CHAPTER 3—CASTLE ROSI ISLAND
Mitakahn was shown to his room by his mother. As they crossed over the upper floors of the citadel tower they passed through the throne room. Even with the noon sun reflecting an abundance of light by the open balconies surrounding them, the room still felt hollow to him, devoid of life and the way it used to be.
The crimson and gold banners dipping in a lackadaisical fashion from column to column between balconies. A lonely lion’s head, expertly encased and outlined in crystal, mounted to the wall, towering over the humble throne below it. Made of the finest imported mahogany oakenwood, the throne was lifted off the ground by two polished stone steps.
Mitakahn lingered a second for a view of the lake and the Serengeti beyond it. His mother caught the stall in his stride and patiently waited for him at the door. Without turning his head to look at her, Mitakahn asked Adyána, “Where is my brother?”
“Axion went to Castle Rosi. Once you have settled in, I have arranged Commander Cel’a to escort you to meet him.”
“I’m ready now, Mother.”
“As you wish” she turned and started back across the throne room.
Mitakahn stayed in his gray cloak and boarded the same carriage he was brought in on. It was sitting there unmanned. He grabbed the reins and took to the streets, making his way through the city limits. Mitakahn rode his double horse-drawn carriage to the gatehouse like a man-about town. Although the people’s faces might not have all warmed at the sight of him he still connected to this city at its core. He always did. He was back, it was time to fully be here and embrace his return.
Mitakahn arrived at his rendezvous with his father’s number-one guard, Commander Cel Adora.
“Welcome home, my prince.”
“Please, Cel’a if we are to be companions across the region do me the favor of dispensing with formalities,” he smiled at her, “Call me Mitakahn.”
Cel’a broke her ready stance with a smile. “I will try, but no promises, my…dear…”
Mitakahn quickly understood that it was a reflex she had developed over the years, and he would do best to let it go and get to the bottom of their journey.
“Can you help me catch up with Axion’s interest in Castle Rosi?”
“I was waiting for you to ask. The reason your mother chose me to take you to Mercinestor is because we were both there. We were both with your father the day he found out what it meant to be a king.”
THE LEGEND OF MAGNANIMOUS, LION LORDE
The mighty golden furred lion was not always a god of the countryside like the Grey Wolfe. He was made for the vast depths of the oceans and seas. But when a foreign invader forced the lion from his home he was able to take one thing with him. Desperately he spirited away one artifact from the dark abyss at the bottom of the sea.
The gem’s color took the stormy deep blue with it, contrasting the green savanna grass in bright fashion. Every so often a bluish beam of light shot out of the gemstone suspended in the lion’s fangs, catching the sunlight from above and refracting it out in spectacle. At first the sun rejected Magnanimous. The lordly sea lion carried the blue gem up the river. The farther he tried to take it from the water the heavier and the more abrasive it became.
Such a painful process would never stop Magnanimous, for he was the god of courage and willpower. His fins callused into feet, with claws protruding out of each toe. His body molted free of his greasy blue blubber flesh, peeling away to reveal a rich coat of lush golden fur. The lion realized this land trek to be futile rather quickly, but by the time he dropped the gem his body had adapted, and now the sun celebrated Magnanimous.
Men and women came to see the magnificent lion. His short blonde strands of hair seemed to blend their tips with the horizon and dance in the sunlight. Big buttery eyes, a regal cleft upper lip with sprawling perfectly symmetrical whiskers, and a chiseled chin rounded out the god-lion’s face. His mane was a mix of blonde and golden-brown, with sparse crimson hairs found on its very edges.
Every strand of every shade of every color caught in the spectrum of golden brown glistened clean, luscious, and velvet to the touch. Only one of the divine beast’s physical traits could be disqualified as beautiful, its claws. They were the size of a grown man’s head and sharp enough to roll one clean off its stem need be. But the need for such reckless abandon did not dwell within the lion. Magnanimous wanted to show man all the glory of his treasure.
“What is it?”
“It is called the Ignaleos Cor.”
“What does it do?”
“It doesn’t do anything. It is the jewel of the abyss.”
“It has to do something.”
Magnanimous had no love for early man. That was until they tried to help him move the Cor back to the water. Some even died trying. Magnanimous saw the raw potential of human willpower. Through trial and tribulation he found one native strong enough to drag the Ignaleos Cor back to the river.
The man that championed the gemstone was the ancestor of Jacob Arkenorth, founder of the Lion Kingdom. Magnanimous roared and an island grew from the water; a place to keep the gem. He sent the man who carried the gem back to lead the people still gathered out where Magnanimous walked inland. This settlement was the seed of the lion kingdom and would one day become Zepathorum City.
• • •
A carriage draped in the citadel banners of a gold lion-headed tower over crimson red, took Mitakahn and Cel’a north to that very island. Once again Mitakahn found himself at the receiving end of a tragic tale that directly affected his life. Cel’a went into full detail in regard to meeting King Theomitus when he was assigned to new recruit training by his father. Theomitus took a liking to her immediately as the first female candidate for the royal guard, which up until that had been a boys club. Theomitus might have moved on from being a military trainer quickly, but he never forgot Cel’a. Then the day came for the Cor Trial.
Cel’a continued, “This ritual was an outdated relic of our ancestor’s customs. It had no business lasting as long as it did but every king of the Pride up to and including your grandfather had to successfully complete the trials.”
“What were the trials?”
“That is still up for debate until this day. In fact, a curious hush was put on the ritual even as a conversational topic. Many people say many things, some may be true and others most certainly aren’t. I have faith that you will soon find out. All I can do is tell you what happened to your father.”
Mitakahn stopped interrupting and let Cel’a recall her formative years, “I was still stuck in training, getting passed up for each opening in the citadel guard, when I heard your father was going to the trials. Of course, at that time his oldest brother Mitacles was becoming king and-”
“My father has a brother?” Mitakahn interrupted, completely caught off-guard by this extremely relevant piece of information he never knew before.
“Your father had several siblings. As the born heir, Mitacles got to choose Theomitus and their middle brother Baal to accompany him. I asked your father once what happened. He tried to tell me. I believe he wanted to tell me. But he never did, so I never asked him again. Only Baal and Theomitus returned from the island.
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“After that King Benethor decommissioned the ritual. He left the Ignaleos Cor in the hands of Castle Rosi and offered his second son Baal the throne. Unfortunately, Baal disappeared before ever becoming king. I guess most of the people were able to move on with their lives content with never opening the trials again-”
“…but not my father.”
“No, not your father.” She smirked, “He convinced me to go to the island with him. I knew then what I know now. I would follow him anywhere, to the ends of MagnaThora. So, I escorted him on his quest for answers.”
Cel’a went on. The tale took most of the ride to tell. When they arrived Mitakahn didn’t really know more than before she began, but that’s not what mattered. Mitakahn now had a hunch. And a hunch could save the world.
The wheels rolled against the water-stained planks of the drawbridge over to the island. As they crossed, mechanisms running along the side of the bridge powered up with a bluish glow. Mitakahn watched from the back of the carriage as the bridge behind them lifted automatically.
“That’s new.”
The island was large enough to fit a castle and some fields to farm; a castle that has been home to the same bloodline since the founding of the kingdom. These days the lord of Castle Rosi Island was King Theomitus’ best friend. His name was Mercinestor Casterosi, but ever since Mitakahn was a boy he called him…
“Uncle Nestor! It is so good to see you.”
Mercinestor hugged Mitakahn.
“Mitakahn, my my, you have grown up! And look at that beard…You are starting to look just like your old man, be it not for your Borigini coloring.” Mercinestor laughed.
He had the hands of a craftsman; they were tough but without callousness. His dark features gave way to his soft stature and infectious smile complimented by a thick salt and pepper walrus mustache.
Cel’a greeted Mercinestor with a bow.
“I’m glad to see the both of you,” he stumbled, “however bittersweet the terms may be.”
Mitakahn cut straight to the point, “How have I spent my entire life coming to this island and never known what is kept here?”
Mercinestor let off a knowing smile, as if ecstatic to finally be done with the charade, and then he quickly buttoned up.
“It was the decree of your father, the king.”
“You have mistaken my implications, I can’t believe that I have been so oblivious all these years. I’m finally piecing it all together and I think I know what the Ignaleos Cor is, or at least where it is…”
“It’s in the back.”
“In the back!” Mitakahn tried to say it at the same time as Mercinestor. The Island Lord chuckled. Mitakahn continued.
“I knew it! The deck with the locked door, same bluish glow coming from the cracks between the doorframes that I saw on the drawbridge...”
“That, my prince, is our latest invention.”
“Your handiwork has come a long way, far surpassing-”
“My handiwork, it is not. That invention was all Cipher.”
“Huh,” Mitakahn smiled proudly, “somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“My son has exceeded everyone’s expectations since he completed his schooling. Utilizing the Cor in ways I have never dreamt of.”
“I assume he is with my brother right now?”
“In the Cor Room.”
“The Cor Room…in back,” Mitakahn said. Overcompensating as he tried to look like he figured things out already.
Cel’a remained with the carriage as Mitakahn followed Mercinestor through the kitchen and dining hall, through the greenhouse, to the back deck over the harbor rocks. The deck stretched out over the water to the rocks where a detached structure stood precariously.
“This walkway used to scare me as a kid. On nights we were over for dinner and storms enraged the river tide.”
“We have lost good men out here,” Mercinestor comforted, “it is a treacherous stretch.”
Mercinestor opened the door that was always locked and let Mitakahn walk through first. The hallway quickly ended and opened up to one massive room. Towards the center of the room there was no floor but walkways intertwining over the water. At their nexus, a platform held up the Ignaleos Cor. From a vantage point across the room, he saw Cipher and Axion.
There he was, Mitakahn’s older brother. Everything Mitakahn was and everything Mitakahn wasn’t. The same brown hair but trimmed closer, a warrior’s haircut. The same brown eyes, but bigger, big enough to see the whole kingdom. The same smile but perfect, unlike Mitakahn’s slightly crooked bottom teeth. The only big difference being Mitakahn’s beard, as Axion was clean shaven, a true prince.
They came together and greeted one another.
“You could have told me about father sooner,” Mitakahn said, wasting no time in telling his brother how he really felt.
“How about a hello, little brother?” Axion said. “And who do you think sent the message to the academy in the first place?”
“Yes, well your afterthought message got me ex-” Mitakahn stopped himself. This wasn’t the time for petty squabbles. “What are we going to do, Axion?”
“Everything and anything we can do.”
Although Axion did not stop talking Mitakahn had a brief intermission in his head, a breath of fresh awareness over the fact that he was now noticeably taller than his older brother.
“…and right now, that means figuring out if this sinister artifact is involved in any way.”
Cipher took this as an opportunity to begin. Mercinestor’s only son Cipher Casterosi resembled the family traits but with a more stern stature, a carbon copy of Mercinestor that was made of rock. He was equally as sharp as his old man and pushed the limits of their knowledge every day.
“The trials used to be the only time there was any activity from the Cor. According to accounts from the pages of history and my father’s own words an energy field emanates from the Cor and creates a threshold to its own inner realm. Do I have that right, father?”
“That pretty much sums it up.” Mercinestor smiled. “This next part is my favorite,” he whispered to Mitakahn.
Cipher turned the switch and with a scratch the Ignaleos Cor lit on fire with the growing blue flame. It roared and churned and duplicated its viscosity until it grew to the pace of sludge now resembling the petals of a flower.
He continued, “I was tasked with figuring out how to recreate the phenomena. Well since then not only have I figured out how to open the threshold to the corscape, but I can also keep the portal suspended indefinitely, and I have found a way to funnel power from the energy it puts off.”
“This is far beyond the most advanced technology found anywhere in greater MagnaThora.”
“This will change everything.”
“It’s raw power, the applications are limitless,” Axion sighed in disbelief.
Cipher nodded as he and Axion exchanged glances. It was clear they were both on the same page. “I have been monitoring for any negative repercussions and so far...nothing.”
“A breakthrough like this could send the Pride to the top of MagnaThora,” said Axion.
Mitakahn rubbed his hairy chin. “We need to go inside.”
“What?” Axion flinched. “Are you mad?"
"We have no idea what will happen if we cross the threshold,” Cipher explained.
“Father did it-” Mitakahn said before getting cut off by Axion.
“And now he is dying.”
“The only way we'll know for sure is if we go in. Plus, don’t skip over the fact that Uncle Nestor and Cel’a remain unaffected.”
“He has a point, Axion” seconded Cipher.
“You can’t actually be considering this too?”
“Why are we out here then?” Mitakahn argued, “You were waiting for my opinion…well that’s it. We have to go into the corscape.”
“I’m with you, Mitakahn.” Cipher looked at his father for encouragement. And that is exactly what he got. Mercinestor did not want to say anything, but he had been waiting for someone to state the obvious.
Before Mercinestor started he had a thought. Theo should be here for this. “Okay boys listen up. When I was your age these dreaded trials went south, and the royal family buried the ritual. So, you see there used to be committees that handled this sort of thing. They curated the trials for the Arkenoirs and maintained the corscape. Those days are long over, and we don’t know what waits for you on the other side.”
Mercinestor continued, “I will make sure the portal stays open for your return.”
“Well, I can’t exactly say that convinced me, Uncle Nestor, my gods,” said Axion. “I should have dressed in my battle armor. If only I knew this is where the day would take us.”
“There is still time to properly prepare,” said Cipher.
“No, we are here now… Let’s do this.”