own dead body, eyes open but unseeing.

Hopefully, I ate well before I died, he said thoughtfully, then leapt into the air and flew toward the open shutter.

Burkis jumped awake. Surveying the inside of his hut, he spotted his open ledger, an empty wooden bowl, and a blanket now on the floor. He was back to reality. Finally, he sighed. Burkis was not afraid of death. In fact, he welcomed it. He would get to reunite with the Crestonians from his past who had all moved on to the afterlife. Timing was the reason for his displeasure. He had wondered if his people would survive the winter before he died, but it was apparent from his foresight that he wouldn’t be around to witness it.

Standing, he shivered and tossed on another layer of clothing. It was time to meet with the other sages to see if they’d had similar visions.

Chapter 2

Sha’el shuddered awake, blindly patting around for the fur pelt that usually kept him toasty. He came up peltless. Sitting up in his cramped hut, he let his eyes adjust to the early morning sunrise. Almost instantly he found his pelt lying atop a thief. The thick layers of animal skin and fur covered the culprit entirely, but he knew who the thief was.

Sneaky little brat, he muttered and took a few steps until he loomed over the blanketed frame. He knelt, lifted a corner of the pelt revealing the thief’s face, and shook his head at the boy who was smiling—literally, smiling—in his sleep. He was about to yank the pelt away, but a better idea surfaced.

With the boy’s face exposed, Sha’el covered his mouth with one hand and pinched his nose shut with the other. The boy tried to breathe, but his body jerked from the lack of oxygen. His eyes shot open.

Sha’el removed his hands and let out a deep chuckle.

Gasping for air, Elmir said, You just tried to kill me! What did I ever do to you?

Stealing my blanket for starters, Sha’el replied, tugging his pelt from the boy.

But it was so cold last night, the boy said, halting the blanket’s momentum with a firm grip.

Sha’el’s eyebrows rose in warning, and his junior apprentice begrudgingly released his hold. Sha’el balled up his blanket and held it in a loose hug.

Elmir shivered as a bitter cold breeze whistled through the cracks in the rickety front door. Rubbing his hands together, he blew into them, then glanced at Sha’el’s blanket.

Smirking, Sha’el tossed the blanket to his apprentice. Elmir caught it with a grin.

Thank you, Sha’el, he said, then flopped onto Sha’el’s thick mattress and disappeared under the pelt once more.

Yeah, yeah. Next time you’d better ask before touching my stuff. Sha’el grabbed his fur-lined robe from a bundle of clothes in the corner of the hut and stepped into the brisk morning air.

Scanning the encampment, he nodded a morning greeting to some who met his gaze. The foggy breath with each exhale was a sign the day was going to be just as miserable as the previous ones. He flipped his hood over his head and strode toward the cooking fires where boiling cauldrons sent plumes of herb-scented smoke into the sky.

Perhaps there’ll be meat in today’s rations, he said under his breath, knowing that the hunters’ meager haul the day before would likely upset his expectations.

Sha’el! a voice boomed from behind.

Imbuk (Em-buck), his longtime friend, weaved through the crowd and matched his pace. Sha’el gave his friend a quick once over. The man wore a tattered coat and barely usable shoes. His hair was matted, his eyes were jaundiced, and there was a line of dried drool across his cheek.

I’m not used to seeing you this late without a stagger to your walk, Sha’el said.

Imbuk chuckled. As soon as I get some mead in my belly, I’ll make sure the Imbuk you know and love makes a valiant return. He gripped Sha’el’s shoulder, then leaned in, his voice taking on a conspiratorial air. The sages are gathering for a meeting later today.

Oh? Sha’el asked, then screwed his face up as a fellow tribesman walked past him with a bowl full of broth. No meat, he muttered. Just my luck.

"I heard we might be leaving because