PART TWO: CRIMSON SCHISM
CHAPTER 21 – THE LEGWORK
Mitakahn lugged that book around with him everywhere. Some places were just not meant for literature. Other places almost felt made for reading, like the royal gardens. Mitakahn sprawled out on the grass using the lioness’ backside as a headrest. Gabriella sat proudly, paws overlaid, with her head up, keeping watch over the courtyard. It was the kind of day Mitakahn hoped for, not a cloud in the sky. He leafed through the volume of Mandrake’s chronicles.
There were so many different artifacts defined in the volume that there were several ways just to categorize them in the contents summary. Mitakahn had spent most of his time on the ride home deciphering the summary of contents in order to plot a course. Another element he was missing was a clearer picture of his dreams, more importantly the sword and that other gem he held in his hands. What was it again? Mitakahn wondered if there was a way to have the same dream twice.
He was going to spend his early afternoon going through the chapter on regional historical weapons. Mitakahn had gotten this far by using the Ignaleos Cor as a reference point in the regional historical machinations chapter. He found out quickly that the weapons chapters always followed the machinations chapters. Now it was just a matter of going through all of the different regions and kingdoms. This would be an arduous task. Mitakahn was grateful to be able to do it in the comfort of the lioness and the shining sun.
Halfway through the MassifLands region section Gabriella’s thigh twitched, rattling Mitakahn’s attention away from the book. It was clear right away that there was something in the garden with them. Maximus had been nowhere to be found since yesterday and assumed wandering the Serengeti, maybe he returned looking for his sister. No lion spent more time with a human than Gabriella did with Mitakahn. He took a liking to her immediately. Adyána would tell people that her son imprinted on the lioness cub but in reality Mitakahn just bonded more closely to the lions of the Pride than he did with any of his Zepathorum peers, save Cipher. That got Mitakahn thinking about his friends from the knighthood.
And sure enough, as if responding to Mitakahn’s mental beck and call, Excelsior walked out from the brush with his fateful sidekick Orion, the dog. Mitakahn was caught off guard but not surprised. With a swift brow, sleek short black hair, and medium stature, his soft commanding eyes were only outshined by his brazen chest. Excelsior’s kind nature and familiar grace made him exceptionally charming. Along with that, his larger than life four-legged friend Orion was always fun to be around. The black and brown, long-eared pup had a disposition just like his master, making them two of the most popular names back at the academy.
Excelsior was part of the Canine Kingdom, a lost tribe of nomads; they pushed the definition of the word kingdom into great strain. Excelsior would be known to boast about his people’s ability to get anywhere they needed to be, using the open road as a tool. But the road did not lead past the gates of the city and the citadel guard, that was all Excelsior and to a certain degree Orion. It is not easy smuggling a fully grown meadow-shepherd through a city, especially one as large as Orion.
Mitakahn smiled at the two of them transitioning from creeping through the shadow to strutting out in the open and then realizing they shared the grass with a lioness. Mitakahn stood up along with Gabriella. He could tell by her heartrate that she needed to get to all fours. They stood facing each other as reflections of their kingdoms, the lions and the canines, the pride and the pilgrim.
“You have come a long way my friend and never short on making an entrance.”
“Is she going to have us for dinner?” Excelsior pointed at the lioness.
“If she very well pleases.”
“My boy would have something to say about that.”
Orion showed his teeth, a pure act of theater. Gabriella returned the favor, shooting the cold chill of fear in all of their hearts. Everyone knew she was devoid of any theatrics. Orion relinquished his claim of dominance and bowed to the lioness. Who in turn allowed the canine to approach them and more importantly greet Mitakahn with all the affection that comes with one of Orion’s hello’s. Gabriella walked away dismissively as Mitakahn got back to his feet, wiping his face free of shepherd drool.
“What are you doing this far north?”
“I kept a close radius after the funeral.”
“I forgot it was the end of term. Was everyone knighted?”
Excelsior looked at Mitakahn instead of answering, his reluctance made clear. So Mitakahn immediately changed the subject. “Do you make a habit of being around when your friends need you?”
“Some people would call not having a permanent home a curse. I use it to my advantage. How have you been coping since the loss?”
“Excelsior, as much as I want to tell you all that has happened since we last saw each other, it still very much feels like that day. It still feels like it happened yesterday. At first I feared I would never be able to shake the feeling. Now I’m realizing what the future may bring could be enough.”
“What could be worse than losing your father?”
Mitakahn looked out past the garden and Lake Niobi, towards the Serengeti.
“Losing my kingdom.”
“Tell me what troubles you, prince.”
Mitakahn took Excelsior through his current affairs leading all the way back to Castle Rosi Island and the Ignaleos Cor. He told him about Chronis, Echo, the berserker, the potion, and the dreams. That’s when he showed him the chronicle in his hand.
The manner in which Excelsior grabbed the book from Mitakahn was possessive and not subtle at all. This slightly irritated Mitakahn, but he quickly moved past the instinct as he soon began to realize it was for a good reason. Excelsior knew the Mandrake Mandates well. When he was not roaming around the open countryside of MagnaThora he was in the Epitaph City libraries.
“…a lot of people forget that the warlock order started in those libraries.”
“Do they have a complete collection of these chronicles?”
“I’ve read every single one of them.”
“So you would know if there was any mention of a magical sword or diamond gemstone?”
“Mitakahn, there’s got to be hundreds of magical swords and gemstones. Have you ever heard of a legend without one?”
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“I didn’t think about it like that.”
Excelsior started flipping through the chronicle just like Mitakahn was doing. This did not instill the prince with confidence. But then again, it was such dense material that maybe he was just getting a feel for the old terrain.
“Can you tell me any specific details about it?”
“It is hard to make sense of my dreams, or should I say the few memories I have left of them. But from what I can recall it was a sword that erupted with light, almost like a flame.”
Excelsior rubbed his chin for a second before he went back to turning page after page. “I don’t think this is the way.”
“Do you have an alternative suggestion?”
“We can’t look for something if we don’t know what we‘re looking for. The key is your dreams.”
“Like I said, I can’t remember much.”
“So, you have to dream again.”
“To be honest I haven’t gotten a good night’s rest since we’ve been back.”
“How do you feel right now?”
‘I feel…” Mitakahn looked around and took it all in, “…at home.”
“Would you be opposed to a dawning chant?”
“That is knighthood ritual.”
“So what?”
“I am not a knight.”
“You are to me. You are one of us, Mitakahn. And you always will be. No godforsaken rule infraction will change that.”
“It doesn’t feel right anymore.”
“Alas, a point I cannot argue with. Let us take a ready seated pose and see what the morning brings.”
Mitakahn sat back down and tucked his feet underneath him with his back up straight, replicating Excelsior’s pose. On the other side of him Orion sat down almost trying to mimic them.
“Focus on your breathing. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Smell the grass beneath your feet. Feel the wind in your hair. Close your eyes and clear your mind.”
They meditated until late into the afternoon. It was Orion who broke form first, but the others soon followed as they heard the same call, the call of hunger. Mitakahn went another day without getting any further. It was starting to get the best of him. Was this all just in his head?
After dinner Mitakahn took the opportunity to wander around the old tower halls. It was always a useful exercise for him to clear his mind. The citadel was his playground. Now, more than ever, he needed the comfort. Mitakahn found himself walking past the throne room, unprovoked. He stopped and looked into the hollow room. It was empty and dark. No one had stepped foot in it since the king... He looked at the crack in the polished stone floor, the line dividing the hallway from the throne room. Such a simple boundary, and yet, so much meaning in between the two slabs of stone. He lifted his foot, dangled it at the edge, and then penetrated the invisible wall he pictured in his mind. He landed his foot safely on the other side of the crack; making his first step into the throne room.
Mitakahn walked further in. At first he was afraid, but he quickly conquered his fear and walked to the center of the room. The feeling was overwhelming. The darkness surrounded him, taking over the atmosphere in the room. The throne room, with no curtain pulled and no blind drawn was a somber pitch of black. Thick as fog, and yet the air was thin. Had the sun set already? A bright light emanated right in front of Mitakahn and threw him back onto the floor. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the light. His back was cold against the smooth floor. The light turned into fire and rapidly swirled like a whirlwind, expanding from the center of the throne room. In a fierce explosion, the fire flew to every corner of the room, but instantly retracted back to the center, and right before it vanished…took the shape of a smooth curved sword.
He crawled away afraid, not just of the enclosing darkness, but the uncertainties of what was to come. Mitakahn rushed out of the room, his head swimming with ideas; and behind him the bright sun getting ready to set, once again lighting up the throne room, back to normal as if nothing happened.
Back in his chambers, he tried to collect his thoughts. In order to preemptively keep from panicking he chanted over and over again the same line of thought. To any passerby he would look as mad as a vanagoji. Luckily, he remained unnoticed. Mitakahn continued his mantra as if to use it as a lightning rod for his focus. “A dream while awake is not a dream, A dream while awake is not a dream.”
It felt as though the blue flames that once plagued his vision were retreating deeper and deeper into his eyes. The essence of the cor was making its way to Mitakahn’s heart. He knew it. This was not madness; this was something of another world, of a higher realm. And in this knowledge he found hope for his case. He found a reason to pull himself from the brink. Mitakahn decided to believe in his delusions. A little bit of hope goes a long way in calming nerves. Mitakahn was able to break from his self-imposed spell and get to work.
He found Excelsior and went down to the library, feverishly explaining his last vision and his new hunch. “And then I remembered a story from the past, one of great importance. I remembered my MagnaThoran history.” Excelsior followed Mitakahn as he searched every shelf for a particularly labeled book. When he came upon it, most of the lore was based upon the ancient kings that ruled over all the kingdoms, but Mitakahn was looking for something very specific.
Book after book dropped onto the table after Mitakahn depleted his resources. Finally. he found a book that could help him and placed it on the stack for Excelsior to see.
The Crucifire Dynasty
And then he sifted through the pages until he came upon something unforeseen. “…And for whoever shall hold the gilded blade of crimson force will be named king, for only a true king can hold the Crucifire Sword.”
Mitakahn looked up as Excelsior continued reading. What could this mean? With Axion out of the picture, how could he find a fabled sword, return it to his kingdom, and take the throne in his brother’s place? It was impossible. Mitakahn could feel it clearly. This was not the right path. The Crucifire Sword was undoubtedly the sword in his dreams, but he was not fit to wield it. And then it hit him.
What was the one current image in all his vivid dreams in the mountains? His father. More than a way to grieve, more than a way to save his kingdom, Mitakahn finally found the one thing he was looking for… If darkness does come for the Pride, and Mitakahn is able to track down the Crucifire Sword, then there is only one person worthy enough to use it and save the kingdom. This is how Mitakahn brings his father back.
Excelsior continued along a predictable line of thought. “Now we just need one more thing for the Mandrake Mandate, a region or kingdom of origin.”
They dug through the book trying and failing at the same time. Excelsior backed off and gave Mitakahn the courtesy, since after all; this was now a book of the Pride.
“Interestingly enough the Crucifire Sword is not inherit to any one kingdom.”
“Well, it had to come from somewhere.”
“Some things in MagnaThora are too old for history books.”
“You still sound like a knight.”
Mitakahn ignored Excelsior’s comment, “All it says for origin is the White Desert.”
“That can’t be right.”
“We can consult the chronicle, but it sounds like a dead end.”
They went back upstairs to check the Mandrake Mandate. Excelsior was able to find it rather quickly and handed it to Mitakahn to read. There wasn’t much about the mythical sword in the chronicle that wasn’t written in the other book. The description was even more unhelpful, which was strange because the other articles went into such illuminating detail. Some unknown difference about the sword made it almost a higher echelon of magical artifact. The Crucifire Sword could only ignite into flame if it is held by a king who is worthy.
Mitakahn agreed with Excelsior that it wasn’t much of a lead; not ready to admit to his desperate resurrection theory just yet. They parted ways for the remainder of the evening. Mitakahn re entered his room and put the Mandrake Mandate next to the jar containing Theomitus’ last breath, the first and last step of his new quest.