Kingdoms of Caelum; Autumn of the War Queen

Chapter 26

The realm of Baradonia was oozing with life, a lifetime away from the snow covered Vale of Pelyn that was host to Fortis, or the barren land and deserts of Garr. It was home to thousands of acres of lush green meadows, which ran in unison alongside fresh water rivers, forests and valleys. A never ending abundance of lush fruits and game provided the simple inhabitants of Baradonia with all they needed and more. Farmers, butchers, smiths, and bakers all lived dotted within small communities amongst the open land, without the rule of a King, and throughout the realm they lived a mostly happy and peaceful existence.

As Baradonia snaked its way southwards, it passed the fallen Kingdom of Blehmintine. Once powerful, it was now nothing more then gigantic dusty ruins. When the Kingdom fell in the Great War, most of it was lost under the lake below and now, partly submerged under the water, its broken structures, temples and once magnificent palace, were home to a frightening looking warrior clan, drifters who had clubbed together to claim the fallen remnants and called themselves the Islanders of Stone.

Far to the East, in the warmth of the realm, lay the Port of Hope. The Port of Hope had, over the years, ascended into a grand City ruled by a Sultan who commissioned high walls around his claim; it was as large and powerful as any of the floating Kingdoms. But, unlike the Kingdoms in the sky, the Sultan Molsik Asainn kept his people and his privileges close to the heart, and would not let any outsider within his walls. He was not born when his great grandfather's Kingdom, Argon, had fallen near the east coast and had been lost to the ocean forever, but he still harboured the hate for the other Kingdoms on his grandfather's behalf; a grudge that would outlive the age of time.

Over such an enormous realm the terrain and the climate began to change. It began to get hotter and humid the further south one travelled. The greenery turned into dry, yellow grasses and both man and animal became scarce. The southern border of Baradonia, neighboured Sephian and the Kingdom of Lieulf. Although it was copious in rich foods like oranges and grapes, many people feared to live so close to the Rakshashas. However, every so often there would be a farm or vineyard, and the people who did live here were not as afraid of the demons as their northern comrades. Instead, they would sing ballads about the creatures to their children:

"Now child be good and go to bed

or the Rakshasha will have your head"

Sable was nine and the oldest of all his brothers and sisters who lived on the farm. Often he would run alone through the orchards of crab apples towards the cliff base, golden sunlight gleaming off his golden hair. Monkeys regularly came over the cliff tops from the jungles of Sephian and into his farm, wreaking havoc and destruction for his father and uncles, but Sable liked them. He liked to copy them climbing the tallest trees and swinging from the branches. Sable was nine. He wasn't afraid of being so close to the cliff's edge, or the Rakshashas. The silly songs they sung about the hidden demons were to scare the younger children, not a child of nine. He only half believed they existed anyway; he had never seen one before, but then again he had never seen the Lunar Agora and he knew that existed. The annual three day event saw people from all over the realms and Kingdoms come together to sell and trade. Sable's father and uncles went every year and came back with wild stories of Dark Elves, Frost Giants, Hybrids and Dragons. They would talk about mighty warriors and slavers; men that would slit your throat if you sold them a rotten pear. They would bring back jewellery, weapons, tools and food from across the seas. Sable would demand he would go this year, he thought, now that he was nine.

The dirty bronze coloured monkey Sable had been following was playing with its feet. Rolling in the dusty ground and screeching happily with a long tail curling in the air.

"Silly old monkey," he laughed, reaching for a branch overhead.

He pulled himself up hoping the monkey would follow as they often did; but it didn't. Sable climbed higher. When he looked down he saw the monkey had stopped rolling. It was stood on its two back legs alert, a small whimper coming from its tiny mouth. One of the farm cats, Sable thought, they were always spooking the monkeys: fat nasty things. He was just about to climb back down when the snap of twigs stopped him dead. That was no cat. The monkey began to screech loudly but this time it was a chilling scream, sending fear through Sable's blood; the monkey was afraid, very afraid. It began to run in circles on the ground, something he had not seen the monkeys do before. Sable gripped the branch tighter and craned his neck around the foliage. It was then he saw a figure emerge from deep within the orchard: a tiger, white as the clouds and as silent as a shadow. It ran at the little monkey, pouncing elegantly and pinning it to the floor. The monkey screamed once last time and in an effortless moment, the tiger ripped its head off. Sable wanted to yell and cry but he knew better. Instead, his eyes fell upon a second figure emerging from the trees. A girl, only slighter older then he, walked gently over to the tiger. She had a nunchaku weapon hanging across her thin linen tunic, but there was something else, something strange about the way the shadows fell on her face. He strained his eyes. They were not shadows at all but black markings like stripes across her neck, cheeks and forehead. Sable then knew the two were Rakshasha. All the horror stories he had ever been told as a child came flooding back; nails as sharp as daggers etched with poison that would make you vomit blood, deadly warriors, shape shifters and eaters of human flesh. Sable felt a warm trickle run down his leg and he was more scared than he had ever been. The young girl stood by the tiger and picked up the limp body of the monkey. Without hesitation, she ripped her nail along its stomach and pulled out the entrails, and as if they were fresh strawberries, she moaned with delight as she devoured them. The white tiger purred excitedly as it spotted the farm and took two steps towards it. Sable froze with dread. Not the farm, not his family, he screamed in his mind.

"No Shart. Mother said no humans that are not bought and paid for."

The tiger released a low growl.

"We cannot make up our own laws Shart. It is the new way. You know that."

The girl flicked her honey coloured hair and wiped the blood away from her mouth.

"Come. We have far to travel before we reach the Lunar Agora."

Leaving a bloody heap of flesh and bone behind, they avoided the farm and began the long journey North into Baradonia.