Legendary Kingdoms: Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Far away, in a distant time and realm reflected off the stars, there is a young portrait of Earth called MagnaThora. Forged from the union of cosmos and chaos, an era of untapped magnificence and prosperity ruled over this world. In the wake of significance, humankind was born. With humanity’s creation all of the intangible energy and unpredictable forces focused, crystallized, and divided into gods. 

The gods assembled the spirit of humans. In order to decide the balance between good and evil, the original forces set unstoppable darkness against unexplainable truth, all before humankind. No corner of MagnaThora would escape the eternal struggle, but one young man desperate for meaning would see it in his dreams long before anyone else, and this is his story…

CHAPTER 1—KNIGHTHOOD OF THE SILVER DEN

After a while, you start to hear the same legends over and over. The final term students developed various routines to cope with the monotony of such lectures, tired stories of ancient kingdoms. Each student had his own method, including Mitakahn, who put forth little resistance in his morning nap. Now the nap was pure reflex.

It was perfectly natural for a robust late riser to doze off after rushing through the chilled dawn only to sit beside a warm hearth. Who could blame him? Whereas sometimes fate speaks through random acts, it’s truly remarkable how many of Mitakahn’s major life events could trace all the way back to an insignificant moment like being late for a lecture after having a bad dream. This particular lesson focused on a prehistoric kingdom of MagnaThora. 

Sir Gasper continued, “Before there were kings, before there were wars, before people had reason to write events down making them historical, the Southlands were ruled by the dragons. What do we have for empirical evidence? Mere verbal accounts and songs are all that remain of the dragon lords. Their origins are rooted so deep in the shadow it is still unclear whether they were a house that took the dragon as their sigil or actual dragons.”

Before the legend found its natural conclusion an interruption startled the class.

“NO!”

Mitakahn’s head slipped off his hand jolting him awake, the memory of his dream instantly evading him.  In that moment, he screamed loud enough to stop the lesson and garner the collective attention of the class. Mitakahn let a few moments go by, in what felt like an eternity, before excusing himself and temporarily saving himself from certain humiliation. 

He ran through the oldstone hallway, passing all the other lectures still in session. Mitakahn turned a corner and bolted for the exit. He knew the doors behind the Silver Den accoladium were often left unsupervised. He confirmed his suspicions after slipping by the row of ancient coat-of-arms that decorated the accoladium wall.

One word followed Mitakahn into the wilderness where he hoped to find some peace and respite. One word he had wrapped his entire frame of existence around since the day he was born. The meaning of the dream may have eluded him, but one remnant chased him into the woods… It was a name…Theomitus…

Most of the students assumed the school’s isolated mountaintop location was just a form of educational retreat from the world they knew. It was, in fact, one of the oldest landmarks in all of the kingdoms. Before the kings there were gods. What could possibly be before the gods but more gods? 

This crescent moon cliff-side used to be one massive (full moon) peak before the first deity came crashing into the Atlas Mountains, creating the crescent shape upon impact. West of the mountains was the godsmash crater. Surrounded by the sea on one side and the mountains on the other, the crater is the only patch of MagnaThora that has gone untouched by man since the dawn of time. 

Iron-clad laws prohibited any trespassing, but most people kept off of it out of respect. The school was built as its guardian, perched on the cliffs above. There was only one trail that ran down to the holy lands, carved seamlessly into the cliff-face. Few knew of it, none dared to traverse it...

Mitakahn sat in the grass at the bottom of the trail warming his face in the sun, having just made the decision to also skip his afternoon session, another one of his last semester classes. He excelled at making bad decisions. Mitakahn hid in the only place no one would dare come looking for him. 

The rest of the day unfolded without a flaw. His friends were going to give him relentless ridicule when he returned, it was almost guaranteed. But alas, warm weather, blue skies, dream-filled clouds marked the day a victory, and there was nothing, or no one, to get in the way. Mitakahn was free to daydream. 

Mitakahn’s mind could wander farther than any foot could ever walk. In his reflections he found peace, and in the shade over a nice bed of wild grass he found quiet. Mitakahn could not help but fall back asleep. Midday naps were his favorite. When almost everyone else was too busy awake and living their lives he was dreaming. This was special to him. He felt as if being the only one dreaming made the dreams that much more potent.

He was so content he slept the rest of the day away, which was odd because if Mitakahn was known for anything around campus it was never missing a meal. Outside of his small circle of friends, Mitakahn didn’t always get along with the rest of the students. He was not the smartest and he was not the strongest. This was uncommon for someone with such an old family name, like Arkenoir. 

When he was awoken by a growl in the wild it was already dusk and too late to climb back up the trail; to do it at all was madness, to do it at night was certain death. So Mitakahn had to make camp for the night. He was no tenderfoot, but well-trained in his five year tenure at the knighthood. Mitakahn first fashioned a club for protection and a fire for warmth before building his shelter. 

A slow rustle came from the trees behind him. Back towards the trail and the cliffside he heard the delicate crunch of leaves caught between the ground and footsteps. Mitakahn softly moved away from the fire, out of sight. 

It could be anything. He could hunt it. He could be the hunted. He crouched down low and waited for his intruder. There was nothing to be seen. But he still heard sounds of a threat. Mitakahn grew anxious, his nerves getting the best of him. He had to do something. With a big gulp, he started walking back out to the campfire. He gritted his teeth and used himself as bait… which was never a good idea and only a measure of desperation. Mitakahn’s self awareness piqued suddenly exposing the fool’s errand, a true knight would have remained steadfast and waited for an opportunity. 

Beads of sweat dropped off his forehead, haunting his every step. Mitakahn barely stepped forth before regretting his decision. He dropped, and in doing so avoided getting mauled. Instead, the predator nearly missed, knocking Mitakahn off his feet. Whatever it was… he felt its claws dig into the back of his shoulder blade. 

He let go of the club and tried not to fall on top of it, twisting his kneecap. They were close enough to the fire for the animal to get spooked and scurry off. Mitakahn kept from screaming and rolled over the pain, preoccupied with identifying his foe. It blended-in with the trees so easily. Four legs, scaly skin, uncanny agility… This did not seem like any local fauna.

The basilisk flew down from the tree branch and attacked. Mitakahn dodged the aerial assault by the grace of the gods. The winged lizard was not just passing by; it was looking for its next meal. Mitakahn reached for his club, but the basilisk redirected in an instant and rushed him again. Mitakahn gave up on going for the club and instead jumped out of the way of the charging reptile. 

The club got knocked into the fire by the beast’s quick kicking claws. Mitakahn picked up a rock and hurled it. The basilisk dodged the rock, side-stepping it, and made another run at Mitakahn. He ducked behind the fire and the giant reptile leapt off the ground, flying above Mitakahn. There was a bizarre shift he had never felt before. Something he could not see, but he could sense closed in around him. 

Everything slowed down. 

Mitakahn looked down at his left hand. Believing that this would not be the last time he saw it, he closed his eyes, and reached into the flame, searching for a grip... 

Mitakahn pulled the club out of the fire, burning his fingers, and swung it at the basilisk flying overhead. The fiery club slammed into the serpent’s ribcage and a burst of embers exploded in the darkness. The dynamic blast encapsulated the fallen adversary in a fiery celebration of splintered cinders. The reptile fell, tried to get back up and stumbled over crawling back into the brush. 

Mitakahn followed its trail. The fight was over, the excitement fading, and exhaustion setting in. Now his body caught up while his mind slowed down. The pain was taking over. Blood and dying embers marked the brush. Mitakahn followed the trail and found the motionless beast sprawled out, not curled up. It died clawing the earth to escape. 

He was finally able to get a good look at it. The grayish-green scales covered most of its body, from its thick tail to its horned-brow, all save its beige underbelly. The most frightening part for Mitakahn was the translucent leathery skin connecting its arms to its body. This reptile had wings. Mitakahn knew it did not fly as much as it glided, but this was the closest thing to a dragon he had ever seen, and the implications haunted him. 

“What in the NetherRealms is a cold-blooded creature like you doing this far north?”

He dropped the club. His wounded hand, back, and knee sang to him. Mitakahn plopped down onto the ground, and soon after decided to lie down, comfortably landing his head on the reptile’s empty chest. It stunk. The smell was horrible, like fermented grass and droppings. Mitakahn slid his head off the dirt floor before passing out from exhaustion.

The second time Mitakahn awoke in the Sacred Lands he did so with the sun. He still had some time before First Horn and could make it up the trail in the light, but he knew there would be no hiding his physical condition. He didn't waste any time looking back. He had enough of a reminder riddling his body with swells and pain, vowing never again to visit the Holy Lands of MagnaThora. Irony at its best. 

When Mitakahn reached the top he saw his friends on their way to class. Right before Mitakahn got to them, a member of the faculty called out from across the fields. 

“Mitakahn!” yelled Sir Pulitzer, with his ill-fitting spectacles bouncing on his high-ridged nose as he ran. “You’ve been summoned by the headmaster.” 

Mitakahn changed direction and started running over to the Main Hall, attempting to hide his limp. He was caught before he even had a chance to get away with it.  First Horn sounded and the entire student body proceeded to their morning sessions. Mitakahn felt a great schism in his path. He was no longer on the same trajectory as the rest of his peers. He was no longer a student beginning his morning session. Some force was pulling him, where? He did not know... But he would not resist the current; for better or for worse.

  Mitakahn walked through the old-stone slabs perfectly put together to form a capital story walk-up, which led to the headmaster’s office. 

“Mitakahn, have a seat…” 

“Good morning, Master Gribbons.” Mitakahn said, as his palms began to sweat.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

Sir Pulitzer remained by the headmaster’s side, hovering carefully with his arms crossed. 

“The boy needs medical attention, Master.”

“I can explain-”

“To save you from further embarrassment, Mitakahn, I will inform you now that we are aware you missed all of your classes yesterday.”

Mitakahn sunk in his chair. This was going to be ugly. 

“We had the fourth year scouts track you to the Sacred Lands trail, and furthermore Sir Pulitzer informs me that he witnessed you returning to camp from the trail just now.”

“Master, please if I could just ex-” Mitakahn  rubbed his hands together anxiously. 

“You know what we have to do, Mitakahn.”

“…Please…”

“It is one of the oldest laws of this institution…”

“This house was basically founded on it, son,” Sir Pulitzer added.

Sir Pulitzer expected Mitakahn’s reaction to what he said, but he didn’t expect the headmaster’s same unamused stare. 

“Give us the room, Sir Pulitzer.”

“As you wish, Headmaster.”

Once the door closed Headmaster Gribbons’ facial expressions almost completely changed. The unyielding stern look he was famous for around the Silver Den faded and a sorted, burdened look, stretched across the headmaster’s face. Mitakahn could read the old knight’s face loud and clear, he was conflicted.  

“Mitakahn, I have no choice.”

“If people find out I was expelled from- it will disgrace my father’s house.”

“You think I have not heavily weighed all the ramifications of your actions? Maybe if you were so aware of your father’s house and its societal standings within the eight kingdoms from the start you would have never crossed the forbidden threshold!”

“Headmaster, I meant no disrespect.”

“Your father is a king, Mitakahn, which makes you a-”

“Prince. But not the one that counts, right?” Mitakahn’s temper finally took hold, “My whole life I have been told I’m an heir, but what’s the point? I’m the prince who will never be king. What is my purpose? …the very question that brought me here. Feudal code and ancient tradition has ever been the bane of my existence. What is it about a patch like any other ground that makes it forbidden? Why does being born a couple years too late take away your chance of being king even if you are a better fit for the claim?”

“Mitakahn, if you fail to see the quintessential lesson of this academy after five years, then that alone in my eyes would be grounds for dismissal.”

“Master…I-”

“It is not for us to decide the way of this world. True knights of the Silver Den are trained to attune to this world and use its wild forces for good.”

“Headmaster, you are right.” Mitakahn calmed down, “I have trained here for five years now. The lessons you and your knights have instilled upon me I will never forget. I have come to terms with the fact that life does not revolve around what I want. But sometimes it gets the best of me and getting what I want is exactly my way of standing up for myself. You say we don’t matter, I say we should. At what point does letting the world rule itself hinder our ability to do good? Your teachings are useful for developing one’s senses but are useless and outdated for practical applications in the real world.”

“Mitakahn, if you would have just brought these concerns to me in a proper forum I would have finished your training personally. But now, after what you did…”

“And if you send me packing, Headmaster, weeks before we are knighted… Zepathorum will be the laughing stock of the eight kingdoms.”

“We will not make your expulsion public.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“The manner in which is directly correlated with how we caught on to your violation in the first place.”

Mitakahn felt something he had never experienced before, like an endless pit opening up in his gut. It was a sense of, to put it in words.

How could this get any worse?

“We received word from the crimson kingdom, the great lion himself King Theomitus has called you home.”

“…with just a couple of weeks left? Why?”

“He did not say.”

“What could possibly be more important than getting knighted?”

“Objectively speaking Mitakahn, from my experience it can only be a royal birth, wedding, coronation, or a death.” 

Mitakahn felt the impact of that last one just a little bit longer than the others. Before he sank any further in both chair and heart, Mitakahn jumped. 

“Tell me you sent correspondence of my return already, before you caught me in the Sacred Lands.”

“I’m afraid it was already decided by the council of elders that notification of your dismissal would be sent post-haste.  By the time you get home your father will know that you failed your quest for knighthood.”

He had heard enough. Mitakahn politely excused himself before he completely lost his composure. The realization of helplessness settled in all too quickly. Before Mitakahn knew it he was heading across the commons. The amount of trouble he was in felt like a weight around his neck, pulling his eyes to the ground. He found himself walking, where? He did not know. All he knew was he had to get away. 

“Mitakahn!”

His former classmate was standing directly in front of him, face to face. Mitakahn looked up at one of his closest friends, Bridger Callister. Mitakahn and Bridger had one thing in common that could not be said for any other member of the knighthood. They were both royalty. Bridger was a shining example of a true prince: tall, fast, strong, clever, and most of all…firstborn heir to his father’s throne. After examining Mitakahn’s disheveled state, Bridger tried hailing Mitakahn again, this time with a question, “What’s wrong?”

“I was just expelled.”

Anyone else would have taken a step back or even dropped their jaw, but not Prince Bridger. He put both of his hands firmly on Mitakahn’s shoulders. Mitakahn winced as pain shot down his wounds from the night before. Although his eyes were no longer on the ground Mitakahn still struggled to focus. That was until Bridger made direct eye contact; and with it, forced Mitakahn back to reality. 

“My friend, tell me what happened to you.”

What was there to say? In one fell swoop he managed to turn his entire life upside-down. Getting knighted was the first step of his plan to achieve a significant life beneath the throne. He just tainted the well on the initial draw. He failed and that might not even be the worst of it. Some scandal awaited him, a secret so shrouded in mystery he had no choice but to track it to its source. Mitakahn saw it in Bridger’s crystal blue eyes, the clarity of the situation reflected back onto him. It was time for Mitakahn to go home…

 

And face the crimson.

#amwriting, #amediting, #askagent, #wordgasm, #writersofinstagram, #writersoftwitter, #writinglife, #creativewriting, #IndieAuthors, #selfpublishing, #storystarter, #writersblock, #writingtips, #writersnetwork, #blogger, #blog, #ontheblog, #ontheblogtoday, #bloggersgetsocial, #bloggerlife, #bloggersoftwitter, #bloggersofinstagram, #newblogpost, #bloggingtips, #trending