When at his side, I said, “Listen Varey, at my signal, stream, with as much force as you can, the powers toward the center serpent. The largest one that you awoke.”
“Have you gone mad!” he said.
I smiled with my still sorely beaten face. “Trust me on this! I at least know what I’m doing.”
He reflected on what he should do. And as he did so, the menace that encased him left. He seemed more calm; now able to see me as an equal. His shaking stopped, and he gripped his sword tight.
Streams of the elements encased his sword from air, to earth, to water, to fire. I likewise did the same.
The smaller dragons congregated en masse to the largest of them. It gazed with—what I could only presume at the time—a fury so great so as to completely consume and annihilate us. It let open its mouth and roared toward the quarters of the earth.
Its wail was sharp and pained our ears. Yet we held steady. The serpent and its cohorts rushed to us with open mouths, encasing themselves in flames. We waited for them to draw near.
A moment passed. Then another. The fires singed. A furlong stood between us.
I shouted, “Seliva Seliho! To war it comes; to war we go!”
We released the elements. Their coalescing forms became as like a luminous quasar that ushered deadly light from all ends. They struck against the beast, rippled across its hide, and tore through the cohort like knives tearing through flesh.
The serpents dissolved. Their wails echoed. The sky broke. And all at once became normal.
The illusion vanished. Our wounds and fabric mended. We were now in the clearing. The spot of ejection was now a crater next to us. The princess hid behind a lone boulder. The cliff was replaced by land that melded into the rolling hills in the distance.
Animals emerged from the forest and flocked to where we were. But not because of us.
The great serpent we just faced was still there, yet now docile. It lifted its head slowly, and we could see the scales on its form look withered and crusted. It had lived long.
It gave a few rumbles to the fauna that surrounded it. It looked toward the boulder where the princess hid and opened its mouth. I thought at that moment that it was ready to strike the princess.
I bolstered my powers and was ready to fire into the beast’s cavity, when at that moment, I heard a voice. Loud but gentle. And it reverberated in my mind:
Come here, children. I meant not to scare you. Harken to me.
Varey and I stood transfixed. The princess ran to our position and prostrated.
She said, “O great serpent, might we know who you are? To have tested us so.”
The voice echoed again in our minds:
I am a celestial, of the form of the Gazhigam, known as Khurzetak, for I am like the sugar-cane that is sweet but deadly. I have rested in this land for much time and have served as aid to your forbears, whence the Demons struck your homeland. I felt for your plight and gave protection for you and wrath for your enemies. But now I rest, having become weary of the toilsome troubles I have long endured on the pitiable mother.
The stags you saw before coming this way served not only as guardians of the forest but also of me. A time will come when I should aid your people once more. But I fear that I shall fall in the conflict that shall come. And when that should happen, I hope that the people I have so long guarded will be able to grow and at last fend for themselves.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
It spoke similarly to the stags, but its tone was more sorrowful.
I prostrated and said, “O Khurzetak, my name is Yurva, and I’m to be next in line to inherit the kingdom of Koshapa. My gratitude for all you’ve done for us! I ask, however, why it is you tested us?”
The visiting prince prostrated as well, and said, “O great serpent of the Heavens, my name is Varey, and I too wish to know the reason? Forgive me my incursions in your domain!”
The dragon rested its head and murmured. It said:
There is nothing to forgive, child. Though you awoke me from my slumber, I sensed no malice in you toward me. Your fathers have forgotten my role and have kept their distance. Perhaps they might seek to slay me, but you have not done so, nor should I think you would in the future. Blessings be upon the children who look to all with equal favor!
But to you, Prince Yurva, I have done so to remove the fear of death from your hearts. The prince who ran did so out of fear for his future. For while I know not the circumstances that led to his flight, I can see in his mind the anxiety that holds and stifles his cause.
And for you, Yurva, I could see that you are cursed to die, and that while you may have died once already, ever does the fear of the moment of death linger in your heart. You, in truth, do not seek it, but feel you must deserve it.
Answer me this, prince of the well-skilled. Will you seek to give into the vices that cover your heart? Will you be idle in the actions that you know should bear merit and fruit?
I hesitated. I couldn’t speak before Khurzetak. I knew I had to conquer this fear one way or another. For that moment, I only shook my head and affirmed the resolve I already had in mind.
I have spoken what I must. Now the choice is yours. You were already presented with one before your coming here, so I only pray that you continue to make the choices that furthers your growth.
The serpent suddenly rose, and uncoiled itself into the long slender form that I knew only from tales of old.
Now I shall take my leave. I will return once the appointed time draws near. When I am to fall, I ask only that you give me the cremation fit for kings upon this land. Let my soul wander to the Halls of the Forefathers. Where I may, for the time, be at peace. Hasvyan, children of the Marhan! Farewell!
The dragon lifted with wind so great that it shook the very earth itself. It soared into the sky and its form vanished without a trace. We were left astounded in the wake of its words.
Varey came to me and prostrated. He clasped my feet and cried on them. “Forgive me for what I’ve done to you! I surely thought I was to die, but you saved me.”
“I didn’t save you from anything,” I said with melancholy. “Khurzetak had no intent to kill us. All I gave was courage and forgiveness.”
“That alone is enough!” cried Varey.
I lifted and embraced him. He cried on my shoulders. The princess, his sister, cried in likeness, but in joy. It seemed to me that for all the enemies he surely made to this point, he now at least had one friend in me.
----------------------------------------
“So I see you’re able to use the powers, too,” I said as we walked back through the woods.
“Yes, although I don’t think that’s something to be surprised about,” said Varey. “After all, most of the denizens of the world can use it, save for certain folk who would more than likely be cursed.”
Now that was something I hadn’t heard before, and I was astounded. That would mean those who worked in the palace could use them as well, but hid them from sight for one reason or another.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why is it that the lay-folk don’t show such abilities?” I asked.
He looked at me rather oddly. “Have you learned nothing from the Servants?”
There wasn’t much I could say, and I was rather embarrassed.
He sighed and said, “It’s not just the lay-folk but all those gifted with it. They seek not to display such powers unless a moment calls for its use. Nowadays, people use it within their homes for menial tasks but in the eyes of the public they refrain. Have you not gone out of the palace once?”
I shook my head, and Varey had put the pieces together in his mind. He understood my position.
“Well, I feel sorry for you. Perhaps we can correct this in some way in the future. You can’t stay sheltered forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to make council with the other kingdoms, and at some point, venture to the north to fight the Demons.” Then he had a thought and asked, “What did the serpent mean when it mentioned you having died once already? I know of your curse, but this seems wholly different.”
I froze and stuttered. My mouth shut. No words would come and I hung my head low. I wished not to speak of such things. At least not then.
“Brother,” said the princes, “perhaps we should speak of something else?”
“Ah yes!” said the prince, having caught on to my dilemma. “My sister still hasn’t introduced herself.”
We stopped right outside the exit to the garden. The princess bowed with folded hands. I looked to her, my sullenness having quickly left.
With a great smile, she said, “My name is Viruka, princess of the land of Daorka, and I am One to Herald Prosperity!”