《Tale of the Keleksai》


 Road-Ahead

    The wind was a pulsing cold, it sent shivers down my back and made my teeth start chattering. The caravan had to keep moving, though, and I didn¡¯t complain. I had grown to love the cold! Even if it did hurt my teeth to chatter so much. There isn¡¯t anything as good as a good cold shiver after standing next to a bon-fire for a little bit after all! After tonight''s many celebrations near the burning party-man statue, I think we all enjoyed the cold. The children, the lil¡¯ kelks they were, still didn¡¯t have their manes yet so we kept them inside. Although, I had tried my best to be in two places at once, and give ¡®em a good party too! Of course, no Crackleberry cider, didn¡¯t wanna get the lil kelks all juiced up before they even had their manes. BUT, a crackleberry cake that I spiced up with extra sugar? That was fine. God I loved my little caravan. They were all family. I mean, I hadn¡¯t really known anyone else my entire life as long as I had known my caravan!


    Not knowing anybody outside of my caravan was mainly because of the fact I was a Keleksai, and to be frank, nobody likes us, not the kingdom of Falamael. One of the funniest things in the world is how many people can be so stupid. Every. Single. Kingdom. Around Falamael has WAY worse laws against us Kelkasi. One time my uncle, Jingles, had been to Gerihal and the first thing he heard was some farmer screaming ¡®Telki!¡¯ to him. I mean, I¡¯ve been called a Telki plenty of times, but not as the first thing in a place!


    I refuse to dwell in the bad though. Especially when I still have lil¡¯ Kelks to take care of and cheer up in the wagons! I built small little party men out of sugar cubes, used some quick little alchemical tricks, and molded them into shapes, giving them to the kids. I told them that staying happy, eating plenty, and drinking their juice and stew would make their manes grow sooner and stronger. Seeing the happy little ones run around, as I gave them juices and candies ¡ª it reminded me of my own childhood. It wasn¡¯t as good as what I was giving these little ones, and I was glad that they didn¡¯t have to go through what I did as a kelk. The lonely and cold nights in the Telki Schools, the cutting of my mane, the mangling of my hands, it all still gave me shivers.


    I knocked myself back into the happy thoughts. Knowing that at least the kelks I am taking care of don''t have to deal with it. It comforted me. It made me smile again. I could feel the surge of magic, of life back into me. Thinking of the past is no way to live! So, I stopped thinking of the shakes of my life, and started admiring what I could see. The happy kelks running around, the laughter of both the kelks and my family outside with a party! Seeing the little kelks having an absolute blast gave me the confidence to head back out and make sure the festivities outside were a hoot too!


    I grabbed my 7-string Banjitar and began singing, dancing, and playing my banjitar. It was a good night, and one hell of a party, even for me! Loads of cider, looking back, probably a full barrel or two of crackleberry cider. I woke up the next morning and could barely stand without either my hooves or stomach giving out. I mean, after drinking that much, and partying that hard, who wouldn¡¯t catch a hard case of morning fog. I forced myself up though, since the caravan had to keep moving, and it seemed we had stopped moving at some point. I got into the coach of the leading wagon, and started it up. Of course, with us being in less friendly territories even the most shnorcked up folks opted to pass out in the wagons rather than out in the fields. I peeked behind me, just to make sure, and sure enough, all the little kelks were still asleep as well. To the Toymaker himself, I promise that I will never let any harm come to those little ones.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    So, the day continued. The ropes tying each caravan wagon began to pull each of the wagons keythongs woke up and began to pull along. Eventually, after a couple hours each of the actual coach drivers woke up, and began to untie the ropes and drive the wagons themselves. Eventually, Liddle woke up and went to take his spot from me as well.


    He came up from behind me, opening the coach door of the wagon, and yawned, as he blurted out ¡°Good mornin¡¯¡¯¡¯ Thittlewood. Awake early aren¡¯t ya.¡±


    I looked over, my face arced up into a large smile, there isn¡¯t a face I would rather see more than his at the moment, as I chirped out, ¡°You know me! Party and drink till the night¡¯s gone and wake up before the griffins are out to eat! Aint a better time for doing that than the festival of bright doors, am I wrong?¡± I laughed, smiling just looking at his face.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong, on anya that,¡± he smiled and yawned out as he hopped into his coach seat.


    His smile, it was comforting, it made my smile falter. It always did. My smile was always a smile that tried to say ¡®Hey! I want to know everything about you, everything you like, everything you want, everyone you like spending time with. I admire you deeply, and want nothing more than to protect you.¡¯ His smile was always just a smile that showed, ¡®Life is good, you¡¯re good.¡¯ without any of the admiration, the intense spirit of curiosity, or the thousands of words I could put into words. Out of all the bad feelings I tend to dwell on, it''s that disconnect, that want for the same type of happiness between us, that I dwell on the most. I can deal with the pain in my hooves, I can deal with the flashbacks to the orphanage, I don''t know if I can exactly deal with the disconnect.


    Nonetheless, there isn¡¯t a person I¡¯d want to spend my time with more than Liddle right now. He had gotten me so far, treated me so well as a friend, that I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to do anything but spend time. I felt that disconnect drift away as he lightly rallied up the keythongs and the caravan began to move faster. I got up, and went to leave the coach.


    He looked back, yawned for one more time, and gripped my hand. My whole mane frizzled up, and I could feel every single fiber of my being shot up with pure joy, as he squeezed my hand and said, ¡°Take care of the Kelks ok? Why not get some music playing, there is a accordion in the closet, that should wake up the rest of the caravan,.¡± he didn¡¯t let go of my hand as he looked at me, my pink mane covered my face as I blushed, and he began to say something again, ¡°And hey, it¡¯ll wake you up too,¡± he lightly chuckled as he


    I still wanted something more out of his hand squeeze, it wasn¡¯t as passionately as I wished. It was still time spent with him. I snapped out of my admiration for him when I stepped


    ¡°Yeah! Nothing better than a song to wake a girl up!¡± I whistled out


    I headed back inside and gathered up my 7 string Banjitar and accordion, and placed on my 1-man-band gear and began to string the banjitar with my teeth and play the accordion with my hands. The kelks began to wake up first, and I handed them their training accordions, and soon, a whole symphony of caravan music broke out. The sun was rising, the caravan was moving, and the magicians were baking! To spite them all, and even with everything, faith stood strong and we were still happy for the moment.

 Road-Stop

    It was around midday according to the magician''s cake-clock when we finally arrived at the closest town. It was safest to stop the road symphony as we approached the gate of the town. I went to switch into a standard pilgrim dress and put on a head cover to hide my mane. Everybody was changing and the kelks were hidden. We arrived at the town, and of course, sent out our eldest man to act as a sort of fake family patriarch. We got Papa Whistlebatter and styled his mane up like a big beard and long hair, and sent him out to start to talk to the town guard. He was the best actor afterall.


    ¡°Hello Dominion Brothers,¡± he said to what seemed to be the captain, putting on his best Priestly voice.


    ¡°Seklu, Dominion Father, is this your pilgrim caravan?¡± the Captain asked, confidently as he reached his head over the rails to look at the caravan.


    I lightly stroked the kelks hair, and huddled them in the back of the first wagon, keeping them quiet and calm.


    ¡°Indeed, Brother, we are on a pilgrimage to the Great Phoenix Lords¡¯ Palace itself,¡± he wheezed out, taking a small gasp of air afterward.


    ¡°Great to hear, Father, may I have the name of the school of which you and your followers practice?¡± the captain ordered.


    ¡°We are Practitioners of the School of the Bard,¡± Papa Whistlebatter pulled out my banjitar, and played a couple cords, summoning a Book of the Phoenix Lord.


    The captain tipped his helmet and graciously complimented, ¡°Very well, gracious father of the.¡±


    The gates opened. This isn''t a very common occurrence, usually dominion soldiers recognize banjitars, but I guess we had gotten lucky. I wasn¡¯t gonna jinx us though. We only came through this town to get some more supplies, that''s it. So, we pooled together the little bit of coin we had, and sent Papa Whistlebatter out to buy supplies with a couple of the men of the caravan. It was too much of a risk to send any blessed ones or women to the market to buy supplies. Their personalities or manes might draw attention to them, especially for the blessed ones like me, who both were women and blessed ones. Draws a lot of attention.


    So off Papa Whistlebatter went. Liddle guided the keythongs up and into an alley, taking the caravan into an isolated alleyway near where Papa Whistlebatter left us. It was quiet, and still for just a bit. The cobbled streets, the dark streets, the wooden houses. I slowly drifted into thought. I would never leave my caravan, my friends, my people, but sometimes, when we enter towns like this, I wish we could just live like everyone else. Settled down in a town, a city , or a home-stead. Our magicians could share their alchemical cakes, I could share the blessings of the snowglobes, our parties could be celebrated with hundreds, by The Toymaker himself, even thousands of people! There isn¡¯t anything more I want to do than just share our culture, our food, our joy, to others. Only The Toymaker knows how much that would make my life for that to come true. For now, that was just a dream, but who knows, maybe the next time The Toymaker might shake the snowglobe, that dream might come true.


    I was completely enveloped into my own mind as I rested my hooves and looked out at the town through the window of the wagon. Papa Whistlebatter used to stroke my mane when I was younger when stuff got too much and my flashbacks would flare up. He would always tell me stories of the Realm of Crystal, a place made of bright colors and crystals, where my magic and our people could roam free. It was a place where crackleberries were abundant, we had our families, the clearest and cleanest water. It always calmed me down as a kelk. In the telki schools, I was always picked out and treated the worst, because my mane grew in the quickest. They tried to cut off the mane skin. They had to take a machete to my skin because it was so coarse. They¡¯d restrain me, and start hacking away. Rivers of blood ¡ª howls of pain.


    I felt a touch on my shoulder.


    I sniffled, my whole face felt hot, burning hot¡­ Was I crying? I wiped at my face. My sleeve was soaked with snot and tears. No, I''m not crying. I¡¯m sobbing¡­ I heard someone kneel beside me. They hugged me, took the sleeve of their shirt and cleaned off my face. I relaxed into their hug, I knew it was someone from the caravan. I whispered to myself ¡®life is good, it''s ok¡¯, something I truly believe.


    I heard their voice, it was liddle, he comforted me, ¡°Thittle¡­ Thittle¡­ It''s ok¡­ It''s ok,¡± I knew that, didn¡¯t I?


    If I knew everything was ok, why was I sobbing? I mean, It¡¯s not like I¡¯m back at the telki schools. He said it with such precision, the way he hugged me¡­ I felt some sort of D¨¦j¨¤ vu. Like he had done this before. I mean, I know I have flashbacks, but usually I¡¯m not crying from them and I don''t think that was a flashback, was it? My mind was all jumbled, I couldn¡¯t think. I sunk my head back, and let the warmth of Liddles hug¡­ He stroked my mane, sighed¡­ Life was amazing at that moment. I turned around and took him into a deep hug.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°You¡¯re the best,¡± I chuckled out, and sighed, ¡°You and your hugs.¡±


    He responded soothingly as he stroked my mane, ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± he smiled and it made my day.


    I love looking at his deep black mane, his beautiful yellow eyes, and being held by his small, cute, arms.


    We sat there for a bit. After a while, I kinda forgot why or what we were doing. Eventually, he got up and went out to his lookout spot, waiting for Papa Whistlebatter. I went about soothing the kids, they seemed a bit stirred up. They must just be pent up from staying quiet and still in the wagon. It was too much risk to have them stirring up noise and stuff, after all, our cover was as pilgrims of the Phoenix Faith, and they were staunch party poopers. Eventually, after about another 30 minutes, I saw the short old man we all knew and love, he had a new stick with about 3 or 4 pouches full of supplies on each side. I was starting to get worried. Auntie Ziggles rushed out with her mane all hidden in her pilgrim head-dress alongside Uncle Jingles who styled his mane as sideburns, beard, with a hat to hide the top. They quickly took the supplies, and took it back to the caravan. Uncle Jingles helped Papa Whistlebatter back into his wagon. I went to check on them, and I saw Uncle Jingles talking to Papa Whistlebatter.


    ¡°Listen, I am all for doing what''s safest, doing what''s needed, but our people have been like this for how long again, Papa?¡± he asked, frustration bubbling under his usually eccentric voice; I had never heard this side of him before.


    ¡°150 years, Jingles, 150 years is how long we¡¯ve been forced into nomadic life, my son.¡± he said as he took Jingles hand and soothingly rubbed it, ¡°Calm down, you might be old enough to be an uncle, but you are still my young one. You always will be.¡±


    ¡°Papa, I just don''t know how long, I, or for that matter, Ziggles or you can handle this anymore,¡± Jingles calmed down, ¡°You know how much I love you. With all my heart, Papa, all of my heart. The problem Papa is that the new Phoenix Lord has been cracking even harder down on us. Just last month, I was talking to another caravan, and they said that they lost 5 wagons worth of people and supplies to the Ringmaster.¡±


    ¡°Little one,¡± he said, his voice like that of a teacher to a student, caring and wise, ¡°My little Jingle Bells,¡± he swept his hand across Uncle¡¯s manes, ¡°We are much much more¡­ well, careful. A lot of our people take the doctrine of optimism to mean not to be cautious of danger. They take the optimism we preach, and fully take it way too¡­ well¡­ literal. We are in danger, yes, as the Keleksai has been in for over a century, but we are not in as much danger as the other caravans. We are always moving, our festivities are only held on the road, and we keep to ourselves. My son, calm your nerves,¡± Papa rubbed his cheeks, as he laid a kiss on his forehead.


    ¡°Papa, I love you, and I would do anything for you. We cannot live like this anymore though. I just¡ª¡± Uncle Jingles was going to say something before Papa gripped him into a deep hug, and Uncle broke down, ¡°I just can¡¯t keep running for much longer.¡±


    ¡°Shhh, my son. You are never running when you are home,¡± he rubbed my uncle''s back, as he took a seat on his bed, and slowly guided him into the bed.


    ¡°Are we home, Papa, are we? We can¡¯t just give the kelks this life. What about the kelks, and then their kelks! Papa I just¡ª I just¡ª I can¡¯t deal with this anymore! I can''t bear the thought of my own kelks living like this, in constant fear, in a state of constant pressure to keep moving!¡± I was shocked, because when Jingles started talking, he rose his voice, this was the first time I had ever seen anyone raise their voice at Papa, ¡°How come the humans, the elves, the dwarves, all the other peoples get cities, get towns, get farms and we get THIS! A WAGON WITH A HAY STRAW MATTRESS!¡± At this point, Uncle Jingles was screaming, sobbing, both angry and sad, gripping to Papa.


    Papa went silent. He went to simply stroking my Uncle''s mane, he was tearing up himself. I kept myself strong though, even as I sat outside listening and watching. Jingles was actively sobbing, wailing, mumbling to himself.


    Papa went to speak again, after about 15 minutes of long, sobbing, silence, as he gripped my Uncles¡¯ hand in a tight squeeze, ¡°Son, you need to calm down. Remember, The Toymaker shakes and tilts, but the snowglobe always settles. Stay grateful, stay happy, stay hopeful. Stay virtuous,¡± Papa was holding back tears, ¡°I wish I could offer you more solace. I wish I could give our kelks the same lives the human children or dwarvish halflin get. If I could, I would. I love the kelks as much as you do. You should know that, you were but a kelk when you ran from the Telki schools. But I can¡¯t, and I mourn the childhoods that my own Mama and Papa had. I give them the best childhood they can have, I give this caravan all I have.¡±


    At that point, I just couldn¡¯t handle the argument. I ran off for a bit. My mind, it was still jumbled from before, and now it was just more jumbled. Every single fiber, every little synapse was frantic and overwhelmed. I had never really seen anyone in the caravan argue like that. I know that travelling from town to town, hiding each time was hard, but it was life. As a Keleksai, especially a blessed one, you got used to it. I just wish my Uncle felt better. We needed to get out of here. Get the festivities back on. We need to get some crackleberry cider flowing! I know a cake from Liddle would cheer us all up! But we can''t bake here, and we still needed to sell some stuff to get some. We¡¯d been hunting the entire way here for pelts for that reason after all! So, I skipped to the front wagon to go find Liddle.


    I catch someone in the corner of my eye coming from around the corner into the alleyway. I keep skipping to the front wagon, hopping in the wagon coach with Liddle, moving aside a bit of blanket covering it.


    "Hey Liddle, when we leave do you mind baking some Crackleberry ca¡ª,¡± I am cut off by a loud, sharp, booming,


    BANG.