Firesong - A Short Story

Here's a short story that I've been thinking of turning into a comic - please let me know what you think?

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Old Light

Oak

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Please take a moment, and imagine if you will, a land of beauty, peace, serene blue skies, and crystal clear waters. A land where the warm glow of its sunsets kisses your cheeks and its breezes taste sweet as they travel up the side of your face. This realm that I am describing is my home, and the kingdom of Light, before everything changed.

A wise woman once said that the only constant is change, so I guess that it was inevitable. However, before I tell you why things changed and what changed them, allow me to tell you a bit more of how life used to be.

Old Light knew no boundaries, and we, her people lived without the fear of separation. We were connected in deep brotherly and sisterly bonds, and these bonds included everyone, even the diverse forms of the flora and fauna.
Light sustained many different organisms. However, we all were governed by love, and the notion that all things were part of us.

This was our philosophy; our code in life. In theory, if we were all pieces of each other, we would be able to feel each other’s pain, as well as other emotions. This would lead to a peaceful society, or so we thought. We did not foresee the difficulties our philosophy would have on our kingdom.

In my opinion, the trouble started with the discovery of a new metal.

Up high in the Ivory Mountains, when the day’s work was drawing to a close, Thar, the lead miner struck down his pick on something unusually soft. The soft material was a metal, and was later to be named Tharston, after Thar. People became lazy saying Thar’s Stone, as it was originally called and began to slur it, and Tharston became its official name.

The people at Ivory Mountain were called Dryaans after the founding family. They coveted the Tharston, and it became their main source of income. They sold it by means of merchants to many other villages. In time, the mining village became wealthier than the royal region of Oak; (unfortunately even with our empathic abilities we are still human and have our weaknesses.) Money is power and power is one of man’s greatest desires.

So, one day shortly after the Dryaans were consumed by their greed they declared war on Oak and thus our tale begins.

“Mondago Mondago! Dear sages, the palace has been breached!” a young woman cried.

“Petra, breathe and calm yourself,” the captain of the royal guard admonished. “Pray, go find Prince Thorne and meet me in the queen’s chambers.”

The two parted and took off in different directions. Mondago headed to the heart of the palace while Petra took the passage to her left. As she walked through the great marble floored hallways her heart was beating almost as fierce as the drums of war outside the blessed palace walls. She took a minute to calm and center herself. Petra knocked on the door to Prince Thorne’s living chambers.

“Come in.” came the voice of the young prince.

Petra opened the door revealing a ten year old boy.

The room was darkly lit and in it, laid a big canopied bed with white silk sheets under a satin green duvet. Across from Thorne’s bed stood a magnificent pine bookshelf, the little prince liked to learn, so it served Thorne well. The shelves were filled with books of magick, history, and healing, as well as every other book that you could imagine, save one, which lay on the prince’s bed. That little book with the blue cover and the wood flute beside him were gifts from Thorne’s mother and father.

The prince was looking out a large round window overlooking the vast fields of blue grass. On the edge of the field there stood a grand oak tree. Her branches were long and slender reaching up to the sky.
BANG! Something fell and it echoed through the palace Petra jumped and Thorne turned around to face her.

“Please come quick my liege. I’m supposed to take you to your mother.”

“Okay,” Thorne replied with a sigh.

Petra hastily led Thorne to the queen’s chambers and their footsteps echoed as they walked. The palace seemed so desolate; almost as though the very heart of the kingdom was starting to be overthrown by fear. The Dryaans were getting more and more aggressive, their sense of urgency swelled like a balloon just to the point before it burst. Their war drums beat louder each day and the clash of metal and flesh was a sound that the people of Oak were getting a little too familiar with.

As the Prince and Petra got close to Queen Terra’s chambers, Mondago was waiting for them. He thanked Petra and then ushered Thorne inside.

“My lady,” Mondago said as he got down on one knee to bow.

“Rise dear friend, is everything in order?”

“Yes all the necessary preparations have been made.”

“Thanks,” the queen spoke softly and gave Mondago a little smile.

Even though she smiled her face was etched with the lines of sadness.

“Thorne my love, come close, for we do not have much time. You know I love you.”

“I know mum... I don’t want to leave!”

“It’s the only way my son, and trust me we shall see each other again.”

“Worry not Sire, I am going to be looking after you. When the council meeting has ended, we will be on our way.”

Thorne went over and gave his mother a hug as he told his mum his loved her.

“Mmm, and I, you! May the Sages protect you.”

Thorne takes Mondago’s hand and started to whistle a string of notes which sounded a lot like the wind. They were gone. They reappeared before Cael, king of Light, the members of the council as well as people around the kingdom.

“Brothers and sisters of Light, pray, calm yourselves. As we all know, the Dryaans have unfortunately declared war on Oak and the rest of the Light. So we the council have chosen a number of persons to lead in the restoration of our kingdom. They will each be given new lives and when ready they will remember their magnificent heritage and this blessed purpose. We extend our greatest gratitude to these brave workers of Light. We have no other idea of how to remedy this so if someone has a better idea please speak now or we shall go forth with our plan,” the king announced.

Cael paused, and waited for a minute but no one spoke up.

“If no one objects we will proceed.”

Before each chosen appeared a bag containing items most important to them. In Thorne’s sack the little blue book and his wooden flute. The council joined hands and called up a brilliant warm light which enveloped the Lightworkers.

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False Princes

Bane

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“Sam! Wake up. It’s time to go to work. Come on you know if we don’t work in the fields, we won’t get our food for the day,” Jon called to his younger brother.

“Yea bro, I’m up, I’m coming,” Sam yelled back.

“Hurry, everyone left already,” Jon chided.

“Dear Sages,” Sam uttered under his breath.

Sam slowly got out of bed, putting on a pair of pants and shirt. He went downstairs and saw his older brother Jon waiting impatiently for him.

“What kept you?! This wasn’t another one of your “statements” was it?”

“No, but Lyell is nothing but his uncle’s puppet! If he wants the kingdom so badly, then why is he destroying us region by region, village by village? He might as well let the damned loose! It will all come to the same end.” Sam exclaimed.

“Sam, don’t talk such treason, do you want to get yourself killed?!” Do you want to get us killed?! Now come one, we are late enough already.” Jon said irritably.

The two brothers met up with the rest of their family and started work. They began another long laborious day on the field. This was typical, as the villagers of Bane were enslaved by the Dryaans five years earlier. Ever since, they had to wake up before dawn and work all day until dusk. They raked and hoed, harvesting crops for the usurping family.

Perspiration dripped down the brows of the villagers. The Dryaans did not discriminate, all of Bane’s men, women and children worked in the fields. The villagers of Bane worked until midday, pausing only once for half an hour. They knew that if they took longer, the prince and his family would deny them their rations for the day. If anyone was caught being defiant, Prince Lyell made sure that they suffer something far worse than death. The methods of the Dryaans were said to be archaic and beyond cruel, but no one really knew since no one was around to report it.

“Hey, Sam, Did you hear the reason why Lyell is really decimating all those regions and villages?” Cole asked.

“No I haven’t.”

“Apparently he believes the legend of the Lightworkers. He is searching for the one that is said to reunite them, the last and youngest prince of Light.”

“So where is this prince? Isn’t it his duty to protect his kingdom?”

“Yeah, but he’s in hiding and might not know who he is quite yet.”

“Stop this talk. You’re going to get us in trouble. Get back to work!” Jon cut in.

All of a sudden from a few rows behind Sam, a man cautiously called out, “soldiers!”

The villagers looked up and saw two members of the Dryaan guard walking towards them, talking. At this, the villagers hurriedly continued working. A minute later, the Dryaans had reached their slaves.
One called for the workers’ attention. The villagers stopped what they were doing and stood in line awaiting the arrival of the Dryaan Prince.

"Attention citizens of Bane, his Highness Prince Lyell approaches.”

The Prince rode in on a magnificent white mare. The very sight of this self-proclaimed royal caused Sam’s toes to curl
“My dear brothers and sisters”, Lyell began, “I have reason to believe that there is a traitor among you. No harm will come to anyone here if they just reveal this villain who dares to defy and conspire against me. The one who seeks to desecrate everything my ancestors have worked so long to achieve. If you give us the cur, you can go back to your lives.”

“You have some nerve coming here, accusing those who provide you with your sustenance of treason, and then in the same breath, demand our cooperation,” Sam exclaimed.

“Hold your tongue you worthless dog!” a guard said in defense.

“What’s this, a lonely farmer boy speaking out of turn,” the Prince’s uncle Andrais hissed at Sam, “I remember you! We killed those rats you called relatives!”

The slight did nothing but fuel Sam’s burning rage and frustration. Cole and Jon did what they could to hold him back.

“Search the village!” Lyell commanded.

The guards set off, leaving the villagers fearful, afraid what was to come.

Still enraged, Sam freed himself from Jon and Cole’s grasp.

“Sam! Think about this! Do you want to get the lot of us killed? Do you realize what’s at stake?!” Jon shouted in desperation.

“Yeah Sam, calm down. We’ll think of another way.” Cole said.

“Don’t you think I know the risks? Isn’t it a greater risk to sit here and do nothing? I am going stand up to these bastards and I am going to avenge our family!” Sam cried with dignity.

“Sages! Sam don’t do this,” Jon begged again.

“But if you do, please be smart, furtive, and remember what Dad taught us. May the Sages guard your back,” Jon continued as he struggled to fight back a rising storm of emotions.

“Sam?” Cole implored.

Sam had to close his eyes, and steel himself when he heard the levels of pain in his friend’s voice.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. May the Sagesguard all of our backs,” he finally said to the two men beside him.

He then slipped away without another word, and picked up the trail of the Dryaan soldiers.

Peeking around the corner of the stable in his backyard, Sam began contemplating whether or not the shortcut he had taken had put him ahead of the guards. Listening closely for any signs of their presence, Sam heard the voice of one of the Dryaans nearby.

“There’s nothing here. Alright, burn it down!”

Sam looked down in horror as fire sprang up in Cole’s house. He wanted to shout a curse at the soldiers. He wanted to gouge their eyes out, and elicit some act that would serve as recompense for everything that his best friend just lost at the hands of these dogs. Sam opened his mouth to yell or do something, (he wasn’t sure), but all that came out was notes, a tune so harsh, so fierce, that it could command the flames to change direction, towards the Dryaans.

The Dryaans saw this, though, and immediately countered his notes, turning his flames into solid rock. They could now see who had sung the tune, the Fire Song, one that they had been searching for centuries.

With shock and immediate realization, they looked up into Sam’s eyes, and said one word, “you.”

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Andre Campbell

'Til next time