The Elder's Curse by Andrew Walbrown (ereader for textbooks TXT) 📕

“Eemoneem’s Call came at a great price, however,” Tomo continued. “She lost her hearing and her vision for the rest of her days. After she passed she ascended to the cosmos, where her spirit watches over us and provides for us to this day. It has been centuries since these events transpired, and the Kalikkis and Mwai still live in harmony. It is as though the generations of warfare prior to the Fall of Rashi had never existed; all our wounds have been healed, our transgressions forgiven. We even speak a shared language now, a mix of the ancient Kalikki and Mwai tongues. In fact, the word Yawan is actually a shared word between those languages; it means ‘together.’ Not long after Eemoneem’s ascension the first High Council of Yawan commissioned the construction of the Great Obelisk, located on the site of her Call. Not only is the monument a reminder of our cross-race partnership, but it immortalizes Eemoneem’s sacrifice as well. Praise be to Eemoneem.”

“Praise be to Eemoneem,” the Kalikkis echoed.

“You said there were many Kalikki cities in the mountains,” Ulam began after the intonations ceased. “What happened to those?”

“The same thing that always happens when Humans want something,” Tomo replied with disgust in his voice. “They take it, and if they can’t have it, they burn it to the ground. So was the fate of the other Kalikki cities.”

Chapter 11

Ulam

Ulam, Amantius, and Nilawen stood in the shadow of the Great Obelisk while the High Council debated within the halls of the Forum. It was a large auditorium that served as the center of Yawan’s government, where the forty-eight delegates met to pass laws and hear court cases. Because the trio was forbidden from entering, they were chaperoned by a dozen Kalikki guards, all of whom showed differing degrees of curiosity and mistrust towards the visitors. It was an interesting, if not wholly refreshing, development for Ulam because for the first time in his life he was not the center of attention. In some ways, he no longer felt like an outsider, as though he finally belonged somewhere.

While they waited, Ulam observed his surroundings, first noticing the numerous structures on the island, most of which were decorated with a wide variety of gorgeous flowers. Marble statues rose from the center of blooming gardens while vines heavy with pink and purple wove themselves around every administrative building in sight. Fire-red canaries sang their melodies in the treetops above while sienna-winged ducks and silverbacked pelicans serenaded the harbor. In the backdrop, the turquoise sea rumbled its own tune, the whole seaside symphony reminiscent of the thousands of lazy afternoons he had enjoyed in Accaria. As the salty breeze tingled his nostrils, the nostalgia became so powerful it blossomed into outright homesickness, an emotion Ulam was surprised to learn held a place in his heart. In all those years, never did I imagine there would come a day when I would yearn to see the Accarian sunset again. How I wish I would have appreciated those days more while they lasted.

His moment of fond remembrance was short-lived, however. Just as quickly as his mind painted a picture of Accaria bathing in the sun’s waning glow, those same hues of orange and red were repurposed to illustrate scenes of war and destruction. He thought of Pelecia and wondered how Accaria had fared since they left, hoping any wars of succession had been avoided entirely. But he would not fool himself with hopeful well-wishing, he knew the chances Accaria had a peaceful transition of power were next to nothing, especially since multiple princes wanted the same throne. There is no point in wondering; it will only drive me mad. Perhaps someday soon we can return, though I am not sure how I could sneak back onto the island after being away for so many years. Amantius perhaps, but not the only Orc in the world.

“Thinking of home?”

Ulam turned and saw Amantius standing beside him, his eyes focused on the shimmering horizon.

“It’s tough not to right now,” Amantius continued. “Replace the mice-men with sunburned sailors and you’d convince me we were back.”

“Kalikkis, Brother; they do not like being called rats or mice,” Ulam looked over his shoulder at the nearest two guards. “Also, it might be prudent not to provoke the ones behind you holding sharp spears.”

The doors to the Forum suddenly opened, and a dozen Kalikkis wearing the same garb as Tomo descended the steps together. Even though their conversations were in a different language, the division in their ranks was unmistakable. Some remained at the base of the steps, watching from afar while Tomo and his like-minded colleagues approached Ulam and Amantius. It seems the warm climate has not bred too many warm people.

“I have good news,” Tomo started with a smile, “the High Council voted against banishing you from Yawan or throwing you in prison. You are lucky you came across my nephews, otherwise you may have suffered a far worse fate.”

“Do we want to know what the vote tally was?” Amantius asked, but quickly dropped the question upon seeing Tomo shake his head. “That close, was it? Well, I guess we are in your debt then.”

“So it seems,” Tomo replied as he sat gingerly on a small stone wall. He said a few words in his native tongue and then waved away the guards. “Do not let my people fool you; all of us speak your language. It has been so for over a century; one of the previous councils believing all Yawanis should speak your language so that we would know what our enemies were planning.”

“So they have understood everything we have said to each other,” Nilawen said as a sapphire-winged butterfly danced around her. She had been meditating in a nearby garden, left completely unguarded while the High Council had been in session. Even after she nearly slit Bati’s throat, somehow they still do not see her