The Elements - The Awakening

By Robert Williams

In the kingdom of Y'Sev, four unsuspecting people gain the Powers of the World: fire, water, wind, and earth. One of them fights being consumed from the new power and the desire to cause death and mayhem. They travel across the kingdoms, persecuted for their new abilities. Those in power, the Sages, would rather see them dead than to work side by side with them.

 

Comteal, Zangtle, Stefani, and Kasnen rush from city to city by any means possible with the unsuspecting help from a stranger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Murkot
• Release date: Mar 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201350154

Book preview

Dedicated with love to my wonderful children.

Without her, none of this would be possible!

(Either would Gargol Lindrik)

Table of Contents

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Table of Contents.........................................................

A Meeting in the Night.............................................

Water and Wind.......................................................

A Trip to Lortnog...................................................

Birds of a Feather..................................................

The Chance for a Meeting...........................................

The Like Unto The Like.............................................

A Time for Sages....................................................

Tracing the Track...................................................

Food, Disputing a Sage, and Searching...........................

Fire in the Sky.....................................................

The Flash of the Wilderness.......................................

The Cleansing........................................................

Revenge...............................................................

Map-1.jpg

Map

Prologue

The year was 1523 B.T. and the streets of Blain, in the kingdom of Y’Sev, were crowded and packed to the walls of the local businesses, whose owners waited all year for this day-The Day of the Land-the day of trading in the kingdom for all the farmers, merchants, or any other person looking for goods. Anything imaginable could, and would, be purchased-food, cloth, animals, and even people.

Traders journeyed from all ends of the kingdom and beyond, for this day, and the local inns became over-populated, almost overnight, with merchants, farmers, and thieves. Many of the locals allowed people to stay in their barns or pitch tents in their empty fields for a small fee. Some would take a valuable possession, sometimes a child, as a deposit-to ensure they had accountability of their livestock when their guests departed. A few of them often found that they inherited a child for a chicken. It would appear the child was not the thief’s as there was an empty barn in the morning.

During the day, the streets were filled with entertainers, who practiced and prepared yearlong on their juggling, knife tossing, and fire breathing skills-peddlers with high hopes of selling all their goods before nightfall, then gamble them away during the drunken night in the middle of a bar or an inn, and sometimes in an alley. An occasional woman with a beautiful voice would sing of current times, times past, or times yet to come; all with hopes that passers-by would toss a coin or two into her basket-which happened more often than not.

Regardless of their trade, everyone had hopes that they would earn enough in a single day to last several months, sometimes for the entire year. The nightlife at the inns was very animated as people told stories of lands far off or tales of treasures and trophies, sometimes of battles long forgotten, and the people danced-of course. It was a time for celebration, good cheer, and happiness. As an unspoken rule, only the local inns and bars worked after nightfall. Although the official day was over at midnight, trading and bartering continued for the entire week, but no day was as busy as today.

The guards patrolled in large numbers at night as the merchants would leave their goods covered and unattended on the streets near the drunken fools who either earned enough by selling their goods or gambling with successful merchants.

Alleyway brawls were another common occurrence during the darkness of the night, where a thief would prey on the lost or fool-hearted wanderer that had bad enough luck to go down the wrong alley at the wrong time.

The main trade was crops as they were scarce in the world, but not in this region, as the ground was extremely fertile, and farmers had to work hard in order to maintain them, let alone have them prosper enough to feed more than should be required for the amount of land they grew upon. Workers dug irrigation ditches that were connected to the rivers and small lakes, with hopes to have enough water to satisfy their thirsty crops and livestock. Many of the farmers created elaborate damns and gullies to retain as much water as possible.

Since the year of 612, the time of King Ectar, there has been no rainfall, mist, or any other type of precipitation. They thought the elementors, people who harnessed The Power of the World and could create clouds and rain for The People of the Land, controlled it. Elementors, of course, could control more than just the weather, but that is what the people remembered to this day. The People of the Land have long forgotten the good of the elementors, except for the rain, and many parents told stories of them at night to their children around fires. Telling them of how they ravaged the lands and took what, or who, they wanted with little or no regard for anyone. How they created floods in order to gain strength through fear, or a famine, such as now, as payback for their persecution. Now, centuries after their extinction, there was no more rain. This, of course, had nothing to do with any elementor.

Almost a thousand years of a rainless, cloudless sky made the water supply minimal, some thought it was nearing extinction while others never gave it a second thought. Within the first few years of the famine, the wells began to run dry which prompted sages, advisors to the king, to attempt to purify water from the seas and oceans. After many attempts, all failures, they concluded that purifying the water could not be done.

The lack of water kept the farmers and their families working long and hard hours. It was not uncommon to meet a farmer whose wife was stronger than many of the men in the cities-who worked in their small shops as the tailors, bakers, and bartenders. There was a saying, It’s better to argue with the farmer than his wife. This, of course, did not stand for the blacksmiths, by and large a female’s trade as it was found that the women were more agile and able to create the fine details the local population required.

The elementors were nothing shy of the most powerful people ever to walk the world. Back when the world was awake and blossoming there was a certain type of person that could harness a power granted by the world. With the abilities to control one of the four elements of fire, water, wind, and earth, it did not take too many elementors to face off against an army. A well-educated and experienced elementor of any type could single-handedly hold off an army of thousands for days, without using the factor of fear, one of the elementors' greatest tools. The elementors were not prone to fight; rather they wanted to live out their lives, helping the communities when capable. The fire elementors were the ones who would cause the problems and issues in the land-short tempered and powerful-they could take what they wanted, and no one would, or could, stop them. History showed the most powerful of the elementors were those of The Fire.

The official count of the years began with the birth of King Tornellio: B.T. or, the Birth of Tornellio. King Tornellio was the first king in history to rule the entire continent, or as they saw it, the entire world. Not known for being just or fair, rather, he was known for uniting and enforcing the law. Since he was the king, it also meant that he was the law. In the year of 22 B.T., the sages feared their foothold on their power in the world against that of the elementors and advised the king to go to war against them, thus started The Fifty-Year War. The war marked a hard time for the king, sages, and the armies. It also left the kingdom bankrupt. The war ended in The Truce of Time, broken by King Alantane in 85 B.T. The truce stated the king would leave the elementors alone and allow them to help control the weather for the benefit of the kingdom and its people. After the Breaking of the Truce, the elementors went into hiding. Knowing it was not the people that were pursuing them, they still upheld their end of the bargain, until 104 B.T. in which King Alantane was burned in a fire so powerful that the room he was in, a room of stone, melted. In the year of 140, the elementors went into silence, hiding in the Andorack Mountains.

With the abilities to control all aspects of the world, their crops prospered while those in the world began to fail. This lasted forty-five years until the people of the land rose up and began to hunt and kill any, and all, elementors they could find, much to the amusement of the sages. In so doing, the elementors used so much power from the world that the world went to sleep, drained from the wars. The power that it once gave out ceased to exist. The elementors could not defend themselves and had nothing to offer instead of their lives.

Death was imminent.

The current water source was that of the rivers and no one knew from where it came. In order to find this source, they would have to travel into the Andorack Mountains, now said to be the birthplace of all elementors. It was impossible to get even the bravest of people to enter the mountains, fearing the power, now long gone, that once lived there.

King Graetor was on the throne in the year of 642, and never showed strength against the sages. His strength was in his ability to manipulate people, women in particular. He cared little for the kingdom, which allowed the sages an even greater foothold on power. In the year of 645, the kingdom was so wide spread and hard to control that the sages forced King Graetor to break the kingdom into several kingdoms that paid attribute and homage to the first kingdom, the Kingdom of Torank, that is still the most powerful kingdom in the world and feared by all other kingdoms. As it would stand, this homage, as you would expect, went through none other than the sages. As ironic as it seemed, Olencetar was, and still is, the Seat of the King.

All kingdoms feared and despised the elementors. The exception is the kingdom of Y’Sev. Since the beginning of the wars, Y’Sev has privately taken the side of the elementors. To this day, Y’Sev citizens still defend the elementors, but to do so they must be quiet as it can bring death if done in the wrong places.

Over the last 540 some odd years, the sages have gained strength to a level never before reached. The nobles that bowed to sages were seldom recognized and those that did bow were rarely seen. Sages informed the kings of the new law or tax rates and the kings never questioned them, at least the smart ones...

Chapter 1

A Meeting in the Night

Don’t forget that I am older than you, Zangtle!

I don’t care if you are or not. I’m going to go get a drink at the bar, Zangtle said defiantly. He was tired of his older sister telling him what to do. Sure, she was older, but only by three years. He knew he was a man; after all, he was nineteen years old and that was a year past The Age of a Man. Being that age, no longer innocent, made him accountable for his deeds, whether good or bad.

Comteal was short, while her brother stood a good head taller than her. She had dark brown hair, like Zangtle, but her eyes were green while his were brown. He was muscular, as a farmer would be, and tall. Many people stepped away from him as he came to them-his size intimidated them and only a few people were larger than he was. Comteal was stronger than she looked, her feminine build hid her strength well-she was not a woman to be messed with. She had her fair share of fights with boys, which she won more often than not. Growing up, the boys nicknamed her Sweet Fists, because she was nice, sweet, and quiet but make her mad or give her the need to defend her younger brother, and she could take on the meanest of the boys. She came home more than once with a black eye or bruised knuckles. Her hands were so small and petite that people often wondered how she could use them. Growing up, the boys loved her hands as their small size attracted them to her. Zangtle’s hands were huge, thick, and as strong as an ox.

You know what Dad said-sell the goods and return home immediately. That is what I intend to do, she protested with one foot firmly planted on the ground. Comteal, the older, and it seemed the wiser of the two.

It doesn’t matter, and you know I will only be a few minutes. It’s only one drink, he said as he stepped up into the Straggler Inn-engulfed in an instant by the smoke-filled room where the women danced and the men cheered. A smile over-came his face as he forgot all about his nagging sister, who stood behind him with a scowl on her face.

Empty glasses covered the tables and trash littered the floor. The lanterns that were hung from the ceiling and walls lit the common room very well. Time showed its mark on the walls where brighter spots stood out-obviously the pictures and decorations were once hanging on the walls and the smoke could not penetrate behind them. Most likely, these things were removed to avoid any theft tonight. The busiest night of the year caused these little nuisances to be over-looked. Many times, the bartenders would offer a discount if the patrons went to the bar and purchased their drinks instead of running the already tired waitresses to death, who would dance and earn more tonight than they would in months. It did not take much to get a drunken man to throw money onto the stage, which could earn him a kiss on the cheek-a little ploy to have more money thrown onto the stage as more drinks disappeared into the crowd.

The bartender, Marantus Kinbold, wiped down glasses in a hurry and poured new drinks as fast as he could, which was never fast enough on a night like this; earning more money today than he could ever hope to earn in the rest of the year made it well worth the time and effort. His graying hair, as well groomed as it was, kept falling into his face as he pushed it back with a free hand, a habit that he formed years ago. He was no taller than average but much wider. His apron was always white, even as he performed the most demanding jobs, or tended a fire during the winter months. Many people jested that he changed it every time he went into the back room.

Marantus was a successful bartender and innkeeper; he always watched after his customers, employees, and the inn. It was a time-consuming job but he enjoyed it. His employees and regular patrons were loyal, the food was good, and the drinks were steady. All of which made for a great place of service. In his younger years he was not so well behaved, though few knew that. After age has taken its toll on him, he settled down and built the inn with his own hands. Many had called him a fool for not hiring people and said that it was too much work for one person. His response was always a simple one: no one would take as much pride in building it as he would, and he would have no one to blame but himself if it was not to his liking.

Comteal followed Zangtle, although she had no desire to, into the inn and he jumped into the beer line, which seemed to move at a decent speed. Some of the patrons would get a new drink and go straight to the end of the line. Who wants to wait too long? Zangtle grinned from ear to ear and Comteal, with her fists on her hips and a scowl on her face, was not aware of the man who stood in the corner and eyed the both of them.

He was an older man, almost old enough to be their grandfather, with a beard down to his chest and a long bushy mustache, twisted on the ends in a meticulous way. The smoke from his elegantly inlaid pipe rose to hit the brim of his large brown hat. His pipe, when one would dare to look at it, was inlaid with gold in the shape of a knight fighting a dragon. The dragon’s eyes were two small rubies while the knight’s shield held a small diamond in the center. The knight was dealing a deathblow to the dragon. It was obvious that the cost of the pipe was far more than many people make in the year, some in their entire life. He was dressed as a sage, feared for their political influence and complete disregard for anything, or anyone, that they did not like or that opposed them. It was better to argue with a farmer’s wife than to look cross at a sage but when the sage was upset or held a quarrel against you, it was better to tangle with a village of upset farmers and their wives. Sages have started and ended wars in a moment’s notice, driven people from their little villages, and rooted out enemies overnight.

A sage was rarely in a public place such as this-it was no wonder people ignored him. The dark brown color of his robe and hat signified his level as a sage-very high. Only those sages in charge of several cities, if not an entire kingdom, wore a dark brown robe. As the kings’ advisors of all kingdoms, they held such a power that the kings would not go against them-at least not in public. The sages’ advice was advice worth following, regardless of your feelings. You might as well take a sage’s advice as a new law, follow it or be prepared for whatever was next.

He narrowed his deep-set eyes as he began his slow approach. He was showing his age as he slowly walked with his round belly wriggling. His brown robes swayed when he moved through the crowded inn and brushed past patrons as they spilled their drinks, always away from him. It was amazing how fast a drunkard would move a spilling beer away from a sage when fear struck. Most of them did not look twice and the few that did looked away faster than they looked to him. The three large men walked in a single file behind him. They stopped shortly behind Comteal and he watched them quarrel but said nothing. They were the only two in the inn that did not notice him.

Listen Zangtle, I will not stay long! You know what Dad said, to go home right after we are done. One beer and that is all. Okay? persistent in her way, Comteal argued her point. She would not be ignored by her younger brother! Growing up, it was her job to watch him and ensure that he worked, as he should. Now that he was of age the need for supervision was gone, or in his situation-dwindling. At times like this, she seemed to have to push him even more.

Okay? she repeated in his silence, a little firmer than before.

Okay! Just let me get one drink and then we’ll leave. It didn’t matter if she was his older sister. A man has a right to a drink after working all day! How could she pester him this way? Doesn’t she have a meal to cook or something? I’ll only be a minute then we can go. I promise.

The line moved fast enough for them to get to the counter in several minutes, where Zangtle exchanged a small copper coin for a nice cold beer, and a large one at that. The smile on his face said the coin and wait was well worth it, at least for him.

Remember, only one and then we leave, she reminded him as she ruined his excitement over the size of his beer.

I said what I said, now leave me alone! he shouted. All he wanted was to relax for a few minutes, and perhaps a dance with one of those servers. Today was a day where their dresses were a little shorter than normal. If you paid close enough attention, you could see their ankles when they moved, something that was unheard of on any other day. Surely, Dad wouldn’t mind just one short dance.

Before she knew what happened, he was on the stage dancing with a short blonde server, whose breasts seemed to be more out of her dress than in-another thing usually unheard of on other days. She was cute with her curly hair that bounced off her shoulders as she danced back and forth. Her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Did she do that to all the men that danced with her? No, she didn’t. She couldn’t. His heart beat harder as they danced. He tried to focus on her, his beautiful dancing server, while not spilling his drink, but that proved harder than he thought. However, when it came down to it, it was better to drink quickly while dancing than to spill any on the floor. Besides, he could always get another one.

Zangtle, get down here this instant! she shouted. Laughter rose from those standing around her. His cheeks turned red, but he tried to ignore her as the crowd continued to cheer. Zangtle, I am warning you! We have to go straight home, she continued.

The dancing server wrinkled her nose and smiled. Why should he care what Dad said? This night is a once in a year night where anything goes. A beer and dance were two things that, as far as he could see it, were perfect for the night.

Better go home to Daddy, little boy, someone shouted from the crowd. The laughter rose even louder. Everyone in the bar laughed, at his expense. All except Comteal, the sage, and the three men. But he didn’t care; he had his server-girl and an empty mug.

Oh Zangy, she said in a taunting voice. A nickname she gave him when he was a baby-one that he would rather die than to hear, let alone in public. The crowd roared with laughter as his ears began to get hot and turn red with embarrassment. His temper began to grow.

He let go of his little server and turned around, anger shone in his eyes. He couldn’t hear the crowd anymore as they laughed with an all-time high. His blood pulsed through his ears; it was all that he could hear.

He pointed at her and shouted in a deep and strange voice, Go home and leave me alone! As he was pointing, fire shot from his fingertip and struck her shoulder, catching her outer shirt on fire. It was a small fire, but it was a fire and there was no denying that. It was from his finger, too-another thing that he, or anyone else there, could not deny.

The crowd went silent without hesitation and men began to walk out of the inn as if their angry wives called for them. It seemed as if they tried not to run but wanted to-you could see it in their step, the way they moved. Even the beer line was empty. One of the sage’s three men, as calm as he could be, reached around a shocked Comteal and put the fire out with his hands.

Zangtle just stood there on the stage, alone with his finger still extended at her in disbelief, as if time stopped and held him there. The servers were out of sight as more and more people left, faster than they arrived earlier in the night. It didn’t take long until the last ones left in the inn were Zangtle, Comteal, the sage, his three men, and a shaking bar tender that sweat profusely.

So much for earning a year’s worth of wages in one night.

I... I didn’t mean to do that! he said. He was a bundle of nerves and still shocked at what just happened. How could he have meant it? How did it happen anyway? It must have been that nasty server girl he danced with. She must be some kind of witch! She did that to him!

Come with me, there is little time, the sage said as he grabbed Comteal’s arm. Two of the men gestured for Zangtle to follow and reached for him, as cautious as they could. Zangtle didn’t move.

Speaking over his shoulder as he walked to the back of the inn, towards the kitchen, the sage said, If you wish to leave here alive this night then I suggest that you follow me. We will go out the backdoor. Zangtle stepped down off the stage and followed Comteal without saying a word. It must have been that server girl. It had to be!

No, you don’t understand. We have to go home, our father is waiting for us, Comteal said as she pulled herself free and started to make her way to the front door. She was ready to leave the inn and Zangtle was right behind her. No drink and dance was worth this. To top it all off, she wasn’t the one who danced, and she is the one that was burnt! Now I am going to have to tell Dad why my dress is ruined and why we are late, she thought to herself. It’s all Zangtle’s fault and he is not going to care! Dad put me in charge of that indolent boy! She was unaware that she pushed chairs and stools out of her way rather than to walk around them. Not that it really mattered because no one else was there.

They reached the front door and ignored the sage’s pleads to follow him through the backdoor.

She turned to Zangtle, with an angry look on her face, and growled at him, You are in trouble for this. Dad will wear a leather strap out on you!

I didn’t do anything. It was that server girl! All I did was drink a beer and have a little dance; you know that. Besides, we aren’t late, as far as Dad knows, Zangtle said.

They really didn’t have to tell him how long it took to get there, sell everything, and then go back. They were only inside for less than twenty minutes.

Comteal’s silence spoke louder than any words she could have said.

Fine, he said. Let’s just leave. He opened the door as the sage continued his pleading.

You must follow me. You are in grave danger. The others will be coming, if they are not already here. You must come with me. You do not understand.

Zangtle stepped through the open door and out onto the street. The fresh air replaced the smoky, stagnant air from the inside the inn, although he was too nervous and didn’t notice. As Comteal began to follow him, an arrow silently skimmed across Zangtle’s right arm and found its final resting place in the wall beside her head. A trickle of blood on the shaft of the arrow showed that it made its mark but not near enough, sparing a life-for a while. The arrow vibrated to a halt and rested in the doorpost. Zangtle cried out in pain and jumped back into the bar, followed by Comteal, who slammed the door shut. Blood trickled from his arm but went unnoticed as he shied away from the windows and made his way to the kitchen.

They shot me! They shot me! he shouted in disbelief. All because of that evil dancing server girl! This, or course, gave them a good reason to listen to Safton and go through the back door.

The trip through the back of the kitchen was less of an adventure when compared to the front door. Food was everywhere-cooked or not. The steady smell of stew filled the kitchen from wall to wall, making Zangtle’s stomach growl in hunger, which went unnoticed in the excitement of things. Dirty dishes were stacked by an already full washtub, which waited for a servant-a servant that was nowhere in sight. Somewhere in his adventures through the kitchen, Zangtle ended up with a carrot in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.

As they left the kitchen through the backdoor, Zangtle noticed his evil server girl huddled in a corner. She flinched when she saw him and cowered further away, not knowing what he would do next, and feared the worst. Her ankles were nowhere in sight now, not that she, or Zangtle, cared about that. Besides, Zangtle noticed that she wasn’t so cute anymore and her hair was not so bouncy or curly, it was full of grease and really didn't have many curls. And who wants to see her nasty little ankles anyway?

Why did you do that to me? he shouted to her. Why did you make me do that? She did not answer but crept back even further into the corner, if that was possible. One of the sage’s large men pushed him along.

Hurry if you do not want to leave here in a body wagon, he told him.

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