Ember of the Fallen Kingdom
1450 words
Read time 11 mins
Chapter One: The Kingdom of the Mountainside
In a land that has long since left the songs and tales of men, fifty-four travelers mounted on fifty-four steeds were led east by the king of a city that now loomed six leagues behind them. This city was Cliffenheim, a kingdom whose mighty foundations were built into the highest clefts of Mount Wulfang. This king was named Berg III of Cliffenheim and rode far in front of his people; he had been leading them all the day long from the majestic gates of Cliffenheim to the gloomy forests that lay to the east of the city.
Nearly every resident of Cliffenheim could agree that King Berg III was an ambitious lord, whose sole purpose in serving the kingdom was to bring the power of Cliffenheim to its fullest potency. He was dressed lavishly even on horseback, with royal blood-red robes hanging from his shoulders and in his hands a spear longer than the snow-white stallion on which he rode. His eyes were cold, judgemental, and with an aggressive gaze that seemed always to scan the horizon for potential threats to obliterate. But the element of his appearance that truly inspired terror into his enemies was the golden crown upon his head: golden, gleaming, and with a searing jewel embedded into its center that could be seen blazing from afar.
This jewel was one of the only two that existed on Earth, and burned with the intensity of a hundred thousand hearts beating at once; for it was the gem that held within it the power of Cliffenheim itself. The things it did seemed too fey to have fallen into the hands of a mere man: it extended the life of the king beyond measure, so that no disease nor the dreadful thing called old age could take him; it strengthened the hearts of the Cliffenheimians, who were known from far places to be brazen and fearless warriors; and its enchantments were said to render the city’s walls nearly indestructible.
The king gazed upon this jewel for hours on end, he muttered to it, he kissed it, he slept with it; he would not part with it. His two sons had both been slain in battle long ago, and his queen had soon after left the kingdom in secret, never to be seen nor heard of again. This jewel was all he had left to love, and it brought him great power.
Yet oft he would find himself gazing into the east from his watch-tower, and would feel a passion within his soul; he wanted more power, and would lead his people many leagues to obtain it. After the one hundred and forty-seven years he had lived in admiration of this artifact, King Berg III of Cliffenheim was on a quest for the second jewel that had so long lain beyond his grasp. And it would not come easily to him, he would soon learn…
Chapter Two: An Age-Old History
“Long ago, there lived two civilizations in this land,” the king called to his cavalry, “the Cliffenheimians and the Kananti, a tribe of elves that dwelt yonder in the forest of Kananta.”
There was an immediate uproar in the crowd, during which one enraged voice rose above all the others: “You bring us into elf-territory, then? I would rather march into an army of goblins than by the hut of an elf.” It was Fenris Sutblade, one of the king’s most trusted warriors, who pronounced this last word with such contempt that none who stood by him could resist backing away.
“Silence!” the king bellowed, striking his spear on the ground and reining his horse to a halt. “These lands have long been rid of elves, and all that remains of their existence are the temples they once built in the woods of Kananta. It was five centuries ago when the Mountain-men of the Northlands came hither, and seized the land of the East-elves by force. The Kananti were banished to the Western forests of Súnimanta, never to be found in these woods again. Then the Mountain-men built their new home upon the cliffs of Wulfang, and for many a century the great city of Cliffenheim thrived. In that kingdom were crafted the Two Jewels, and they preserved the might of the city for many ages to come. Why, then, does only one jewel glitter upon my head?”
King Berg turned to face the crowd, the red gem blazing on his crown. “Because it was stolen!” he roared. “The lord of the elves, Iselon the Golden, led his army from the West to unleash war upon us. It was then that my great grandsire, King Berg I of Cliffenheim, was tragically slain by an elven-arrow and robbed of the jewel he wore upon his crown.”
The crowd flew into a rage, thrusting their weapons into the sky and cursing the elves. “That’s right!” the king snarled. “We will avenge the king and take back what the elves stole from us, the jewel which they hid in this very forest! We must make for the central shrine of Tamikúmu, which my scholars have confirmed to be the location of the second jewel. It is a two-league journey thither, but we must set down sometime anon for the evening. And when we return to Cliffenheim with this newfound power, my dear travelers, we shall wage a war upon the Súnimanti greater than they can fathom!”
There was much gasping at the mention of war. This was followed by a grave silence, which was itself interrupted by one brave voice.
Map by Winston Coady
Chapter Three: An Objection to War
“I daresay it is unwise, sire, that we should bring about war with purpose to destroy rather than defend.” All helmets turned to face Hilda Wrenstone, rising proudly upon her steed’s saddle. “Many more lives will be lost than power gained, and exiling the Súnimanti further yet will do no good to either side. We and they have maintained peace for centuries, and now Your Majesty wishes to summon more war and destruction? What will come of this but bloodshed and hatred? I beseech you, sire, use not the Two Jewels as weapons.”
The king scowled and attempted to appear taller on his saddle, snarling, “And since when has Hilda Wrenstone served as the advisor of King Berg III of Cliffenheim?”
“Speak not to my sister that way!” shouted Odin Wrenstone, sitting up on his steed next to Hilda’s own. “If none of Your Majesty’s advisors have objected to this folly, sire, then Cliffenheim truly has descended into madness. If we surrender from this strife between elves and men, my lord, think of the lives we could save from death, and the palaces we could save from destruction; think of the peace we could settle between Cliffenheim and Súnimanta. The Kananti lost everything: their land, their people, their home in the East; let us not take more from them. I beg of Your Majesty: please, spare the elves, forgive them for the death of King Berg I and the theft of His Majesty’s jewel.”
The king stared grimly at the two siblings, teeth clenched. “Odin and Hilda Wrenstone! You two have been bold and brazen since the day you joined Cliffenheim’s army, and ever the more inseparable. You are two of my greatest warriors, yet more steely than the blades of your swords.” Then, the slightest smile spreading across his lips, King Berg announced, “Nonetheless, I wish to hold a meeting with the both of you once we set down for the evening. We have matters to discuss.”
Then, in a louder voice, he called to the crowd: “My travelers, let us continue through the forest until nightfall, whence we may set up our encampments and prepare supper.”
And so, in awe of this jewel and the dark history it bore, the expedition made their way into the elven forest. Singing all the while, they filled the woods of Kananta with olden poems and folk-songs that had existed for many generations in Cliffenheim. The Wrenstone siblings shuddered at the thought of their kingdom going to war with the Súnimanti, and wondered tensely what the king planned to discuss with them later in the evening. In spite of these apprehensions, they sang merrily along with the rest of the travelers under the last light of the afternoon:
“When dawn riseth to day
We march our steeds away.
With spears held aloft in the sky
Armor clasheth whilst we cry
And sing, all the day long.
Whither we tread we bring our song
Into the sun’s last light
Till day waneth to night.”
Check back next week for Chapter 4
