CHAPTER 11 – THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FAMILY


    The docks got little traffic from the bay. But the Axis River which comes from the east, and flows west out into the bay, holds the only nautical passage where nations can use sail and oar for business and trade. After a long journey across MagnaThora, their ship had finally come into Port Caliber under an amber sky of scattered light and fields of clouds and docked at the royal pier within Seaport Village. The royal family of the Steed Kingdom came off the boat in turn.


    First, the three cousin princes of the kingdom walked down the boarding plank. There was the second oldest of Lorde Avalahn’s five grandchildren (second to Axion), Lord Jericho. He was the son of Adyána and Anilithyìstad’s oldest sister, Marinol, and an only child. Jericho was a very worthy knight. His athletic build and dark features gave him a very sleek appeal, the most swift and graceful of the bunch, but prone to getting bested by his temper.


    Next was Anilithyìstad’s oldest son Anilithion. Anilithion was the identical image of Anilithyìstad as a young man. Same kind eyes, but a softer stature full of youth. Next to Anilithion was his brother, Mortikahn. Both Mitakahn and Mortikahn, were named after their Grandfather, taking the “-ahn” suffix of Avalahn’s name. Young Mortikahn was already sporting his father’s wide shoulders and thick skin. His watchful eyes and looming face supported his suspicious and aggressive personality.


    Mitakahn greeted each of his cousins with a hug. These five cousins, although separated by miles and miles of land, spent much of their childhood growing up together as brothers. It was not until the older ones grew into adults did their paths part. But now, in light of death and in need of support, they were together once again.


    “Good friends, how are you all? It’s been awhile,” greeted Mitakahn.


    “You are right Mitakahn, it has been too long, and we are sorry for that,” confessed Anilithion.


    “Well, you are here now, and that is all that matters, besides you were following my orders. How is home?” asked Anilithyìstad.


    “It is good father, the old man is not as worthless as we thought, he is running things like you never left,” replied Mortikahn.


    “That is very brave of you to utter such dismissive language about Grandfather, be it you know… young warrior, that there are spies everywhere,” forewarned Jericho.


    “…Even inside such high and protected walls as these?” added Mitakahn.


    “Do not let them scare you, brother. But do be wary of your words… they are right about these docks, nothing but pickpockets and scandals,” murmured Anilithion.


    Suddenly he was thrown off balance, his guard down, and pulled backwards by the neck by a figure in the shadow.


    “Surely, a noble prince from the stallion nation should not be so easily caught off his guard. He would never make it in such a dangerous city.”


    It was prince Axion who was holding his younger cousin. Axion tossed Anilithion around and head-butted him. Axion twitched his head; his cousin’s skull shook him up. He took another look at the young heir who was not so young anymore.


    “I’m getting a little old for that, Axion. Doesn’t even hurt.”


    “Yes, but you compromised your footing,” Axion countered right before swiftly swiping his cousin’s legs out from under him.


    “You have a taste for the theatrics, cousin. We didn’t think we would see you upon arrival,” teased Jericho.


    “And miss my favorite imported cargo?” countered Axion, “Nonsense!” Axion and Jericho greeted each other with a rough hug, while Mortikahn helped his brother up.


    “It is good to see you, Jericho.”


    The two oldest of the grandchildren had a lot of history together.


    Behind the first three were the princesses of Metuchen. Led by the queen of the Steed Kingdom, Luciana, and Jericho’s mother, there was also Princess Nicíli, wife of Paxikahn, youngest son of King Avalahn, and their two little girls Avalahna and Micilahnya. The two young princesses were skipping off the boat hand in hand and clearly knew not of the grave occasion that the entire family was coming together. Mitakahn was so glad to see them. He picked Micilahnya up and asked, “Where is my Uncle Paxikahn?”


    “I asked him to stay and lead the nation along with my brother” King Avalahn came out lastly, in long tribal robes. He had aged greatly since Mitakahn last saw him, but still was of tremendous stature. “Galastad and his family also send their regard and love. Their stately duties keep them at the Senate.” He said.


    “I understand, your majesty.” Mitakahn bowed his head to his grandfather.


    Avalahn looked deep into his grandson’s eyes. They were dark and unending.


    “Come closer, son.”


    Son


    The word Mitakahn no longer wanted to be called.


    “Give your grandfather your embrace; it has been a grueling voyage.”


    Mitakahn went over and hugged his grandfather. Micilahnya laughed as she was sandwiched between them. Mitakahn put her down and continued his embrace giving the old man a support under his arm.


    Anilithyìstad came around to the king and took his other arm, “Good to see you, father. Let us return to Zepathorum. And prepare for the wake.” as he ushered the rest of the family to the caravan, where they would take the road to the Citadel of Zepathorum. Many would show up for this ceremony; most of the kingdoms would be represented by both familiar and foreign faces.


    On the ride back, Micilahnya accompanied Mitakahn on his horse. She asked her older cousin, “Why is everyone so sad?” But Mitakahn did not have the heart to tell her. The girls would not go to the funeral. They would unknowingly wait in the royal chambers with their mother. Mitakahn simply answered, “It has been storming here for many days.”


    “Oh,” answered the na?ve princess, “I like rainy days, they make me miss the sun.”


    Mitakahn was impressed with his little cousin’s insight. She had no idea how right she was. The citizens of Port Caliber were starved, not of food but hope. Everyone was. Darkness had invaded their kingdom after the king’s death. Mitakahn looked around at the townsfolk; there were no smiles, no laughter; only gloom expressions reflective of his own. The entire kingdom was feeling his sadness. It was almost…tributary.


    After the road from Caliber, they reached Zepathorum City. It was the same pathetic scene there, nothing but dull movements and sorrowful looks. Wheeling through the overwhelmingly gray streets, the family did not speak. When they finally reached the citadel, Queen Adyána was standing outside, waiting for them. She picked Avalahna off of Axion’s horse and greeted her family members one by one. And finally, she reached her father, King Avalahn. Adyána melted into his arms and regressed. She wanted to be a girl again, not the widowed queen. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Avalahn felt the pain that his daughter was in. He guided her into the Citadel and consoled her. Adyána''s father was the only one of them who could bring the queen back from despair and darkness. Adyána rested in her bed chambers along with her sister and the princesses, as Avalahn talked with Anilithyìstad. The cousins and grandchildren of the Stallion King waited outside the Citadel and caught up with each other when outsiders began to arrive for the services.


    The first to arrive were priests from the Phoenix Kingdom. The Phoenix Kingdom was the most regarded kingdom in all the lands. Their legend was one of infamy. Members of the Phoenix Kingdom were ascetic hermits, who never left their home on top of the highest peak in the northern slopes of the Burning Mountains. The highest peak was prudently named Mount Fire. This monastery was positively unreachable by average men of any kingdom and housed one of the most ancient treasures and miracles of MagnaThora.


    Two magi, as they were called by the world at large, were already at the Citadel when the group arrived back from the port. Mitakahn entered the room first to find them talking with Queen Adyána in her bedchamber. He took it upon himself to greet the two magi, now standing alone by the balcony door. They were dressed in simple amber robes with a dark bronze shine. With tan skin and definitive facial features, Mitakahn was hesitant to approach them at first. But his apprehension quickly dissolved when they smiled at him and waved him over. He greeted them and introduced himself, even though it seemed like they already knew who he was.


    “Hello, my name is Mitakahn. I am-”


    “We know, prince. The deceased is your father,” interrupted one of them.


    “I am Knox, and this is Loki,” introduced the other.


    “Did you know my father?” He asked them.


    They both nodded their heads and answered, “He asked us to perform his burial rites in accordance with the old gods.”


    “Were we shocked that a modern day Pride Lorde would be so bold as to cast aside the ways of the Magnanimous? Of course.”


    “Shocked and happy to oblige, after all he was one of the most strong-hearted kings we have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”


    Mitakahn tried to swallow his erupting emotion by quickly asking another question.


    “Have you met many kings in your time?”


    Loki leaned over to whisper in Mitakahn’s ear. “We have lived long enough to know a time when all the nations were ruled by one king.”


    Mitakahn could not believe his ears. They must be hundreds, probably thousands of years old, for that to be true. “You lived during the age of the Crucifire Kings? Surely… you must be joking,” responded Mitakahn.


    Knox pulled in Mitakahn’s attention with a cryptic explanation, “You are still very young, dear boy. But I can see past the pain in your eyes. And soon, there will come a time where everything you think you know about this world will explode in fantastical and unbelievable discoveries.”


    With that, Mitakahn was rendered speechless. Thankfully, Anilithyìstad relieved Mitakahn and brought the magi up to speed about the service proceedings. The magi of the Phoenix had come to the funeral to give the fallen king the a send-off worthy of MagnaThora and her child. They led the progression with blessings and acclamations.


    Mitakahn returned to his own balcony in his room and looked at the landscape all around, the clouded sky, the sparkling lake. Anilithion walked up next to Mitakahn, “How are you holding up, cousin?”


    “I have a feeling I’m going to be asked that question a lot today.”


    Anilithion stuttered, “You know, my heart has been with you since father told me about Uncle Theomitus.”


    “Thank you, Anilithion. You have always been far more perceptive and thoughtful than your age warrants,” affirmed Mitakahn.


    His little cousin was almost as tall as Mitakahn. He was a full grown warrior now and proud knight of the royal family. Mitakahn looked at his cousin with pride. As the middle cousins they symbolize the collective spirit and core soul of the family’s inheriting generation; Anilithion representing the heart and youth, and Mitakahn representing the age and wisdom of the group. The two of them watched all the guests approaching the city for the funeral from the balcony.


    “We should get down there,” advised Anilithion.


    “I have to change into my dress robes,” replied Mitakahn.


    “Shall I meet you downstairs?” asked Anilithion.


    “Before you go, I found a random artifact earlier…a document of sorts… in my pocket that I wanted to show you.”


    As Mitakahn changed, Anilithion took a look at the piece of parchment on the counter. Mitakahn fitted the cuffs on his dress robes and looked out the balcony at his homeland. Fearful pangs ravaged his head. He felt queasy and unbalanced. Mitakahn grasped the stone balcony as all these thoughts and memories rushed into his head. He could not discern them. Anilithion would have seen the blue hue emitting from Mitakahn’s head if he wasn’t so focused on the parchment.


    But they were not memories at all…Just sights of his life, shuffled up and out of order. Mitakahn tried to get a hold of himself and ignored the brief attack on his senses. He continued to look out at the Serengeti. It was a beautiful day, still hot, but the humidity was returning. Mitakahn could feel the sweat gathering on his brow, such a peaceful part of his kingdom. Still simple and young, Mitakahn regretted not spending more time there, before…But what was he saying?


    ‘…Before what?’ Mitakahn thought.


    An overwhelming sensation crawled into the pit of his stomach. Something horrible was on the horizon. He could feel the pressure in the landscape around him rising. Just as such horrible darkness passed not a day ago, what more could fate possibly have in store for them? The constantly rising sense of foreboding was making Mitakahn confused. Was not the worst over? He could not figure out what yet, but he hoped as time moved on it would get clearer. In these times, where he found it impossible to explain anything, he gave himself to the unexplainable, and accepted the way of fate, the will of nature. After your father dies only then do you truly realize anything is possible.


    Mitakahn closed his eyes standing outside. Everything was calm right now. He let the cool breeze gently brush his face. The warm sun consoled him to the core. It was a beautiful day today. Mitakahn wondered if Theomitus had anything to do with that. Who knows where his father was now. Was he watching them? Mitakahn just knew that he was still alive, or maybe it was a feeling. According to the Magnanimous of the Pride church the spirit of his father lived on in the ascendant hall of kings. But that could never be real to Mitakahn. He subscribed to the pragmatic ways of the Silver Den. Man is a physical being, and can barely comprehend life, let alone the Afterlight, it was not his place to meddle.


    Mitakahn just had to believe in his feelings. It placed hope in his heart, a gift in order to not lead him astray. In the upcoming trials his will and convictions will be tested, but his faith will never be shaken.


    He opened his eyes and looked at his kingdom once again. The sunlight glistened off of Lake Niobi. Mitakahn remembered how much he missed home back when he was in the Silver Den. Now being back for some time he missed setting foot across MagnaThora beyond his kingdom. He fretted if he would ever get back out there and to what degree.


    Another strong rush came upon him. He felt something real, something physical, a wave pouring out of his eyes. No. It was nothing. His subconscious was trying to warn him. Either that or his true intentions were trying to break free. Mitakahn could feel himself changing. His mind was opening up to parts that he had never thought of before. He was both scared and excited for what was to come, but right now it was his father’s funeral, and his cousin was waiting for him back inside.


    Mitakahn walked back in, “So what do you think?” he asked.


    “It looks like a family tree to me. I see your name, Axion’s, and it leads all the way up the line of kings, even past Jacob…”


    “Did you know that Uncle Theomitus had six brothers and sisters?”


    “Six? …No, I did not. I’ve never met a single one of them.” Mitakahn thought about what this could mean. “It was only the other day I found out…”


    “And what about the back…the message…”


    “I did it…”


    “You what?”


    “…You see that glass jar on the shelf over there…”


    “…That contains your father’s dying breath?”


    “For reasons I can’t explain, it sits on my wall,” Mitakahn said, “As if waiting to come into play, sitting on some unknown meaning and usefulness.”


    “I believe you cousin, and I believe it’s significant, but one question draws my curiosity more than any other…Who wrote it?”


    Before they could get into any further detail, Mortikahn barged in and said bluntly, “Father wants us downstairs, many have arrived.”