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 listlissly 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 crimstone 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.
Having already forgotten to remove his gray cloak in all the commotion, Mitakahn decided to keep it on rather than switch to citadel colors, 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 drove 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. 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. Lord Casterosi and I 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 had not always been a god of the countryside like the Grey Wolfe. He was made of bluish blubber and fins for the vast depths of the ocean. 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 savannah 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 golden fur. The lion quickly realized this land trek was futile, 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 blond 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 completed the god-lion’s face. His mane was a mix of blond and golden-brown, with sparse crimson hairs found on its very edges.
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: his claws. They were the size of a grown man’s head and sharp enough to cut and roll one clean off its stem. 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 courage and willpower. Through trial and tribulation, he found one native strong enough to drag the Ignaleos Cor back to the river, his name was Arkham.
The great Lion roared, and an island grew from the river. A place to keep the gem. His roar moved the earth from beneath the water like the petals of a rose growing from its stem, and so he named it Rosi Island.
Although there was never any empirical evidence to prove it, legend states that Arkham was the great ancestor of Jacob Arkenorth, the first Lord of the Lion Kingdom. Its believed that Arkham was sent back to lead those still gathered out where the great Lion had walked inland, thus founding Magnanimous’ Pride, the first name for the people of the Serengeti. 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 on a crimson field, 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 meetingTheomitus when he was still a prince and 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 Trials.
Cel’a continued, “This ritual was an outdated relic of our ancestors. 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. 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 was caught completely off-guard by this extremely relevant piece of information he had never known about.
“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 couldn’t, so I never asked him again. It didn’t matter. Only Baal and Theomitus returned from the island.
“After that King Benethor decommissioned the ritual. He left the Ignaleos Cor in the hands of House Casterosi 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.”
Cel’a went on. The tale took most of the ride to tell. When they arrived Mitakahn’s mind was wrapped up in a mess of all these things he had not known about his family and kingdom, but that was not what mattered. Mitakahn now had a hunch. And a hunch could save the day.
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.
Stolen story; please report.“That’s new.”
The island was large enough to fit a castle and some fields to farm. It had 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 had 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 calluses. His dark features gave way to his soft nature 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,” Lord Casterosi stumbled over his words, “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 smiled knowingly, as if ecstatic to finally be done with the charade, and then he quickly moved on. “It was the decree of your father, the king.”
“I can’t believe that I’ve 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, and 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?”
“Correct. He is showing Prince Axion the Cor.”
“In the back,” Mitakahn said, overcompensating as he tried to look like he had figured everything 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,” said Mercinestor. “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 on one massive room. Towards the center of the room there was no floor; instead, walkways intertwined over the water. At their nexus, a platform held up the Ignaleos Cor. Cipher and Axion stood across the room from him.
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 was 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? 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 artifact is involved in any way.”
Cipher took this as an opportunity to begin. Mercinestor’s only son, Cipher Casterosi had inherited the family traits in more than just physical appearance. He was as sharp as his old man and pushed the limits of their knowledge every day. The big difference was Cipher’s youthful physique, a carbon copy of Mercinestor that was carved out of rock and had the muscles to prove it. Although he did not have the same iconic walrus mustache, it was clear he could grow one. In fact, the shadow of the walrus was lightly cast upon his upper lip as he spoke.
“The trials used to be the only time there was any activity from the Cor. According to historical accounts 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 approached the boys, smiling. “This next part is my favorite,” he whispered to Mitakahn.
Cipher walked up to a console slightly off center of the room, adjacent to the core, and turned the switch. With a scratching sound, the Ignaleos Cor exploded but not with fire. Bubbling blue liquid roared and churned, becoming ever more viscous until it slowed to the pace of sludge. The lazy liquid now resembled 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,” said Axion.
“This will change everything,” said Mitakahn.
“It’s raw power. The applications are limitless,” Axion added.
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 chin between the hairs of his beard. “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. That’s it. We have to go into the Corscape.”
“I’m with you, Mitakahn.” Cipher looked at his father for encouragement, and that was exactly what he got. Mercinestor had not wanted 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. But his old friend, the king was too busy fighting for his life at the Citadel to wrestle with old demons at Castle Rosi Island. “Okay, boys, listen up. When I was your age these dreaded trials went south, and the royal family buried the ritual. 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, “Others might caution us from taking such a risk, like your mother. But that’s why I am here and she is not.” He smirked. “I will make sure the portal stays open for your return.”
“Well, I can’t exactly say that convinced me, Uncle Nestor,” said Axion. “My gods, I should have dressed in my battle armor. If only I’d known this was where the day would take us.”
“There is still time to properly prepare,” said Cipher.
“No, we are here now…” Axion sighed, resigned. “Let’s do this.”