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

from his clothing. As small clouds of dirt formed around him, he suddenly realized how foreign he looked in his desert garb, the clothes utterly different from the more exposing sundresses and tunics of the Accarians around him. But as much of an outsider as he may have appeared, at least he was an Accarian, whereas Kona was most likely the first of her race to ever visit his homeland. In a day full of surprises the one which stood out the most to Amantius was that no one seemed to notice the Kalikki in their midst; it was as though she was not even there. As he thought about that oddity, he realized no one had noticed him either. They didn’t even react when I bumped into them. Wait, are we invisible?

“And now the moment we have all been waiting for!” The herald yelled as he signaled to the two guards behind him. Together the two men brought the hooded prisoner forward and pushed her to her knees.

“Now, let us show the world what happens to those who oppose King Varian,” the herald continued. “Let this be a message to Zeno the Coward, let this be a message to any rebels hiding in our ranks, let this be a message to any woman who may have begat a royal bastard!”

Amantius snapped his head to the veranda at the herald’s last words. “A royal bastard? No…”

“Executioner, you may proceed.”

A grim-looking man stepped forward carrying a doublehanded axe, its blade sending an eye-searing glare across the crowd. A guard then removed the woman’s hood, releasing a tangle of gray and black hair that immediately obscured her face. As the booing grew louder a different guard pushed her head down on the stump by placing a heavy boot in the back of her shoulders, holding her in place. The executioner then pulled her hair back, revealing her proud face. Amantius felt his blood turn glacial as his whole world crumbled beneath his feet.

“Pelecia Jeranus, you have been accused, tried, and convicted of treason on the grounds of hiding the true lineage of your only son, the bastard Amantius Jeranus, as well as aiding in his escape from Accaria. Do you have any last words or regrets?”

This can’t be happening! I have to save her, but how? We could use the same alleyways Kona and I used to get here. And then we could get back to Mount Meganthus and find that door which will take us to the Alakuum. And then we will break the portal and we will be safe.

Amantius wanted to run to his mother, to rescue her from the executioner’s axe. But when he tried to stand he fell, tumbling off the pile of stone and unto the smooth pavement beneath. His legs felt as though they were paralyzed, his knees refused to work altogether. His eyes burned with tears as he crawled through the crowd towards the palace, a thousand cuts and scrapes leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Then the world grew silent. There was no more chanting mob, no more sounds of splashing water from sparkling fountains, not even a single chirp from a bird. All Amantius heard was his own sobs, his own heartbeat, his own wordless screams, and one other thing.

“If someday my son returns, tell him I am sorry I could not see him one last time. It is my only regret.”

Amantius shut his eyes tight as the gut-wrenching sound of a blade cutting through flesh filled his ears. All around him he heard footsteps as the crowd dispersed, the din of a city returning to work. No one spoke to him as they passed, each individual as silent as a ghost. In a small way, he was thankful for this; he did not want anyone to speak to him or to hear their condolences or their judgments. At that moment all he wanted was to remain in a fetal position with his eyes closed, alone with his anguish.

What will I tell Ulam? Should I tell him? No, he should never know what happened. But who would betray her, and why? I don’t even want to be the king!

Though he tried his hardest to shut himself off from his surroundings, Amantius was vaguely aware of a presence near him. He did not move as the person sat next to him, their arms wrapping around him, hugging him tightly. Through blurred vision, Amantius looked up and saw a gentle face with two compassionate eyes staring back at him.

Kona…

In his grief, he had forgotten all about Kona, though now he was forever thankful that she had not forgotten him as well. Amantius wrapped his arms around her, pressed his face to her chest, and sobbed into her tunic. She said nothing as she softly stroked his hair and face, both of which were soaked by a torrent of tears. They remained like this for quite some time, for how long Amantius did not know, until he finally gathered the courage to open his eyes. All he saw was Kona smiling at him, tears of her own moistening her face.

Amantius looked around and saw they were in a large room, empty except for a few torches burning quietly. Walls of black marble surrounded them, covered in ancient markings gleaming with bright green letters. On the floor beneath them was a large symbol, its shape a triangle with a spiral inside. As he watched, the magical glow slowly faded away, until the symbol was nothing more than a carving on the floor. After the light had been completely extinguished, a stream of memories flooded back to him, as though they had been held hostage by some mystical force.

“When we entered this room there was a loud bang,” Amantius whispered, “and an explosion of light. Dark light.”

Kona nodded. “I remember now too. It must have stolen our memories so we did not know where we were.”

“Then that means none of it was real?” Amantius shivered at the notion.