The Kelias Prophecy

By K. L. Burgess

The land of NeTh is strange, exotic, and in terrible danger. Evil forces are intent on invading and the lands fate is dependent on the survival, and sacrifice, of four teenagers of earth whose only desire is to return home.

Ant Marsh is no hero. But when he awakens in NeTh, it is clear his days of blending quietly into the background are over. He has the rare power to shapeshift. The locals call him a magician, and he quickly becomes a sort-after commodity. His first human contact is disastrousuntil a fellow foreigner intervenes. Trey Kelly bears a prophesized sword that he accidently obtained while being placed into the service of the king. It bears a single foreboding inscription: Sacrifice. Trey is determined to protect Ant after saving the timid magician, although he carries an emotional burden that he refuses to explain.

Meanwhile, the king, aware of a prophecy that would unite the land and threaten his rule, works to thwart the foreigners at every turnas they, along with help from some intrepid locals, seek to fulfil the prophecy and earn their return home. Ant and Trey soon learn that nothing in their new world is simple or straightforward. Welcome to NeTh: where even the heroes dont always survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Jun 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781452528847

K. L. Burgess

K. L. Burgess lives in Jindabyne, New South Wales, Australia. After dropping out of university twice, she now works part-time while endeavoring to become a full-time writer. Visit her online at www. klburgess.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

W hat have we got? the man asked. He was short, perhaps five feet five inches, with a dark beard and dressed in a tan, sack-like material. On the other side of the gate was an identical man, except he was clean-shaven and had a tan cap slung low across his eyes.

A trespasser. For the moment, the two guards ignored the creatures in front of them and peered beyond to the trespasser. He was young, scarcely a man, and tied by his feet to the back of the wagon. Small abrasions covered his body, indicating he had been dragged behind the wagon for some time. His clothes were foreign and he had no shoes. Short, sandy-blond hair was marred by hints of red; a cut to the back of his head must have rendered him unconscious. For a young man, he was in good physical shape, lean and strong.

He is injured, the bearded man said.

It is nothing. We required him to be immobile. Neutralising the threat, so to speak.

Finally the guards looked up at the creatures. There were four, other than the spokesman, and little chance an unarmed boy could have represented a threat. More than likely, the karnga had just enjoyed their captive’s pain.

The karnga were of similar height to the humans, between five foot five and six feet. Grey in colour, they had thick tails and strong hind legs on which they stood upright. Their arms were shorter, with opposable digits on their paws. With muscular necks and torsos, the snouts marred their otherwise handsome faces. Despite having their own native language, they exchanged words in a new language, called Senti, which the current line of kings had brought in.

All right, hand him over. SkippEyes, grab him. This instruction from the bearded guard was directed at his twin. The karnga just sat back and watched as SkippEyes untied the prisoner and tried to lift his limp form. It was difficult—the guy was a breath over six feet, tall for this land. The remaining guard turned to the gate. The heavy wood-and-metal door was surrounded by a tall, thick stone wall, which extended beyond what the best eye could see. Turning slightly away from the gate mechanism, the guard opened a smaller, hidden gate. Then he went to help his twin with the prone body.

They stepped through the gate with the unconscious man slung across their shoulders. Once inside the city of Sentar’s limits, they hesitated.

If we take him in like this, the king won’t give him half a chance, SkippEyes said.

His twin nodded. Should we care?

You can see as well as me he’s not from around here. And he’s young. The least we can do is give him a fighting chance.

So where do you think he came from? Where did he get the clothes?

No clue.

They were silent for a long moment before they made a decision. A small hut sat nearby with stone walls and a wooden roof. Inside was a bathroom and a small bedroom. This was a guard house in its most primitive form.

We’ll lock him in here until our shift ends. Then we’ll have to take him to the king, SkippEyes said. Both guards nodded, set the boy gently down on the bed, and returned to the gate and their duties.

#

The prisoner was awake and alert when the two guards returned to him. His startling green eyes revealed little fear—though he did look confused.

I am SpikeEyes, and this is SkippEyes.

Where am I? The man spoke the Senti language flawlessly but with an odd accent.

In a guardhouse in the city of Sentar.

Right. And where is Sentar? What land?

It is in the northeast of the land Ne’Th. SpikeEyes kept his expression neutral in spite of the bizarre questions.

Okay, the boy said, though he was clearly still confused.

What is your name?

Trey Kelly. Why do you say ‘Eyes’ after your name?

It represents our trade and is common for humans. I understand you are curious, Trey Kelly, but we mustn’t delay any longer in taking you to the king. He will be retiring for the evening when we arrive, and it is in your best interest to see him before then. He dislikes mornings. Please follow us, and do not attempt to escape. We have no desire to harm you.

Unlike the other creatures. Trey shuddered slightly.

The karnga are not known for being gentle.

SpikeEyes opened the door and motioned for Trey to leave. His brother took up the rear guard as they began their stride through the city.

It is quite a walk to our destination. Sentar is a large place. You were fortunate to have been brought to the gate closest to the palace.

The prisoner did not respond. Ignoring his cuts and bruises, he was busy craning his head around to take in the surroundings. The road on which they walked was stone, as were the walls of the homes they passed. In front of the homes, however, were wooden stalls and extensions leaning out onto the street. There appeared to be markets as well, though individual stalls were barely discernible amongst the clutter. The combination of the messy markets, home extensions, and wooden rooves made the entire city one large tinderbox, just waiting for a light. Sentar was both quiet and crowded. The expansions on either side of the road restricted the flow, and though few people moved along it, space was tight.

SpikeEyes noticed the foreigner’s interest. This city is old, much older than any of us or the current line of kings. Unfortunately, it was designed for a species smaller than the majority of humans that live here. Though cluttered, this is how we have compensated.

It has a wonderful vibe, Trey responded, watching those who wandered past. All were human, and most were dressed better than the two guards who guided him. The uniform did serve its purpose, however, and the men stood out. A young soldier caught Trey’s eye.

How old are you? SpikeEyes asked.

Sixteen, Trey answered.

You are old enough by two years to serve as a soldier.

Right.

Looking up, Trey noted there were two suns and a moon in the sky. One sun was orange and the other red. SpikeEyes saw the upwards glance.

Na’Ki is the orange, and Gyr’Ka is the red. The moon is Ki’Na, the guard said without prompting. Trey simply nodded and continued to look around in silence.

#

It took more than two hours to wade through the city towards the palace. Upon seeing it, Trey broke the silence. Why am I to see the king?

You were caught trespassing on his land. He shall decide your fate.

But I am foreign.

We realise that, but many will not. Foreigners have visited Sentar, but it was before written records.

What fate does the king normally have in store for trespassers? Trey asked hesitantly.

It varies. But given your height and stature, he will likely have a challenge for you.

Trey prepared to ask more questions but was waved into silence as they reached the palace gate. It was a heavier gate than the entry to Sentar and was marked with different metals. They looked valuable. Standing at attention in front of it were two more guards, dressed in dirty-red uniforms. Despite both being, for lack of a better description, butt-ugly, they looked proud.

State your business.

Prisoner transfer. This is a trespasser.

Has he admitted his crime?

Yes.

You will accompany him into the waiting chamber, but you may not proceed beyond.

The two city guards bowed their heads in deference to the palace guards as the gate opened. Trey was guided through a small, unfurnished, open-air stone courtyard and inside to a small room. It was to the right of the main doors and had an entry and exit but no windows. The city guards appreciated Trey’s silence in front of their superiors.

We will not be able to guide you from here. However, if you ever need anything in future, seek us out. We are always happy to help.

Why? Trey asked.

Why what?

Why are you so willing to help?

We are simply kind men, my brother and I, in the hope someday it will be repaid.

Trey accepted this with a nod as the interior door opened.

Good luck, Trey Kelly. Try not to get killed, SpikeEyes said. Hesitating a moment, Trey stepped into the next room.

This was not the throne room. Instead, it was a massive interior garden, the roof above open—though it looked like this was due to a partial collapse some time ago. A path went straight through the centre, lined with blood-red flowers. Scattered randomly about were water fountains in all shapes and sizes, often accompanied by a peculiar purple flower that was as large as a man and in the shape of a trumpet, the bell facing down. In between the path and the fountains were various other flowers and plants. No space was empty. If this was the king’s method of inspiring awe, it was working.

The next room was the throne room and was designed to be intimidating. High above everything, there was a skylight, centred within the room. To each side were decorated pillars with trinkets and shields attached. Deeper still were the stone walls, hiding a few doors. Central to the room and near the back wall stood the thrones—a total of three—but they weren’t chairs. They were cushions on the ground, the backs raised three feet off the floor. The furthest wall was covered in swords, all exquisite in design.

Trey was pondering what creature could inhabit such odd thrones when he got his answer. From a side corridor, four centaurs appeared and trotted to the thrones. One was young and stood out immediately; he was a sleek black. A female with a grey flank stayed with the younger one.

Of the remaining two, the king announced himself by moving to the main throne and settling onto his knees on the cushion. His flank and hair were red-bronze. The final centaur was a similar colour but scarred and ugly. If the prince was black, how had that come about?

Trey looked around, suddenly realising that a number of other people were present and all were kneeling. In his awe of the centaurs in front of him, the foreigner hadn’t noticed them enter.

So you are the trespasser, the king said, ignoring the fact Trey was standing. Dumbfounded, the young man nodded.

You are lucky to have caught me this evening.

So I am told.

The king raised an eyebrow, intrigued and irritated by the prisoner’s lack of fear. Where are you from?

Not from here, that’s for sure.

What is your name?

Trey Kelly.

What is your trade?

I don’t have a trade, Trey said, confused.

You look like a soldier. I shall give you a chance, boy, and ignore both your arrogance and insubordination. You are lucky. I have a challenger available from the camp, fresh from defeating another trespasser. The king beckoned a man forward. He was slightly older than the humans around him, wore a chainmail vest and carried a sword.

General BayneSword. Remove your chainmail, so that this is a fair fight.

The general complied and moved to the front of the room. Trey stared at the hairs on the soldier’s bare chest for a moment, before looking back to the king. The ugly centaur flicked a sword to Trey. It was heavy, and he was forced to use two hands just to raise it.

He was still wondering what to do when BayneSword lunged forward. The foreigner literally fell back, landing on his hands. Unbeknownst to Trey, the fall had probably saved his life. In falling and rising, his hold on the sword had changed to a conventional grip. When BayneSword lunged forward again, Trey parried. Just. The general was beginning to move faster and Trey barely caught the next two blows. A third strike directed towards his feet pinned Trey’s sword to the ground as he tried to block. BayneSword grinned and punched Trey in the face as he whipped his sword up.

Off balance and staggering, Trey swung wildly and managed to trim the hair from the soldier’s chest. BayneSword roared and the foreigner backed into a pillar. Hesitating, Trey just managed to avoid being completely impaled by the incoming sword. As it were, the blade caught him in the side, leaving a long, shallow cut. Allowing himself to fall to the ground, Trey kicked out at BayneSword’s sword. To his utter surprise, the soldier sent Trey’s sword skittering away with a simple flick of his own.

Scrambling backwards, the foreigner frantically searched for a new weapon. On the back wall, closest to him, was a white and silver sword that looked seriously heavy. It was his only chance. Lifting the sword, Trey swore he felt it respond. It was surprisingly light, allowing him to carry it one-handed. Trey didn’t have time to think before BayneSword was on him again. In a panic, he closed his eyes and swung. Upon opening them again, he was shocked and amazed to see that his new sword had left a trail across the general’s stomach.

With a mild grin, the general fell forward, signalling his defeat. Pondering that grin, Trey turned to the shocked audience. The only sound was the shuffle of two men moving toward the downed general.

After a few minutes, the king spoke. You have just passed a test designed by my forefathers. In defeating a general of my army, you have proved yourself as a worthy soldier, and shall take his place. This has not happened before. You are quite exceptional, TreySword, and I look forward to your service.

I have no desire to serve in your army, Trey said, one hand on his wounded side, and the other holding the white and silver sword.

It is not an optional deployment, soldier. If you wish to keep that sword, and your life, you will serve me.

Why would I want to keep the sword?

The king simply scoffed and motioned toward the two men who had rushed to the fallen general’s side.

These two men were BayneSword’s commanders. Now they are yours. Men, accompany your general to the staging cell while we arrange for his departure.

Trey looked around frantically, searching for a way out. But wounded, and with little knowledge of the land, he quickly resigned himself to his new fate. One of the commanders grabbed Trey roughly by the arm and, as the other followed behind, guided him into the small room he had previously waited in. The trailing commander followed Trey into the room, indicating to his partner to remain outside. The rough commander did not look pleased but complied.

My name is CamerSword. CamerSword was shorter than Trey but significantly broader. His skin and eyes were golden, his hair brown.

Smiling in a friendly matter, he continued. As the king said, I now serve you. DrakeSword is the man outside. I shall explain something to you, foreigner. The king is not a man you would cross knowingly, and you would be foolish to attempt to do so, especially while in his home. I have never seen someone use a sword in the same manner as you, and you are now holding a sword that has prophecy surrounding it. So I propose that you cooperate and accompany us to camp. Once there, you will be in charge, as opposed to the king. The faster we arrive there, the safer you will be. We shall be able to treat that wound and discuss things in more depth, so that you may understand. Do you agree, General?

Trey nodded, trying to ignore the growing pain in his side. He was beginning to feel light-headed.

Call me Trey. Please.

You are General TreySword. In the king’s home and in the presence of others, you would be wise to remember this, CamerSword said, with the kind smile still plastered on his face.

Trey turned his attention to the sword in his hand. Made of white metal, silver lined both the sword and hilt. There were four gemstones imbedded in it, two on each side, in the colours black, purple, red, and gold. Engraved above the hilt, on the blade, was a foreign word in gold lettering.

What does this say? Trey asked CamerSword.

Sacrifice, sir.

What is this white metal? There is nothing like it where I come from.

It does not come from this land either, sir. You will not find another sword like Zestix. It is unique.

Zestix? It has a name? Where did it come from?

We do not know. It was found in the palace, which is older than our history.

The door burst open and DrakeSword entered with two royal guards. These guards were both handsome, with an annoyingly superior expression, and wore perfectly tailored yellow and blue uniforms. DrakeSword had a malicious smirk on his face and Trey took an unconscious step back. The commander was sinewy, with dark hair and eyes that were nearly black. He was also strong, Trey discovered moments later when DrakeSword grabbed and immobilised him in one smooth movement. The commander waited for the guards to take a firm grip on Trey before picking up a readied brand from beside the door. Before the foreigner could understand what was happening, the brand was driven into his right arm, just below the bicep.

Trey wrenched himself away and stood, glaring at his commander.

While in the castle, we serve the king. It is his wish that you were branded, as we all are, to mark the beginning of your service.

Right.

I also have chainmail for you, and the rest of your new uniform. DrakeSword tossed a bag containing clothing onto the ground next to CamerSword’s feet and exited.

Come, sir. We will leave for the camp now.

Trey could only nod, as the new pain from the burn combined with the pain in his side and threatened to overwhelm him. CamerSword grabbed the bag and his general’s arm and guided him outside. The trip to the camp was a blur. Trey had vague memories of riding a brumbie, of managing to stay upright, and of collapsing into a foldable bed in a tent somewhere. Then blissful, pain-free darkness.

CHAPTER 2

Four Days Later

A nthony ‘Ant’ Marsh was running as fast as he could, panting with exertion. His four legs pumped furiously. The concentration required to maintain his transformation drained him further. For someone who rarely exercised, the combination was pushing him to his limit.

Paradise had called Ant a magician. When he’d first awoken in this land, he’d been safe and studying some local birds. One in particular had caught his attention. It was small, at twenty inches, with mean claws, and it was fast. A bird of prey, quick and deadly. Ant had been fascinated and had tried to imagine what it would be like to see what it saw. To his complete surprise, he became the bird he’d been daydreaming about! He took off, flying low to the ground until, a mere five minutes later, he’d ended up face down in the grass, human again.

His current form was that of a brumbie—a large, telepathic horse, native to the land. Ant was running to the north of the major—and only—city, Sentar. Running alongside him was Paradise, a mare. Ant was following her lead, with the smell of soldiers strong in his nostrils. Soldiers were a risk to brumbies, who were often placed in service, but they were a far greater risk to a new magician. Especially a foreigner with little knowledge of Ne’Th.

They passed through a stream and into a clearing, the smell surrounding them. It was difficult to separate the fresh trails from the old. Paradise theorised, in Ant’s mind, that there must be a camp nearby.

Ant knew he was running out of time. Since the first transformation four days ago, his skills had been growing exponentially, but he still couldn’t maintain another form for more than a few hours. He was already well into that count. Paradise dived back into the trees and Ant followed. The trees, while not identical to those on Earth, still bore typical traits; deciduous, fruit-bearing, tropical. The grass was green, the skies were blue.

Ant’s breathing calmed slightly as he looked around. His hooves found a rhythm. He thought about his favourite time of the day. Evening occurred when the orange sun, Na’Ki, set and only Gyr’Ka remained. Gyr’Ka was a dull red and bathed the entire land in an eerie glow.

Keep calm.

Paradise’s thoughts echoed in Ant’s mind. He focused on what few facts he knew. He needed to stay calm, needed to stay a brumbie. Paradise had told him of the fate the king had in store for trespassers. Facts would help him focus.

The two suns were accompanied by three moons, all with unique rotations. Ne’Th’s timing system was based on when they rose and set. The locals observed; dawn, mid-morning, midday, mid-afternoon, evening, night, midnight and pre-dawn.

Paradise stopped very suddenly in front of Ant. He copied immediately, rearing up onto his hind legs. The smell of humans was stronger than ever, and the brumbie instinct warned Ant to run. He made to turn but realised his right hoof was ensnared by a rope. Four humans emerged from the bushes. They were clearly soldiers, dressed in cuirasses with shoulder plates. All had identical brands on their biceps, tough, off-white pants and sandals that bound half-way up their shins. Ant fought rising panic, and this was his own, not the brumbie instinct. The soldiers were his first contact with humans in Ne’Th and he had no idea what to expect.

Paradise had not moved. Ant steadied himself, his breath rasping through his nostrils, and focused on remaining a brumbie. He couldn’t yet tell when a transformation would end, but now would be a good time to learn.

A soldier moved forward, younger than Ant, cooing softly to Paradise. He placed a loop of rope around her neck, and then repeated the action for Ant. Another soldier stepped forward, this one with scarily dark eyes.

Two new brumbies. Excellent. Escort them back to camp. Do not let our general see them.

The three soldiers nodded to their leader and tugged on the rope linking Ant and Paradise. Paradise was sending soothing thoughts to Ant, trying to quell his panic. It wasn’t going to make a difference—his time was running out.

He was towed in an awkward, slow shuffle for a few hundred metres before the inevitable happened. Transformations were fast, painless, and Ant had the added bonus of keeping all his clothes. This time, however, was not painless. Ant tripped on the rope around his ankle, fell forward and pulled the noose around his neck tight. His