Circle of Seven, page 2
“Some say we are gifted with intelligence and burdened with emotions. It is the force which binds lovers together, that drive nations into war, that fuels the loyalty of a dog and the courage of a lion, as well as the fear known by all creatures.”
With great care Denotar returned the black crystal to the leather pouch and the other crystals followed as well, gliding into the darkness of their home in the pouch. The leather cord is tied and the pouch placed back it into the wooden case.
With the shock of the experience beginning to wear off, Traiton finds his voice returns as well.
“Forgive me Father for ever doubting you. The crystals are truly incredible and what power they must possess.”
“Power? Yes, they wield great powers, but harnessing and directing those powers is a challenging task and grave responsibility. You have studied the theory but the application is dangerous and the effects can be far reaching. I pray each day that I am not called upon to request their power. It’s best to guard them diligently and use them only when nature has left no option. Nature has its own course and can usually find its path. When in the course of time an event throws nature off balance, like a top wobbling before it falls on its side to die, the crystals may need to be called upon to bring nature back into its correct spin. Used improperly, there’s no telling what damage might happen, damage beyond repair. Such is their power.”
With faltering legs the elderly king collapses into his chair. His wet rasping coughs echoed off stone walls as Trob rushed to Denotar’s side with a cup of tea. “Thank you.” As the coughing fit subsided, Traiton bid his farewell and turned to leave, but Denotar’s voice stopped him. “Tell your brother I must see him tonight”
“Yes, father” and then under his breath “you can be sure I’ll speak with my brother.”
Chapter 3
“This stew is so fine, it would humble even the greatest banquet hall with its wonderful aroma” chuckled Frailyon as he stirred the kettle.
Many wondered why the son of a king preferred a small cabin built of stone and wood to the grandeur of the castle but to Frailyon there was no place he’d rather live than in his humble hut at the edge of the meadow.
Smoke drifted from the chimney as evening shadows crept down the valley bringing in the night. It was so peaceful thought Frailyon as he stirred the kettle of stew and watched a loaf of bread bake by the fire’s edge.
As the first bit of stew was ladled into a bowl, a ferocious barking from outside made Frailyon drop his spoon and jump to his feet. He knew his guard dog Shade did not bark unless the cattle were in danger.
WHAM! The front door nearly flew off its hinges as Frailyon charged into the night seeking out the cause of the commotion.
“Oowwwoooo, Oowwwooo” howled Shade.
Branches and thorns tore at Frailyon’s sheepskin cape as he thundered through the forest drawing closer to the sound of Shade’s frightened baying. Rounding a gnarled tree he heard the sound of a heavy club striking an animal and then Shade’s barking stopped.
“Shade, come here boy. “
The dim moonlight revealed a horrible sight.
“Oh no.”
In the center of the clearing Shade lay motionless on the ground.
“Shade, oh Shade what happened?” A moment later, Frailyon’s world went black as a heavy club connected with the back of his skull.
“Wad’ya want us to do wit’ him?” the ruddy faced man asked as he wiped off his club in the tall grass.
“Does your beggings of a castle have a dungeon?”
“Well, the Kraycken castle is not as grand as yours Traiton, but we ‘ave a rather nasty dungeon that I think will meet wit’ your approval” the rogue chuckled. “That is if you can afford the room and board.”
“Take my brother and I’ll soon make it very worth your while.”
“It better be worth my time Traiton,” the rogue hissed. “If your father learns of this he will insure that you, me and the Kraycken clan spend the rest of our days in a most ‘orrible manner.”
“Oh, I would not worry too much about my dear father. He’s not well and his hours are few.”
“Before you put him in the wagon, give me his cape.” Moments later the creaking of wheels faded into the dark.
A blade of grass bent gently as Shade’s shallow breathing passed over it.
Chapter 4
A dark figure draped in a sheepskin cape caught the attention of the castle guard as he walked up the castle steps. The figure stopped when a steel blade slashed across his path. Finding his nose only inches from a gleaming broad sword, handled by a young guard, the figure stopped with head slightly bowed. Sturdy muscles held the sword steady but the voice revealed the hint of youth.
“Halt, who is it that darkens the castle gate?”
A glint of light from the blade momentarily illuminated the young guard’s face. The guard’s blonde hair appeared almost white in the glow from the torches spread out along the castle wall. What Traiton noticed most clearly though were the young man’s eyes. They were a stunning silver and gray, equal to those of Perseus from the ancient Greek folklore of another world.
“Why it’s me, Frailyon. Father has requested my presence. Don’t you recognize me?”
“Oh, of course, Frailyon, I smelled that cape of yours long before I heard your footsteps. How are you and your cows? Sorry ‘bout the sword, it’s just the rules I must follow, you know how serious Resentar is about rules.”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard he’s quite tough,” came a muffled return from the sheepskin.
“Tough, you don’t know the half of it. He’ll have my skin if I don’t bring you to your father straight away. Your father is in the study waiting for you.” As the figure made his way up the winding staircase a thought crossed his mind. “I’ve never appreciated having a twin brother until now.”
Slowly exhaling to calm his nerves, Traiton quietly opened the door to the study. A single candle provided the only light. In the dim glow, Traiton could make out Denotar sleeping in his chair. With the stealth of a cat in the night, Traiton released the latch on the wooden stand and was relieved to see the leather pouch. Although desperately wanting to snatch the pouch and run, he stuck with his plan. Slowly he withdrew the leather pouch and slid it under the sheepskin cape. Fingers worked at the cord binding the pouch. A sense of power seemed to emanate from the crystals inside. With the pouch untied, the glow from the crystals lit up the underside of the cape. His fingers closed on the yellow crystal. He was not certain if it was the pulse of the crystal or his own heartbeat but the sensation exhilarated him. “After all the years of study, this will be the final exam” he chuckled to himself before beginning the chant to summon the energy.
A small cough came from the king’s chair as Traiton finished the chant and focused the destructive force at his father.
CRACCCKKK! A blinding ball of lightning shot from the crystal directly into Denotar’s chest. A single flash and it was over. The room went dark as the candle was extinguished.
Blinded by the light Traiton stumbled to the door while stuffing the crystal back into pouch and then dropping the pouch into his pocket. Once in the hallway Traiton’s vision returned and he made his exit through a secret passage hidden in the stone passageway.
In the study Trob struggled to clear his head. Every part of him ached as if a horse had trampled him. For a few moments he did not know where he was. His sense of smell returned first and although in darkness he knew he was still in the study by the musty odor of old books. There was another odd smell, one he did not associate with the study, but a smell that was familiar.
The only thing Trob could hear was the sound of his own ears flapping as he shook his head trying to make the confusion go away. Feeling around on the floor Trob’s hand found the candle lighter and he gave it a flick. Cupping the tiny flame and concentrating to steady his wobbly legs, Trob lit the small candle by his resting place. “Aiieeeeeeee” Trob wailed into the night. In the master’s chair was Denotar, slumped forward. His robe charred black in spots and his body lifeless.
Fast approaching from down the hall came the sound of boots running up the stone steps to the study. “What’s happened here?” barked Ventar. His gray eyes pierced through the dim lighting and focused in on Trob. “Stop your wailing and tell me now what’s happened!”
Stammering and in much distress, Trob was barely able to speak.
“…An explosion... maybe a bomb... the Master is dead... gone... my friend is gone”
Grief stricken, Trob dropped to the floor and lay sobbing.
“Stay here” Ventar fidgeted as his mind raced. “I’ll alert Resentar.” As Ventar left the study his nose picked up a smell he recognized, “It couldn’t possibly be...” The scent of old sheepskin cape was unmistakable.
Chapter 5
Clang, clang, clang, clang. The entire castle heard the tolling bell and every soldier leapt from his bed, grabbed his weapons, and ran to the castle gate. Torches cast dancing shadows on the castle wall as the soldiers stood at the ready. A heavy iron door swung open and Traiton entered, striding over to Resentar who was marshaling the troops.
“Soldiers,” Resentar boomed, “the master is dead.” The jostling of swords and armor stopped and a hush fell over the soldiers. “He has been murdered” Murmurs of outrage rattled through the large hall. “Frailyon was seen running from the castle and we know he was in the study moments before Denotar was found dead.”
Traiton stepped forward. “I find it difficult to believe my dear brother would be capable of this terrible deed. I know many of you think he is a bit odd and even I have had been troubled at times trying to understand his madness... uh... what I mean is, his strange behavior. I beg all of you to help find him and bring him here so he can clear his name, or,” Traiton seemed to lean on Resentar for support “to stand up to the consequences.” With that, Traiton turned and stepped haltingly back through the iron door. His shoulders shook with emotion.
“Find Frailyon!” bellowed Resentar. Soldiers emptied into the night with only rage to light their path as they sought Frailyon.
Chapter 6
The castle was oddly quiet as the last of the troops were now scattered across the king’s forest. In his room, Traiton gazed at the crystals before dropping them into a leather bag and cinching the top closed and hooked it under his cloak for safekeeping.
“Finally, the time has come to escape this dreadful place and begin building my own kingdom,” thought Traiton as he prepared to thought-travel. With his mind centered he had just begun the internal chant when a tug on his cape interrupted his departure.
“Traiton,” there by his side stood the miserable creature Trob.
“What do you want?” hissed Traiton.
“I know what happened,” said Trob.
“Yes, we all know what happened,” replied Traiton, “and Frailyon will soon be caught. You can be rest assured of that”
“Were you going somewhere? You looked as if you were in a mind chant?”
“It’s none of your concern what I do,” bellowed Traiton, holding his anger in check by only the narrowest of threads as he paced the room. Oh, how he loathed Trob, but still there were many loose ends to tie up and perhaps the little wretch might be of use. Putting on a gracious mask, he turned to Trob. “Please forgive my outburst, Trob, I’m still quite shaken up you see.” He paused for effect before continuing on. “Please find Resentar and let him know that I’m traveling to the star council to report my father’s death. I’ll return by sunrise.”
“Yes, of course. You can always count on Trob!” and with shaking legs he backed out of the room as he watched Traiton evaporate into the chilly night air. Trob managed to drag his aching body to his resting place. The pain brought back horrible memories of his earliest days. Before lying down on is mat, he placed on his bedside table a small knife with an exquisitely sharp blade. Trob struggled to find sleep as his head pounded and his heart ached.
Chapter 7
To thought travel is to ride a cosmic hurricane--blinding flashes of spectral lights, ear shattering crashes of debris spinning about in violent fury. Only with years of training can a person learn to survive this method of traversing space. Some have been guided through the ordeal by an experienced traveler, but for those it is, at best, a very harrowing experience. With training, a rare few can learn to center their mind and be carried through with safety in the eye of the storm. Within the eye is a small area of balance. A place just an arm’s length away from nature’s wildest fury. To even an experienced traveler, disorientation can be overwhelming. A moment’s loss of focus can send the soul spiraling into a thousand pieces leaving only a shell of the person that began the trip. This was how it had been explained to Traiton, and it was true. What his father never mentioned was the incredible sensation one felt when the trek was completed successfully. When you first exit the storm, there are a few seconds when pulses of energy course through your body. To those that held tribunal over the vastness of space, this method of travel was essential.
Traiton felt the pull of gravity and ground soon met his feet. The hurricane dissolved, and the beautiful jet black sea of Naura appeared before him. He stood on a stone walkway, which lead into the secret chambers of his hideaway. Someday a magnificent castle will be built on this shore and it will be his seat of power and that power will extend beyond many worlds. He knew it was time to greet his destiny, now that he had the keys to rule over nature itself. With the crystals there would be no one that wouldn’t bow down to him. With the last pulses of energy rippling away he knew what it must feel like to be a god.
From beneath his cloak he withdrew the leather pouch. A slight panic overcame him as he grasped the pouch. Tearing off the strap he gazed through the belly of the pouch and saw only his foot. The pouch had a small rip and the crystals were gone. How had this happened? He examined the edges of the slit. This could not have been a tear, the edges were too clean to be a rip. Traiton pulled off the heavy cloak and eyed it closely. He found a slit in the fabric. The edges were as clean as if a tailor had done the work. The crystals must have fallen out during the thought travel and now they could be almost anywhere.
Traiton roared epithets into the sky and balled his hands into fists of rage. “I will find those crystals and I will make certain that Trob fully understands how terrifying my hate can be.”
Chapter 8
Very few objects could survive being tossed from a thought-travel. The crystals were quite shaken but intact. As each crystal regained its sense of being it would cast out a net of gravity, a thread of entanglement that linked the cosmic entities, in hopes of drawing in the others. Gradually, all the crystals but two joined together, speeding through the cosmos. It was a freedom they had not known for many ages. The link to a single master was broken, and their only bond was to each other. Soon the crystals began a struggle for dominance. Each sought after a place of their choosing. The yellow crystal pulled the others toward a quasar that was emitting tremendous amounts of radiation, while the blue crystal drove hard toward a giant comet made up of frozen water. Each applied pressure on the others and no course could be established. In the end a compromise was reached. Together they shifted their course towards a blue planet circling a faraway star.
When Traiton arrived back at Denotar’s study, Trob was not to be found, instead there was a note, which read:
I have taken the master’s body to a resting place as was his final request.
Your Grateful Servant,
Trob
Traiton stomped through the castle realizing he would have to deal with Trob later because now he needed to gather a scouting party.
Chapter 9
Camping was one of Riley’s favorite things to do. Just him, his dad and their golden retriever Annie sitting by the fire roasting marshmallows. Of course Annie couldn’t roast them but she sure could eat a few. Her muzzle was covered with white sticky bits that kept her tongue busy. The sound of crickets and other creatures filled the night air. Riley laid back to take in the night sky. Their campsite was many miles away from the nearest town, and there were no city lights to dim the starlight. The night sky was ablaze with stars. Stretched out under the stars Riley began to drift off to sleep when his father nudged him awake. “Riley, do you hear that?”
Now fully awake Riley listened carefully. “I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s just it,” said his father, “it’s silent.” Riley now listened to the silence. There wasn’t even a beat of a mosquito’s wing to be heard. “How odd,” mused his father as he stirred the embers of the campfire.
As Riley watched a spark from the fire float upward his eye caught another movement. “Dad, look up, there’s a falling star. There’s another one, look Dad look a group of falling stars.” In the night sky fiery streaks raced across leaving a glowing trails.
“Meteor shower!” said his father, “each probably no bigger than bits of sand.” The streaks seemed to have irregularities in their paths. Not only were their trails bent, but it looked as if they each were adjusting its course. Hoping to land in a predetermined location, this was no ordinary meteor shower.
“Now that’s very strange. I’ve never seen a falling star change direction.”
“Dad! That one is coming toward us!” A small whimper issued from Annie. They watched stunned, as one streak grew brighter. It did not appear to be moving left or right now nor did it change its position in the sky. The fireball grew in size.
“Run for the truck!” But before Riley had time to stand, his father picked him up, and was pounding down the path to the truck.
Zzzzzzppphhhhtttt…. Crackled through the air and then the campfire went out. Riley, his Dad, and Annie all turned back to see bits of ash rising into the air. “Unbelievable” murmured his Dad. “Whatever it was, it must have hit the campfire.”
